2) Molly, our other animal, does an absolutely fantastic job of cleaning the floor, even if she does miss a spot here and there. Now if I could just get her to help me organize the clutter, I'd be home free.
3) People in my real life, actually read my blog. It's an odd sensation when people that I know, will reference or quote something that I've written about. When I sit down to write, it's like I'm updating my journal. If I gave any thought about the people that were reading this - I doubt I'd be as forthcoming as I usually am. So even though I fully expect that the words I write will be read by my mother - I don't really think about my *audience* beyond that.
Because this blog is for our children's posterity, it is 99.999% true - with just a dash of artistic license here and there. The reality is, every single person within my family is a natural born storyteller. We are the epitome of the Irish stereotype. We love to drink and talk. In my case, because Charlie is living this experience with me - and I don't have very many people to talk to - I love to drink and write. (Please do pardon my horrible spelling and grammar. Refer to the last part of that sentence.)
It's extremely important I make it clear that my blog is a literal unloading of my thoughts from the day, usually after a glass
This afternoon, Charlie and I took the children and walked to our local post office. It was a nice little jaunt, about 2.5-miles from our house. While I went in to have some work documents notarized, Charlie stood outside with the kids and Molly. Once in the post office, I bumped in to our good friends, who were also at the post office to have some documents notarized.
You might remember ... these were our friends we spent Labor Day with.
After making small talk for a while, my friend says "My mom reads your blog." At first I was flattered and then I said "Uh-oh. Really?" and with just a hint of amusement he said "Yes, she called me last month to tell me that I had to read one of your postings, about the night you and Charlie came over for dinner." And of course my mind started reeling like a fishing line with a 5-ton whale on one end ... what did I write that he had to read?
Our small talk ended - I bolted outside and told Charlie we needed to run the 2.5-miles home so I could see what, if anything, I wrote that might possibly be considered embarrassing. To tell you the truth, I couldn't exactly remember what I had written. When we arrived home, I did a search on my blog by date and found what I was looking for. The title read: "This is why we don't go out."
My eyes quickly scanned the entry and when I got to the part about them having abnormal children - I just put my head down on my desk and groaned "Oh no. no. no. NO!!!!" Then I asked Charlie how could he let me write and more importantly PUBLISH something like that on the internet?! Charlie said there is no stopping me when I've had a glass
Of course I couldn't just leave this alone.
I picked up the phone and called my friend. In the background, I could hear his children crying. Actually, one of them was screaming. I asked if the blog posting he had read was the one where I had called their children "abnormal." He just laughed and said "Yeah, that would be the one." If there was ever a time I wished our kitchen floor would open up and engulf me - this would be the time. After sputtering for a few minutes, I finally said "Well, it really would have helped if your kids were screaming like they are right now, the day we came over. See, at this very moment they aren't acting abnormally at all!"
Feeling really dismayed that I might have offended our good friends, I got the children ready for bed. I was obviously feeling distracted, since Charlie pointed out I had dressed Carolyn in dinosaurs and William entirely in pink. I went to the phone and called my mom. After telling her how lame I felt about the whole situation, she told me that today while she was trying to access my blog from the library, she'd inadvertently pulled up every single comment I've made on other blogs. Fortunately,
My mother has access to everything I've written on the internet?? I feel like I'm 16 again. Can somebody out there please buy me some beer?!
If it wasn't for this little blog and the people that read it,
Of course, I also wouldn't feel the overwhelming need to tape my fingers together. Damn this new technology. I swear it will be the end of me.
(Linda ... Joel, Grace ... we love you guys. You know that, right?!)