This month I was prompted to reveal and describe five silly things I do or say, so others can get the measure of me. So hold on to your holly hocks and here goes.
Picture of Hollyhocks.
I make stuff up … funny that.
Once I held a conversation about my imaginary childhood in a place called Black Rock. This was accompanied by an Irish accent (very bad). After ten or twenty minutes I smiled nicely and made to leave. That was when the Irish couple I had been speaking to … waved goodbye and hoped I’d call in when next visiting their home town of Black Rock. *smug*
I am bonkers.
I secrete note pads and pencils about my person (see my story glimpes of me here ) pencil in my hair, paper in the top of a holdup stocking.
I can be dramatic.
I lay my hand backwards across my brow, fluttering my lashes as I swoon. Next I hold the pose for three seconds (i know you are doing this) in a breathy voice say “But… you do love mei (pause for effect) dhont yoou dharling” and finally
batting my lashes I drape myself across the husbands lap. This is quite Edwardian in nature and makes said husband blush.
A quirky being am I.
I am an early riser that is my thing. Singing is also a thing; one that most people prefer me not to do. I vocally reproduce the ‘Good morning’ song in the guise of Doris Day at the top of my ( not so crisp) voice, while dancing in a mock hoe – down fashion (at least once a month) to rouse “the husband” from prolonged slumber.
My face full of mischief.
I admit to mischeif.
I frequently Pretend I am of the same origins as people trying to sell me things over the phone. I repeat exactly what they say in their own vernacular… until they put the phone down. Or I have been known to repeat in the most pretentious voice available to me … “Dahhling I am truly distraught” I tap the phone on the mouthpiece. “Frightfully awful I can not hear a word” tapping hard on the mouthpiece again, before cutting them orf!
I am nothing if I’m not inventive.
I have been known to plop myself cross legged on the library floor in the children’s corner and read aloud with voices and actions. This either has parents dragging children away with startled looks or gathers them in front of me; teddies clutched to chests thumbs in mouths… *whispers* and that’s just the parents…
P.s. I can count, but Ellen stylee.
Talking too much (in some folks minds) is my thing. If a story can be told in two words it … in my mind isn’t worth listening to or wasting my breath on. When required to, I listen intently. After all that is how I get the stuffing for a character or inspiration for my book.
Please tell me one silly thing about you, I look forward to your comments.