Catching Up

Since I was 8 days without a 'puter, it seemed that everything that happened was worthy of a blog posting. Now I am trying to remember all the scathingly funny stuff I wrote in my head. I hate it when all I retain is water.....

Chinese New Year was a challenge for me. I had these grand and glorioius dreams of using all the wonton wrappers I had gleaned, having authentic food and traditions to pass on. Where did these high expectations come from?

Maybe I am infected with a high expectation virus. Maybe my rose-colored glasses need a new prescription. Did I let my optimism out to pee and it didn't come back?

What is wroing with optimism anyway? I don't think it's wrong or naive to see the good in every situation. It is too easy to get bogged down in the negative. Sure shitty things happen. But what good comes out of it all? A lot is I know where to look.

My squids have a hard time finding things. They just look at the surface. They don't think to dig down into the strata of junk all around. What they are looking for is frequently peeking out from under something else.

Maybe that's the key for me. Find the good that is peeking out of a sitch and pull it out, whether it can stand a good yank or needs to be coaxed.

So, the CNY celebration was a lovely success. Good freinds, more food than the lost tribe would be able to consume (" "Leftovers' is my middle name."), the squids made a wonderful dragon, Dummer Boy, ZJ and WJ cheered in all the right places and clanged pots for that perfect Asian flair. I even pulled out the good chocolate. WJ's eyes rolled to the back of her head in chocolate ecstacy.

Yeah, Chinese New Year was great fun.

Now I want to go with planning the Gala Soiree and Greek Food Fix.

Danger Monkeys

Saturday night at the Indian Restaurant with Fuzzy Monkeys. First belly dancing night in two months. Low attendance, cover charge, bastard boom box. We had enough in the company account to pay then an even C, but our pants were down way too often for my happiness.

And their knees too for that matter. One costumer bra refused to stay poinned. It popped twice back stage, then an annoying third time during her abortive entrance. She exited with one hadn to breasts and the other trailing her hip tie-dyed veil behind her. And this was the one who had a theater background and understood "calls." *sigh*

The boom box hated burned CDs, the audience hated the new cover charge, our friends stayed away in droves. Samira's pseudo-beau showed late, with his sister, brother, nephew, due to dad having a heart attack earlier in the day.

Arries was stuck at hostess. I thought she would be great at it. But she hated it. Two tables said ther were not there for the show. WTF are they gonna do? Look at the window? Someone complained about the amount of flest shown. These weren't Turkish costumes, just regular bedlahs. Some newbie must have a problem with fleshy women working their money maker. Jerks.

So I bought dinner for dancers since the restaurnat was losing money on us. Owner Man was nice and only charged me half the cost of 5 dancers buffets.

Went to QFC and t5ied on some shopping therapy at a grocery store at 10pm. Not as successful as I had hoped. Skanky people and me in my molting green sweater. I called LOML and indulged in me favorite "entertaining while at the store" addiction. I am lucky that LOML finds, or at least pretends to find, me hugely humorous while at the store. (Though I must admit that hanging with the retirees pre-Thanksgiving and measuring out turkey bowling lanes was most appealing to this warped mind on mine.)

So after moping about a twenty lane store where I have a hard time buying stuff that I can score gleaned to be hard, I did find the high cocoa content chocolate and internationally over-sugared foods. I wandered about, most likely freaking out the aromatic, maybe a bachelor, could be a homelss guy in a duster because I showed up in his aisle more than once. I explained my hapless sitch to LOML and ended up at the sugarless-probably-kill-you-with-aspatame-anyway ice cream. I was not suicidal enough to go for the real ice cream, but I did settle for the sugarless crap.

I made it home and sunk into a hopeless state. Couldn't even open that damn sliding door. I made it upstairs, changed into my flannels pjs, moped back downstairs, popped in the first episode of "Firefly" and ate more than half of the kill-yah butter pecan ice cream.

As I lay under the blanket in my sucralose-induced stupor, I was grateful that I could be depressed without guilt.

Back on the Carpal Tunnel Highway

Returned from Computer Swamp and back on the CT Highway. LOML has worked hard and we have all kept our patience to the fore. What a relief.

New 'puter should be bigger, faster, better, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. I'll believe it when I can copy my analog to diagital.

The gauntlet has been thrown.

Oi!

Puter is on the blink. LOML is valiantly working to get us out of the Computer Swamp and get me back on Carpal Tunnel Road as soon as he can.

Stay tuned.

Sick Day part 2

Sent Misterpher off to school today. Looked after the Elfinator. Stopped by the women's shelter thrift store to drop off some hotel size toiletries. (BTW, they prefer full-size containers because their clients don't want to feel transient. They want to feel a sense of permanence. Makes sense to me.) Stopped by Pita King for shawarma meat and other sundries. Elfinator and the Girl unloaded about 900 pieces of Mediterranean candies into their "I want the Blue" shopping basket." I paid and unloaded the basket. We made it home in time to wonder what E did with a dozen baby pitas (Nothing, I had moved that bag out of the way). E was upset with me when i removed teh Roma tomato from his hand. Seems he was hell-bent on showing it to me and then takinga bites from it. I took it from him with teh explanation that he had already bitten into two apples, I didn't think a tomato was goingto pass muster. He is taller than I thought and retrieved it from the shelf. Um, yikes.

WJ stopped by with M and Bina for a child exchange. E stood for a few seconds and wavered. So, WJ missed out on a gyro lunch, but we hope E made his nap.

Later in the day, M complained of his ear hurting. No real surprise since he's been battling congestion this week. I rememeberd my favorite natural medicine book and discovered I was on the right track with giving him homeopathic Belladonna for his ear. I also found some massage techniques to help.

But what happens with Homeopathy is that you go through a healing crisis and that pissed M off. But, he wanted to go to sleep, which is nigh on to impossible with an ear ache, he wanted to go to sleep before 6pm! I had to wake hime up, but come time to really go to sleep, he's fine. Only woke up to go pee.

So for you naysayers and skeptic, homepathy is a grand and beautiful thing.

And yes, the boy will be going to school tomorrow.

Sick Day for Misterpher

I knew that when Misterpher wouldn't eat his oatmeal - yes, he willingly eats oatmeal, so does the Girl - I knew when he rejected the oatmeal, he was sick.

Frankly, I'm not surprised he jsut can't get it going today. He was down for the count with a stomach virus this long weekend past. And now he has this congestion thing that is focused in his throat. So the kid deserves a break.

Thankfully, Kabloey hitched a ride with Drama Princess and mom to school. They also are his wheels home. So, I don't have to leave the house today, depending on my choices.

I called WhiskeyJack to pass on some gleaned stuff - apples and clothes. Luckily, I checked all the clothes I had set aside for her and saw that one pair of sweat pants I had intended for the Elfinator read "Princess" across the butt. Uh, no. Elfinator is definitely not a princess. Must be the ourdoor plumbing he's got. Or something.

WJ stayed for a round of oranges, gleaned salsa ("There's something not standard in this." "It could also be crap."), almost too many too many pieces games pulled out, tea and conversation. We were both fighting inertia when she left. ("Maybe there's a narcotic in the salsa that is sapping all our motivation." Gleaning IS a cult!) She continued on her search for love with a couch.

I had decided that I don't have to rush off to another clothing glean - the second one this week. We are lousy with clothing now. Most of it jeans that are too long for Kabloey. But there is a lot of interesting in the house now.....

LOML has his first read-through in, wow, 10 years. He received his script several weeks ago and has applied himself, in his standard pit bull way, to learning as many lines as he can. I admire his tenacity. And I love it that he is an actor/director. I am looking forward to seeing him on opening night. And get to go home with him! Woo-hoo!

I am valiantly trying to finish some tasks for the Co-op, LWP, and home. Bookds have been read (home), phone book has been cracked open (Co-op), and e-mails sent (LWP). Hmmm, maybe I can just relax, take a shower and indulge in the narcotic (or stomach-cramp inducing) salsa and Kahlua.

Who is the Man on the Flying Trapeze?

It's about balance, isn't it? I'm here beating myself up about not being effective/productive enough. My standards are not up to snuff. But whose snuff are we talking about? If it is someone else's, then I am in for a disappointment.

My standards are not low, they are different than many others. I don't have all that life experience of some, but I do have my life experience. In some cases a decade or more than others. It doesn't negate my experience. It makes it mine.

I am not a perfectionist. Life is messy. Bring your own towel. I don't have all your answers. I am searching for my own. The answers are unique to the individual. And it's ok to be ok.

Outta Bed - Finally

Thankfully, this virus wasn't a technicolor virus. Just crampy enough to make me most unhappy. LOML stayed home from work and, shit, got more done in one day than I do in a week. But then, before I stay the self-flagellation, I have lots of distractions. Good distractions too.

So I stayed in bed, napped, knitted, read, worked on lines, snuck in Angelica Houston in "The Witches," had a late and lovely soup and conversation lunch with LOML, watched the Girl be a tremendous goober and Nekkid Monster.

Gleaned some clothes that may fit somone here. Snagged a mess of hotel toiletries to drop off at the Women's Shelter. Grabbed a final ball of Seacrest yarn for my long scarf. Made plans to make a Big Dipper backdrop with xmas lights and glitter with two other 4th grade parents.

Coached Misterpher on the fine art of washing paint from his hands. Showered teh Girl who had sat in M's painting. Tried to tolerate the cold water bath Girl had going - her second bath today. And I am ready to go back to bed.

Thanks LOML for staying home. I couldn't have been near as pathetic without you.

Sharing the Love

Stomachs in the second grade are revolting. Seems a line of children are passing not notes, but a virus. We know a second grader and somehow his virus got passed on to Misterpher. He spent a queasy afternoon and night yesterday.

He dodged the hour-long swimming lesson bullet today. But in typical mom manner, I would not let him go over to Straight Gay Friend's house for an extended play day while LOML went to a coaches' meeting. Kabloey and the Girl went.

When I called SGF, she let out one of those "Curse the gods!" sort of growly moan. She assured me that Sam-I-Am would be sorely disappointed. Well, we all were, to be honest. I was hoping for some conversation.

Misterpher and I sat on my bed with the portable DVD player, my knitting, my script, lots of water and a couple of keep-downable snacks and watched Willow and Revenge of the Sith.

Sharing the load is what parenting is about. What I got was Misterpher's virus. I have already spent two hours curled up on the couch, eaten my homemade applesauce (which was comforting), and LOML has e-mail his regrets to work tomorrow. I'll pick out some other vids for me and keep a clear path to the bathroom.

On the upside, I know I have I have to find the third set of sheets for the boys' bed. Three is a magic number.

Seeking Balance

OooH! Someone blogged her reaction to a blog of mine. She's ticked that I won't acknowledge that there may be one true way. BECAUSE I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE THAT THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY! To do anything - live, respond, believe. Yes, we are all made the same - sperm and egg. But even now actual mechanis are varied. Get over it.

Returned to VaginaLand today. Given an incedibly hard for me monologue. Seems the requirement was that I have Native American ancestry. Yes, 1/64th. But I am gratefully lacking in the abuse department. Other actors are not, sad to say, but the director has other ideas.

I am all for empowering women to be uppity and stand their ground. I am blessed with a husband who understands and encourages that. And hanging with the girls is cool. But I am realizing that not being in that under 35 group allows me the opportunity to accept my level of experience. I don't have to be brash, I can be me. I don't have to "work it, baby." I even have the opportunity when I am out of VaginaLand to fly under the radar.

VaginaLand is close to the surface, emotional, raw, demanding, healing, safe for those who need safety, out of balance. I find I have to hold on to who I am outside of VL to maintain my sense of balance. Because if I were to completely cast off who I am outside, I would be lost. LOML is a constant in my life for whom I am deeply grateful, but he is not my "Bob." That is his opinion, and seeing as there is truly more than one way to achieve anything, his opinion does, in fact, have validity and should be respected.

Outing Myswelf at the Squids' School

Well, not so mush at the school but in teh library. Anal-retentive Assistant and Hip Librarian (who did not put the Shakespeare action figure next to the Nancy Pearl action figure) were more than likely privvy to a conversation I had with GSGB.

GSGB was dressing me down about a previous blog entry about not being good at ritual. Shit, I grew up in the Catholic Church - I know ritual. I just don't want to have to plan and organize them. For someone who is chicken shit to dance for a live band, I can lead all sorts of stuff off the cuff. Energy work and ritual included.

Anyway, I was this close to being Misterpher's show-and-tell item. It was supposed to be something that started wiht S and could fit in a sock. I fit in two socks! He was all for it up until I got dressed and was reading teh Girl a story. He changed his mind.

I tried hard to be a grown-up and not take it personally. After how excited he was about me being in his classroom yesterday, I thought I'd go for two and come today. Welp, he backed out. I told him it was his decision and that I would respect it. (It works on Kabloey and i frequently get my way with him, but Misterpher was not swayed.) Kabloey did go into talk to him about letting me go, but also, to no avail.

Kabloey storms out of their room with Misterpher yelling, "You just want to come off as the good kid!" Kabloey blasts back, "No, I'm just being her son!" So, I really had to be a grown-up and let the M-man know I did not send K-boy in to plead my case. Man.

Anyway, the Girl and I brought lunch to the boys and we ate Pizza Bell in the school cafeteria, slipping shit to various kids. Then I found myself in the library wrapping books and outing myself to the hip guy who probably won'tgive a rat's ass and the A-r Ass who prolly will.

Cool.

Is it me?

I am sitting here wondering what to blog about today. I am growing weary of the angry poison being spewed about. But the "chat with a friend" topic is overdone because, generally, I feel I am not a t liberty to detail every thing that is said.

Sure, I said I would not censor myself, but ya know what? I have to. It's like that Arthur episode when Francine takes a pledge of only telling the truth, she completely deletes her editorial filters. In typical PBS fashion, feelings are hurt, tools are provided to help the kids work things out and the Monkey Girl is properly abashed and apologizes. Lesson learned.

The inherent nature of a blog is also egocentric. That's another "Let's face it" thing. Just how much do I want to go on about me? *sigh* I mean, if I had set this up as a journal of personal insight, I sure would not have opened it to the public.

I guess I'll stick with the slice of life entries. Liek right now, the Boys are playing the interactive light saber game. Kalboey is passing on his knowledge to Misterpher. Theyare swinging this light saber all over the place. They even have me looking up cheat codes to get the dreaded "swinging light saber leave a big ass blister on your finger" defensive to work.

WJ and her squids came over today. WJ said that Bina wanted to come over to eat all our food as she came close to Tuesday. Bina countered taht she only wanted to eat come of our food. Seems hunger was a hot topic today. So I went gleaning, got salad and fruit, some fancy bread. (Forgot the croissants though, damn!) I must say it totally rocks that I can snag a meal for free. It's that bargain hunter in me, I guess.

Will Visit for Food

After being baited while Gleaning, I still got out early enough to make it over to Straight Gay Friend's house to hang out a wee bit and boss Sam-I-Am around. The Girl was party to it so he wasn't being singled out. I boss all healthy children around.

So, after gleaning, which SGF thinks is a cult and she would be correct, I left a gallon of non-fat milk and some tortillas with her. So, it's a generous cult. Or maybe I'm just trying to lull her into a sense of false security. Ya never know with us cult-people.

I checked the time and realized that I was needed at home to let people into the house. So The Girl and I made it into my now-hatch-deficient Heap and slid in sideways to home. After unlocking the house to allow Misterpher, Bina, the Elfinator and Whiskey Jack in, I drove around to the back. (As I type this, I remember I have yet to empty the dairy and produce garbage from my car. Shit! Thank Goddess it's not summer with the sultry temps of 60 degrees encouraging the fermentation process.)

As I went through my other gleanings, WJ scored the green beans, tortillas and some other vegetable I think. We went through the food I scored on Freecycle and decided upon the two varieties of pad thai. I used the gleaned vegetable tofu (which looks like tripe after being frozen), gleaned close-to-being-a-food-grenade celery and gleaned skinny carrots (not to be confused with real baby carrots, these are cosmetically chopped to look skinny - kinda like what old Hollywood stars wind up doing).

Making sure I popped a sufficient handful of chromium (regulates blood sugar and keeps me from turning into a snarling beast), I started to cook the pad thai up. I measured the water for one of the sauce. Then I started to measure the water for the noodle. Luckily I stopped myself before I got too into the measuring thing. I stated, "It's just you, WJ. WTF am I trying to prove by measuring water?" After that, I was able to wean myself off the surreptiously glances at the instructions on the box and wing it. That's why I used the c-t-a-f-g celery and tripe tofu with reckless abandon.

Once it was ready, we sat ourselves down for lunch. Very KTF to me. Cooking for a friend. Yeah, that's the way to go. Elfinator came into mooch some noodles. I remembered I had some red chili and garlic sauce. Let it be lunch!

After our lunch the banana frenzy began. I had broken down and bought *gasp, arg* bananas because I was growing weary of the banana bread bananas I had been gleaning. Then lo and behold, today I gleaned some good bananas! And now they are almost all eaten.

I also scored some Danish Cream or puck cream, which I think I like the latter name better, just because of it's tenuous hold on civility as a name. WJ and I spent a good amount of time, probably more than a soccer mom would because she would either know what it was right off, or wouldn't waste her time asking Jeeves what it was, looking up Danish/Puck cream. WJ instructed me in the ways of of advanced asking by using quotation marks and a minus sign as part of our query. OOOooooo, Ahhhhh.

Elfinator stole a can and hid it somewhere in the basement. Not to fear, it did turn up before they left. And WJ went and looked at the label to see how it was presented. Go figure. Anyway - all pictures depicted it as a dip. So we went through the, yes they were gleaned, raspberries (hey, outta 6 packages only about 4 good raspberries were found), we settled in with spoons and raspberries. WJ found the raspberries to be bitter but the Danish cream to be acceptable. Misterpher found it all to be quite acceptable.

I spent too much energy trying to keep the puck pristine and finally released my sphincter muscles enough to get that the puck had no intention of being saved. So I let squids have their way with it as long as it stayed in the can or their mouths. BTW - puck has a nice yogurty texture and an unsweetened whipping cream taste.

We chatted, covering all sorts of topics. One that has me intrigued is that WJ wants to attend a ritual. She was disappointed in her good humored way that I just am not that kind of pagan. Heathen is what I prefer, probably just to piss everyone off and to elude labels. I guess the real truth of it is, I don't know enough people to really have a well-attended ritual even if I wanted to put one together.

So I found another open can of Puck. The squids ate us out of fruit. I guess I'll have to buy some fresh fruit to use that can up. *sigh*

Mental Wanderings

While the title is not as representative as Mental Diarrhea or Brainal Puking. Just a wee bit vivid, eh?

Anyway -

I like my Student Massage Therapist. He's nice. He hasn't yet achieved tea "out-of-body" massage expertise I long for, but his improvement is apparent. And free. I don't feel self-conscious when I haven't shaved for a week. Since he found out I am one quarter Cajun and a fingernail's worth of Indian, I am "his blood." If there was even a spot of African, I'd probably find myself in his will.

Misterpher is upset that one of tea girls in his class wants to marry him. They're five-fucking-years old! Of course, when I was in kindergarten, I knew I was going to marry Pat Taggart. Then, as a freshman in high school, he tried to get me and Kelly Morgan drunk on airline sized bottles of something, then french-kissed me. I never spoke to him again. Let's hope it turns out better for Misterpher.

Whiskey Jack, aka Atheist Anthropologist, has taken the "Steve, Don't Eat It!" thread and made it her own. Now I'd like to start what we call here, "Food Grenades." Those are the foods that not every one in the house may like, or even be tired of and one brave soul finished it off. There was a slightly underdone quiche food grenade that LOML threw himself on. For me, it's usually hummus or brussels sprouts.

Straight Gay Friend believes that the gleaners' group is a cult. I rib her and accuse her of thinking of taking me to her safe house for de-programming. But hey! I figured that we saved over $400 last month. And that's a conservative estimate.

The Door Curtain Friend called and asked if her son could hang with us Wednesday. Sure! I then admitted to her that I have plans to steal her idea of gluing groovy door curtain beads to the hood of my dilapidated Ford. She has a nice white coupe with blue door curtain oval beads on the hood. Mine is a basic rainbow set. LOML has asked only that I not glue the hood shut. The corollary to that is for me not not glue the doors shut either. And WJ wants to find a huge green 60's daisy so she can transform her van into the Mystery Machine.

DCF and I talked about society's view of art. She belives that everyone is an artist, we just need to trust ourselves to create. Society be damned! She was intrigued to know that I still harbor some self-consciousness based on what society deems acceptable. It is nice to know I have either fooled her or my complex system of hiding my psychoses is effective.

Maybe that could be one of thethings I choose to work on. Drink plenty of water and drown my inner critic. Or maybe turn that IC onto really good chocolate.

Family Swim in the Pacific Northwest

There is something so decadent about going swimming when it is cold outside. I love it. I am even accustomed to the head-exploding chlorine smell that assaults you when you first enter the pool area. Maybe that's good, maybe I'll be toxic. But it was an overall good outing. Images from the day at the pool:

The Girl dressing herself in her huge brown boots, orange and black stripedy socks, Dora teh Explorer underwear, purple floweredy skirt, white floweredy shirt. All over her swimsuit.

Too many hairy backs. Sure it was only two, but ewwww.

The two Asian guys and that other guy have the men's swimwear thing figured out. No hanging down to your knees grunge wear, but not scary stupidly small Speedo. And no, not all these guys were totally buff.

The big girls were out with their styrofoam barbells.

The Girl holding on to my suit's back straps as I walked around in the water.

Kabloey treading water with one hand up.

The SI asking for special treatment and getting it.

Kabloey going off the diving board and rope swing. Just as he said he would.

The squids' swim instructor not taking the guff Misterpher was handing out by the barrelfull.

Misterpher reprimanding the Swim Instructor, saying he couldn't do whatever she was asking him to do, then doing it and more.

Scheming with SI about forgoing Kabloey's lesson next week so that Misterpher can have a full hour with her. That way he'll get about 30 minutes instruction. Whereas, when he is there 30 minutes, he dicks around so much, we're lucky if he actually swims for 10.

Misterpher - "I gotta go pee." "I gotta put my goggles on." (He always has to get out of the water to do it.) "I cannot do that.!" "You're a grown-up; you should know I can't do that." "I do not like swimming lessons." (See? it'll be an hour next week.)

The new shower floor and benches.

The corner is the best place for showering, especially with the Girl. I got to use two shower heads and get sprayed at the top and bottom. Luxurious.

The nice lady who also knows that the corner is the best spot. Conversationally adept, pleasant and not weird about being in a corner with other naked people.

Me not being weird about being naked with other women in the room.

The Girl combing her own hair and just about getting it all.

Another way to while away the hours

And beat up a skinny chick:
http://www.addictinggames.com/bonelessgirl.html

All before 10am

1. Fight the squids off the closed door twice
2. Figure out that gleaned coconut is not worth it.
3. Did not destroy a good kitchen knife, but the towel is unhappy
4. Come to wonder the worth of a pummelo
5. Found another food to add to WhiskeyJack 's list of nanky food we've eaten - see #2.
6. Almost burned a sheet pan on the stove top
7. Knocked over the cocoa mix
8. Knocked over the cocoa cup
9. Sent LOML, the Girl and Kabloey off to basketball and other points athletic.
10. Sat with Mistperher to watch a movie
11. Marvel at my life and how goofy we are (read: we kept cool as we thrashed about the kitchen and dinging room.)

Things That Are Right

1. Friends who know literary references. And aren't afraid to use them.
2. Children in dress-up costumes.
3. When my children say "I love you" and smooch me for no reason at all.
4. When I say "I love you" and smooch my loved ones outta the blue.
5. Paying off credit cards.
6. Bringing home surpises - and being gracious about receving them.
7. Chatty phone conversations with girlfriends.
8. Tea and cookies in my living room with girlfriends.
9. Surprise generosity.
10. Pedicures.

Things That Are Just Wrong

1. 80 degrees on Christmas Day (Southern Hemisphere excluded).
2. People with too many clothes
3. Drama Princess telling life mysteries to The Girl.
4. Pork brains ain a can.
5. "You can believe what you want, but my way is the one true way."
6. Pissing in everyone else's post toasties (pessimism is not realism).
7. Hearing my kids say the same stuff I say - what's wrong is that I said that crap to begin with.
8. The Internet when there's so much more impoartant things to do - like cleaning up the world. (Then why the hell am I still logged on?)
9. Mothers telling their 18-month olds not to spill. (No, this is not about you, AA.)
10. Me telling folks not to tell me they read my blog and then wonder why there are not comments (eh, maybe that's just stupid).

Addendum: Red and green flip-flops with jingle bells. (See #1.)

Please Don't Eat the Blog

No, I don't want this guy's sense of self-abuse, but his writing is a level to which I aspire.

http://www.thesneeze.com/mt-archives/cat_steve_dont_eat_it.php

Hippo Gnu Deer

That's what the Naked Girl sitting next to me is saying. Along with "I love you" and "Tell me I'm a goofball."

No new resolutions this year. I seldom have honored the old ones, so why worry? Nothing written down or promised on a whiteboard or in my head. Maybe I'll just "follow the energy" and see where it takes me.

Maybe I'll start a garden, write more, leave a job, paint the house inside and out, clear off my desk, organize my office, make beef jerky, get the mending done, lend a hand, tread the boards, read, knit, I dunno. The New Year always sparkles with possbility. But then I should realize every day sparkles too.

Hip Librarian at the Squids' school has a Nancy Pearl Librarian action figure. So I was thrilled to glean two William Shakespeare action figures yesterday. I gave him one. The other one, I left on the dinner table and see what the squids think. Kabloey and Misterpher have already found him and the conversation that ensued was thus:

"Who is that?"

"Uhhhh, William Shakespeare?"

"Oh. What movie is he from?"

"I dunno. (more reading the package) Hey, his weapon of choice is the quill pen - it is mightier than the sword. Hey, that's my favorite weapon too."

I am somewhat freaked out by knowing there are folks out there who are reading my blog that I never intended to read it. Maybe it would just be better if no one told they were reading me. I get antsy thinking that someone is so far into my head. I dunno. Maybe I blog something that just pisses someone off to where they quit reading me altogether. We'll see.

BTW, don't ever tell me I could never piss you off. Little Rock Bill made that mistake It only took me three hours and he didn't speak to me for three months.