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Cranky. Swamped. Crawamped?

Oh, whoops. Did I forget to post last night? I did. I actually considered posting, but it kept coming out sort of like this:
Grumble, whine, grrrrr, hate hate hate, WAAAAH.

Fascinating, I know, but it seemed like I ought to spare you.

Today I have about fifty gazillion deadlines looming (yes, I rock at math) and so you will have to find some other way to entertain yourselves. But, because I am all about the love and the sharing, I will help.

Make sure your speakers are on, then go watch this. Very, very cool. (Thanks, Rudy!)

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And the winner is…

Oh my word, that was fun. Y’all are so pretty! And clever!

Honorable “if only you knew how to count the syllables” Mention to my father, for his freeform not-haiku:

clean floors avoid
tripping over iambic pentameters
haikus rule

(Dad wins a lovely “Now I Can Count” board book.)

Honorable “I would love to give you an award but since I know you in real life I’m thinking you should be disqualified on some sort of nepotism clause” Mention to Zuska, for her lyrical haiku:

Ah! Like winter snow,
the dust has made a landscape
so serene. Why clean?

(Zuska wins, um, my admiration!)

And…
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This is what happens when I inhale bleach

I am gripped with spring cleaning fever, even though it’s not spring and I hate to clean. It’s just that every so often I reach saturation on the amount of clutter in my house and become a small tasmanian devil with The Garbage Bag of Doom.

The children do not like The Garbage Bag of Doom, for it signals the end of many of their most significant relationships. I get into this mode, I’m all about shovelling away the random drawings, magazine clippings, happy meal toys, etc. As I gradually uncover actual surfaces, I whip out the Fantastik and wipe down the newly discovered tabletops. And then! It smells nice! And looks nice! And I am happy!

So, in my toxic fume euphoria, I’ve decided to share the joy. Let’s have a contest!
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Things you need to know

In the interest of full disclosure, there are some things which I believe need to be pointed out to you fine folks. I would hate for there to be any confusion about important issues.

At the time of this posting, I have raised $2,525 for the upcoming Susan G. Komen 3-Day in August–over half of my goal. This includes, I believe, an anonymous donation of $1,000. I am awed and humbled by everyone’s generosity. Special thanks to other walkers who’ve shared their stories in comments or emails; to say that today has been inspiring would be a gross understatement.

Julie takes issue with my post and has asked for a correction. Sadly, I must accede. It’s true. I fibbed. When I said that “I (gently) made fun of her very 80′s hairdo” I was hiding the truth. I mocked her mercilessly, for years. But now that she has cancer I just like to pretend I’m always nice to her. Sue me.
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Please stand by

In addition to having handily disposed of not one but TWO websites today (if only I could harness my powers for good), there are now further technical difficulties which necessitate the absence of a real post for tonight.

And by “further technical difficulties,” I of course mean “I am still laboring over an assignment due in the morning which I have somehow not yet completed; unless the person reading this is my editor in which case it is totally already done, no worries at all, and by the way have I mentioned lately that you are pretty because you totally are.”

In lieu of a real post, have three random snippets from my day:
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Peanut butter coma

It turns out that years of adapting to a food-allergic child has paid off in spades. Sure, yeah–the kid never died. Great. Whatever. I’m talking about IMPORTANT matters, here. Like that even though they can have it, now, neither child particularly likes peanuts or peanut butter, and they both still consider a nickel a treat a pretty good bargain.

For the low price of one hour trolling the neighborhood and a handful of loose change I bought myself nirvana: Reese’s cups, Snickers bars, Butterfingers, and Almond Joys.

Heaven. I didn’t expect to be nauseous in heaven, but I’m hoping that part will pass….

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Looking a gift horse in the… uhhh….

Hi.

Um. Hmmm. How do I say this?

*ahem*

I am perhaps not quite as careful with my address as I should be, though I think (thought?) I’ve only given it out to a very few people. Sometimes, folks offer to send me stuff! And hey, I like stuff! So if I know the requestor reasonably well–say, well enough to feel comfortable that they will neither ship me bloody body parts nor show up on my doorstep with a chainsaw–I fork over my address. Sometimes, I get something good to eat! Or a nice bottle of port! Or something pretty!

I forgot to grab my mail yesterday, so I walked out and got it a few minutes ago. Let’s just say that I was a little surprised.

So. Uhhhh. First: Thank you…? I… guess?
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A slightly whorish antidote to crickets

Oh, the chirps from the last post, THEY ARE DEAFENING ME as I sit here working and wishing for email to distract me.

So. Two quick things:

1) Apparently Cafe Press is running some Summer Blowout thing right now that is only good on women’s apparel (sorry, guys, but this is the winter of your discontent, or something). This means that if you are a GIRL and want a GIRL’S T-SHIRT, you should clicky clicky on the side there and go buy one for $2 less than usual. Then you will be both pretty AND smart! (Disclaimer: I believe the discount will work on the white ladies’ shirt but not the colored one, doubtless for some Very Important reason known only to the Consumer Shirt Deities. I don’t make the rules.)

2) If you are one of the VERY BEAUTIFUL people who has purchased from my dorky little store, please remember to send me a picture. I am easily amused! Indulge me!

Oh! I lied. There is a third thing, although it is not whorish.
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Blogging for Books REMINDER

Don’t forget that you have until midnight tonight (midnight tomorrow? midnight within the next 24 hours? hey, the next midnight that happens) to submit your entry for this month’s Blogging for Books contest.

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A time to gather stones together

The television is currently limited to children’s channels and stuff recorded on the fake TiVo. I’ve topped out on my ability to absorb or handle any more news about the devastation in Katrina’s wake.

I did a lot of things today. None of them seem very important at the moment. Except one.

I walked outside late tonight and realized that Fall is on its way. The night air wasn’t just cooler than usual, it smelled different. Crisper. The leaves are starting to blow off the trees. The skin on my arms broke out in goosebumps while the little hairs all reached up to touch the breeze. I turned towards the big maple out front, trying to make out the individual leaves (wondering if they were changing color), and glanced up and realized that the sky was clear and teeming with stars. I stood transfixed, cold forgotten–everything forgotten–feeling very much a tiny but integral piece of the world for a moment.

Take some time to look at the stars this weekend. And don’t forget that The American Red Cross is accepting donations towards hurricane disaster relief and every little bit counts.

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