A Lie

First of all, I got this pretty award from Postman and it's taken me a long time to post it (no pun intended) because I am technically challenged and my daughter has been busy with her studies. But here it is, and doesn't it make you feel like you're drinking a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice out on a balcony, in the sun?

Wish I were.




Postman is a funny, prolific writer with interesting hobbies (flying planes, WWII aircraft identification) and skills (bartending). He is also studying Korean, albeit at a higher level than I am. (I've mastered greetings, asking for water, and food groups.) Visit his blog and prepare to be well entertained.


Then I got this interesting award from two more fine writers, Marcia Hoehne and Anne Spollen, and this one comes with a task: telling a few lies about myself.



The truth is, I'm not a very good liar. When I was a kid, I thought I was pretty good, but years later, I read my mother's journals and discovered that she was on to me all along. Since then, I've lost confidence in my lying skill. Nowadays, I stick to the truth to the extent possible.

Still, I am happy to oblige for the sake of this meme. Like Marcia, I am going to change the rules a little to minimize the trauma of lying. Here are six truths and one lie about me. If you can guess the lie, I'll happily give you a free copy of my very first book to come out. (That's not a lie -- I will! But I'm guessing most of you realize how long you may have to wait.)

1) When I was five, my little sister and I were run over.

2) When I was in graduate school, a friend and I worked as singers and bar girls in a Japanese 'club' in San Francisco.

3) I can do the splits and stand on my head.

4) I have read Yukio Mishima's books in the original Japanese.

5) Three times in a row over a couple of weeks I shared an elevator with Bella Abzug and Gloria Steinem, in New York City. We smiled at each other, but did not say anything.

6) For two years, I co-owned and ran a small inn with my husband. Every single day, I baked my own bread, made my own entrees, desserts, and hors d'ouevres, and worked at least fourteen hours.

7) As an adult, I was deathly ill from the chickenpox. I was so badly afflicted, none of the doctors or nurses in the hospital recognized me when I went back to thank them a week after I got out.

If anyone wants to play along with this, I hope you will join in! I would link to you specifically, but my daughter has left the room.