Why is converting one’s theme from two columns to three columns so difficult? I have NO TIME TO BE MESSING WITH STUFF LIKE THIS.
If I sit in the highest, northernmost part of the pool bleachers I can catch lots of wireless signals, sure, but only two are unsecured and only one works—but since there’s no shade I can’t even see it anyway unless the sun has gone down and then I get cold. Maybe if I started hinting at Hubby for Christmas?
Who invented Halloween candy corn, and why? Does anybody else also eat the white part first, the orange part second, and the yellow part third?
I can feel my hips expanding by the minute. Pretty soon I’ll need one of those beep-beep-beep thingies for whenever I go into reverse.
Wah! Another typo!
Today’s Super Sabado has no common theme, aside from a little bit of holiday prep… which reminds me: PARTY AT JAMIE‘S HOUSE ON DEC. 2. And in honor of his largesse, we’ll move today’s Super Sabado over to his house, in order to take advantage of the facilities before they get trashed.
So let’s all raise our Margaritas and toast: here’s to Jamie and the lovely Molly! May Savannah’s special talents be made famous in contraception journals everywhere.
When I walked in, everybody said hello, no comments about the state I had been in before and the barmaid handed me a packet of cigarettes I had apparently left behind on the Sunday. On opening the packet, I found 3 cigarettes, a box of matches and the change from my $20 note that I had forotten about.
tl of Life Got Away, and how he ended up deciding Darwin was a great place in which to live.
So one of my female students asks why we are all dressed in pink, and I tell her “It’s to help support breast cancer awareness” and she says, in her most shocked voice, “Miss, that’s a bad word! You can’t say that word in front of the boys! They think bad things!” I reply “Breast isn’t a bad word if you use it correctly.” Then she says, “But it makes my dad think bad things… like about big ones!”
Mel of the Smooshie Diaries, who is in for a most entertaining Back to School Night this year.
I gotta do somethin’, I am not about to hang clothes on a line or go to the washateria (laundry mat). I looked in my tool drawer in the kitchen for a pair of pliers, couldn’t find my pliers but found this crescent wrench instead. Hey it works just fine and I’ll bet I don’t have to worry about it breaking.
Wander of Wander’s “We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Repairman” World, on her “redneck repair job.”
In addition, telling me that the traditional method of getting published is too hard is so not the sway me. I gave birth to a twelve-pound kid. You think a few rejections scare me? You just waved a red flag at the bull.
Jaye of Jaye’s Blahg, with one of the scariest Halloween stories we’ve read in a long time. TWELVE POUNDS. As Squirt would say, “Aieeee!”
I read Climbing Parnassus with pencil in hand. Those were just a few extracts marked by my squiggle. I didn’t always agree with Simmons (or those he quoted), but as I told a friend, “I am seduced.”
Chanale of Sweet Serenity, a fellow San Diegan and fitness DVD addict, as well as the kind of person we love to hang around with, in the hopes some of those smarts will rub off on us.
“Well what’s your number and address?” as he pulls out another piece of paper, “This works both ways, you know, whenever we’re in town can we stay with you? You got an extra room?”
Michelle of Scibbit on an awkward situation created by a particularly pushy stranger. All we can say is: “DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! DANGER!”
this bodes not well for me.
i have never been able to
refuse the goodness of all
that is pumpkin. i am a pumpkin
Cyn of a little sweet, a little sour, on the sudden prevalence of pumpkin lattes and other cinnamony delights—and we guess we’re a little bit slutty, too.
I told my sister I can not wrap my brain around the idea that at 36 I can say “I have a teenager too.” Wasn’t it just yesterday I was changing diapers, getting up in the middle of the night?
Laurel Wreath, on getting old(er). We have no sympathy, as we are… um… just a bit older than Laurel Wreath, and we figure we’ll be asking ourselves these same questions until the day we die.
Everytime he starts thinking he likes her too much he breaks up with her. He says he doesn’t want to get too attached. He broke up with her for the 5th or 6th time two weeks ago. Now he wants her back again. She told him he’s got to prove he really likes her before she will go back out with him….
Secret Squirrel, on the little heart breaker that is her son.
“I will tell you what I know and my father’s letters will answer some of the questions you’ll have. What you do with it is up to you. When you walk out of here, I will have met my responsibilities to the von Hompesch family.”
Talking to or reading about what other writers do in order to prepare for NaNo tends to almost always make me feel awful. See, I never do these things, I never prepare and when I read how many have their outlines ready or what not, it makes me feel guilty as I’m sure I should too. But it’s not me.
Speaking of NaNoWriMo, Melly of All Kinds of Writing has a thing or two to say about it.
1. Decide how you will handle the hate mail.
2. Choose actors to play roles in the film version.
3. List all the people who will get a nyah nyah notification.
4. Practise an elegant inscription for your book signings.
5. Plan the image that will appear at the back of the book.
6. Write up bios of the famous people whom you will be rubbing shoulders with, buying drinks for, etc. so you won’t be lost for small talk.
7. Think up smartass answers to stupid questions, such as “where do you get your ideas?”
Bernita Harris of An Innocent A-Blog, on a few of the ways we wannabe writers put our carts before our horses. (She forgot flipping our noses at those editors who turned us down—oh, wait… that’s No. 3.)
We ate fried Coke – yep you heard correctly. It was okay – didn’t really taste like coke to me (and if you knew my mother you’d know I am a second generation coke drinking fiend.)
Dennie of Dennie’s Thoughts, proving to us once and for all that you really can fry ANYTHING.
Ace and I started coming up with examples of those little things that make you catch your breath, or warm your blood, the ones that make your heart perk up. We had a great time scribbling them down and laughing at each other’s choices. Ace rolled his eyes at my teacup and I couldn’t relate to the joys of certain types of leather car upholstery.
Dink of Ink Blog on a great exercise to do with a friend: listing what makes you happy.
My life is one big cute puppy nightmare. If that makes sense. Two puppies were manageable. Three are NOT. Auggie has his bags packed and wants out of here. I can’t say I blame him. We are all exhausted and just trying to get into a potty time groove instead of everyone running in a different direction to their personal pooping location. And mamma cannot be in 3 places at once either to verify that each pup has pooped, peed and is in ok health (ie they have “produced” and not too much, not too little, if you get my drift). I’m loopy and going to bed now. It is not even 9pm. Sigh.
Susan of Church of Angst. Yeah, but Susan, THEY’RE SO CUTE.
One of Saffron’s new favorite games is sneaking into the shower (when it’s dry, of course) and waiting for Jinx to sniff the shower curtain, then Saffron attacks through the curtain. Cute, but extremely irritating to wake up to the sounds of kitten-on-vinyl in the middle of the night.
Honey of Meet My Muse, who, like Susan, is not quite EMBRACING THE CUTENESS.
He didn’t come to prison to make friends, this isn’t a bed and breakfast, or sixth grade camp. He wants to learn from his mistakes. He knows he’s done something wrong, that it isn’t his place to question authority. He wants to leave here, to go unnoticed. He’s worth writing about.
JR of JR’s Thumbprints and Other Such Vagaries, on how a writer should pick the protagonists he cares about.
And for those of you who’ve stayed until the very end, this will give you an idea of what I go through while my kids work out at swim practices, only I do it in a big ole’ beast of a van.