Hot damn, it’s snowing again! And we still have the flu. And we have two rehearsals coming up for the Christmas pageant at church and I have no idea when they are. Whoops. That’s all for today.

OK, that’s not much of a post, sorry. Wacky Girl is going to be a junior angel this year in the pageant. She’s a senior angel, IMHO. I love that girl. Wacky Boy has to wait until next year, when he’s in kindergarten. Then he can be a goat or a cow. Maaaaaaaaaaa! Moooooooo! I love that boy.

Would you like an update on everything I can think of? Okay, here goes:

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Yes, I’m talking to you. Come over here. Get your bootah off the computah.

Because nothing says “Tuesday” like a Gandhi quote:

“Seven blunders of the world that lead to violence: wealth without work, pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, commerce without morality, science without humanity, worship without sacrifice, politics without principle.”

— Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948)

No recipes today, sorry. But here is a good article for you to read:

Rosie O’D on The View, by one Melanie McFarland.

It’s a good article. But I’m wondering, why are they (the network execs) not offering us our own TV show? We are coffee-klatching like crazy here. Can you imagine a roundtable with Our Lady of Amalah, Dooce, Zoot, and Rockstar Mommy? Round it out with an international perspective from Planet Nomad and a fiction writer like Leslie Gould (mom of four, military wife, active in community and still finds time to do her art). I could bring everyone coffee; I choke on-camera. Also, I develop nervous tics, or I stare at the red light like Cindy Brady.

Anyway — splendid idea, no? I guess physically getting everyone in the same room would present a little bit of a challenge.

It’s raining here. How is it there?

Not Winning Mother of the Year started it, and we obviously have some things in common. Tag you’re it — e-mail them to your friends if you have no blog. (No blog? You must start one today!):

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I don’t know whether or not you follow Dooce’s monthly love letters to her daughter, Leta, but this month’s is beautiful, and intense. Hang in, Dooce. The Internet loves you, Jon and the Fair Leta.

SO GO READ IT, OKAY, PEOPLES? THEN WATCH SESAME STREET. AND DRINK SOME WATER OUT OF A BIG CUP. YOU’LL FEEL BETTER.

While you’re at it, go send some Internet lovin’ to Our Lady of Amalah, who finds herself a little muddled.

If you have some time, and haven’t yet peeked at Holly’s travel journal at Nothing But Bonfires, by all means, start reading. Sometimes I think I’m an OK writer, then I read Holly’s stuff and I just go like this, “Hugest sigh in life.”

Internet love, to these girls and guys, and to all my friends! But to you, the guys in the big trucks who almost ran us over the other day? You know who you are. One of you turned lickity-split into the parking lot on Killingsworth, trying to make the street live up to its name, apparently. And ignoring the mom with the stroller (me) and her cute little preschooler (Wacky Boy). The other of you refused to slow down, even when you saw we were halfway across the street (trying to escape Truck Guy #1, who was trying to roar back out of driveway. “Roar in, roar out, we are the world, we are the Truck Guys”). Yeah, remember us? You swerved a little bit into oncoming traffic to avoid hitting the stroller. Once you had sped up. Yeah, nice work. You both drive real good. NO INTERNET LOVE FOR YOU.

Off to eat breakfast, finally.

Adieu,

WM

First of all, Rockstar Mommy, my best friend, sent me lovin’ on her blog and I am so blissed out now. Really. It is better than the elusive “O.” And I was feeling so fat today! Now I feel skinny and pretty.

Love you, too, babes. She’s getting the Internet to buy her new breasts. Or new bandwidth, whichever. She is not fussy. Can you dig this? The girl is brilliant in so many ways. And she does not need new tits, her current set is fine (in my humble opinion) but we all are allowed our freedom of expression. Me? I’m going to go for less freedom of expression. I will get the Internet to buy me a roll of duct tape so I can tape my mouth shut because really? It has gotten me in too much trouble this week. This is the case every week, but this week in particular. I cannot give you details on EVERY MISTAKE I MADE ALL WEEK LONG that involved my large mouthy-mouth, but let’s just say, if your older kid goes to private school, and you’re too good to go to our low-rent public school, but oh, you’re not too good to swoop down on our free preschool AND THEN TELL EVERYONE “OH, WE’RE JUST HERE FOR THE YEAR, THEN WE’RE OFF TO CHI-CHI PRIVATE SCHOOL UP THE STREET…”

(May I just say, the district erred in allowing her in. Recognized their error, called her and said, “Whoops.” And she refused to back down. They were trying to re-neg, dammit, and she would not. Have. That.)

And ON TOP OF THAT you then TRY TO FIGHT ME FOR ONE OF THE PRECIOUS MORNING SLOTS because “I work OUTSIDE of the home…” (She works two fucking mornings a week. Two. I work seven days a week, people, because I not only am trying to please all of you, but yes, I write freelance and edit, too… And also, there are the kids. They require a large amount of care and refuse to be ignored.)

And then, Chi-Chi Girl, you ask me to provide daycare for your child, because you cannot be troubled to get your sorry ass to school to pick up little Lord Fauntleroy, and you assume I babysit to pick up extra cash to, you know, support my meth addiction and… where was I going with this?

Please, Chi-Chi Girl from the fancy neighborhood up the street, you really did not want to get on my bad side, the way you did. Just sayin’.

Thank you. OK, I’ll install a PayPal button soon so y’all can buy me a few rolls of duct tape. I need ’em.

PS — Yes, we got a morning slot, in spite of Chi-Chi Girl’s machinations. Ooooh, big word for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

You get an e-mail like this:

Free “Lunch and Learn” Brown Bag Session! Friday, October 13,

What Are The Differences Between Townhouses, Rowhouses & Duplexes?

http://www.portland online.com/ oni/?c=29385&a=129882

God, it’s killing me! Pray tell, what are the differences? Blech. Yeah, glad that Hockey God and I could help by moving our sorry white selves over here.

Just saw the pic of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’s new little baby Suri on the cover of Vanity Fair and… What’s up with that poor kid’s hair? Did they put a monkey wig on her? Just wondering.

“Why can’t a dish break a hammer?
Why, oh why, oh why?
‘Cause a hammer’s got a hard head/
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.”

— “Why, Oh Why?” Woody Guthrie (Songs to Grow on For Mother and Child)

Q: Didn’t summer just start?
A: Yes, and now it’s over. Deal.

Wacky Mommy’s Q & A with herself:

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Still not blogging. Sob. It’s weird, not blogging. Cuz I love you, Internet. Naw, it’s been alright. The kids and I are having fun. And fewer headaches since I’m not transfixed by the monitor. Ommm, ommm.

Here’s a list put together by the inimitable Portlander, Rebecca McVicker, so she’s the guest blogger today… Who knew there was so much fun stuff to do in Portland? (Some offerings are not limited to PDX.)

Stay cool.

WM

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