Geronimo!

Got some sidebar silliness happening down lower on the home page…teeny eeny type size, and I’m not having success in straightening it out…I’ll have to wait for my Techno Wizard to get home from work today. Sorry for the mess down there. I’m sure it’s putting a serious crimp in your day. We’ll get through this, together.

On the upside, it is TV Free Tuesday, hosted by cool beans. Turn off the tube, and tell us this evening what you did all day, and if you indeed, start drinking by 2 pm. Not that I’d ever consider that myself. Just saying.

And, my scales are my best friend again this morning. They gave me back the two pounds I’ver worked so hard (don’t watch…my nose is growing) to lose in the last nearly 3 weeks. I think I’m going to publish a book, maybe just an eBook, based on a commenter that left me a brilliant suggestion. Wine Your Way to Thin. I’ll write her into the credits. I don’t want to give away any secrets, but just suffice it to say that it has something to do with eating only 400 calories all day, till, say, 5 pm, and then drinking the rest of them till, say, oh, 8 pm. You know, it’s not good to consume calories after 8. You don’t want all that sitting in your stomach all night, just ganging up on your thighs. If you like, between 5 and 8, you may also have something like a stick of celery, and some of that Laughing Cow, lite, cheese. But not more than maybe, 100 calories worth. Want to stay under 1500 for the day. And if you feel really ambitious, you can get in a day or two of cardio, or weights, but not more than 5 times in 3 weeks. But that’s all I’m going to say. I want the rest to be a surprise when the book is released.

Finally. Our Marker Art Boy, in all his glorious splendor:

I swear. I. do. not. stage. these. shots. I’m only here to grab them as they happen.

Happy Tuesday, all. Be sure to tune in later. I’m working on sheer brilliance up here in my noggin. No. Don’t thank me. Really. No. Hold your applause. I’d be nothing without you. You are the wind beneath my wings. Until then, adieu.

it’s nearly noon, and I’m still in my jammies, with dark, old mascara under my eyes, and my second cup of coffee, at my laptop, and not only am I completely ignoring the fruit of my exhausted loins, but their little voices are really really causing a small, sharp stabbing sensation in the back of my right eye, BUT they are teaching themselves Chess, can this still be considered a good day? Forget that. Now I hear increasingly shrill pleas of you can’t do that, you can’t do that, you can’t dooooooooo that…it’s not faaaaaaaiiiiiiiirrrr, from a 5 year old who wouldn’t know the rules of Chess from the origins of DaDaism. I’m sooo going to leave the house when my husband gets home from his trip.

There’s bound to be some something I’m missing out there, with a cute button for Tuesday. But. Today is riding lessons, gymnastics, finishing getting the upstairs clean (gross. gross. bathroom. floors. Don’t they know the target in IN the toilet?), biga** grocery run, and maybe, just maybe, a shower. If I don’t linger here too long.

First item of business. Ahem. Carnival of Homeschooling Week 3. Beautiful compilation of brilliant observations (yes, I’m included) over at Why Homeschool. Mr. Henry Cate did a superb job making us all look wonderful. Check it out.

Second. A little funny. Urban Dictionary gave me a chuckle.

anablog:

The old fashioned journal you wrote in with crushed tree pulp, binding, and maybe some kind of lock mechanism. For some reason people used to like writing opinions only they read. It is a fad past its prime but Borders still sells them for some reason.

use:

“What is that odd rectangular shaped device you have in your lap that appears to be filled with blue lined 2 dimensional pieces of non-digital substance?”

“Oh this is just my anablog…I write it in to remember things and keep my private thoughts”

“I see, so how do you post it when you’re done?”

Third. Who ever invented the scales for home use has a special place in hell waiting for him. Enough said.

And finally, for your viewing pleasure, Mr. I Left the Room to Toot, in typical daily attire…

It’s what I get for asking him to help with the laundry. And yep. That’s underwear on his head.

Hey, Mom, I left the room to toot!

Blue Boy, age 5

After months of telling him he was about to knock us out, he needed to excuse himself, he has just started doing so. And he is so very proud. And. We can breathe better.

It’s Monday Memories over at R2Ks (she graciously says I co-host, but really, I just tag along).

I feel a bit surly this morning. Just found out we’re out of coffee. Have quite a bit of housework to do (it. never. stops.). Am behind in laundry (it. never. stops. more.). AND. I weighed. That blasted scales says I’ve gained a pound. Not happy. Not happy about that at all. And what kind of person am I that lets some scales dictate the start-of-the-day-mood? How shallow can I be? Oh, apparently pretty shallow. I DID post a pic of myself to solicit opinions from the internet on MY HAIR. Gack.

So…my memory. Got it. Yesterday (yesterday is not the memory, just when it was jogged to the surface of my empty head), so yesterday, Speedreader went to the roller rink (why. do. kids. like. gross. places. for. parties.?) and I helped him lace up his skates. You know, I said. Yes, I do know Mom. Know what? You don’t even know what I was going to say. How can you *know*? You used to go skating when you were my age, {with slightly bored exasperation he replies}. Well, Mr. Know All In The Universe. Yes, I did, but that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say, if you were cool, you would NOT stoop to renting skates. That was bad mojo. You owned your own, and you brought them in a cool bag, or slung casually over your shoulder. You would never put your holy skating feet in those nasty rentals. It just wasn’t done. {entertaining me, he asks} OK, mom, so what’d you do…Well, since you asked…I had my very own pair and they were AWESOME. They were gold glitter! I rocked! Let me tell YOU how your momma looked zipping around in the backwards skate…

All he could do was hang his head in embarrassment for me. He was simply agog that I would ever don something as ridiculous as gold glitter roller skates. I’m telling you, they were sweet. Whadda kids today know, anyway. And why hasn’t someone kept a better picture of my kind of skates? They’re a classic. All I could find was this blurry shot, but the memory was so warm, I had to go with it. Groovy, baby, groovy.

Really. Be honest. Brutal. I can take it. *gulp* I’m not 13 anymore. Or 22. Or 28. Or *gasp* 32. I have just turned 35. But somehow, when I look in the mirror, I just can’t see it. I try. Really I do. But I see the old me. The pre-children me. The not-getting-gray-hair me. The no-brow-wrinkles me. So I still wear my hair like this.

Basically, it’s 2 ponytails with those scunci hair clip thingies clipping the ponies upside down to the back of my head. Kind of like 2 messy ponies, instead of one at the back and center. Isn’t this a ridiculous post? I’m just having a bit of identity crisis. If I were my grandmother’s generation, long hair would have been whacked off once I was a married woman. Is 35 to old for this? Really. I want to know. I’ve asked Mr. Tango. But he fears retribution if he says it. Yes hon, you are too old for that. I can’t really blame him. But I can’t get to yall, not physically at least. Am I too old for this pony-tail thing now? I mean, I know nearly anything around the house is fine, but if I ran to the grocery, or to Blue Boy’s gymnastics lessons? Am I embarrassing myself? I need a woman’s opinion. I can take it. Really. Level with me. The worst I can do is boycott your blog. I don’t know where you live. I cannot, or am too tired to, hunt you down. Just tell me…am I hanging on too long?

As commanded by cool beans. Check out her button (see right sidebar) and get one of your own. And then follow the premise. She’s also supporting Paper Napkin’s Annual De-lurking Week. Which I’m not even sure what that is. But the buttons are damn cute. So why not jump on board? Hey, pretty new button for’ya…

A couple of examples.

So now, why doesn’t someone comment for me, and tell me just what is this delurking deal? And why do we care if someone lurks? I need to know, I need to know so badly! And then, I’ve just got to create my own cute button that everyone is in hot pursuit of. I’ll be thinking. Oh wait. I don’t know how to create my own button.

It’s SUNDAY, not MONDAY. Well, for once, I’m early on something. My Monday mems are in the can, and it’s only Sunday morning. Ha. That’ll never happen on purpose.

Over at Instead of TV. If you and yours got the kind of atypical doses of TV we did over the holidays, check it out. Cindy Downes is another homeschooler, currently with an “empty nest”, who found and suggested this site. Not completely new ideas, but enough to maybe jumpstart our brains again.

that I reaveal my little tattoo.

There. Now you can experience the thrill with me. In real life, meaning not here, it’s about the size of a large quarter (Some super sarcastic friends have pointed out you may not know what kind of quarter…quarter bag? Quarter horse? This is a quarter you’d put in a bubble gum machine, but a bit bigger than that, not quite as big as a 50 cent piece). Now see, that’s not bad at all. Sorry, Mom, for posting my bum. You can’t tell it’s my bum. Unless I say it is. Which, I just did. So again, sorry, Mom.