Are You Reelin' in the Years, Stowin' Away the Time?

It's back to the daily grind in our home.

I went to the dentist this morning to make my pearly whites pearlier. This afternoon I took Griffin to his preschool for a get-acquainted-party. School starts Tuesday.


I typically have the attitude of Sweet Baby Jesus, Thank you for it being back to school time, but when Steely Dan came on the radio, I got a little misty eyed.

Stupid fucking Steely Dan.

Gutter Punks, You're All the Same

I've finally realized the major problem with my and Aaron's relationship...

He likes cake-y brownies and I like fudge-y brownies.

What Have I, What Have I, What Have I Done to Deserve This?

My boys (and when I say "my boys," I mean all three of them) are going apeshit over the new legos I got off ebay.


And when I say "apeshit" I mean they are Freaking Out Because They Are in Love.

And just so everyone knows -- yes, those legos had to go through the dishwasher and get sanitized. Allergies are a big ole pain in the ass.

And just so everyone knows -- yes, I got the dishwasher repairman's permission to take his photo. But since I didn't show his face, I did not need his permission to post it on the web.

Sometimes, having a Journalism degree and knowing all the "rules" work out really well in my benefit.

This is for Lori, who demanded insisted on seeing the fabric I got at Sarah's this weekend.


Just a bunch of 30's reproduction fat quarters for a big thank you project I'm working on. I was thinking it might take me two weeks before I reveal it and, well, it might just take longer.

In any case, I don't want people to think I've forgotten... it's just taking time. (Oh, time, how you toy with my life.)

I've been getting a few inquiries as to how the gluten-free cookbook is coming along... it's coming along s l o w l y.

I actually didn't expect it to be this slow, but then again I didn't expect Aaron to be out of town for a month at a time and for me to break my foot.

I've been researching on how to find a publisher and agent (if I even need an agent for the first book); I've been trying to get three recipes a week for the cookbook. I've outlined the information I want to include and I've been working on the research and medical facts to back it up.

I just didn't expect it to be so damn s l o w.

We've also been busy dealing with Aaron's ill grandma and trying (trying) to reschedule our cancelled 4th of July trip to Michigan. It looks like we are going in two weeks regardless if Aaron's going with us or not. ::gulp:: Um, yeah, I'm really panicking over the concept of taking a 750 mile roadtrip with the boys by myself, driving overnight. So let's hope Aaron can go with us. Mmmkay?

And for those of you who wonder how I find out the google searches, at the bottom of my pages is a little multi-colored square. It's a free sitemeter. Click on it and follow the instructions to get one for yourself. Once you get one, you can view where in the world people are view from, how long they are on, the referring links that brought them to your site and outclicks. Super-cool.

And since I don't have an internet stalker (which, seriously, where's my internet stalker?), I watch where people are from who are coming to visit me. Kinda reverse-stalking, if you will.

Yeah, We Divas But We Ride Like Big Boys Do

Aaron got home from his business trip Saturday evening. I spent the rest of the weekend running errands and sleeping.

So, yeah, I live an exciting life.

Since I haven't done this in awhile, here's an idea of search people do, and end up finding me...

bones in the neck that make sounds in the head -- um, ouch!

i need a fake foot cast -- hmmm... just what are you trying to get out of?

laura capello kansas -- really? the least you could do is leave me a comment. because, duh, you found me

how to make a fake table out of a shoebox -- huh?

no appropriate behavio -- no "r"?

"gluten free madeleines" -- I'll have that recipe in a the cookbook, if I ever get a publisher

"how to roll a doobie" -- yeah, no clue

"tonsil cheese" blog -- ewww!

pedaphiles gymnastics taking pictures signs -- if you asking that, then I'd think you have a pretty good idea already

why does it itch between my ass crack -- perhaps you need to learn to wipe appropriately, you know, get all the moisture out

And, as we always know, all the freaking music search are about 75% of strangers finding me.

I need a nap now.

If You'll be My Bodyguard, I Can be Your Long Lost Pal; I Can Call You Betty, and Betty when You Call Me You Can Call Me Al

Today's work in progress:


I heart repairmen.



And I really heart warranties. Geesh!

(Thank you, Marsha, for the pretty new banner and site tweeking; in case you can't tell, that's a photo of Griffin playing with an eye toy at an opthalmologist appointment for Darwin.)

Our House, in the Middle of Our Street

Or, How Being a Home Owner Totally Sucks Ass

It's a fact: when Aaron goes out of town, everything goes to shit.

Our dishwasher sounds like its going through a very slow, painful death.

Yes, our dishwasher that is less than a year old, that we spent charged an ungodly amount of money on so it would sanitize (allergies are fun) everything, is trying to die. It is so loud, it can wake the children up at 2 am despite the fact that their bedroom is upstairs, on the other end of the house, with their door closed and they sleep like the dead.

Then, last night...


... a four year old dead branch fell in the middle of the yard (thanks for that, Ice Storm of January 2002. Thanks for the lack of power for six days and dead branches we can't afford to get cut off). The least the branch could have done was fall on the dilapidated greenhouse. But no, we had to fall smack in the middle of the yard. Aaron's gonna have fun cleaning that up when he gets back in town.

Then this morning I found a dead blackbird in my flower bed. This is the fourth dead bird we've found in our yard this month. WTF? Go die somewhere else.

And to top it all off, I "accidentally" left Harold & Kumar on the tv last night. Apparently Griffin watched some of it, and keeps complaining that we don't have two toilets next to each other so "we can play Battle Shits together."

Maybe Get a Blister on Your Little Finger, Maybe Get a Blister on Your Thumb

I just got inside from deadheading the roses and watering Aaron's garden tubs. (Amazing! I know! With two kids and a mending broken foot! I also to the boys with me out the chiropractor and the pharmacy today. Why do I do these things, you ask? Because I'm insane, internet. Just plain, batshit crazy I am!)

Anyway. Just got in from doing some garden chores and I notice this on the side of the house.


Do you know what this is? Do you? DO YOU?

It's a fucking volunteer pumpkin patch. Oh, no. Not just a volunteer pumpkin vine, but a whole god damned patch. On the side of my house.

Do you know how many hours I spent last spring cleaning that garden bed out? Do you? Well over 20 hours. And I was going to plant some zinnia seeds but the Aaron got sent out of town for a month and then I broke my foot. And now I have a damn pumpkin patch on the side on my house.

And do you know what the worse part is? Aaron's trying to grow two pumpkin vines in his garden tubs and he can't get them to do shit. But the volunteer patch already has a damn pumpkin.

In other news around my house, I forced (yes, I said forced) my children to make some artwork today...


Griffin only makes artwork if stickers are involved.


Darwin's spending some quality time with the love of his life, Dora.

Speaking of Darwin's obsessions, I got a lovely package in the mail this week from Ali...


I made the mistake of opening it when the children were awake (obviously, locking myself in the bathroom wasn't enough to keep it secret). Darwin promptly saw the two activity books and started screaming, "Charlie! Lola! Chhaaaaarrrrrrrrlllllllleeeeeeee!!!! Looooooooooolllllllaaaaaaaaaa!"

Honestly, you would have thought he was at a New Kids on the Block concert he way he was losing his shit.

In addition to the two books, Ali sent a set of wonderful dishcloths, a bar of yummy soap and a candy bar that may or may not have been consumed within 15 minutes.

Ahem.

And this is for Lera...


... who, I do believe, has already made 20 of these. This is my first one. Yes, it took almost two weeks. Yes, I spent over two hours last night trying to figure out how to make a fucking french knot and finally came up with my own unique alternative.

See? I've been crafty! Oh, yes I have! And I have a project that I'm working on, which I'm keeping secret. I'm hoping to have it down in two weeks. Or maybe two years. We'll see. But I will give you a hint... it has something to do with thanking everyone during my Stupid Fucking Foot period.

Granny's Gettin' Lit -- She's Headin' Out to Bingo

I went to two quilt stores today.

And I signed up to do a quilt block-of-the-month club. I'm woozy over the cuteness.

Of course, I am going to have to go dye my hair grey now. I need to fit in with all the old biddies.

(Have you noticed? I always get myself in trouble at quilt stores when Aaron is out of town.)

Oh, yeah. Here's what I purchased...


Five 1930's reprint fat quarters and one holiday fat quarter.

My brain still isn't working properly from yesterday.

I Was Dreamin' When I Wrote This, Forgive Me If it Goes Astray

My brain is all, duuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr.

The weekend was a whirlwind of preparing for Aaron to go out of town. While he was hyperventilating, I was trying to keep him calm.

"We'll be fine. Have a fun a trip."

"Stop worrying so much, we'll be fine"

"I know this is your first trip out since I broke my foot, we'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

And I was fine.

Until Darwin got sick last night.

Vomit, screaming, monstrous scratching ensued.

By 2 am I thought life would be much better if I'd get the gumption up to stab my ear drums with needles. Certainly, that had to be better than listening to Dora and Boots contemplate, "River, Big Rock, Crocodile Lake" and Darwin screaming, "Backpack! Back pack! Backpack!" and "Tiper, no tieping! Tiper, no tieping!"

At 4:30, I finally decided, fuck this shit, and took Darwin upstairs to bed with me. The little punk was asleep in two seconds.

And?

And?

And?

He popped up at 7 am happy as clam and ready to start the day.

Now, please excuse me as I go bang my head against wall. I'm hoping for a concussion to put me out of my misery.

You Can Do Me in the Morning, You Can Do Me in the Night

:: snort ::

"What?"

"Oh, there's an advertisement in Martha Stewart Living this month for a fair that celebrates! twenty! five! years! of! good! things! and tickets are a hundred and fifty-five bucks just to get in the door, doing workshops cost even more."

"For a hundred and fifty-five dollars, I'd expect Martha Stewart to be there."

"Oh, she'll be there. But for a hundred and fifty-five dollars I'd expect her to go down on me too."

"Oh really. And you think you'd enjoy that?"

"Well, she does claim to be an expert at everything she does."

Doctor, Doctor Gimme the News...

I'm not crippled anymore!*

*this is a blatant lie... I have a hella limp and a long list of exercises I am never allowed to do... like squats. How will I forever tolerate my ass hanging low if I can never do swats again? And my foot still hurts.

Stupid fucking foot.

Oh, Won't You Stay Just a Little Bit Longer

Today is the one-year mark of me actually keeping up this blog (amazing! I know!).

I wish I could invite each and every one of you all over for coffee or tea, to sit and chit-chat in person, to let the kids play together.

But, alas, that is just not possible. So here's a cake so we can pretend...


Gluten-Free Cinnamon Swirl Coffee Cake

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 ½ cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla
1 ¼ cups sour cream

2 ¼ cup gluten-free flour mix*
¼ cup corn starch
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon kosher salt
2 ½ teaspoons xantham gum

For the Cinnamon Swirl:
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
2 teaspoons cinnamon
¾ cup chopped pecans (optional)

For the Glaze:
½ cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons milk


Preheat over to 350 degrees.

In an electric mixer, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about three minutes. Add eggs one at a time and blend until incorporated; scrape down the sides. Add vanilla and sour cream and blend until smooth.

In a large bowl, mix together dry ingredients with a wire whisk. With the electric mixer on low, slowly add dry ingredients until blended and fully combined. With a rubber spatula, scrape down the sides and hand mix until everything is incorporated and smooth.

In a small bowl, mix sugar, cinnamon and pecans.

With the butter‚’s wrapper, butter the inside of a 10-inch tube or bunt cake pan. Pour half of the batter into the pan, spreading and leveling with a knife. Sprinkle the cinnamon mix on top, careful not to touch the pan. Pour the remaining batter over the top, and spread again with a knife.

Bake in 350 degree oven for approximately 50 minutes, until a knife put through the center of the tube comes out clean.

Cool on a wire rack for 45 minutes; invert cake on to cake plate and let cool at least another 30 minutes before glazing.

In a small bowl, mix powdered sugar, vanilla and milk until smooth (add more sugar or milk to achieve desired ability). With a spoon, drizzle the cake with the glaze, encouraging it to flow over the edges.

Enjoy!

*Gluten-free four mix: In a resealable container, place 2 cups brown rice four, 1/3 cup tapioca flour and 2/3 cup potato starch. Place the lid on the container and shake until fully combined.

Don't want to make it gluten-free? Replace the gluten-free flour mix with all purpose flour and omit the xantham gum. (And yes, LLA, you can increase the amount of vanilla if you so choose -- I use double strength vanilla and I think it may still need more...)

I'd Like to Answer You, But I Can't Clarify if I'm 100 Miles Ahead or 100 Miles Behind

On the way to my chiropractor last night I passed an accident scene.

I must have arrived fairly soon after the accident; paramedics, firefighters and the police had arrived on the scene. More were coming up and down both sides of the highway to help.

As I inched my way past the scene, my stomach fell. They car had gone down a huge hill (at least 20 feet) and had obviously rolled many times. The windshield was cracked, all the doors were thrown open in the impact. Paramedics and helping pedestrians were standing in the field, with greenery up to their chests. The paramedics were carrying body supports, looking for the bodies of the people who were in the car.

I don't talk about this much, very few of my friends even know of this... I have this... um... "gift." I don't necessarily consider it a "gift" and it is not very useful. It is actually more a burden.

But as I passed it, all I could think of was how they needed to find the man before he died. The woman was already gone.

I've been worried about him since that happened; this morning he is in critical condition in a local hospital. The woman was dead on the scene.

And I feel guilty.

I realize there is nothing I could have done to prevent this (that's not how "it" works), and given my broken foot I couldn't have helped find anyone had I decided to pull over (and I almost did).

Anytime I have one of these "episodes" I feel guilty (unless it concerns someone being pregnant, then it's a good thing); but everytime it happens I have "it" when it is too late -- too late to prevent a miscarriage, too late to prevent the cancer, too late because someone has already passed.

And "being too late" all the time is heartbreaking.

I Saw You Doing Something Which Was Really Truly Nothing and You Can Bust Me Up All Day

"Mommy, you afraid to count?"

"Huh?"

"Because 7 - 8 - 9! Get it? GET IT?!" ::laughing uncontrollably:: "Oh, I so funny."

I'm Special (Special), So Special (Special), I Gotta Have Some of Your Attention, Give it to Me

Yesterday, I had gluten in my lunch.

I know! I know!

Whomever purchased the last round of frozen gluten-free macaroni and cheese got one made with wheat by mistake (my guess it was mixed up in the freezer section). I had two bites and was all, Hmmm... this tastes off.

Turns out, I was right.

Vomiting is fun.

Especially when blood is involved.

Mmmm, blood.

Stupid wheat allergy.

New subject!

Angela wants us to flash our dining rooms. (She's a wee bit demanding, yes?)

(I'm just kidding.)

(Sort of.)

After last week's living room post, I decided I'm not going to clean up for you all. So you may bask in the dirtiness and filth.

Now, I don't have a "dining room" per se... we call it "the breakfast room" (mainly because it is pathetically small).


Here's the view from the living room (see? red armoire on the left).


This is where I write all these creative little rants about life (photo-hungry children included).

We practice the "hang shit where they left the nails" philosophy. And those green shelves where there when we moved in. I'd like to do something with this wall, but haven't figured out what yet, particularly thanks to the non-existent budget. I'd particularly like some device that would hold cookbooks, but it would have to be thin (I don't like banging my head against stuff, weird, I know). Any decorating advice would be helpful.

Just to the right of Griffin is the hallway.


And this is the view from the hallway. Isn't that the best bumper sticker ever?


And this is the view from the telephone table. See the pile of magazines to read?


And let us not forget the beautiful flooring. The children had decided to start pick-pick-picking at the linoleum tiles and eat it. So, being the budget-minded person I am, I figured out a way to fill them (wood filler! polyurethane!).


And the view into the kitchen from where I sit. See? I didn't clean those counters off at all.

I hope this makes everyone happy.

And I hope you all feel like much better people for having a cleaner dining room than I have.

Destination Unknown; Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby Soho

It is becoming increasingly typical that the children are having a harder and harder time going upstairs. Perhaps this has something to do with my broken foot (yes, I blame it for everything) or with the fact that Aaron leaves in a week for a six-day trip and the tension is already beginning to rise. In any case, no one wants to go upstairs; there is more and more fighting, vomiting and fits involved.

When such a case arises, we put something saved from the DVR on to watch. And it's not saved Charlie and Lola or Max and Ruby or any other cartoon that is titled Character A and Character B. We put on our shows.

Typically, we watch something about Freemasons. Or pyramids. Or Doomsday 2012. Or the Mysterious Heads of Easter Island. Last night, I chose The Girls Next Door.

I figured this would go over well. Griffin loves boobies. Unfortunately, I could barely hear the girls' anxieties over shooting their next Playboy pictorial because Griffin kept adding his two cents to the show.

As in, "Mommy, I like your boobies more." Or, "Mommy, their boobies are scary." And, "Mommy, where's their nipples?" And let us not forget, "Mommy, you've got the best boobies in the whole wide world."

It's a Cruel (Cruel!), Cruel Summer

Last night, I decided It Was Time To Walk Around the Yard.

Dear Heavenly Diety, what the fuck was I thinking?

If you have a broken foot, don't go walking in grass. That is Very Important Information to know.

And to top off nearly falling and breaking my neck (multiple times), the fucking camera decided to be judgmental -- either you take photos with the flash or run the risk of nearly all the photos being blurry.

Well, fuck you too camera. Here's the three (three!) photos out of thirty that aren't too blurry to post.

Let me warn you... the garden is no longer a pretty sight.


The triangle. It use to look like this.

Fucking foot.

Fucking heat.


The island. The hydrangea bush is about to die, as is that tree on the side. It use to be pretty, like this.

Fucking foot.

Fucking heat.


And nearly all of our grass is dying. Not just turning brown, but dying. It use to be green, like this.

Fucking foot.

Fucking heat.

Yeah, this broken foot has definitely set back the garden goals by two years, at least.

We Use to Have Hope, Now We Got Soap on a Rope

Jenijen left a comment the other day (when I posted about my living room) that my living room was way too clean.

You know what?

She was right.

I picked up toys before I took photos.

Here's what it typically looks like...


Except, usually, Griffin is in a thinking chair (purple chairs) instead of having his nose in the corner. He graduated to such an honor by being put in the thinking chair and deciding to pick up a lego and poke Darwin in his blind eye.

On a lighter, more fun note...

I've received more goodies...


LLA sent me some purty nail polish and a homemade washcloth (love it!).


I also received this beautiful handmade card from Cheryl along with one of these in fushia (Dear Blogger: Hate you too). Apparently, she misses photos of my garden... well, I miss my garden too. I've been wanting to get out there and take photos of its pathetic existence. I'm about two years behind due to the fucking broken foot, damn heat and crap-ass amount of rain we haven't been getting.

Well, I must be going now. Darwin just brought me the diaper wipes and proclaiming, "Shit! Shit! Shiiiiiiiiiiit!" Honestly, I don't know where these children get their foul language.

She Blinded Me with Science (Science!)

As I've said many times before... Aaron and I are just two nerds raising two more nerds.

In case you haven't noticed, I even have a badge of honor (for I am a Supreme Nerd! Supreme Nerd!) underneath my blogroll over there on the right.

Like all other people with obsessive-compulsive disorder (although he'll never admit it), Aaron goes through these phases of deep research and information gathering about one topic. Over the years, it is just getting worse and worse.

The point of no return began with the Democratic party starting to pick out its candidate for the 2004 election. For two years, he lived, breathed, ate and slept politics.

Now I love my politics too, and quite possibly more than your average American. But Aaron took it to the extreme -- just like he takes it all to the extreme.

Once he got over his political rampages, he moved on to being obsessed with the Freemasons. Of course, it was easy to switch topics since Aaron is loves conspiracy theories, and there are many people who believe that the Freemasons have a secret (or not-so-secret) hand in how our government works. Just in the past two months, his Freemason obsession has cooled down and has turned to obsessing with pyramids. Of course, this isn't a surprise either, more of a natural evolution, considering all the Freemason symbolism of "the all-seeing eye" in the pyramid.

In all of his research of pyramids, Aaron has re-discovered the Golden Ratio. Hence, our new obsession.

[And if you're wondering where the fuck this is all going any why you need to know this information, it will be disclosed to you very shortly.]

The Golden Ratio is basically a ratio that is not only pleasing to the human eye, but balanced in design. It has been used for thousands of years including the design of the Parthenon and the Pyramid of Giza. For two-dimensional pieces of art, it is called "the rule of thirds" and is evident in paintings, such as the Mona Lisa.

As crafters and artists, I'm quite certain we have all heard of the rule of thirds, the eye-appealing symmetry of it all. But the Golden Ratio (1:1.618033989) is evident in nearly all aspects of our lives, without us even necessarily noticing it.

Credit cards, tables and even...


... legos use the Golden Ratio in their design.

**edited to add: assuming the verticle side of the lego is equal to 1, the horizontal side of the lego is equal to 1.618; of course, the Golden Ratio does not come into play on the length (in this case, depth) of the lego.

So, the next time you create -- whether it be taking a picture, scrapbooking or designing a quilt -- you will likely be using the Golden Ratio without necessarily realizing it.

Okay, class dismissed.

The Say Goldfish Have No Memory, I Guess Their Lives Are Much Like Mine; and the Little Plastic Castle is a Surprise Everytime

Darwin is currently going through some sort of an identity crisis.

One minute, he's a monkey jumping all over me screaming, "Ooooo... Eeeee... Ooooo... Eeeee." The next moment, he's laying in doorways rubbing his back with the carpet, purring, "Meeeoooowww, meeeeooowwww..."

Next thing I know, he's fetching toys, licking me on my face and barking at everything. In these moments, he insists on being called Sizzles, complete with British accent.


And let us not forget, he's a big ham with a major side of cheese.

Yesterday Aaron came home from work very flustered -- they want to send him out of town a trip that will be at least a week long. I was scheduled to go back to my doctor on Friday the 25th, but because Aaron's trip is currently scheduled for him to leave on the 20th and Kathy (my stepmom and free babysitting provider) goes back to teaching college on the 21st, my appointment is now on the 18th. WHICH THEORETICALLY MEANS I HAVE TEN DAYS LEFT OF WEARING THIS GOD FORSAKEN BOOT.

Yes, I realize it will probably be another month before I'm back to resuming normal activities (Can. Not. Wait. Oh. Sweet. Jesus.), but the sooner I get this freaking boot off, the better.

You all do not want to know what it feels and smells like wearing something like this when the average temperature is 104 degrees outside.

Dis. Gust. Ing.

Your Groove I Do Deeply Dig, No Walls Only the Bridge; My Supperdish, My Succotash Wish (Sing it Baby)

Okay, fine. Here's what my living room really looks like (happy now, Angela?)...


This is the view from the breakfast room (read: the pathetic little excuse for a dining room) doorway. I'm not jazzed about the curtains, specifically those little "decorative" things swagging from the top. I'd love to replace the curtains with something like Manda's barkcloth.

This is the view from the "entry" room... yes, my children are nearly naked and always buried under forts. What? Your's aren't?

From here, you can see the "official" front door (that we never use -- bad chi), a blockaded door to Aaron's cave and the plaid jumping couch (as long as no one is sitting there, the children are allowed to jump and be crazy on that couch). We use to have prints hanging above the couch, but there were way too many destructive moments of taking them off the wall and flinging them across the room. Eventually, I'd love to get an ubber-cool old-fashioned upright piano to put there.



Here's an overhead shot from the front door... you can see our humongous old wardrobe that's suppose be here in the entry room (but isn't due to the never ending construction that is plastering and painting) -- we use it as a coat closet because we don't have a coat closet in this freaking old house (nor do we have a linen closet or a pantry. Stupid old house). You can also see the red tv armoire; on top of it is a lamp (we use to have two six-foot tall stained glass lamps, but each child broke one -- I've fixed them both, but they aren't coming out until they go to college or decide to follow a band around the country, whichever comes first), a healing-rock and boxes hiding kids movies.

I'd like to, whenever that phantom piano arrives on my doorstep, get a corner tv armoire and angle the couch away from the window, get a couple of club chairs, an area rug and make the room more cozy... but for now, this is the kids' favorite place to play (they drag their toys from the playroom in here) and be crazy.

Underneath the carpets we have original hardwoods -- it is a goal in the next few years to rip out the carpets; hopefully, we won't have to refinish the hardwoods underneath.

Mmmmkay. Everyone happy now? Questions?

Put Me in the Hospital for Nerves and Then They Had to Commit Me, You Told Them All I Was Crazy. They Cut Off My Leg, Now I'm an Amputee God Damn You.

Oh internet, how I love thee.

I love the for thy free Hexic. I love thee for thy free alternative rock streaming live.


I love thee for thy information on Darwin's polka-dot rash. (Although I do love the dermatologist more for thy miracle cream.)


I love thee for encouraging Aaron's masonic symbolism obsession. (Actually? Notsomuch.)

Thy internets is good.

There's No Place That I'd Rather be than Nowhere, Quiet Storm King You Will Soon Be on Your Own

Yesterday morning I got up and did the full routine -- fed the boys breakfast, ate breakfast, loaded and ran the dishwasher, opened up the computer, logged on to my personal email account, responded to an email and then **poof** my internet connection was gone.

Gone.

So I rebooted the computer... and it couldn't find my modem. So I booted the computer again. And then it said my modem was deleted. Shit. So I rebooted again and it said someone else was logged onto my computer.

Holy hell.

Once I realized that, because I'm crippled and can't got to the basement to jack with the wireless network, I wouldn't have internet all day I called Alicia in tears begging her to order the Stitchettes for me (thank Goddess for wonderful friends).

I went all day without internet access. All day.

Of course, I developed quite the nervous tick... what if someone needed me? What if something happened? What if I was The Last To Know? What was I going to do without the internet? How would I cope? How could I survive without "talking" to other adults? Oh My, The Horror! The Horror!

I survived by cleaning, scrapbooking (eight pages! eeeeeeiiiiiiggggghhhhhhttttt!!!!) and working on the cookbook. And really, I barely survived.

Around 10 o'clock last night Aaron fixed the modem and connections.

Do you know what he had the audacity to do?

He played on the computer (stupid Google Earth) and wouldn't give it to me. Needless to say, I'll be looking up divorce attorneys on the internet today.