Heather of Welch Happenings took pity on me -- old, sad, beat-up, hearing going to crap, eyesight fading, with signs of dementia creeping in -- and bestowed upon me this gift in hopes of cheering me up.
As I look at the award I can't help but notice the hand gripping the hammer. I think she was offering me a job. Clearly she saw beneath the decrepit facade and recognize my inner strengths of bravery, forcefulness, heroism and hammering ability.
I think Heather has roots in Welchland where, as you know, they make grape juice. As a dedicated follower I am given privy to secret information...like she can only sleep on her stomach...she's a helluva singer when drunk...likes her steaks really well done...and is from Texas which makes her just about perfect. She is so lovably goofy that you just can't ignore her. Yes, go read Welch Happenings.
I have to write seven things about myself. I will. Sometime. And I have to pass this award to another. I will. Sometime.