After much soul-searching, over two hundred comment spam, and more than a few crappy posts of late, I have decided to once again call an end (or at least an extended pause) in Note-It Posts. I have a lot going on right now (three kids under five and their activities, two online businesses, a marriage, a farm, several civic commitments, among other things), and blogging just isn’t in the cards for me right now. I haven’t read blogs regularly since before I left for Texas, and have missed it far less than I thought I would. Thank you to everyone who read, and thank you to everyone who commented.
Speaking of comments, I turned them off on every post but this one, and will turn comments off on this one in a few days. The spam is just more than I have time for.
I can’t promise I’ll stay gone - I’m far too unpredictable for that - but I don’t foresee this site coming back. It’s been fun, I’ve been grateful for the many great people I’ve met, and I don’t regret it for a second.
The scene: Kayla (2) comes running up to me (after she’s been put to bed) while I’m in the bathroom changing her brother’s diaper.
Me: What are you doing?
Kayla: (holding up her thumb and finger, pinched tightly together) Mama, wook! Wook!
Me: What is that?
Kayla: It’s a ou’side bug!
Me: Where did you find that?
Kayla: In the wivving room.
Me: What were you doing in the living room?
Kayla: Finding a ou’side bug!
So, it seems some people are so disappointed in the 2004 Presidential election, they’ve decided to voice their opposition.
Rothchild, 35, is selling blue bracelets that say “COUNT ME BLUE,” while Laura Adams, of Fairway, Kan., offers blue bracelets that say “HOPE.” The McKnight family, of Moscow, Idaho, is even more direct; their black bracelets proclaim: “I DID NOT VOTE 4 BUSH.”
[…]
Rothchild, who is selling the bracelets on the Web in packages of 10 for $20, plans to give part of her profits to UNICEF, and Adams has donated money from the sale of her $3 bracelets to Save the Children and Habitat for Humanity.
The McKnights are auctioning their bracelets on eBay and selling them for $3 each on their Web site, where buyers can vote for one of six organizations that will receive a portion of the proceeds.
I’m torn on my reaction to this. On the one hand, raising money for charity in a way that does NOT involve compulsory donation (read: taxes) is a good thing. On the other hand, the whole “He’s not my president” and “I didn’t vote for him” message of this thing strikes me as more than a little childish. “I didn’t get my way, so this is my own personal little temper tantrum.”
After spending 10 days in London with friends who were outspoken about their disdain for President Bush’s policies, Berns Rothchild came home wishing she had a way to show the world she didn’t vote for him.
“I sort of felt ashamed, and didn’t really want to be associated with being an American,” said Rothchild, who lives in New York City and voted for John Kerry.
Personally, I feel like if she was so ashamed of being an American, she should have kept her frizzy-haired hippy ass in London. But, maybe that’s just me.
“You’re like smart Roseanne.” - Mike
The Weblog Handbook: Practical Advice on Creating and Maintaining Your Blog by Rebecca Blood
We got an early copy of this book because SexyHusband’s weblog
was one of those cited in the book as having a “strong voice.” It was
also cited for a now-defunct page he used to maintain called Weblog Madness,
wherein he tried (rather successfully, for a time) to keep track of all
of the available weblog tools, plug-ins, courses, etc. - basically “all
things bloggy.” This task - which is now virtually inconceivable in its
scope - helps to show how dated some of the information in this book
is. Bear in mind, this is about a medium which is all of about 6 years
old, but in Internet time, that’s ages. The book’s a short read, and
somewhat informative as far as the blogging’s (brief) history goes. The
section on getting started blogging - examining your motives,
practicing before you go live, etc. would probably be useful for
someone less impulsive than me, but I found some of the book to be a
veiled sneer at “new” bloggers who corrupted the form - if not the
essence - of blogging.
The Black Echo by Michael Connelly
I love forensic thrillers. This is more thriller than forensic, but it
was still fun to read through. You know halfway through precisely who
the real villains are, so there isn’t as much suspense as the author
would have liked, and the characters won’t stick with me longer than a
day or so after it’s done, but at least the writing didn’t have me
yawning, or hoping for the book to have a tragic bath accident.
White Oleander by Janet Fitch
I absolutely loved this story, about a young girl becoming a woman in
the foster system of Los Angeles. Her mother - a striking beauty - is
imprisoned (rightfully) for the death of her lover. Astrid (the girl)
then faces years in the foster care system, being shuffled from one
horrible situation to another. You’re invited into her own thoughts
during the course of the book, as it’s told from Astrid’s point of
view. She learns to endure loss, hate, rejection, neglect, fear,
hunger, and (worst of all) indifference. Through it all, she learns to
survive, to endure. The language is poetic and engaging, the characters
nuanced and interesting, and the plot perfectly crafted. One of the
best.
I was playing a game with Adam (4), wherein I caught his ankles in a “trap” (my hands).
Adam: Look! (holding up thumb and forefinger, pinched together) I found a
key! (twists fingers into my hands) Now I unlocked the trap!
Mom: Musta been the wrong key, cuz you’re still trapped!
Adam: Then I’ll have to find another key.
Mom: I have the only key that works. It’s hidden.
Adam: Then I’ll have to shoot a cannonball at you so you let me go.
Mom: But if you shoot a cannonball at me, it will blow your feet off.
Adam: No, it won’t. It will just hit only you, and hurt you! (big grin)
Mom: But you don’t want to hurt me! Then I would be sad!
Adam: Don’t worry; I will only hurt you softly.
At that point, I started laughing so hard, the “trap” came loose. He has no idea, does he? He hurts me softly every day.
I expect only maybe two of my readers watch enough Iron Chef to find these funny, but as an avid Iron Chef fan myself, I couldn’t NOT blog them.
5. Iron Chef/Jacques Cousteau crossover. Chef: Michiba. Theme ingredient: Giant squid. Gimmick: The theme ingredient strangles Kaga as he unveils it. Outcome: After Kaga is rescued, he mentions suavely that Michiba’s “odori squid sushi” gave him intense personal satisfaction and he is pleased to announce the tetsujin’s victory.
[…]
3. Iron Chef/Geraldo crossover. Chef: Sakai. Theme ingredient: Methamphetamines. Challenging chef: A KKK member. Gimmick: Major fistfights break out in the Kitchen Stadium as the Klansman rudely insults Sakai’s ancestry and is carved into sushi by the agile chef’s filleting knife. Outcome: Lawsuits.
This story made me laugh right out loud. Little premonition of what I’ve got coming, I’m sure.
I need to get back to work on the reconstruction project soon. For readers new to this blog, I’m converting my den into a bedroom for SexyHusband and myself. I’ve made substantial progress on it over the last year (yes, “year"; we’re doing the work ourselves, cut me a break!), and have now reached the point where I need to build a new wall. I can’t do that, however, until I move the GiganticQuiltFrameOfDoom out of there, and I can’t do THAT until some of the haul from the great commercial greed-o-fest (read: Christmas toys) have been moved out of the living room.
I just spent two hours cleaning, sorting, arranging, and culling toys in my eldest son’s room to make way for his huge pirate ship and dock. In the course of said cleaning, I managed to wrench my back, stub my toe, and generally wear my ass out. I finally finished it, and called the boy (4 years old) into his room. What was his reaction? Not a “You’re the best mom in the whole world!” No “Wow, I have the coolest room, ever!” Not even a “Thank You.” Instead, he giggled, clapped his hands, and slammed his door. I’ll take it. :)
A British man was jailed on Friday for repeatedly stabbing a long lost best friend he had traced via the popular “Friends Reunited” Web site, and the victim says he still wants to be buddies.
Brendan Walsh, 27, nearly killed Noel Duff when he stabbed him seven times in a drunken rage because he mistakenly believed his friend had attacked his sister, Karen, whom Duff had started dating.
However, Walsh immediately became full of remorse, called an ambulance and Duff was rushed to a hospital where doctors said it was a miracle he had survived a stab wound to the heart.
See, I gotta tell ya… I don’t care HOW good of friends we are, or HOW drunk you are… you stab me* - even once - and the friendship is OVER.
* In light of Harvey’s comment, I thought it merited clarification - if you stab me with an implement which causes me injury, with malicious intent, the friendship is over.
The most outrageous thing about this story isn’t that the guy was so mindbogglingly stupid, as that he was so mindbogglingly arrogant as to file for unemployment benefits.
Dean L. Wooten, 65, was accused of greeting customers with a computer-generated photo of himself in which he appeared to be naked — except for a carefully placed Wal-Mart bag — and of telling customers that Wal-Mart was cutting costs and the sack was the company’s new uniform.
[…]
Wooten’s application for unemployment compensation was rejected by an administrative law judge, who said “a reasonable person would know the act of showing a naked body wearing a Wal-Mart sack would not be good for the employer’s business.”
God bless Iowa, where they at least have some judges who haven’t completely lost their mind. Had this been San Francisco, Wal-Mart would’ve been sued into the bay for inflicting pain and suffering.
A woman on one of the scrapbooking lists I’m on just posted that her mother died. I don’t know her, but I wanted to write her a note of condolence. I started out with the typical “I’m sorry for your loss, please accept my condolences” and then I got stuck. I’m areligious, so “I hope God gets you through this rough time” is a a little hypocritical. Same with “I’ll be praying” or “I know she’s in a better place.” Since I’m not even an acquaintance to this person, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do” would be a big fat lie since (let’s be honest) I wouldn’t really do (or be able to do) anything.
So what do you say?
I’m leaning back in my computer chair, trying to make a more comfortable bed for my son. He’s passed out on my chest, his back to me, head pillowed on my breast. He stuffed himself full of Cheerios, and has that familiar oaty, wheaty smell on his breath. His head is heavy, and lolls to the side. He twitches in his sleep. He startles now, his little-boy hands flailing in the air, seeking purchase. I reach for them quickly, pressing them to his chest, wanting to prolong his rest. He settles.
He’s perfect - the curve of his ear, the chubby skin of his fingers, the soft silkiness of his hair, the gentle slope of his lashes. He’s all the best parts of me, and at times like these my heart is full to bursting: I cannot love him more.
Christina has crafted a linky-love post about who she’d want on her fantasy blogger party-bus. I’m not along for the ride, but even better: she thinks me worthy to look after her lil chilluns while she’s gone! Now, honestly, how damn cool is that?
“What the world needs is more geniuses with humility, there are so few of us left.” - Oscar Levant
Is this not just the most adorable baby picture you’ve ever seen in your whole, entire life? I thought so. ;)
Adam: (to his sister, in a pique after being temporarily denied a toy) I have a wonderful idea, Kayla! Let’s kill our parents.
Me: *blink*
Kayla: (ever the lemming) Oh-tay!
Me: Who will feed you?
Adam: Oh, no matter! (yes, he actually said, “no matter.") We’ll get all the food we want at the grocery store!
Me: How will you get there?
Adam: When I get bigger, I’ll drive the truck there.
Me: Well, then I guess you better not kill us until you get bigger. (scurries off to double-check the locks on the gun safes)
I subscribe to a couple of scrapbooking mailing lists over at YahooGroups. I’m trying to get a problem resolved, wherein email sent from them to me is not being received. They have this nifty automatic notification system that puts up an alert on your account page if your emails aren’t getting through. After you clear the block (in my case, overactive spamcop), you have to instruct them to send you a message with which you can reactivate your account. The link is called “Unbounce.” The parents among you will therefore understand when I say… “Who-who-who-whooooooooooooo!!!!”
I will never, ever again do back-to-back Mall Crawls. I have high hopes for 2005 in general, but the very first day is turning out to be quite a bitch.
