I’m sitting here just like I so often used to each day, wondering where I should begin. No, not with my writing. That’s rarely an issue because I can just sit down and write most anything I feel like writing. Whether anyone wants to read it is a completely different issue, isn’t it? Sometimes, it’s more of a battle with respect to what tone I want to indulge in, or how many distractions there are on my screen that also vie for my attention. I look at the clock in the upper right corner of my toolbar and am always alarmed at where the time has gone.

Some of my diversions are quite relevant, as they relate to current events that occupy my mind like the debate between Hillary and Obama last night (and I’ll bet you just can’t wait for me to spew about the whole health care issue, right?) Or the outcome of the first round of eliminations on American Noodle (and wasn’t that cut throat the way the first kid went out?). But many of the distractions that delay my writing when I actually get to wallow in Bloggsville now, are anything but. They’re more like pleasant detours involving the people I’ve met along the way for nearly a year now that I’ve been writing at kellementology and in the land of foodies. Very pleasant detours, diversions, and distractions, all.

I’ve been trying to get organized, finding that I don’t use my blogroll in either of my blogs. I know. You’re thinking that a blogroll isn’t for me — it’s more to let everyone else know whom I enjoy reading, and to share a link which helps them in the land of Google and Technorati, and all things virtually searchable or something like that.

So in an attempt to keep in better touch with others, I’ve begun to collect feeds in the reader I chose — Netvibes. I know everyone else seems to use Google Reader, but my affiliation with Google is only through my membership in the Daring Bakers, the ever expanding group (I think there are well over 500 members now…) of loveable foodies with whom I bake once a month. My food blog is hosted by TypePad (which is a network I almost never wander around in for some reason), and this one is my very own, of course. Without my connections to MyBlogLog, Blog Catalog, and more recently, EntreCard (which I haven’t developed a strong opinion about one way or the other), I wouldn’t be very good at keeping up with people. Feh, like I have actually been doing that successfully anyway.

So I’ve changed the settings on my Mac to open to my Netvibes home page and am racking up the feeds. I know you’re snickering right now thinking that I’ve been under some rock and that having recently freed myself, have discovered something that has been around since Al Gore discovered the Internet.

Go ahead an laugh. I can take it.

But the big question is — are YOU in my reader?

 (more…)

The MoH’s birthday was yesterday. All was well until I ran out of gas. Not the gas in the car. Me. No. Not flatulence for gawd’s sake. Gimmeabreak here. I’m trying to keep it straight today.

Energy. My get up and go not only got up and went — it never showed up. I’ve been diligently employed for a whopping six days as of yesterday and I feel like I need to ask the next passerby if she can get the number off the truck that ran over me.

It’s quite humbling.

How will it feel when I’m sixty-three or whatever the words in that Beatles’ song were.

Seriously.

Such a very sad state of affairs.

After working, stopping to get cards and wrapping paper, doing my afternoon carpool duty for the highschoolers, and making the MoH his totally favorite chocolate pie (drooled over for as long as he can remember that his mother made him for his birthday because it was his father’s and grandfather’s favorite) then left the pie in the oven for the RT to handle while I ran down the hill to get take out for dinner before we decorated our Christmas tree to the pre-planned vibes of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra…

I crashed. Not the car. Jeez.

Like a computer. Or maybe it was more like when a generator shuts off and you can hear the motor grinding down laboriously to a deeply resonating end.

Like that.

Nuclear. Okay, so I know that a generator is mechanical and anything nuclear is anything but, well, that’s not quite right either, but you get the picture, right? So for the purposes of imagery, I’ll add a bright white flash to the grinding sound and call Stephen Spielberg for advice.

I’ll have to promise you news at eleven on this one, because I’ll never do it justice. Suffice it to say I am very close to people who work until their tongues hang out slapping against the sidewalk DAILY. Seventy hours a week. And they do it with grace and dignity. Okay, so some smack talking from time to time. Happy hour. But they do it.

Me? My grand total for hours worked since I began is 32.5. I used to do that in my sleep in less than two days. Okay, so more than my tongue was dragging then, but I paid dearly for that. Now?

Like I said. I’m dealing with it. It only confirms what I’ve always thought about myself. I’m either ON or OFF. There’s no MEDIUM on this model. It completely sucks because something always falls to the wayside. And trust me — it’s never been work. Oh, no. Gotta be there early, and huff and puff while I’m doing it, and try to figure everything out yesterday. Even if it isn’t my job.

It’s the bane of my existence.

S.I.G.H.

So to just put this in a nutshell, (and Dawn from Twisted Sister called it straight when she awarded me with the “I’m a Little Nutty” Award) after the Chinese take out for dinner last night, and after the MoH had yet again listened, and listened, and listened, and then helped me decorate the tree even though he had to get up at 5AM to crank something out at work, I opened my fortune cookie.

I think I’ve bragged many times about my fortunes and horror-scopes before and how completely positively wonderous they are. Funny thing, though. It said, “Keep your expectations reasonable.”

Huh? How’d the fortune cookie god know?

I could have had either of the other two cookies, because their fortunes were much more in line with what I usually end up with: “Chances of glamour and excitement are coming to you;” or “Luck is with you now. Act upon your instincts.”

But no.

Now what the hell is that supposed to mean after a lifetime of promises of fame and fortune, happiness and hilarity?

I’m going to get crap in my fortune cookies from now on because my expectations aren’t reasonable?

Good thing I’ve got friends in Bloggsville like Dave from Wandering the Ether (he awarded me with the fairly swanky “Colors of Friendship” award) who understand that even though 99% of us will never, ever physically meet, the time we spend reading each other’s trials and celebrations, revelations and disappointments, opinions and understandings may very well be more important that some relationships we’ve had with humans we can shake hands with each day.

And that is what actually caused my meltdown on the MoH’s birthday and how rude of me. This is the first post I’ve managed in four days here. And my food blog? Feh. I miss visiting the people I’ve come to know over the last nine months. I miss laughing with them, and feeling the angst caused by another, or the emotion caused by a memory.

I miss writing and cooking and writing about cooking — my very favorite things.

So bear with me as I figure this all out.

Oh, and I will “keep my expectations reasonable” lest I anger the fortune cookie god. Jeez. Stoopid fortune. I want my money back.

Life is just weird sometimes, isn’t it?

Friends and nuts, I’ll be back shortly.

 So do you think it’s a problem that yesterday, I FINALLY wrote after so many days, and then when I logged in today to write again WOOT, I’d discovered the post I wrote yesterday…um…not there.  Or here.  I guess I’d inadvertantly marked it “private.”  So sorry ‘bout that.  Now, here it is.  And only a day late.  Sheesh.

Okay. I’ve sulked long enough. I’ve dragged myself out from under the bush I crawled under to get over myself. Actually, I’m just transitioning between Fall and Winter. Getting ready. I’m not sure what for, but it seems to be something I do. Sounds scientific, doesn’t it?

And since I have serious ground to cover, I’ll start by warning you that I’m loaded with tagging. Pay backs are hell, aren’t they?

About two decades ago, Sam of Temporarily Me (who is slogging through NaBloPoMo like a trooper and is almost there!) smacked me upside the head with something about Crazy 8’s. If you don’t know Sam, you should. She’s completely hilarious and says what my brain is thinking with respect to calling things like she sees them. Plus, she designs her own site and I swear changes the design like someone changes underwear. It’s the best comparison I could come up with, OKAY? Her designs are excellent and when I actually get around to acting serious about design, after I grow up, I want to be just like her. The woman has talent. Be nice to her when you visit. She’s preggers and is a tad cranky right now. Teasing, Sam! Teasing. Don’t hit me, ‘kay?

This oughta take about three years to finish. And I have a sale to run to right in the middle of it just to make sure it takes all day. (Erm…just got back from the sale. The line was down the block, so no.) Moving right along with this Tag-a-Scrum-Dilly-Icious post.

Here are my Crazy 8’s:

8 things I’m passionate about:

1. Solitude. You know. Places with no people in them. Lots of complete silence. I know. People in hell want ice water. Feh.
2. Days with no plans. Lots of them. Like forever.
3. Cooking, food, eating, grocery shopping, looking at cooking magazines, cooking blogs, restaurants, reality food shows, does that cover it?
4. Writing, words, letters, typography, books
5. How much I completely detest jerks in general and people who drive like their face. (Have you ever really wondered what that means?) And….ahem.
6. My Mac and if you touch it you’re toast. Don’t — 
7. Being passionate about being passionately passionate about passion
8. My guys (this is here for those of you who have already clucked about my not putting it in the numero uno spot and gimmeabreakalready).

8 things I say often:

1. Sonofab*tch
2. Shee*t
3. Jeez Louize
4. It’s hi-LAR-ious.
5. “Go poopoo over there.” (said to Doggo who will drop her load the SECOND she gets out the door because she thinks she’ll get left outdoors even if she never does and it drives me crazy.) Honestly, I only say it twice a day. But it adds up, yanno?
6. Did you have a good day how much homework do you have?
7. I need that (insert item here).
8. I want this (insert item here).

8 books I’ve read recently:

• You don’t actually think I’ve forgotten about these books or this list, do you?

8 things I want to do before I die:

1. Own my own little shop. A cute one that sells lovely things that everyone can’t live without or find anywhere else. With a little fence and flower boxes. And a bell.
2. Figure out how the clothes in my closet that don’t fit multiply in the night even though I keep giving them to the Good Will.
3. Make a real Beef Wellington. You know. The whole enchilada. I’ve made the individual ones a couple of times. But without the cool music in the background.
4. Renovate an old house part by part.
5. Write something that people will actually purchase. A book would be good.
6. Spend an extended time traveling — mostly in Europe.
7. Enjoy exercising. Okay, so maybe pretend like I’ll enjoy it. Sort of.
8. Develop a REAL sense of patience instead of just acting like I already have it oozing out of my pores.

8 songs I can listen to over and over again, and probably have:

1. Beatles: Help
2. Carly Simon: You’re So Vain
3. Heart: Alone
4. Roy Orbison: I Drove All Night
5. Red Hot Chili Peppers: Snow (Hey Oh)
6. Simon and Garfunkel: The Sound of Silence
7. Harry Nilsson: Without You
8. John Lennon: Imagine

8 things that attract me to my friends:

1. Irreverence
2. Common interests (food, wine, snarking, travel, books, gardening, wine…)
3. Food
4. Wine
5. Snarking (this is NOT the same as number one, so put a cork in it, babe.)
6. More wine
7. Laughter. With snorting involved. It’s a gift.
8. Waxing of possibilities and never doing anything about them.

8 things I learned in the last year:

1. You really can just walk away from a career. Period. Okay, so maybe not with bows on or anything. But you can run as fast as you can and keep watch over your shoulder that it’s not chasing you or hiding under your bed at night. Or in the closet.
2. It takes quite a bit of time to blow the dust off of everything you once loved and gave up for a job. About a year. And then some. And even then, some of it is so lost, reminding you that it could be true what they say about opportunity only knocking once. Pessimistic, but lamentably true.
3. There will never be enough hours in a day to blog and then actually do all of the other things I’d like to do. Okay, I know some of you manage, but I’m not. Make that choose not to.
4. You never will do all the things you say you will do if only you didn’t have to go to work. Because you develop new interests. And then you wish you could do all the things you said you’d always do if only…
5. There are some aspects of not having all my female equipment that are actually enjoyable. Okay. One. Maybe two. But I wouldn’t want it back. I was done with it anyway.
6. Your 15-year-old won’t develop a neurosis from his mother relentless food photoshoots.
7. For some of us, there’s no such thing as a Little Black Dress.
8. There really are things to talk about in the evening that aren’t related to work. They’re not scintillating or anything. But still. It’s nice.

Now, who’s up next:

1. Chick (who’s going out of town, so I can spring this on her unsuspecting self)
2. Meleah (who’s probably already been smacked with this one and 10 others)
3. Cooper (who less than loves these things but actually did one not too long ago, so…)
4. Robert (who will most certainly put a redneck spin on this)
5. Olga (who can do this in her sleep, but really because I want to see if she can connect all of it to the “girls.”
   
6. mel (whom I’ve harrassed with this stuff since the beginning and she’s smart enough to ignore me)
   
7. beth (a used to be Paradise resident whom I hope will forgive me because I haven’t known her all that long)
8. if you’re not on this list and are brain dead, by all means, sign yourself up. This one’s not too horribly painful. And besides, you won’t be able to tell if you’re brain dead.

Okay, so now, here’s round two (and I know there are some others, but this will have to suffice for today, because…well…I’ll think of a reason. Surely there is one.

Robert of Observations from the Back 40 honored me with an award:

A Roar for Powerful Words many days ago before I had my shopping meltdown and I’m just now getting around to saying THANKS for the recognition. I appreciate it!

Ahhhhh….moisture in the atmosphere. Nothing like a thick blanket of fog to dampen things and cool down some tempers. A bucket of cold water would most likely work better for some.

So here’s my list of recipients of the “Bucket of Cold Water in the Face” award for a flagrant display of ego and/or flapping lip disease during and after a catastrophe.

• In a letter to the editor of the local paper, a woman from Imperial Beach (spitting distance to the Baja California border) for suggesting that “the power be shut down in the areas of high winds until they dissipate to the point that they pose little danger to the line.” Life is just so simple to some, isn’t it?

• Our city attorney for suggesting that the entire city be evacuated to Yuma. Excuse me? Could someone — anyone — please oppose him in the next election. Please? He’s completely bonkers.

• To the illustrious blow hard Rush Limbaugh for asking where all the “environmentalists wackos” are when the place is burning up and asking why they aren’t helping to fight the fires. What? Was he out of material that day? Oh, I forgot. He’s been out of material since Bill Clinton left office. Stupid me.

• People who know their homes weren’t destroyed, but who were vociferously complaining that they couldn’t return to their own while their neighbors whose homes are in ashes keep their chins up, smile, and sift through what’s left of their belongings. Ugly Americans, indeed. Douse ‘em again for just being a**holes. Okay, one more for the road. Losers.

• Dub-yah’s motorcade and entourage for keeping people who had been told they could return to their homes sitting on the freeway for over four hours until he was done touring a burn area, and eating lunch at a fire command post. Sometimes, you just have to check your routines, yanno? Douse ‘em good and then rub some mud on their faces.

• Talk radio crazies who began stirring the pot about blame before the fires are out challenging why aircraft weren’t up in winds that exceeded 70 mph in some places dropping water and fire retardant. Skip the water on this one. Drop some fire retardant on their heads instead. Or give ‘em a few pills to put them out of our misery.

• A woman from Rancho Bernardo who felt that “the president picked a bad time to come.” Okay, so he could have waited a week, but Arnold was here for days, so Dub-yah had to be here, too, or he would have had egg on his face. Hmmm….No. Douse ‘er anyway for being self-centered.

• To the woman who applied for food stamps because the power was out and the food in her refrigerator spoiled. How much food is that? And how big is that fridge? And how long does it take meat in a freezer to thaw out if no one opens the door?

• To the media and their “helpful” public service advice with regard to the ash on our driveways and sidewalks: Don’t wash it off with the hose because it will end up in the water. (Um…has anyone noticed the large body of saltwater to the west? Do you actually think that it has remained remarkably free of ash to this point and that washing ash from our driveways will create a problem?) Oh, and absolutely don’t use leaf blowers. (Okay, so I agree with this simply because the make an annoying sound and do blow crap into the air — especially if someone hasn’t picked up after their dog.) Do use a broom. But sweep gently so the ash doesn’t go back into the air. By all means, do dispose of the ash in the garbage can. (Where it will go to the dump, get rained on sometime in the next century when it finally does rain, and then wash into the ocean.) Okay, so skip the water on this one. Just dump a truck-load of ash on her head. Or feed her to Rush Limbaugh for lunch.

And that concludes yet another day of ranting.

Soup, anyone?

It’s true. I’ve been slapped by Robert at Miscellaneous Ramblings.with a Redneck Chef of the Week award. *scratches left arm pit* How did he know I have Okie roots? I figger ee calls ‘em as he sees ‘em since it’s all on account o’ them nut bars I dun up last week. Musta been tha two-and-a-quarter pounds o’ butter. That’s pounds, not cups. Wait a minute. I’m thinkin’ here…

To be truly dee-servin’ o’ tha ‘ward, I woulda put margarine in them thar bars. Or lard, mebbe. Thanks, Robert! Right back at cha, mister!

Ahem. Of course I didn’t eat them all myself. I gifted the hummers to several groups of humans who had no idea the nut-filled caramel and chocolate honeys were headed in their direction. But still.

Since I find making butter bombs so much fun, and can’t see a day in my future that I won’t enjoy baking, then what’s the point of writing down everything I eat and drink? Okay fine, there is a point, but I don’t need to do it here. I decided that the day after I said I was going to do it. One more thing to keep up with when I need to be doing other things. If I could only find that list. So cancel that idea about the Daily Nitty Gritty. Oh, you didn’t know about it? Well, fuhgeddahbowdit anyway. *all two audience members glance knowingly at one another* Fine. I’m weak. Whatever.

I did have plain yogurt with a sliced banana this morning, however. Okay?

Moving right along, I’ve also been graced with another accolade. One that I’m very proud of, but personally feel I’ve been slacking on a bit lately. Because I haven’t been blogging a year yet, I’m not sure if seasonal dips and sways are part of the problem. Or maybe it was THAT PROJECT that is finally done. D.O.N.E. Wah-hooooo! And since it’s been complete, I’ve had the time to think about blogging and working and being a human being in the real world. One who is still adjusting to some fairly heavy changes over the past year. *one man music show puts cymbals down and reaches for violin…*

The award? The Community Blogger Award, bestowed upon me by Dawn at Twisted Sister, who also calls it like she sees it, *a woman after my own heart* has made me think hard about how I support the bloggers I visit. It’s made me think about what really constitutes a community in this strange land of the Internet. Of course there are the social networking sites, but that’s not really what I’m talking about. It’s that feeling I get when I visit and comment on a blog, and I see that others I know have been there, too, and I feel comfortable. Or that when I haven’t visited in a while, I feel remiss, and make an effort to do so, sometimes getting my coffee or wine *or plain yogurt…* and hunker down settle in to read several entries to catch up and see what I’ve missed out on. It makes me stop and wonder about the people I know in my non cyber world who don’t get nearly as much attention.

The strangest thing I’ve noticed is that when I peruse the blogs in people’s sidebars choosing one or two to visit, sometimes it doesn’t quite work. Almost like I’ve invited myself to someone else’s dinner party. You know, pull up at the table with my own place setting and everyone at the table turns to stare at me wondering where I came from and why I’m there? I’m sure it’s only my imagination, and I pull up anyway rarely waiting to speak before I’m spoken to. Listening intently to what others have to say, and sometimes not quite knowing how to respond. Trying to decide if I fit in or not. If I should be there.

Like Junior High. Egads! Run. Don’t stop for anything…

But definitely stop and visit the following people, because they, too are ever so faithful, putting up with my nonsense, and making serious headway in adding grace to my day. Thanks for your tolerance, kindness, wit, and *fill in this blank with your favorite descriptor*. It’s greatly appreciated.

The Chick

Wonderland or Not (I know, Cooper. You less than love this business. But I just had to sing your praises. Grab a nut bar while you’re here.)

Thought Sparks

So on this rainy Monday in Paradise *like, totally amazing, but true…* I’m feeling grateful and gearing up to make some changes on both of my tiny pieces of the Bloggoverse. I’ve been busy writing and working and visiting and haven’t paid much attention lately to how things look and work. Which means I’ve been a slacker. I need to get back to learning about the techie side of things, gird my loins and upgrade to Wordpress 2.3, install a new theme, and redesign a header. I’ve done my homework, I just keep putting it off. And, I’m also thinking about moving my foodblog to Wordpress. Thinking would be the key word here…

I also need to force myself to learn how to use the Adobe CS3 software I have *seriously lucky person, huh?* which looks soooooooooooo hard every time I open anything but Photoshop, I cringe and close it after only 10 or 15 minutes.

But I’d rather figure that out than deal with the Daily Nitty Gritty. I know. I’m still weak.

Whatever.

Nut bar, anyone?

I’m whipped. If my butt was dragging any more than it is right now, I’d have to have a skid plate installed on my caboose. And it’s Monday. Jeez. But let’s review why I’m suffering from a serious hitch in my giggy-up today:

Remember those maggots? The ones the RT and I worked so hard to rid our hacienda of — what, about hmmm…nine days ago? Yes, those. And since I’m in a quizzing type of mood, how many days do you suppose it takes for one of those lil’ maggots to hatch? Uh…that would be…yup. Nine. Give or take a day. Are you still with me here?

So that would mean that when I came home from somewhere last week after only being gone for a couple of hours, what do you think I was greeted by? Do I hear anyone with “flies” for $500? Yes, flies.

Hundreds of them. No, I’m not practicing hyperbole. It’s true. They were congregating in one corner of a large window that looks out on our patio….and two more windows that are in the dining room, and another window in the living room. Totally and completely gross. But just for the records, no where near as disgusting as the maggots.

And do you think that we’d own a flyswatter? Uh, no.

But damp dish towels and dishrags are swell fly snappers. You can just go crazy flapping the rag and watch those little black winged annoyances hit the floor in any number of gruesome parts. A head here, a thorax there. The only problem is, sometimes they’re just stunned, and then I find one sort of wandering in a dazed, limping fashion and have to snap it again just to practice my aim. The dog totally hates it, and lowers herself from the couch to slink upstairs. No, I do not hit my dog. She’s just a big chicken.

This swatting ‘stravaganza went on for three days. Three. I think I got the last one this morning. The problem is, they’re ready for sex and babies two days out of the pupa. Little suckers. So that means while I’ve been snapping the 250 progeny of that one fly left in our house not quite two weeks ago (yes, those little obnoxious insects can lay that many eggs in one sitting…) the remaining one was most likely having an orgy somewhere in our house last night with a friend just sitting and waiting out of my range for the occasion.

And I’ve been persistent about getting rid of all of them because of course, they carry disease. But wait, you say? They were born and raised in our house, so where could disease come from? Well, they were fairly stupid flies, never exactly finding the cat box in the laundry room, but that was a possibility. The real issue is that they could have found the RT’s bathroom. The one I don’t want the health department to find? The one I tried to shoot Lysol POWER Toilet Bowl Cleaner into from about five feet so I wouldn’t have to actually walk in there? Yes, that bathroom.

Like I was saying, no flies for me.

Plus, my oldest son, my brother and his family came to dinner last night, so I couldn’t exactly have buzzing insects in the room and on the food. It’s disgusting to even think about. I scrubbed, and wiped, and vacuumed around and under everything. Hell, I even vacuumed the Yack-Star. I’m sure she’s ready to leave home since I gave her a bath last week, and now have resorted to using the upholstery brush to suck the fleas off her hind quarters. I don’t think she could quite decide whether she liked it (she had her rear hiked up in the air) or was flipped out (her eyes looked as if they were ready to pop out of her head). She’s lucky I don’t have a Flowbee…

So I’m completely pooped. But it was worth it, because dinner was relaxing. Very. And to be honest, I could be whipped for more than just snapping flies and cleaning and cooking. Perhaps it was this…

Have you ever tried German dessert wine? Well, have you? It’s thick. It’s sweet. And this one smells like flowers and tastes like apricots. You have to SIP it. S-L-O-W-L-Y. And of course, there were two more types to sample after this one. “It never gives us a headache,” my sister-in-law told me the last time we sampled the wine. Umm-hmm. Right.

But today, well, as I mentioned previously, I’m considering that skid plate about now. But it could have been worse…

Waking up to the fragrant aroma of a rich, dark coffee, my day would have been perfect. Except the smell of coffee was coming from…uh…me. I reeked of it and most likely have the remnants of a fine grind on my sheets. No, I didn’t sprinkle it on myself in an attempt to stave off the anticipated hangover. Last night, I opened a fresh container of coffee I occasionally treat myself and others to on special occasions.

It has a lid with a pull top and must be vacuum sealed. I’m not sure about what went wrong, but when I pulled the tab, there was a very loud pop, a rush of air, and a good portion of the finely ground black gold sprayed me from head to chest. And whatever hit my head, promptly dropped down my shirt. If I had died from an insta-caffiene attack, the police wouldn’t have had to use white tape to mark my body because of the amount of coffee sprayed across the kitchen behind me. I’m sure there was an outline left. Bless the MoH’s heart. I was already trying to wipe it from my eyes and hair and dig it out of my decolletage when he gently offered, “You need to go in the bathroom and check yourself.” Oh, really? I suppose he could have said, “BWAH —  — -HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. You look hilarious,” and grabbed the camera for a photo op. But no. He’s a very nice man. Check myself, indeed. Considering that it was quite warm, and I am no stranger to a perpetual coating of sweat, hot morsel that I am…I was bound to smell like the filter in my coffee pot.  Oooooo, baby.

Yes, I showered. No, it didn’t help.

Clearly, I needed some R & R today. That’s all.  I don’t think it was too much to expect that I could park my sorry coffee-scented butt at the computer and wallow all over my seriously neglected Bloggsville. But no. My computer or service provider, or who the hell knows — did that ridiculous reassigning of our IP address. I think it does this to get even with me. So I had to fiddle around with the router. And the cable modem. And my network settings. But no. So I had to call the service provider and get warm and fuzzy with the level two help who was nice. While I was crawling under the desk, I asked him about whether they considered that people could be 85 and not able to crawl under desks.  He didn’t answer me. I asked him if I was annoying him.  “Oh, absolutely not!” was his quick reply.  Not helpful.  But then I fixed it.

So here we are. Finally. Together again at last. I do have a little smile on my face after all of that. Because look what I have.

Yes, it is so. Another badge. WOOT! I LOVE this one. And many, many thanks to Dawn and Ann, the superior creators of TwistedSister and totally Pissed Off. I heart their blog, too! They’re really just softies. I know they are. And they love a number of the same blogs that I do. Meleah, Paisley, Mad Goat Lady, Sam — whom I neglect = ( I’m so sorry, Sam!) — are excellent people. Great minds do think alike. I’m just getting to know Amber. And I can add Freak Parade, Thought Sparks, Radioactive Jam, and last, but certainly never least, The Domestic Minx. Quite the diverse group, don’t you think? That’s what makes it all so worthwhile. You know there are lots more, right? Lots. So if your name isn’t on this list, don’t get your drawers in a wad.

Thanks you guys for totally making my day and loving my little spot in Bloggsville — even if I still can’t get the coffee smell off of me. Good thing the MoH likes the way good coffee smells, huh?

*Consider this post a public service announcement of sorts today. And if you just can’t force yourself to read the whole thing, then at least look for the bold print to speed you along and quit whining about how long my posts are. Is there a freaking rule about it?

I promised I’d do a food blog entry before I wrote here today. That hasn’t happened. I have absolutely no control. I’m wired to this thing and to this spot. I languish daily over all the possibilities:

The RT’s analysis of his PSAT prep class and 1,000 vocabulary cards

My CSS Web Design for Dummies book

The “checking off” of the 5th of my black cat’s nine lives

My deplorable ability to paint my own toenails

The impending fall season (not television…) and all that goes with it

My status as a Phoodplan dropout

Orb weavers

Breaking home run records

Food

or narcissism, hedonism, and nihilism…

I’m good to go on any of these right now. I always have something to write about. Always. I know that you are thinking that you may not be interested in reading about some of these topics, and I completely understand that. The point is that part of my interest in this obsession business of blogging is the opportunity it provides me to write. Just that.

Of course, a side benefit to keeping a blog, or in my case, two blogs, is that I can obsessively read others’ blogs. To learn from them in ways I may not by reading a book I’ve purchased, or by sitting in a room listening to someone talk about similar topics. As with all learning, however, I also learn what not to do. And so over the past four months since I’ve been maniacally driven to started blogging, my analysis of this very strange world has kept me holed up in my office and plastered to my computer enthralled.

It’s fascinating how many connections can be made between this world and the physical world we are supposed to breathe in daily. I won’t blather on about that now, because what I’m getting at is something not very Earth shattering:

We all “blog” for our very own reasons. DUH. And if you don’t want to read what follows immediately, then click down to my point at the end of this post. Just look for the lips.

• Some simply want traffic driven to their sites. They’ve heard they can earn quite a bit of money doing that. (More on that another time. I supposed I should have added “How not to be a sucker on the Internet” to my list of topics above. That story is a doozie.) Unfortunately, blogs like those are not something I’m interested in reading. Do they annoy you as much as they annoy me? I will click (because I do know that’s all they want at times) to take a peek, but a variety of characteristics of those blogs are less than interesting to me such as the quality of writing, complete lack of personality, quality of information (because that is what they say they are providing — information, right?), design, lack of any kind of discussion, commentary, or anything that makes the site human. It seems those who have created this particular kind of site frantically join communities, attach you as a “friend” and move on, never to be seen or heard from again. What’s the point? It reminds me of this: Let’s say you want to open a business. You feel that the best way to earn an income is by doing this. But you don’t want to put any real effort into it, and you really don’t know how to run the business, and you can’t really discuss in any real depth what you are selling, why you are selling it, who will be interested in buying it, or anything. You’ve opened the “store” and expect it to make money on auto pilot. Have I made my point? There are bloggers who have sites set up to sell product who are human, who write and sell, and respond to comments. Like they would if they had a brick and mortar place of business. I enjoy checking in on them to see what’s new.
• Other individuals enjoy keeping a type of journal. When I read those blogs, I am very much immersed in the person’s life and learn about what matters to them. What makes them angry. What cheers them. And very often, what is holding them down in life, or challenges them. I enjoy reading these blogs. I am able to compare what challenges me with what they are working to overcome, and I fall short routinely. These remarkable people, I think, are in part strengthened by their ability and willingness to write and share their lives with others. It wouldn’t be the same if I was actually holding their personal journal (because that’s not right), or listening to them speak in a room with others (although some of them would be fascinating to listen to). It’s different because they respond to comments. Simple.
• Lots of people from several areas of Bloggsville like humor. It ranges from people who NEVER write anything, but post a photo, or a video, or a quotation, or a link to another blog. No comment. I’m very guilty of being the chauffeur on a drive-by of those sites. But there are others who just have a way with words. Whether their words are about themselves, their beliefs, their opinions, their kids, their husbands, their bosses, or life in general, their writing can be hilarious. And I truly enjoy reading. Frequently. I love them because they stand proudly on their own soapbox and let it rip. And I miss them when they don’t write, or when I haven’t read their blog in a couple of days.
• Then there are the techies. And not just any techie, but the ones who ONLY do the techie thing. These sites are not always interesting because some are similar to the first example — they lack any kind of personality, seem to only be out to make a buck (sorry, but so are the hookers down town…), and reek of doing as little as possible to post with “content” borrowed from someone else. Of course, then there are some great tech sites with outstanding information that even people like me can understand and put to use. The person has taken the time to think about who may read and use the information and make it concrete. They have personality. They occasionally talk about something other than technology (because they aren’t androids). And they can actually write! I especially enjoy the tech sites that actually have comments on the posts (others have ZERO comments in the posts) and real humans respond to them. What a concept. Many are beyond intelligent and I have to sit and wonder how they know all that they know about the Internet, computers, and web design. I used to be able to change the tire on my 10-speed…
• And the writer’s groups. I hover around those routinely and enjoy reading hopeful writers, poets, fiction writers, and many very talented people who have built careers with their writing talent. Their sites remind me of what I might be like if I chose to have an Education blog — something my stomach isn’t yet strong enough to handle — where I could passionately debate, and eloquently inform the masses on important aspects of changes in the No Child Left Behind legislation, effective uses of Title I allocations, analyses of public school restroom cleanliness before and after The Williams Settlement, comparisons of state adopted textbooks and teacher created curricula, or validity and reliability of assessments used to measure student growth from one year to the next. Scathingly brilliant, don’t you think? Okay, so not. You wouldn’t read my blog if I wrote about those things, would you? I’d have to create another blog.
• And then there are the bloggers who have a tendency to remind me of cliques in school. They know who they are. That’s the whole point. What I have noticed is if I am not deemed “one of them,” I won’ t get a response. No, I don’t always expect a response or even acknowledgement. But they NEVER respond to comments I’ve left on their sites, and they don’t seem to visit mine. My feelings *whaaaa-whawahwah….*aren’t hurt because I get it. Truly. Perhaps part of the fun is belonging to a group, and then being very public about belonging to that group, so that others can see that you belong to that group. Huh? Just in case you’re actually still reading this, I’m not whining. I’m providing an objective view of Bloggsville. Oh, and it’s entertaining to read along with others who are seriously pissed off about those supposed cliques. Be a fly on the wall and watch it all.
• Food blogs. Jeez, if you haven’t seen the great ones, you are TOTALLY missing out. They’re amazing and there’s some serious mud slinging thrown in for good measure occasionally. I only have a big toe wedged into that world and I’ll tell you, it’s work. Of course I love to cook, love reading recipes like they were entries in a forbidden diary, love planning parties, and eating, of course. The writing is so different for me, and I’ve struggled to find a “me” at all. I’m getting there, but sheesh, it’s hard work. Think about it. Shopping and cooking all turns into blog material. Everything gets photographed. The lighting sucks, or I don’t know how to use a particular setting on my camera. I don’t take time to use great props (huh?) and how cold does that food get while I’m clicking away? Can you imagine the shrink bills to fix the RT when he hits 30 and realizes all his struggles are because his mom took photos of his food? It’s actually fascinating and I enjoy it quite a bit, but I’ve noticed that the hard core bloggers (whatever that means) sort of just keep a wide path around the food blog group. Funny thing is though, for all the maniacs that just want people to visit their blog…MY TECHNORATI RANKING WAS SO MUCH HIGHER on my food blog very early on with much fewer posts than this one has. It has a built in audience and foodies spend a lot of time on each others’ sites reading and commenting and developing community. Interesting, don’t you think? So much for the link train. I’d rather cook and write recipes. It’s constructive.
• Sports blogs, gardening blogs, entertainment blogs, celeb gossip blogs, political blogs…I could keep going, but I won’t. I truly make an effort to look at them all.

So here’s my point. (Pull your drawers out of your crack and chill out) MEMES, AWARDS, and LINKS.

1. Memes exist in part to help people who can’t think of something to write something to write. Right? In some cases (much like prompts for writers) memes can help people exercise their writing skills — if they choose to see it from that perspective. But 8,000 memes? Come on. I’m at the point where anything goes the next time I get tagged so get ready.
2. Memes in content focused blogs can be interesting because content people only write content, and when you read their blogs on a regular basis, some people want to know more about the blogger. (I’m trying to be understanding here.) Of course, a flyin’ finger could be considered a response.
3. Links. Link Trains. Rankings. Yanno…..I’m really struggling with this one because I work VERY HARD to visit and comment on other’s blogs. Yes it takes a lot of time, but it is worth it. Isn’t that the real point? The whole ranking thing is…uh…I dunno. Lame? How will having the ranking change things? Really. I need to pull mine off my sidebar, but I don’t feel like digging into my files right now. Trust me. It will be gone.
4. Awards. It’s swell that people came up with this idea. It think it’s great. I even think it’s great that if someone wants to build a mantel to show off their awards, good for them. If they want to ignore the whole thing, good for them. A person’s blog is HER/HIS BLOG. If someone else doesn’t like how another blogger does what he does, then READ SOMEONE ELSE’S BLOG. There are only about a billion of them to choose from. Go crazy.

The minute we all decided to make our blogs public — and we do get that option — we were fair game. But I’m certainly not going to walk up to my neighbors and tell them that I don’t like the plant that’s blooming in the pot on their porch. Just because I drive by their houses each and every day, I don’t have to interact with them (they don’t appear to want anyone to smile and wave hello. Ever. I know this.) and I certainly would expect them to give me shit if I acted like an arrogant ass (arrogant entitlement abounds in Paradise). I do know how to keep my mouth shut when what is coming out of it just heats up the air (like now.)

 

So…let’s all agree that we’re all swaggering, narcissistic swashbucklers, who through our small slices of Bloggsville, are working post by egotistic post to achieve hedonistic nirvana. I hereby award everyone who enjoys my verbal crapulence, and everyone whose blog I enjoy, this dubious distinction. Wear it proudly.

Yes, you can use it. No, you don’t have to give me credit. Sorry. I don’t know how to do the html thing. Well, I could probably figure it out…but not right now. I’ve already spent an entire morning here and still haven’t done my food blog post. *sigh*

Come on. I double dare you to use it. Bwah-hahahahahahahaaha