You're all winners in my book. You're just not all winners in my blue velvet bag.

Here it is, folks. The moment at least a handful of you have been anxiously awaiting. Or, more likely, the moment most of you have nearly forgotten about by now, but which I'm going to make happen anyway. That's right: it's time to announce my very first contest winner!

Before we get to the winner, let's review the True/False statements...

1. I have both milked a cow and worked in a cheese factory.
   
   True. I couldn't decide if this was too obviously true... if everyone not born in Wisconsin just assumes that every little girl in the state has a pet cow in her backyard and all summer jobs are dairy-related. This is not the case, of course, but my family did live in the country and at least half of our neighbors were dairy farmers, so I did get to experience tugging on an udder at least once. Does that count as full-fledged milking? I'm going to say it does. As for the cheese factory, yes, that's true, too. I spent a whole summer there between my freshman and sophomore year of college. I would like to say it was a cheese-filled wonderland that I remember fondly to this day, but the truth is if I hadn't been sure I wanted to stay in school at that point, one summer in that place would have convinced me that higher education was a good plan for me.
   
   
2. I have changed the oil on my own car.
   
   True(ish). To be completely honest, my friend Jessi changed the oil in my car, but I was her assistant, and she showed me what she was doing each step of the way, and had I wanted to attempt it again on my own while I still had that same car (a gold '84 Charger, if you're curious), I am very confident I would have been able to do so successfully. You know what, though? Liz has a point: there's a reason God created Jiffy Lube. Changing your oil ranks right up there with churning your own butter in terms of things really just not worth the effort, particularly when qualified professionals can do it for you for just pennies more. Come to think of it, though, Jessi probably churned her own butter, too. She was a sturdy girl with farm-kid roots, and her talents ranged the spectrum from handyman to domestic goddess. I often said she'd make both a great wife and husband someday... if that "someday" was the 1950s, of course. Whatever she's doing now, I hope her many skills are appreciated.
   
   
3. I have eaten haggis... more than once.
   
   True. I spent a semester in Scotland, remember? And honestly, it's really not that bad. One girl in my study abroad group compared it to the ground meat in a Minnesota hotdish, and I'd say it's a reasonably accurate comparison.
   
   
4. I have never had a cavity.
   
   FALSE. I know there are people out there who can claim this (One Smart Cookie, for instance, who assures us she is not a dental braggart, and since she seems pleasant and agreeable, I'll just believe her on that). I am, however, not entirely sure I trust anyone who even in childhood had such a fastidious oral hygiene routine... or whose teeth mysteriously have the titanium strength to endure wayward wedged pieces of a Butterfinger bar or Laffy Taffy bits. Really I almost feel sorry for people who haven't experienced a filling. Aside from it being a rite of passage, it probably builds some kind of strength... or at least, keeps the dentist-related anxiety in check. Getting a filling is sort of like chicken pox or learning to ski: it's best to get it over with when you're young. Exposure in adulthood is just bound to bring more terror and misery.
   
   
5. I have incurred a balloon-related injury that required a cast on my foot and lower leg.
   
   True. I actually wrote about this a couple of times, but I sort of expected everyone to know this was likely even without reading those posts. Lara, thank you for being the only person who failed to believe I could be so uncoordinated as to hurt myself on a balloon, but I assure you, I really am. My athletic shortcomings know no bounds, and as a child, I clearly wasn't any better. When I was eight years old, I failed to successfully navigate the simple journey from our dining room to our living room (a mere 14 inches down). I jumped off the step, apparently failing to realize a rubber balloon was aligned between my foot and the floor. I slipped on the balloon, twisted my ankle, and tore a ligament, requiring a cast for a month. No, the balloon did not break. No, I was not smart enough to lie when people asked me what happened. Yes, I was laughed at. A lot. Let's just forget this ugly incident and get to the prize drawing, OK?
   

First, I tallied up everyone's responses to see how convincing my lies were. Apparently more of you think (rightfully, I might add) that I'm less likely to have any auto maintenance skills than that I've got mad dental hygiene skills. Nevertheless, it was a close race between #2 and #4.



Next, I used the very scientific method of writing the names of those who answered correctly on a slip of paper and hiding them in this pretty blue velvet bag. I keep this bag around specifically for times like this, of course. (And I wonder why my house is a cluttered mess.)



Then I reached in and drew a winner at random. And the winner is... [drumroll and all that]...



Congratulations, Nabbalicious! I'll be happy to send a prize your way. I may or may not have your current address, so if you don't want some jerk in a previous apartment to get your hard-earned winnings, perhaps you should send me an email to confirm.

Thanks for playing, everyone!



(Oh, and thank YOU, Jess, for reminding me that my camera has a macro setting and that I might actually have a use for it at times! Look! Clear* pictures! Of small things close up! Who'd have thought? Yay!)

* (If you click to zoom)