No TV at all Day 5; no TV at all Day 6. Oh dang it — that’s not true. Wacky Boy fell and wiped out his knee again, so I let him watch half of “Jakers” and half of “Curious George.” Since, you know, he doesn’t nurse any more.

Now that he’s four and a half.

So make that almost no TV for Day 6.

Fuzzy sez: “I guess you can get use to anything when you’re exposed to it enough, the question is why expose yourself to it in the first place?” Yeah, no doubt.

I was at my uncle’s house one time, he was like, chained to his Barcolounger apparently, because he did not seem able to move his ass from it. He was venting about, “This shit! This shit that’s on TV all the time!” And my aunt piped up, “Really, I cannot believe what’s on TV nowadays,” tsk-tsk-tsk. They like watching all those “Primetime Live”-type crazy shows about gross people doing gross stuff and ewwwwwwww! That’s gross! Etc. I remained baffled as to why he couldn’t dislodge his ass from the chair and do something besides watch TV. He didn’t even need to get up to turn the TV off — he was flailing around with the remote in his hand like it was a sixth digit.

Me: “The TV doesn’t have to be turned on. Turn it off.”

Aunt/Uncle, in unison: “Fwaaaaaaaaa huh?”

Maybe our TV should go into the attic. We do have a DVD player and VCR hooked up to the computer, so that’s enough.

Also? Have you read the Lovely Miss Amalah today? She and Mr. Nice Guy had blog entries stolen and posted on a lameass, making-my-eyeballs-twitch, poorly designed MySpace blogger. It gave me a headache, I had to take four Tylenol.

I know bloggers. Excellent bloggers. And you, MySpace thief, are no blogger.

I hate thieves. We’re writers here, for pete’s sake. Photographers. Artists. Craftspeople. This is our work, not yours. You want some of your own work — go create. I blog and write fiction and try to sell fiction and get rejection letters and chase kids and pick kids up from school and drop kids off at school and write and read other people’s blogs and it’s my deal.

Mine.

Not yours.

Your deal is whatever variation or improvisation of the above that you yourself do.

People who aren’t part of the blogger world think it’s weird sometimes, when I talk about how cute the Blogger Babies are, or how yeah, everyone else has asshole neighbors, too! Not just me and Hockey God! And the bloggers — they’re like my invisible friends, but they’re real. We’re there for each other and support each other and the most righteous part is — we’re writing. Taking photos. Doing our art. Trying not to be late to pick up the kids from school. (Me, right now. Yes.)

So if you want to be a part of that, do your own thing. Don’t try to horn in on someone else’s deal.

Love,

WM