Otto and I were discussing work, and somehow the conversation worked around to the sorts of things I talk about when I go give guest lectures or speak on a panel or whatever. My darling daughter---who probably wonders why anyone would VOLUNTARILY subject themselves to me droning on and on---asked what people usually want from me when I'm asked to speak somewhere. "Well," I said, "it usually boils down to them wanting to know how to start a blog that people will actually want to read." "That's EASY!" she said, throwing her hands in the air with the absurdity of it all. "You just tell them to...
Chris wrote a hilarious post the other day about the ridiculous pitches we receive as bloggers. We've all been through the "I don't respond to email addressed to 'Dear Mommyblogger' or addressed to someone else" thing, and Chris does a great job of explaining why pretending to hype an "opportunity" to someone that is really a request for advertising in return for some crappy free product is just insulting and dumb. But I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that that at the very least, you kind of have to admire the chutzpah of those pitches. I mean, they're terrible. AWFUL. But...
My children are hoarders. I mean, not Prime Time Special, bring in the forklift kind of hoarders, but hoarders nonetheless. Every item that comes into the house is the most wondrous [insert category of object here], and every drawing is sacred, and every graded test a reminder of a more halcyon time. I have to remove outgrown clothing under cover of darkness or create an elaborate diversion during the day ("Hey, look! Is that a big sign that says FREE COOKIES?"), lest the wailing and gnashing of teeth commence. Otto is meticulous and organized, and while he has a vast quantity of STUFF,...
It's Friday, and that means I'm over at Five Full Plates today. If my neck wasn't so jacked up I might be talking about exercise or even bemoaning my current weight, but as it is I'm nearly immobile and so have resorted to telling you about what I put in my mouth this week. Insert your own jokes. You know you want to.
It's Friday, and that means I'm over at Five Full Plates with support and inspiration for this whole "getting fit" thing. Or maybe I'm just gnashing my teeth and rending my garments. Or maybe I'm still coming to terms with the reality that it may be time to pony up and buy a decent scale. Does anyone have a recommendation for a good scale that's not too pricey? Alternatively, does anyone have some chocolate they'd like to give me? I'm just trying to keep my arteries clear, people.
retribution -noun 1. a justly deserved penalty 2. the act of taking revenge 3. sudden recurrence of somnambulance the night after your wife writes a somewhat cranky post about you true love -noun 1. a sweetheart; a truly loving or loved person 2. bond uniting soul mates 3. not kicking your husband in the nads when he wakes you out of a sound sleep TWICE on the same night: first to insist that there's something in the room with you, then later to noisily inspect the far wall because "I know it sounds crazy, but there's a giant hole in it and there's something in there!" (Today's lesson...
[A guess of what my 11-year-old daughter's journal would surely look like, if she had one.] Friday, December 18th 2009 Dear Journal, I let Mom come to school with me this morning to carry my stuff. There was a lot of stuff AND it was raining and I got wet and I hate that. She was pretty much okay except when Ms. Science told her I was missing part of my project. Then I'm pretty sure she would've gone into full lecture mode if we hadn't run into the next teacher who needed cookies. Ugh!! We didn't do anything at school really. And tonight we're eating dinner in front of the TV and watching...
I'm a sucker for Christmas. Oh, I could tell you it's because I didn't come to Christianity until later in life or that it's because of faith and hope and such---and both of those things happen to be true---but the truest explanation is simply that it's shiny and pretty and the closest I come to GOODWILL TOWARDS (HU)MAN all year. It's festive. And twinkly. And shut up. So this weekend I was giddy, pulling out the Christmas decorations, setting lights just so, and even placing our faux mistletoe ball in the doorway by the bottom of the stairs. (Why no, I never do tire of a solid month of...
I'm hip-deep in preparations for our next IEP meeting, which I'm told should NOT include some of my brilliant ideas, such as screaming, "You people are inefficient, heartless asses" or suggesting that my child could, in fact, receive a better education in a cage full of premenstrual orangutans. (I only believe one of those statements, actually.) (But I'm not saying which one.) This time we're bringing the Big Guns, by which I mean that we have hired representation because it's become clear to us that that's the only way anything's going to get done. Sad, but true. And really, all of that...
