I Broke My Wrist

Did I ever tell you how I broke my wrist playing dodge ball when I was twelve years old? I cannot possibly explain how significant of an experience it was, other than mentioning how it ruined my reign as team captain of our sixth grade championship floor hockey team, and you guys, I COULD HAVE GONE PRO.

I was in a fiberglass cast for four weeks.

FOUR WEEKS. It was pink. Hot pink. Four weeks. Now you understand.

To this day I still avoid games involving tagging or rubber balls or objects hurled at my skull.

So when Wanderluster of Rambling Renovators tagged me in a little game earlier today, I silently prayed, Please tell me that this doesn't involve an inflated red ball and two bulls eyes hand painted on each of my temples. I seriously shuddered even reading the word tag, and my head started swirling with visions of rubber balls draped in Canadian flags and embroidered with phrases like, WATCH YOUR WRIST and THIS WILL HURT and VIVA LA MAPLE SYRUP. Like, what if she's just trying to mess with my emotional scars, my dodge-phobia? Or, worse, what if she's not? What if her Handyman designed some kind of sick Canadian dodge ball launcher that's, like, epic and can reach all the way to South Florida?

Is a dodge ball considered a weapon?

Legally, I mean? In Canada?
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1. What inspired you to blog? What is your favorite blog?

Although it's generally believed that I began blogging while incarcerated, it's not entirely true. I started blogging because a bunch of people emailed me after I wrote a stupid post on Facebook and told me, "You should start a blog." Actually, what they specifically said was, "You should write a book," but I figured why go to all of that trouble when I still have a shot at a professional floor hockey career? So, no, I wasn't in jail. But I did start a blog.

Oh, and I pass on the second question. (Wait, can I do that?)

2. If there was a fire in your house, and you only had time to grab four things (excluding your family!), what would they be?

Seriously? Only four? Really? Because I have a personal rule of only removing things from my house in odd numbers, fire evacuations included. BUT SINCE I'M UNDER THE THREAT OF DURESS, I'LL PLAY ALONG. For the sake of my wrists.

So I have to go with my brother's art work on this one. One, two, three, four. I'd probably die from smoke inhalation trying to decide between his pieces, but it would be some mix of his posters and portraits.

Old photo albums would be a close runner up, if I couldn't pick those. Except for this one. Why I haven't taken it upon myself to burn any remaining evidence of those glasses is beyond me.

3. If you could live somewhere else in the world, where would it be? Why?

I'm pretty happy here. Which is proof that I didn't pay enough attention in French class.

4. If money were no object, what would your dream house look like?

Rather, what would it overlook? Ocean. With a side of private beach and deep water boat access.

5. Name something you wish you had more time for.

I get the feeling that some of you will look at those pictures and think, Helloooo, isn't that why you left your position as Executive Director a year ago?

And you will be completely and entirely correct.

Wanna play? Answer the questions on your blog in the form of a post, and come back and comment with a link.