I'm trying to think of another time in the nearing-six-year history of this blog when I didn't post for three consecutive days, and I can't come up with anything other than the time my hosting company broke their server and then lodged their heads so far up their asses I was offline for half a week. Truly, this sort of silence is unprecedented. Such a thing can only be the result of an event so catastrophic I'll need forty paragraphs just to chronicle every horrific detail. Or maybe I've just been sitting on the couch watching DVDs. Hard to say, really. I mean, there's something like 176...
I was really hoping that August was going to be The Month Of Suck and then September would be an improvement; then I was hoping that September was just Suckage: The Continuing Saga, and October would be The Month That Everything Magically Got Better. As I write this, Otto is in bed with the not-flu; the doctor doesn't know what it is, though he has MRSA (again, or still, depending on what you believe) and a high fever and actually STAYED HOME FROM WORK, which means that I'm pretty sure he's going to die. I'm going to miss him terribly, especially because I hate taking out the trash. This,...
It's been many, many years since I had a pet, and unfortunately a lot of my memories of the last dog I had are bound up in accusations from my ex that I didn't really love him (the dog, though projection is a marvelous thing), and then, of course, the end of the dog's tenure with me and the kids, when he (the dog, again) was pretty much crazy and wanted nothing more than to tear the UPS man limb from limb. As much as I love my favorite humans, human relationships are anything but simple; we all have emotions and then opinions and loooong memories and before you know it, a discussion about...
I'm headed home from BlogHer. Right now I'm sitting in the airport, enjoying following the chatter on Twitter about what's still happening there. Here are a few things I didn't do this weekend (though others did): * See Tim Gunn * Get my picture taken with Paula Deen and a stick of butter (though I really, really wanted to) * Change my outfit two or three times a day * Get drunk * Lose my room key * Lose my phone * Stay up all night * Gather so much swag I needed a sherpa * Become indignant over the sponsorship of the conference * Take anything offered by Walmart * Eat dinner other than the...
Hey, guess what it's doing here in the Adirondacks. Go on, GUESS! It's raining. Pouring, actually. Has been for hours. The good news is that the rain held off until late afternoon, today; we arrived yesterday afternoon and had just finished setting up when my dad and step-mom pulled up to settle into the campsite across from ours. Last night's dinner was a low country boil prepared by Otto, because you can take the boy out of the south but you cannot put him in a camper without Andouille sausage. Or something. We had planned to eat outdoors, but it was already sort of damp and icky, so we...
I would love to tell you all about my vacation; all about how I've just met Kira's boys and yet---having "known" them virtually for five years---I feel as though I've known them their entire lives; how Kira is a lovely hostess with an entire freezer full of ice cream; how there is almost nothing in the world I love more than holding a baby, and yet I feel perfectly content that said baby is not mine and my children are so big and grown-up in comparison. I would love to tell you all of that, but good LORD, I am just. so. busy. trying to inhale this child whole. You understand.
I'm sitting in a state campground, in a folding nylon camp chair, typing fireside, while Chickadee and Swan sit inside the trailer playing Rummikub. They are understandably tired, having talked non-stop on the drive up here, eaten their weight in snacks, dinner, and popsicles, and then run off to the nearby playground to roll in the mud. Okay, technically they may not have rolled in the mud. Their clothes just look like they did. I would love to tell you that they're having the time of their lives, the greatest time I've ever seen two people have, except that I think it's possible that Otto...
Every now and then I write a difficult post about Deep Thoughts that really resonates with folks, and that's terribly gratifying, and I feel all warm and fuzzy and embrace the whole community aspect of blogging and feel like we're all in this life thing together. I open up, and you welcome me with open arms, and I realize that sharing thoughts and feelings is GOOD and TRUE and NICE. And then other times, I write about a room full of women and sex toys, and suddenly that's the most-visited post I've ever written and I realize that actually no one really cares about my deep thoughts nearly as...
*dusting off hands, clearing throat* Hot cross buns! [rising] Hot cross buns! [fresh out of the oven] One ha' penny, two ha' penny, [huh??] Hot! Cross! Buns!! [dripping with glaze, about to be devoured] Happy Easter! I just, uh, have to go clean up the kitchen. (Where the buns are.) (DON'T FOLLOW ME.)
