cool beans

I’m following the BlogHer conference from home this weekend. I was very excited to find that many participants are blogging and uploading pictures from the event. (Wave to me, people!) After sifting through the first batch of Flickr photos, I followed a Technorati link to Ladash where Sherri tells us how much she hates mommybloggers. I have something to say about that.

Women who are meeting face-to-face for the first time who have being MOTHERS who journal about their experiences of being MOTHERS in common with one another are likely going to talk about their children. That’s natural. A great number of the “mommybloggers” attending BlogHer this year haven’t met many other bloggers in person - and certainly not on a such a large and public scale as the BlogHer conference. Not only is talking about their children and families natural, it is a great icebreaker.

It doesn’t mean they cannot have conversations about other things. It doesn’t mean they are no longer women, wives, sisters, crafters, thinkers, human beings. It just means that’s what you heard them talking about. To suggest they are no longer anything BUT mothers is ridiculous.

If I were attending the conference, I would most likely seek out the women I link to and read and the women those women link to and read. I wouldn’t talk to a “non-mother” simply because she doesn’t have children. That’s ridiculous. I’d want to talk to as many women there as possible, whether they’re mothers or not. If you really hate the conversation so much, walk away. Or try asking a question that will steer the conversation elsewhere. Or maybe, just send someone else to BlogHer next year in your place so you won’t have to hear about everyone’s “retarded kid”.

THE INTERNET IS NEAT:
Thank you for all your comments and email regarding my desire for a private creative outlet. I still want to publish intimate details of my life on the internet because I LOOOOOVE attention. Sometimes, though, I only want attention from one or two of you. Or just from myself. I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF ME!

I’m interested in an invite to Vox, but if I don’t end up feeling at home there, I don’t want anyone to feel like they “wasted” an invite on me.

NEWS FROM MY UTERUS:
Erm. What else? I realized today that if I were going to BlogHer this weekend, I would totally be traveling during my period. I’d already be freaking out about meeting internet creeps friends, if I just said something stupid, whether I stink and if I can go a whole weekend without pooping. Having to worry about my yeeb would be TOO MUCH. One of you is officially not checking my butt every time I stand up this weekend. Congratulations on getting out of that.

ODD FACT ABOUT ME:
For some reason, whenever I go somewhere during my period, I always over-estimate the number of tampons I’ll need and end up taking a truckload.

AN APOLOGY:
If you get your period unexpectedly at BlogHer, I won’t be there to hook you up. Sorry. Write me. I’ll send some tampons and M&M’s to make it up to you.

WHEW!:
It’s a good thing nobody I know reads this website. Except YOU, of course.

MORE RANDOM THAN TELLING YOU ABOUT MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE (but much less awkward):
When I listen to books on tape, I don’t always know how the author has decided to spell the names of the characters. When I see them later in print, the names look weird typed out because I’m used to seeing them in my head intertwined with an actor’s voice and the character’s personality traits. One character’s name might be a large, bold font with ragged edges; another is flowy script with flowery vines weaved around the letters.

I’m pacing back and forth emotionally over this space. There are things I want to write about which will probably end up in a notebook under my bed rather than on the Internet. Sort of like hanging your underpants on the clothesline, but pinning them up under the towels so your neighbors can’t see your business. You know?

I’m stuck stuck STUCK. I think if I had an option to make some posts “private”, I might go for it and forge ahead without hesitation.

So, when I clear all this gobbledy-gook out of my head I’ll…do something, I imagine. In the meantime, I need to find something that is like Xanga but is NOT Xanga. I’m willing to spend an eensy-weensy amount of money on this hobby, but we’re talking rattling change cheap here. So, UGH. I’m going to take a nap.

I woke up Saturday feeling very unhappy. Every little thing irritated me. I think I could have peeled off my own skin. The heat and humidity were oppressive. Short on cash and missing three caps for the inflatable wading pool, we were stuck inside with my insanity.

My husband returned from a fishing trip and knew right away my marbles were loose and knocking into one another. He did what he thought was best and kept his distance. Finally, around 7:00p.m. I asked if we were going to stay home or try to pull our shit together for some family time. We managed to pull it together (a quick shower and shaved legs were a surprising pick-me-up) and we drove nearly an hour and a half to a drive-in movie theater. The drive was nice enough with the air conditioning blasting full force through my freshly washed hair. The movies were okay, the bugs were in hiding and we learned that there are 50-cent refills on pop and popcorn. Awesome!

Having slept in clean sheets, I woke Sunday morning in better spirits. I watched the little ones in the church nursery and participated in a meeting regarding a new school principal. Then I came home and napped. I slept so hard I drooled. The best naps involve saliva pooling on the pillow. At 4:30, my family couldn’t tolerate a sleeping mommy any longer and they had decided we should go to the lake.

We’ve had some very high temps for the last week and the lake water was good evidence. It was so warm, I could have bathed in it. Pockets of cold water were the buried treasure of the day, and when we found one, we’d try to stir it to the surface. We swam while my husband grilled and then we swam some more while The Toddler - who refuses to swim in lake water because it is SCARY - rode around the lake with his father in the float tube. The cuteness is indescribable. Uterus-aching, even.

I was glad the lake wasn’t busy yesterday because I liked having it all to ourselves. Even though it was miserably hot, the lake was peaceful and felt so far away from everything. I was especially glad we didn’t have company when while I was floating on my back out toward the middle over deep water, a bullfrog croaked and the sound shot through the water. I screamed and thrashed about, trying to will my body to shore in an instant. Only to find the bullfrog was no where near me when he sung out. Still, that was the end of that. It sounded like it was right under me and no bullfrog is touching me in open water during twilight. NO THANK YOU.

I have been sick and busy and tired. I haven’t kept up with laundry and I haven’t kept up with my hobby of following people around on the Internet.

I just logged into my Bloglines account. In the folder I’ve marked “Daily”, there are 642 new blog entries. Some of you have posted 30 or more times since I’ve last read your blogs. Two words, people: Holy. Shit.

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Mosquitoes are bastards.

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Next Fourth of July, we’re coming to YOUR house. I’m too tired to host a party.

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No lounging at the lake this Sunday. Maybe next weekend. (Crossing fingers.)

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Two weeks goes by fast. Especially when you’re sleep deprived. And tequilaized.

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12oz limeade concentrate
12oz tequila
12oz Corona Light (or beer of your choice)
12oz water
limes - or not

Slosh all together and drink until you’re all sloshed together.

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Hope you’re having a lovely summer so far.