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The blog will self-destruct in one week. I have waited for direction in what to do with One Thing for a long time now, and I believe it is time to close up shop. It has been the source of a lot of joy (and probably equal parts angst) over the years to me as I have alternately wrestled with big stuff and laughed about little stuff. I hope it has blessed a few people along the way, but I no longer see myself as someone who can keep up with the tap-dance anymore.
I will still be writing, but this time it will be less snap-crackle-pop and more of a slow burn. You can find me here.
Thank you for the support and encouragement over the past five years. It’s been fun.
Top Ten Things I Don’t Do Anymore Because Life Is Too Short
1. Make my bed (there’s usually a soft squishy small person in it, anyway, which makes getting the blankets smooth a little difficult)
2. Iron (spritz with water. hang up. the end)
3. Argue with buttheads (including that little voice inside my head)
4. Resist buying a magazine when I want one (oh, glossy pages, how I love you)
5. Fold Underwear (My butt is wrinkled anyway, now my undies match!)
6. Drive the speed limit (HAHAHA! oh who am I kidding, I’ve never done that)
7. Worry about what people I don’t even know think of me.
8. Cross Stitch
9. Fill in all the blanks (I couldn’t think of anything for #9. Can you grasp the irony here?)
10. Blog obsessively (but then, you knew that, didn’t you?)
Got some things you learned to “just say no” to? For the simple reason that life is just too dang short to worry about it? Spill it! Feel free to borrow the Top Ten Squid button if’n you wish. And leave me a link, or a list in the comments!
Life is busy. February is soggy. Children are growing. Thoughts percolating. Too many ideas, too little time. Le Sigh. Meanwhile, enjoy these fine meats and cheeses links.
Feeling like a failure? Yeah, me too. This post ministered to me!
A book I am reading and enjoying immensely.
A book I am curious to read (have you? any thoughts?)
Something really damn funny. Unless you have a sense of humor that is not walking the line between abherrent and completely deranged.*
This is a man with an incredible vision and a beautiful heart. I love his work and his passion.
*this post is totally clean. The rest of the blog is RAYOR. It’s hilarious, but often irreverent and, occasionally, completely gross.
Hello, good people of the web. Today I feel the need to unburden myself of some pesky items that niggle at my conscience. After all, I am all about being real. Also, if I can in some small way make you feel better about yourself by revealing my dark, moldy, dust-bunny coated inner self, well, that’s a job well done in my book.
By the way, did you know that True Confessions was a seedy, steamy periodical back in the day? Which day, you ask? How far back, you ask? I’m not really sure. I don’t really care very much, but if one of you wants to research it, or already knows but wants to pretend like you had to research it to find out, well then feel free to enlighten me.
Apparently it consisted mainly of torrid stories of unsanctioned romance and tawdry encounters. Also, it cost ten cents, which I’m sure was quite the guilty pleasure back in the day. How much does one have to pay nowadays to set their senses a-quiver? I’m guessing it’s at least a quarter by now.
Getting on with it (no, not like that):
1. I don’t think Ryan Gosling is attractive. Like, at all.
What’s more, I cannot even comprehend the attraction. He has a face like a thumb. A thumb with a poorly drawn face on it. Okay, so he’s got “abs” and “pecs” and some other stuff going on below the neck, but really? Isn’t that kind of a man-reason to like a man? You know what I mean.
For instructive purposes, I hereby submit two photographs. One is a thumb. The other is Ryan Gosling. You be the judge.
As you can see, the difference is hardly detectable.
2. I wish I had a sensory-deprivation chamber.
After a long day of screaming at my children homeschooling my darlings, I can think of nothing…and I mean NOTHING…better than floating in a SDC. Deprived of any sensory input, either bad or good. Devoid of touch, sound, and sight. The danger would be that I might refuse to emerge, or regress genetically like Eddie Jessup in Altered States.
3. Sometimes I don’t return my Wal Mart cart to the cart corral.
This one may get me disowned by my very own brother, who views this as a deep flaw within one’s personality. But I’m being real here. Sometimes it’s too far away. Sometimes it’s three million below zero and I want to get into my car before my extremities shatter. Sometimes there’s a creepy guy checking me out. But most of the time, it’s because I just loaded half the contents of Wal Mart into my trunk and I’m just so damn sick of Wal Mart and handing over my husband’s whole damn paycheck to the whole damn cashier every damn time I go that I figure they can damn well pick up my damn cart. Those cart boys are perfectly capable, and they even have motorized cart-collectors to help them now, the pansies.
4. I want to grow my hair out, but I keep fantasizing about short haircuts.
Really, I have to resign myself to the fact that I’d rather look like this:
5. Sometimes I run away from my toddler and hope he gets distracted by something else before he finds me again.
Oh my word. Toddlers are so adorable. But oh my word. Toddlers are so CLINGY. Judah is at the stage where he is learning to Not Need Mommy So Much. However, when he is not on board with this current learning experience, he is certain, nay, convinced with firm, unwavering conviction, that he Needs Mommy At All Times, Without Exception. Even when he is not hungry, poopy, wet, or hurt. Just because There’s Mommy! There She Is! I See Her, Therefore I Need Her!
When he sees me under these conditions, he employs a technique known as “quick, grab a body part and do not let go”, at which point I employ evasive maneuvers. In other words, I run away. I run as fast as I can to a remote location and hope that he gets distracted by something interesting and realizes that playing with his siblings, or with a random toy, or with the dog’s orifices, can be every bit as entertaining as hanging onto my legs and wailing.
At least until he spots me again.
6. It took me all day to write this post.
This may be reason number one why I don’t blog so much anymore.
I have the strangest sense of deja-vu….I have presents to wrap, and floors to mop, and children to bathe, and cheeseballs to fabricate, and cookies to decorate…
DIDN’T I DO ALL THIS JUST 365 DAYS AGO??????????
WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS??????????
Tappity, tappity, tappity, tap…oh, shut up, list and presents and floors and unassembled-cheese-ball-components. CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BLOGGING?
Now I remember what it used to take to do this: hip, hip, hooray for denial and avoidance!
So yesterday I went with My Beloved to the “big city”, where we cheated death at least 4 times (that we know of) as we navigated around white-knuckled drivers with their eyeballs spinning in opposite directions from each other, singing IT’S THE MOST! WONDERFUL TIME! OF THE YEEEEEAR!! and we bought all kinds of Christmas essentials like candy canes and grapefruit and tea and dates and bully sticks and cat food and Larabars and…
What do you mean, bully sticks are not Christmas essentials?
I’ll have you know our dogs find them extremely festive.
If you don’t know what a bully stick is, consider yourself lucky. Do NOT google it! No! Don’t do it!!!!! Save yourself and the purity of your mind!
You did it, didn’t you? And now you’re scarred for life. You never listen to me.
Speaking of things that will scar you for life, check out this link. It’s my darling brother’s blog. No, not that brother, the other brother. This particular brother has the distinction of being able to make me laugh harder than any other human on earth. His blog is full of helpful information that is sure to enrich your life and fill your heart with holiday cheer.*
Speaking of holiday cheer, do you own the Toby Mac Christmas CD? Because if you don’t, there has been a gross miscarriage of justice in your life. Not to put too fine a point on it.
To be completely truthful, I only listen to the first half of it. That’s the Toby Mac part. The second half is the members of his DiverseCity band with their contributions, and they just don’t thrill me. But the first half is well worth the money. If you like music that sounds best when turned up to 11, that is. If you prefer music that causes butterflies to dance ballet upon the petals of orchids held between the buttcheeks of unicorns as they graze upon rainbows, then Toby Mac is probably not for you, and why do you read my blog?
Okay, so there’s this to-do list…it’s not content with hanging on the refrigerator anymore. It has now leapt (lept? leaped? leap’d?) down and scaled the leg of my desk chair, where it is persistently tapping upon my shoulder and tugging at my earlobe. Le sigh.
I saw the new Sherlock Holmes, and I have a few thoughts about it. More on that later.
I have some sweet memories about Christmasses past to share. More on that later.
I have lots of pictures to post. More on those later.
For now, enjoy your Christmas Eve Eve! May all cookies be spicy and your cheeseballs free from MSG.*disclaimer: This particular post from my darling brother is completely safe for viewers of all ages, if you don’t mind a little emotional scarring. Other posts may not be deemed appropriate for general viewing, depending upon your tolerance for irreverence, parody, satire, and the F word
Or, “one”, as the case probably is.
Hello, one. One who is still reading. One who remembers, vaguely, that I used to have a sort of blog-type thingie that I wrote on with feverish regularity.
Thanks for keeping me around, even if it was simply because it was easier than deleting me. How are you?
So today is Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve, and here I sit. I need to wrap some presents and scrub my toilet(s) and bake some things and cook some other things and run to the gross grocery store and bathe some children and plan some menus and do some last-minute shopping and mop the floor and go to the bathroom and play the lottery and call my mother and, apparently, kick my own butt off the computer, but somehow I got it into my head to write something, so that’s what I’m doing. Because I am, in fact, the boss of me.
Two years ago, I wrote this. Apparently, I was pretty merry.
Today, I feel subdued. Not sure why. More coffee? Less PMS? Both? Almost certainly.
What’s been going on with me? Most notably, a second grandson, named Isaiah. He will turn one in February. I always wanted a February baby and never had one personally, so my daughter obliged. She’s so accomodating! Always has been, her whole life. So sweetly obedient and compliant.
You can’t see me, but I’m snorting with barely-contained mirth right now.
Even so, she did manage to fill in that glaring gap in the birthday calendar with this scrumptious piece of humanity, and, all kidding aside, is quite the lovely daughter.
More about him later.
My own baby looks like this now:
More about him later.
This past year has held many challenges, victories, joys, and trials.
More about that later.
Maybe. I CAN promise that, as long as I keep breathing and possess digits on my upper extremities, I will occasionally remember where my blog dashboard is, and maybe perhaps, when time allows, type a few words here and there, perhaps 0-7 times per week, leaning more towards the left side of that number line.
Just in case you needed specifics.
Ebenezer: A memorial to the Lord
November 8th, 2010
As you can see by the following photos, he’s pretty darn ugly. And grumpy..
Here I raise my ebenezer
Here by Thy great help I’ve come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at Home.
(Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Robert Robinson, 1735-1790)
Exterior scene: night. Camera pans slowly over a vast open field of freshly tilled earth. The mournful sound of the wind accompanies the following words:
Many moons have come and gone.
Many seasons have worked their will upon the fabric of time.
The blog, it lieth fallow.
But no more.
Behold, the dawn! It approacheth! At long last the weary fingers stretch forth to the keyboard! The spirit of longsuffering mankind revives at the sight! With bated breath the earth awaits the falling of the first word! Oh, blessed be the fallow ground, to receive such auspicious seed, and blessed be the seed, to fall upon such willing and eager soil! What news, what information, what shimmering jewel of inspired thought shall be the first to plant itself upon the consciousness of waiting humanity? A deep breath is gathered and the collective ear is stretched forward, straining to hear that blessed word….
It’s been a while. How the heck are ya?
I’ve been doing some things.
Been a little bit busy, actually, since last June 30th. June 30th?? That’s like, a hundred and million years ago!
I think it would be easier to just show rather than tell. So here goes.
Whew. That was a lot! So….how about you? Tell me how the last six months have been treating you!
I forgot something?
I don’t know what you’re talking about.