cool beans

Musicovery: interactive webRadio is a shiny object.

I stayed up way too late watching The Departed last night. It was great and as I got ready for bed I thought, “That was totally worth staying up for.” I am the dumbest person alive.

The following takes place between 7:00 A.M. and 8:00 A.M. (dink dink dink dink)

“Mom! Lock the door! You have to lock the door! In the living room! They at the door!”

Heartafuckingtack. He told us the doorbell rang but no one was there. Then we heard voices in the basement. My oldest son had spent the night at his friend’s house, so my husband went down to look. Radio alarm clock. Dar.

Back to bed.

“MOM! Da birds!!! I want one! Get them for me! They in our yard.”

“Mom, da birds eating in our yard! Get them for me.”

“Mom….I touch your booooooo! Hehehehehehe.”

“Moooooooom. Get da birds for me. I put one on my shoulder.”

“Mom, why you in bed?”

“Mom, it’s GOOD MORNING TIME.”

If you read my blog, you probably already read Kerflop. But just in case you’re in the dark, today she’s discussing free blog hosts in “How to Blog - Chapter One“. She’s also sporting a cute new design.

I did more clicking on the “Random Site” feature of the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas blog ring and found “Whatever Works” by Country Mouse. I particularly enjoyed her “About” section:

Why the hell am I writing a boring blog?
I don’t know. Why the hell are you reading it?

Of all the explanations for blog names I’ve ever read, this one from Woman on the Verge has to be the most fascinating. Why Borneochica?

I have seen this VisualDNA thing over and over again this week. So I figured I should check it out. Because I want to be cool, too. Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how to put the code into my blog so it will work. I even tried it in Blogger and I can’t make it go. SO. Here’s a link instead:

My Visual DNA

The Crazy Hip Blog Mamas are having a little participatory thing-a-ma-jig over there today. They call it a Carnival. You can call me a joiner.

I think I was supposed to comment and write about the first blog I found by hitting “Random” on the webring. But y’all. Come on. I can’t say something nice about just anybody. I simply don’t have it in me. So I cheated and hit “Random” a whole big bunch of times. It was starting to look like I wasn’t going to be a joiner after all when I found Hollywood Flakes.

True story: I’d already read some of Hollywood Flakes this morning. And I liked it. So when I saw it pass by my window for a second time this morning, I knew this was it. YaY! I get to be a part of the group. Wee! Pull over!

She’s funny, she’s pregnant (for a limited time only! while supplies last!) and she can write herself a sentence. She can write a whole paragraph, even. This is one I liked a lot:

Buying a king sized bed would end our bloody bedtime wars. We would smile placidly at each other across the great expanse, Adam would build his three foot wall of pillows, I’d switch off the light and we’d roll up in our assigned blanks for a peaceful night free of elbows and cursing. Theoretically it would be better for our marriage just as getting our own bathrooms was better for our marriage. But secretly I want to be one of those smug women gushing about my cozy nighttime rituals. I know that after six years of marriage the likelihood of us becoming snugglers is slim yet I refuse to let this fanciful dream wither away. We’ll continue our night battles as long as I can hold him off from buying that hateful king.

Please pay her a visit. If nothing else, I betcha you’ll think her site is pretty. It even has shiny stars. Who doesn’t like shiny stars?

Yesterday morning as I lay dying on my couch, the UPS man left a package from

at my front door. An 8:30a.m. residential UPS delivery? He is my new hero.

Unfortunately, my illness prevented me from actually enjoying the coffee, but I did open the box and caress the packages and unwrap my new mug. Joy.

(I’m not saying you have to, but if you click that picture up above and buy some coffee, I think you get a discount and I think I do, too. It’s worth clicking on just to see if I’m right. You don’t have to buy anything. But it IS good coffee. Me likey mucho.)

The sickos in my house are on the mend. I’m putting them all to work. Except me. I got out of bed this morning. That completes my personal “to do” list. After they’re done scrubbing and slaving, I will make them smoothies. I may or may not take them on errands with me. I’m leaning toward not. But maybe we’ll go to the library. Doubtful. It’s already 10:00. We’ll see how powerful this cup of coffee is. Can it propel me into the Good Mama Zone?

Anyway, I have a picture for you. This is where I read and write.

Originally taken for the Honest Photography Flickr group. After taking this picture, I turned a little to my left and snapped one of the kitchen table. That’s when I decided I am not into honest photography.

Spring Break plans:

• library
• picnics in the park
• playing outside in awesome weather

Spring Break non-plans:

• throat blisters
• exploding backsides
• misery

Good things:

• a lazy morning
• a hot bath
• cookies
• pink shower curtain for $7.00
• bras that fit well
• leftover roasted chicken and potatoes
• The Princess Bride

Things I could maybe live without:

• whining
• begging
• asking three more times
• farting four year olds
• nasty Walmart associates
• Walmart
• dirty dishes

Something I heard in Walmart:

“Robert? Robert. BOBBY JOE! Give it to Granny.”

Before I carry on about this, if your name is Bobby Joe and you’re offended, go talk to your parents. Now, when I heard this man call out to Bobby Joe, I froze. I thought for sure I’d taken a late morning nap and woke up in Arkansas. Or that maybe Bobby Joe and Granny and Pa were out-of-towners. Or maybe they’re actors in a play who were running to Walmart for last minute props! No. I was in my Home Base Walmart, gaping at familiar looking locals who weren’t just pretending to be folks who wear overalls to weddings. People here just don’t have two names like that. We are planted in the wide open space between the Bobby Joes and Tiffany-Ambers. We might lean a smidge in the Bobby-JO direction, but dudes are Bob Period or Just Plain, Doesn’t Need A Warm-up Joe. So’s I best not be hearin’ this “Bobby Joe” business no more in the Walmarts. Ya hear?

Would you like a cookie?

Everything I type in this box lately gets highlighted and erased. So let’s go with that.

If I don’t go to church today, I don’t have to change out of my sweatpants. I was going to make the whole family go tonight, but they don’t like it and my daughter has a big homework assignment to write. She was invited to enter a contest through school. Her teacher told her she’s a good writer. We told my daughter she gets that from me. Bwahahahahaha!

This is why everything gets deleted.

I went to the park yesterday with Little Guy for a couple hours. We spread a blanket on the ground and had a little picnic by the pond. The ducks were all paired off on ducky-dates and we talked about which ones were boys and which were girls. One couple got out of the water and waddled over to us. They were looking for scraps, but I won’t give them bread. We have to find some duck-appropriate food to take with us next time. What is okay to feed ducks? And don’t say “nothing” because that isn’t any fun.

After they left we sat there quietly. I looked at my boy munching on his apple slices and studying the ducks. It occurred to me that in that moment I was really, really happy. It almost made me cry. It was so good.

(Warning: This is where I get sort of vague.) But - and there’s always a “but” - as happy as I am about what I do now every day, I’m stressed about the tension that is building in other areas of my life. Things that seemed to be in good shape before are teetering-tottering and hitting the ground pretty hard on either side. It is desperately disappointing. This is a good thing I’m doing - being more available to the kids, having time to sort out the junk in my head, being happy. But the push-pull in other places is threatening. If you’re happy, I have to be unhappy. If you get what you want, I can’t have what I want. I feel like I can’t relax until I find the middle. I don’t know where to start looking.

I updated my 100 Things About Me list on my About page this morning. Looking over it I realized I’m still looking for a couple things.

#96 - I’m searching for that one person who loves Jolly Ranchers but hates the cherry ones. Does that describe you? If so, we are meant to share packages of hard candy, my friend.

And…

*Do you know George Parks? Do you know about S.W.A.G.? How is your marble? Do you remember Jeremy from Chicago? Jason from Minneapolis? Why don’t I remember any girls from camp? Weird.