Friday Concoction

First off, thanks to Nancy for nominating one of the Friday Concoctions for a ROFL Award. As I commented on her site, I enjoy writing funny, but it's difficult to make it original. There's so much funny stuff out there, half the time I can't remember whether my stuff is original or not. And with that, I give free license to call me on something I've said that was blatantly lifted from elsewhere. So thanks, Nance! I appreciate being recognized for doing something well that doesn't involve kicking, calculating, or diapering (my other previous areas of dubious distinction). And that code you sent for the button thingy - do I just put it right in here... ... hmm looks okay... I feel like I'm straightening a picture, but standing too close and therefore don't have perspective on whether it's straight or not... which I guess is how I feel a lot of the time, actually...

Which brings me to my last post and my aborted thoughts on staying home and being bored and blogging and arguing with the spousal unit about boredom, blogging and bedbathandbeyond... LetterB had this to say, which I promptly memorized and spewed word for word to my confused husband as he was trying to help Madeleine put on her inside-out-and-backwards pajamas:

I wish you had kept going too. It's not boring, it's what so many of us struggle with. What makes me so happy about blogging is that I am able to hang onto a scrap of my identity as a writer. I might be cleaning mac'n cheese off the wall, i might be reading the goddamn Fire Engines book for the 50th time, i might be eating my lunch in the shower but i know at some point I'll be able to sit down and write something about it. To be able to record and comment and shape my wee existence into a little bit of art is incredibly important to me. (That people actually read what I write and respond is the icing on the cake). I also really love being able to read what other people have to say about their experiences on their blogs because it expands my perspective on life and momdom and can be a wonderful release (especially when reading a talented and funny writer like you). I guess what I mean to say is that you will have to pry my laptop from my cold, dead hands, motherf*ckers. Ahem.

And then he said, "I don't want to take your laptop away! ??" and I said, "No, that's not, no, why didn't you, huh? Did you hear all the other stuff before that?" And then I went and took two Dramamine because I felt a tinge of nausea and then I passed out on the couch and dreamed of mice and oil tanker car wrecks and my friend Janet's baby being lost at a flea market until Pooey padded into the living room at 2 am and patted me on my face, thus giving notice it was time to come to bed. And this morning, which part do I remember most vividly? The mouse crawling from beneath a wrecked oil tanker.

Notice, I have now officially submitted two writing pieces.

Does Dramamine stay in your system for over 16 hours? I feel fucking weird. Like my eyeballs are too big.

Song of the day: Looking at the World from the Bottom of Well, Mike Doughty (or, also entitled Trying to Straighten a Painting as You Stand Inside It...)