Mea Culpa

1727 1727_ () 1727 1727 This afternoon I was settled into the chair at my salon getting a haircut when I got a text from Paul.

“I think Aragorn’s ranger name is Strider, not Stryker.”

My heart shot out of my chest. Of course it isn’t Stryker. How could I get this wrong? What kind of person gets Aragorn’s ranger name wrong? My boys are going to be so disappointed in me. My readers will mock me.

“Ahh. Shoot,” I texted back. “You’re right! Can you change it for me?”

“How can I edit your blog,” asked Paul.

I tried giving him the user name and password, but as it’s programmed into my computer I couldn’t remember the correct information.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll fix it when I get home.”

So here I am fixing this utterly ridiculous mistake. I am so sorry to all the LOTR fans I have let down.

Amin hiraetha. 1727″> ? .


Out Damn Spot!

1726 1726_ () 1726 1726 One recent evening as I zipped from one end of the house to the other, I noticed this spot on the kitchen floor.

“What could that be,” I wondered. From where I stood it looked to be a chunk of brownie, or perhaps a clod of dirt. Maybe even something worse, which is precisely why I didn’t just swoop down and grab the unidentified object with my bare hands.

Closer, closer I crept, studying with fervor. My brain raced through the possibilities, a list that included every form of animal, vegetable or mineral I could conjure.

Finally, I reached the object. I poked at it for a moment until it moved just enough to reveal its true nature:

Stryker Strider. Or as he is now known, Aragorn the Headless Warrior.



The Hits Keep Coming

Late Week Ramblings

1724 1724_ () 1724 1724 Wow! Posting at 5 p.m. on a Friday seems counter intuitive, but I just realized it’s been over a week since I put anything here and that is counter to my goals of daily posting. So late Friday it is.

The walls are closing in on me, and I am currently shut in my office with Henry and Augie who are watching Winnie the Pooh on a tiny t.v. that is on the floor in a corner of the room. Henry is running back and forth, throwing himself on a beanbag and Augie keeps pausing the movie and asking me to look at the hilarious image that creates. It is funny, I tell him. Over and over again. It’s all wonderful, but makes it really tricky for any long-term, deep meaningful posting going on. But maybe it’s been a while since I’ve come up with any such depth around here anyway. Bottom line: it’s the end of the summer and we’re all just floating along until Tuesday, September the 8th.

The reason for us being holed up in this room is that my kitchen is currently gutted, with new cabinets being installed. The workers are here and we are trying to stay out of the way. I’m very excited and cannot wait to show pictures.

In the meantime, I’m curious: have you ever renovated a kitchen while living in the house? Is it possible to do this without eating at McDonald’s every day for three weeks straight? Please answer no, that is not possible, in the comment, to assuage my guilt. Thank you.

This morning, Paul and I loaded up the boys and headed out to the Granite Capital of the World to pick out counter tops. This had the two-fold purpose of a) picking out counter tops and b) getting us out of the house for most of the day. Also, this was an excuse to eat breakfast on the road and maybe (don’t judge) lunch. This morning, it was all we could do to locate the microwave and warm up some chocolate milk for Henry before heading out. And that was really pushing the envelope.

Also, the boys and I spent the week taking care of a farm for some friends. The couple went to visit their daughter who is a cloistered nun up North, and you will read all about our adventures later next week when I publish my column. Because Tuesday afternoon I got an email (on my Blackberry, because I had crazy-limited Internet) from my editor wondering about my column. The one I had not started or given any thought to or even knew was due. So I had about 90 minutes to a) figure out how to turn on the computer, b) figure out how to sign on to the (dial-up) Internet, c) figure out what to write about and d) write. All while my five boys swirled about me and I had to ardently keep track of what knickknacks Henry was discovering and also what *other* foods the boys were currently ingesting. I felt like that was the theme of the week: feed the animals, feed the boys, feed the animals, feed the boys. The boys got on a pack-a-day popsicle kick that I was helpless to stop.

So I got the column done and I’m sure glad I had no idea what I would have faced that afternoon because I would have been stressing BIG TIME. As it was, I had a publicity-team conference call for my upcoming book (!!!) that I had to deal with (as an aside here, my seven-year-old currently has a major crush on me. He is going through that phase where he stands next to me and wants me to watch him do this and that and this one other thing. I love it, it’s a sweet stage. It’s also a tad intense at times, but I don’t want to ask him to take a break, to give me a little space, because then he might stop doing this. And I’d be sad. It’s complicated.).

So, conference call: went pretty good, and luckily my friend Barbara who lives down the way out at the farm came over to keep the boys occupied and out of the chicken coops while I talked to the fine ladies who will be promoting my book (!!!). It was a good call, I was a little stressed, and I’m just praying all the details come together the way they should.

I will post pictures later. For now, deep breath and because the boys have left the room I need to go found out exactly where they are and what trouble they are finding.

Sorry if you feel dizzy after reading this. I do too. 1724″>