Tuesday, November 25, 2008

All-natural fibers and verbiage welcome mat

I'm elsewhere today. I'm sitting on Megan's couch, with her warmest afghan on my lap, sipping tea from her favorite mug, typing on her laptop. Metaphorically, of course. It's all a part of GoBloMeMoFo and I care about the bunny. So I have a guest post up at Velveteen Mind. Enjoy!

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And if you’re over here from Velveteen Mind, well HELLO! So nice to see you. Make yourself at home on my couch. Well, not there. That one is a little covered in dried raspberry crumbs, sorry. Have you seen these things? I’ve been buying these dried berries for the girls while fresh berries aren’t in season. The problem is, there something like $6.00 a tub in my local store, and the girls can finish (crumbs excepted, of course) a whole tub together in one sitting. And now, my older one, she won’t eat a fresh berry. Even though they’d probably traveled thousands of miles and that really bothers me, I actually bought some fresh raspberries the other day, and she said I don’t like them because they’re wet and hairy. Could I have the dry ones ‘cause on the dry ones all the hairy falled off. Hence, the crumb-y couch. Sorry.

So you know I have two small girls; but what I didn’t tell you over at Megan’s place is that I also have a great husband. And we both work, and life is sort of – crazy. I work full-time and M has only one job but somehow it’s more than full-time. True fact: he wears a watch on his right wrist and a Blackberry on his right hip and when he wants to check the time, he bends his right wrist to use his right hand to lift his Blackberry and check its screen. That tells you a bit about how intimate his relationship is with my personal hell that wondrous rectangle of 21st-century connectivity.

We get up in the mornings, get ready for work, wrangle two squirmers who Believe in NakedTime into daycare-wear, rush out the door, work, return home, disrobe the disgruntled-clothed, playtime/pottytime/dinnertime/bedtime/other bedtime/no kids’ time. Repeat. It’s not unique; it’s exhausting. And it’s a lot of last minute this and oh, crap! that. I’m overtired and underslept; disorganized yet dreaming big. But I love our happy harried life. And when I should sit down and do something productive about the disorganized or the harried, that’s when I usually sit down and blog.

I’m droll and irreverent. I’m passionate and very loyal and I have “rough bark,” as my Kentucky friend tells me (and he's right). But if I were crafting a personals ad, if I had to play the three adjectives game, I’d tell you I’m: short, have nice eyes (not an adjective, I know! Did I tell you I’m a rebel?), and I’m funny. Come back and visit. I’ll bring the LOLs, promise.

All of that: that’s what my blog reflects. It’s messy and rambly and as a former English major, I do know exactly how many rules I’m breaking with sentence fragments and illegitimate words and beginning sentences with “and.” And sometimes I depart the narrative plane, if you will, for imagery that might only make sense in my own mind. Add a fourth adjective: I’m playful.

Here are a few of my favorite posts on a noteverstill crudite platter for your nibbling pleasure. If you enjoy, please come again. I’m not the kind of hostess that would make Emily Post proud but it really is very nice having you here. Pin It