NaBloPoMo Day 1: Both share the possibility of projectile flight, I suppose.

Flying Fairy

Last night the fairies went flying.

First we bend down really low, and then we fly away!

(Their landings may lack grace, but they more than make up for it with cuteness and vivacity! Hello there! Welcome to my mommy blog where I sometimes post photos of my kids and then I go all verbal about how cute I think they are! I don’t normally choose this path!)

Today found the fairies camped out on the family room couch. According to Meredith’s teacher, there is a puking epidemic making its way through the kindergarten. Meredith is not a puker (do you hear me knocking on wood and setting herbs on fire over here?!), but, where am I going with this?! It’s flipping Day One of NaBloPoMo, and I’m sitting here with three hours left until midnight—drinking my eighth (and final) glass of water for the day (because I’m back on that kick again), watching sour-faced Zellweger in Bridget Jones, and searching for a ridiculous metaphor to splice fairies and vomit.

I’ll be back tomorrow.

And you can’t wait. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Greetings from Putrid Pudding!

So, I just signed on for NaBloPoMo again, and I’m trying to figure out if or how to shake it up a bit this year. I do know that I’m going to be crying on November 4th. And if those tears aren’t of the happy flavor, well, I just might throw in my stinkin’ towel and post stink-eye photos for the remainder of the month.

Speaking of stinkin’ towels (sadly, my transitions lack imagination), I’m currently suffering from a case of the stinking towels. I’m not sure if this stems back to our Feces in the Basement (!) problem or the fact that I sometimes let things sit in the washer too long, but our towels smell like mildew. I dry my face with one, and then I spend the night smelling my soured fetid face. And I dry the kids’ hair with one, and then I send them to the car for the night so I don’t have to breathe in their rancid tresses. And when your friend sends you some incredible soap and then the smell of your supposedly clean towel completely chews up the good scent and spits foul yuck all over you, well, something has to give because it’s starting to affect my mood.

As I type this letter to you, I am using (for the first time ever!) fabric softener laced with Febreze to try to kill the stink on the towels. Think happy thoughts. Also, Dear Jeff: Your underpants (for the first time ever!) are going to be surprisingly soft (and lavender scented!) tomorrow. Let me know if you need me to knit suspenders to hold them up.

So, anyway, yeah. NaBloPoMo. Join me. (I don’t say it enough, but I love reading your words.) Let me know if you’re signing up, and I’ll be your stinky St. Louis friend. (As Wurocher once said, “Everybody needs a stinky St. Louis friend.”) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I think Nick is the cutest. And I’m more than twice his age.

Dear iTunes,

One night last week I was doing that whole I Can’t Sleep thing, so I jumped on the computer at something like 2:17 in the morning and started browsing through the recently released items in the iTunes store. You know how it goes. You listen to thirty seconds of one song, and then iTunes does the “Hey! You like THAT?! Then you’ll DEFINITELY like THIS!!!” thing, and the next thing you know you’re bobbing your head around to the tune of Kanye West’s Love Lockdown. (I particularly like the percussion bit between 1:00 and 1:16. Um, onward.)

Anyway, I was doing the hopping, skipping, and jumping around thing, and I slipped and fell into a very syrupy Jonas Brothers pit. And it was late and my mind was starting to fail me, and all of a sudden I had a big goofy smile on my face and I was purchasing Love Bug. And iTunes raised its eyebrow and asked, “Really? You REALLY want to put that song on your iPod?” And I said, “Confirm! Purchase! And let’s keep this between you and me, iTunes!”

Last night I looked at my husband and said, “Come into the kitchen if you want to see one of my most embarrassing purchases.” Obviously, he was expecting something a bit more scandalous than a ninety nine cent song. (I’m full of semi-disappointing surprises, iTunes.) Anyway, I looked everywhere for that stinkin’ Jonas Brothers song, and I couldn’t find it. It had been removed from iTunes, and it was no longer on the iPod.

My question to you, iTunes: Do you think my iPod is trying to tell me something? Do you think that Jon Nakamatsu and Joni Mitchell weren’t really digging how the Jonas Brothers landed between them? (I’m assuming Joni whispered something like, “Man, now I TOTALLY wish I had a river I could skate away on!”)

I didn’t want to revisit this Jonas Brothers thing, iTunes. However, if I purchase the new Ryan Adams next week (or the soundtrack to High School Musical 3! La la la laaaah!), I sure as heck don’t want the tracks to show up and then disappear with no explanation.

Oh, iTunes. Help me to help myself.

Tail between my legs,
Angela Pudding ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Dreaded Phone Call

Jeff (working hard in his office, and trying not to sound annoyed at the fact that I’m interrupting his day at 9:00 in the morning): Editorial, this is Jeff.

Me: Jeff?

Jeff: You got me!

Me: Listen. Please know that this is one of the hardest phone calls I’ve ever had to make. I’m about to ask you something, and it’s embarrassing. Humiliating. And know that I know that you’re working really hard over there.

Jeff: What’s up?

Me: I need you to tell me where the remote control is for the television.

Jeff (giving me the gift of Long Awkward Pause): Really?

Me: Yep. IJustPutSupperInTheCrockPot!!! So, I’ve got THAT going on!

Jeff: What?

Me: Um, yeah. I just don’t want you to think that I’m not doing anything over here. But, listen. Gilmore Girls starts in an hour, and I really can’t picture myself hitting that Channel Up button 36 times in order to get to ABC Family.

Jeff: Wow.

Me: Yeah, so. What’s up? How’s your day? Whoosh! It’s sort of busy over here what with the sour cream and the soup and all the stuff I just put in the pot. And now I’m going to maybe clean up the family room. And maybe I’ll fold some towels or something? After you tell me where the remote control is? I just keep on talking and talking, don’t I? La la la la la!

Jeff: I bet you find the remote control while you’re cleaning the family room.

Me: Jeff, if I have to hit that Channel Up button 36 times, I can’t promise that the repetitive motion won’t cause my crazy jerky hand to jump into the kitchen and unplug your dinner.

Jeff: I’ll take my chances.

Love is patient. Love is kind. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Proudly keep the colors flying skyward!

You know that Jeff is a fairly reserved guy, right?

You also know that the Mizzou Tigers played Nebraska in Nebraska yesterday, right?

Did you know that the Mizzou Tigers haven’t scored a victory in Nebraska in thirty years?

Yesterday evening, less than fifteen minutes before the start of the game, Jeff jumped up from the couch and ran outside. A few minutes later, I glanced up and found him doing this:
Flying the Flag

And because Jeff gazelled around the yard flying the Mizzou flag for nearly ten minutes, the Tigers took Nebraska down with a final score of 52-17. It just goes to show that sometimes you have to shake it up in order to come out on top, Cliché Wizard.

(The girls haven’t made eye contact with him in nearly eighteen hours.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>