February 14, 2009
Conversation in the car, minutes before Alli’s next-to-last basketball game:
“Momma, I hope we win this game! Then we get to play in the… the…”
“…the playoffs,” TGIM supplied.
“Yeah, playoffs,” Alli agreed, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “It’s like a dance-off… but for basketball!”
Watch out, opposing team. Alli’s in the hizzouse!
February 9, 2009
On Saturday night TGIM and I went on a double date with Paige and TGSheM. Naturally, we left TD home with his sisters, plus two of Paige’s girls (one TD’s age, the other a few years younger than Alli) with the somewhat optimistic idea that extra bodies in the house would help prevent any kind of sibling squabbles or blood feuds in our absence.
Hey. It could work. You don’t know.
Toward the end of the evening, however, TGIM received a phone call from home. We knew it was The Call. You know. The one where the kid calls and is all, “So… I just thought you might want to know that Hannah is sitting on Alli’s head and I think the toilet is broken, but the towels got most of it, and the smoke detector in the kitchen WORKS, if you were wondering, and no one is even listening to me”– interrupted by background screams of “Tanner’s a LIAR! Don’t LISTEN TO HIM! LIAR! LIAR! Pants on FIIIIRE!” and “Get OFF me! GET OFF! Mooooooommmmmmaaaa!”– and always ending with, “um… so when are you coming home?”
I watched TGIM take the call, trepidation creepy crawling down my back, and waited for The Response. You know. The one where the parent is like, “Is anyone bleeding? Is? Anyone? BLEEDING?!” and then, “Then WHY are you CALLING?! We’ve talked about this! Rule number one: Don’t call unless there is blood or broken body parts! Now tell Hannah to get off her sister, stay out of the bathroom, don’t go NEAR the kitchen, and we’ll be home in a bit!”
But the only response from TGIM was a grin.
“Well,” I hissed sotto voce, “what’s he saying?”
TGIM covered the phone, held it away from his mouth, and answered loudly enough for all of us to hear, “He said, ‘When are you coming home? It’s pandeminium over here!'”
He uncovered the phone and replied, “Pandeminium, eh?”–I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle–“Well, we’ll be home soon, so hang in there.”
Afterward, we all agreed. Developing a larger-than-average vocabulary mostly through reading?
As it turns out, not always optimal.
February 4, 2009
As I passed the employee lounge refrigerator this morning I had this almost irresistable urge to shake every single bottle and can of soda in it. All of ’em! Every last one! Leave no can unshaken! And not at all because I am trying to get off the Diet DP, you know, because it is too spaz for me, not to mention unhealthy–water is best! water is best!–no, not at all, because hello? Grown woman? Seriously. And water is BEST so I don’t even care at ALL if other people are drinking those nasty caffeinated spazzilicious beverages that are NOT water and are therefore NOT best. It’s their lives! DRINK the soda! It’s none of my concern! It’s–
Okay, even I’m not buying it. *sigh* I’m just a bad person. A bad person with evil soda-shaking thoughts. So I hope you properly admire my restraint.
But if I did give in to my baser instincts, come lunch time, there WOULD be a whole lot of excitement going on around here, I tell you what! Woo!
Whatever. A gal can dream. That’s all I’m saying.
February 3, 2009
Sometimes? I get this naggy, achy feeling, deep down, deep in my heart, and I am struck by an almost overwhelming desire to walk away from it all. And by “it all” I mean the world wide web. Just to be clear. I’m not referring to my job, or my television shows, or TGIM and the kiddos. I mean, I don’t want all y’all thinking I’m going to pull a Marie Osmond and leave the nanny with credits cards and blank checks, all like, “I’m OUT of here!” For one, I don’t have a nanny. So, you know, there’s that. Also, Chuck and Heroes and Ugly Betty are back, so I can’t just pick up and GO, right? Madness, that’s what it would be. Sheer, unadulterated madness! Chuck is in 3D this week! I know, right? 3D! AND Joss Whedon’s new show, Dollhouse, is set to air in a week or so. Like I would miss that! Hello? It shall be awesometastic. Oh, yes it shall.
So… when I say walk away from it all, I mean the web. The Blogosphere. To simply drift away from the Twitter and the Facebook. To walk away from the vidcast and the blog. It’s been a good run! Who knew back in 2004 that I would still be here, here in the Blogosphere, writing and filming and friending and tweeting? Who knew? Certainly not I. I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into, what I would learn and become, and sometimes… well, it feels like too much. See, I’ve gone and developed Expectations. And with Expectations comes Self Doubt. Envy. That big meanie, Judgy McJudgerpants. And I start to wonder stuff. Like, “Oh NO. What if I run fresh out of pithy thoughts? What if suddenly I’m pithyless? What then?” That is exactly the moment when I get the naggy, achy feeling, and there’s a part of me that wants to slip away. To go gentle into that good night.
And by “go gentle into that good night” I mean walk away. You know, from the web. Just to be clear. When I quote Dylan Thomas, I am speaking metaphorically. There is no need for intervention. ARE WE CLEAR?
I do understand that walking away from it all would be bittersweet. Bitter because I slightly neglected several well-loved hobbies to delve into the new ones, and where would that leave me if I turned away? But sweet, because I’ve made so many friends through all of it. See, this is why I am all about the milk chocolate. Bittersweet chocolate blows. Michael Scott had it right. “Why not just sweet? I mean, who are you helping?” And that’s what I keep asking myself. Who am I helping? Me? Who? And does it matter? Does it? With the gajillion bloggers out there, will anyone even notice if I fade away? I don’t know! But truthfully, I can’t help but think it hugely presumptuous of me to think anyone will. Notice, that is. Because, bold much? Honestly.
If I’m going to power through the Self Doubt and the Envy, and push aside the antics of one Mr. Judgy McJudgerpants, if I plan to rage, rage against the dying of the light, I guess I feel as if it should be worth it. I don’t want to be taken in again, as with American Idol, who strung me along for years and years before finally revealing itself as a sham and a liar and a time-suck of epic proportions! I should have learned after the Ruben-Clay fiasco of ’03, but no. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that relationship and where did it get me?! Huh?! Nowhere, bucko, that’s where! And I can’t get all those late-night hours spent dialing and voting and recapping BACK, no sir! That’s all I’m saying. I don’t want to look back and be all, “Dude. Why did I hang on to that relationship with the web for so long? Good LORD. What was I THINKING?”
It’s a conundrum, I tell you what. And by “conundrum” I mean… conundrum. Just so we’re clear.
In other news, I am occasionally melodramatic and strange.