here are mine, for today:

* Mike Erickson is a jerk. We went to college together (PSU) and not surprisingly, he was a jerk in college, too! Way to go, Mike. Let’s hear it for the boy.

* We have a new expression in our house: “shovel-worthy.” (Like sponge-worthy, only not.) Is someone worthy of being smacked in the head with a shovel? Then they’re shovel-worthy. Several people come to mind. No, I won’t share names. OK, just 2,330 and that is all. That covers all the robots who sent me junk mail yesterday via the Internet. No, I don’t want to buy your watches, Viagra or porno videos you made of me. Because why? Don’t need ’em. Thanks, though! And no, I don’t want to “get ready for sex in 15 minutes!” I have to go to work. (Here’s a smack with a shovel, at all your virtual skulls.)

* I’ll be glad when the election is over.

* Go, Obama!

* No, I don’t hate women. I just do not care for Mrs. Clinton or Monica’s boyfriend.

* My kids like to stay awake all night. They should sleep at night.

* We all need more sleep around here. And exercise. And vegetables. Other than that, we’re good. (Our new babysitter: “Don’t offer anything but fruit and vegetables. They’ll eat them, eventually. Believe me.” Me: Why are babysitters always so damn smart?)

* I’ve met about fifteen awesome new women lately, including the eleven I played bunco with on Friday. I do not have extra time to spend with any of them. Not even for coffee dates. This bums me out.

* The Interstate Farmers Market opens tomorrow. “The Underscore Orkestra, playing a mix of Klezmer, Balkan, Gypsy Jazz and Swing Music” will “set the mood for a fun and yummy summer!” Well, alrighty then! If you live in the neighborhood, go for me, would you? I have four meetings.

* Four. And none of them start ’til 5 p.m. That’s about three too many. No, it’s about four too many.

* That’s just my opinion. You? Happy Tuesday, y’all.

love,

wm

Aw, Steve Clark, you shouldn’t have!

On the Portland Trib dropping to one edition per week:

“We fully expect that there will be those who will criticize our strategy. Through the years, we have routinely been scorned by some, including bloggers who are prone to vitriolic negativity.”

Vitriolic negativity? We are playful around here. C’mon, Steve. We’re just clowning around. (Mostly not for Jesus.) And making fun of the local politicos. And tucking our children away in large wooden shoes. Are we pillars of society? Please discuss amongst yourselves. I have no opinion on that one way or the other, but you know. The devil does make work for idle hands.

Just think, if you were a blogger, you could have just called us all “douches” and moved along to your next post.

kisses,

WM

To all the Ladeees…

Happy, happy, happiest Mother’s Day to you all.

xoxx

wm

Still stuck in the ’80s over here. It’s my new comfort zone apparently. I’m all better, recovered from surgery, feeling okay. Now Wacky Girl has a cold, fever, sore throat and wants to throw things around the room. She’s learned from the best, I guess.

Off to do yoga, vacuum, watch more videos and placate my sweet daughter.

xxox

wm

ps — who can live without a little Ebn Ozn?

“Since when do we have to agree with people to defend them from injustice?”

— Lillian Hellman, playwright (1905-1984)

You know why I love my children’s teachers? They are smarter than I am. Yes, sir. They truly are. And as a mom who loves the hours between 8:45 and 3 p.m., I really liked this post. Bring on the free cheese.

I’m not happy about this one. IFCC is our neighborhood community meeting place-art gallery-theater space-children’s theater space and much more. They do great work and need our support.

wm

You know how many times the Nirvana video “Smells Like Teen Spirit” has been viewed? 11 million, eight hundred twenty-nine thousand, one hundred and 12 times, that’s how many. So far. Ah, what’s not to love about anarchist cheerleaders? So. So, so, so. Because I’m in an Oregonian-bashing kinda mood today… Did you realize the writers and editors there didn’t write shit about Nirvana until Kurt died? (more…)

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

— E.E. Cummings (1894-1962)

You know, this Friday (that would be May 9th, 2008) it will be eleven years since Hockey God and I went on our first date. I didn’t really believe in Modern Love, or magic, until I met him. Now I do.

Happy anniversary, you big hunk. I’m playing bunco that night, you’re on your own. (PS — not really. I mean, you’ll have the kids and all.)

love,

wm