I have received another really cool award that I would like to honor some blogger friends with. Carla from Seasons Change, and Change… has nominated me for the Tell Me About Yourself Award. I am happy and excited that she wants to know more about me and is affording me this opportunity to post these things on my own blog for others to get to know me better also. Thank you so much, Carla!
Do you have people who you enjoy the exchange of reading each other’s blogs every day? I do and I learn a lot about who they are and I like that. I also like the people who are reading my blogs and getting to know me as a real person. So, I am going to present the nomination of this award to 7 of my blogger friends whom I think are very interesting people and I would love to know more about them.
- You will need to Thank the person that nominated you first (me) and link the blog to that person before you start.
- Then you will have to tell the world 7 things we might find interesting about you.
- Then you add your 7 nominees.
Seven New Things About Moi:
Ooooo! This is going to be good! I have come up with some really old and unique memories to share with you. And a few that you may never have seen coming. Are you ready?
- I think I was about five years old when my father started teaching me how to bowl. He coached me for quite a few years. When I was eight, he entered me into a youth tournament and I made it to the state championship, where I won first prize with a score of 188. I still have my little bowling shirt which is covered in patches I won through those years of bowling.
- Do you remember when you learned how to ride a bike? I do. At first, I had a bike that was mostly plastic, had training wheels, and looked like a little motorcycle. My friend, Polly, and I rode that thing up and down the street all the time. When the training wheels came off, we both tried to learn to ride it without them, but we were not very successful. When I was eight years old, I received a pink Huffy for Christmas (ok, so I was almost nine, as my birthday is in February). My aunt and uncle and two cousins were coming to visit us in Florida, all the way from Michigan, for the holidays. My poor mother spent two hours (in her robe, since I absolutely could not wait a single second, not even long enough for her to get dressed) working with me on being able to ride that beautiful two-wheeler before my cousin got there. I learned, finally, and when they got to my house, my cousin, Dawn, borrowed my mother’s 10-speed and we went for a ride around the block. A great day and a great memory for me!
- On July 4, 1953, my Aunt Teresa was born. Tragically, on July 4, 1978, a short 25 years later, she was killed by a drunk driver. It was her 25th birthday and she and her husband, my Uncle Kyle, and my sweet baby cousin, Ryan (18 months old), were on their way to my Memaw and Pappy’s house to celebrate her birthday. In the few miles from their house to my grandparents house, they were struck, on my aunt’s side of the truck, by another truck driven by a 15-year-old girl, accompanied by two other 15-year-old girls, all of whom had been drinking. The girls had blown right through a stop sign, side swiping my aunt and uncle. Aunt Teresa died less than two hours after arriving to the hospital. I was only seven years old when this happened, but remember it like it was yesterday. Aunt Teresa was my mother’s younger, and only sister. The cake my mother baked for her that day was an owl, as my Aunt Teresa loved owls. I don’t remember her very well, but I do remember that she was very sweet.
- My very first pet, at least that I remember, I received when I was about four, and shortly after we moved from Michigan to Florida. He was a “mutt” dog, but I remember he had white, super curly fur. His name was simply, JJ, and was very playful. Then one morning I woke up and he was gone. My father had to tell me that JJ had run away. The only other thing I can remember about JJ and his running away was when my father showed me a newspaper clipping that had a picture of JJ running across some street somewhere. I never say JJ again.
- When I was in my early teens, my Pappy agreed to let me clean his house once a week, so I could earn some money. First let me tell you that my Pappy served a million years in the Air Force, so clean for him was so far out of my league, that this was quite the challenge for me. Also, my mother had told me, on more than one occasion, that she and My Aunt Teresa would spend the entire day on Saturday, every Saturday, cleaning the house and putting all they had into it. They wanted to please and impress their father. He would come home after spending the day at the base, and say things like, “What have you girls been doing all day? I thought I told you to clean this house.” And this was seconds after walking through the door. My poor mother’s heart was broken week after week. Fortunately for me, my Pappy had mellowed quite a bit by the time I came along to try to fill my mother’s shoes. He would actually say that I had done a good job, “…but let me show you something…” he would tell me. He would then find one thing that I had cleaned and showed me, himself, how to do it better. That turned out to be a good thing, as I am much more thorough in cleaning than I might otherwise have been. (Whew! All of that and I have not yet come to the part I want to share. I better get to it then, wouldn’t you say?) Pappy paid me $25 every week for cleaning his house and I would take the money home and stuff it under the pads that lined the frame of my water bed. One day, I decided to look and see how much I had saved. I was shocked to have counted over $500 and showed my mother immediately. After some discussion, she asked me what I wanted to do with it. I chose to redecorate my bedroom. I got new sheets, pillows, throw pillows, comforter, blinds and curtains, books, cassette tapes, garbage can, and other stuff that is eluding me at the moment. And I had money left over! I was very proud of myself for not only having earned and saved the money, but spending it in a way that I had something to show for it for a very long time.
- Here is something very few people know. My real, birth certificate name is Cynthia Lynn. My sister’s was Virginia Renee. Our last name was Riemersma. My father has been a police officer his entire adult life (he retired in 1998); eight years in Michigan and another 23 years in Florida. When we moved to Florida, south Florida in Homestead which is about 40 miles south of Miami, he would answer the phone, “Officer Riemersma” (Ŕē-mer-smŭ—best I can do), and, because so many people in that area were from Cuba, they thought he said, “Ramirez” and would proceed to speak to him in Spanish. This became really frustrating for my father, so to fix the situation, he petitioned the court for a name change. His full name was Clark John Riemersma, and he elected to change it legally to C.J. Clark (the last name changed for all of us). My little sister spoke right up and said she hated the name Virginia and wanted my father to also change her name to the one we called her, Ginger. This name change occurred in 1980, when I was in the fourth grade. I got married in 1992, taking the last name Messer, and when I divorced in 1998, I requested that I could return to my birth certificate surname of Riemersma, rather than go back to Clark. Now, backing up quite a bit, followed by jumping to quite a few years later, I will tell you the boy names my mother had picked for myself and my sister, and then the girl names I had picked for both of my boys. Had I been born a boy, my name would have been Nicholas Wayne, and had my sister been born a boy, she would have been named Benjamin Dwayne. The first names are cool, but I would not have been too thrilled with either of our middle names. For my first-born, Jeremiah Claybourn, I had chosen the name Monica Mae if he had been born a girl. I like the name Monica and Mae is the name of the best friend I left behind in Florida when I moved to Oregon. For my youngest son, Zachariah James, I had picked out the girl name of Lela Mozelle. Lela was Jeremy and Zachary’s father’s paternal grandmother’s name, and Mozelle (don’t you dare laugh!) was the name of my Memaw, my mother’s mother. I still think it is a beautiful name!
- This last one is a doozy! When my parents divorced, my mother had to return to work, and to ensure she could support my sister and I, she pulled us out of our private school, which we had attended since kindergarten, and placed us into public school, Avocado Elementary School. I was in fifth grade and my sister was in second grade that year. One morning when my sister had walked to school (I cannot for the life of me remember where I was that day), as she came to the edge of the property, she cut through a small field that led to the parking lot. As she was walking through the field, she tripped and fell. What she had tripped over was none other than a women’s dead body! Naturally, she freaked out, and ran all the way back home. When she got through the door, she picked up the phone and called my mother at work, but she was so hysterical, she couldn’t speak. Finally, when my mother could get nothing more than screams and sobbing out of her, she told my sister to stay right where she was and then drove like a maniac to get home. Again, I cannot remember where I was during this insanity, but I vaguely remember cops being at the house to interview my sister. She had nightmares for many months after that.
Is that enough about me???? Yeah, I think that’s enough for one day! (I am going to borrow this, Carla, as it seems appropriate after all I have written. Lol I hope you don’t mind?)
My Seven Nominations are:
- Raw Recovery
- Rockdweller’s Blog
- I Am Not Lost, Just Weird
- Dreamwalker’s Sanctuary
- Bluebird Blvd. This last blog is written by Courtenay, a sweet and amazing woman, with wonderfulness throughout her blog. Now, I must acknowledge that she has requested not to be nominated for any awards. As a matter of fact, I have all the blogs I follow listed in a Word document for easy access when I post my awards and she is listed like this: Bluebird Blvd.— No awards, please! I have done really well in honoring and respecting her wishes, and in no way expect her to post this as a result of my nomination. I nominate her for two reasons. First, this is my way of letting her know, as the award implies, that I would like to know more about her, whether through the award or by other means, as we have been doing through comments. And secondly, I would really like anyone who reads this post to go see her blog, if you haven’t already. It truly is amazing!
Now, don’t get me wrong; ALL of the blogs I have listed, including the one that nominated me, are just as amazing, very insightful, and ones I read regularly and cannot seem to get enough of. But don’t take my word for it. Give them all a click and a read and see for yourself.