New ettiqutte

Putting "Adults Only" on an invitation is ALWAYS going to offend the people with Children. It's akin to saying " please wear an outfit that makes you look like Poo because I'm more important." Use this phrase at your own risk. If you don't want kids there, designate a House/Area of the house where a babysitter is provided and children will be accomodated.

If you enter your name into a "Secret Santa" round YOU MUST COMPLY WITH THE GIVEN RULES- NO EXCEPTIONS OR EXCUSUES ACCEPTED!" If it's too much committment in ANY way, don't enter.

When in doubt, TIPthose who help you look Hott!

Do not marry a movie/TV/entertainment-of-any-kind Star or you will end up divorced. Just date them long enough to get lots of gifts/perks/fame.

I'm Not Dead Yet!

Um, ahem...(tap tap tap)...is this on? Uh, yes, well, here I am. Hallo then! How have you all been?! Back from the presumed-dead, I suppose, itinerant witty person that I claim to be. Sorry for the absence; will try not to let it happen again. (Pity that one can not write in accent, as the foregoing is being imagined with distinctly John Cleese-like inflection. Oh well, carry on, then.)

So here I am. I think I may have begun falling out of the writing habit in some kind of decisional dilemma over what exactly my blog 'identity' or focus should be. Should I be political? Maternal? Simply witty? Sarcastically expatriate? Trite? Deep? Antidisestablishmentarian? (ha ha ha, I kill only me.)

But I think about what makes me want to write, and I think who gives a crap what category it falls into. It's mostly mommyhood, really -- probably because kids have a disarming way of making off with your very soul and making you think you willingly gave it away (not bitter, just honest) -- but I'm all those other things to and so they'll surface too and we can just see which way the wind blows us, y'know?

All this being an extended lead-in to telling you that I have really now arrived at mommyhood and I know it because I discovered tonight that I have a gigantic blue-green a$$-bruise. Its size, location, and tone indicate that I really should know exactly when and how I got it, but I have no flippin' idea. This, to me, is why it announces so assertively that I am a full citizen of Mommyland and there is no turning back. Well, both the cluelessness that I had it AND vivid memories of my mom having blue/purple/green bruises on upper thighs and legs and also never knowing whence they came. (Do NOT ask me why my mom showed me her a$$-bruises. I think it was mainly to say, passive-aggressively "you all are killing me like this daily and I'm so used to the pain I don't even feel it anymore.") So far the worst thing about the a$$-bruise is it hurts when you push it (uh, so for my list: don't push on a$$-bruise) and it makes my a$$ look really really blubberlicious white in contrast (next for my list: buy spray-on a$$-tan).

I'm likin' the dollar signs for 's' thing, so that I'm not really cussing (sez your filter).

Other than that, hubby is away on a 10-day business trip {insert cry of anguish here}, and Christmas vacation for Older Son starts next Wednesday, so actually this blog may be the only key to preserving my sanity. In any case, I'm back. I'll try to do better, 'cause I actually love doing this, it's just I get addicted. Bye for now. Missed y'all.

winter....Wonderland?

After having a foot of snow dumped on my fair city in five hours, I have decided that the writers of the song "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" had silk long-johns and multiple servants. The Long johns to keep them warm while walking, and the servants to drive them around, make them hot cocoa and a raging fire in the hearth. My drive-time to work this evening was quadrupled, and I was accompanied on the road by all the SUV's that think they own the universe, and the inevitable person in a car which has nothing to lose, swerving and darting and fishtailing thier way around all of the sensible drivers (i.e. ME!)

When you live in Florida, you think snow is so pretty and romantic, and considering that I learned to drive in Florida, I was and still am terribly uncomfortable with driving in the snow. I always think I'm sliding, and find myself chanting "Turn INTO the fishtail" as I drive along, fully tensed form headto toe and all big buggy eyes and white-knuckles. Today was also the first day I was rewuired to venture out into the snowy streets with a child buckled into the carseat. Yes, we experienced winter-driving in the Monkey's first winter last year, but never in such freshly dangerous conditions. Thankfully, we arrived at our destination unharmed, and in my joy at ariving, I locked the keys in the car. Hubby waited around the mall for an hour, then discovered I had never locked the car, just left them in the ignition of the Unlocked car. This is where I smack my forehead with the heel of my hand and promise "favors" to my perfect hubby.

I am hoping to stuff the Monkey into her snowsuit tomorrow and head out to the yard to make a snowman, or at least eat some unmarked snow before heading back onto the road to work. I am also hoping that we get some pictures, so we don't get any beatings from scrapbooking relatives this christmas. At least not for lack of pictures.