strep of consciousness

So this is what I've become... a blogger who writes her posts longhand on a $1 magnetic list pad with a fancy artist's pen stolen from The Mister.

Hello, Dark Ages.

I was trying to use my actual computer, as opposed to the current archaic method, but Elliott missed the Bedtime Memo and is at That Age Where Pounding On The Keyboard Seems Like A Truly Magnificent Idea.

So I am cross, because he's really not that cute. At the moment, anyway. Even as he is contemplating an O-shaped piece of cereal that is stuck to his fingertip, furrowed brow and handsfuls of cheeks... well, he's sort of cute.

Also, I feel rather dung-ish - do you like how I refrained from saying CRAP just there? It's a little evidence that I'm growing as a person my vocabulary.

(Aside: It seems we are very nearly out of O-shaped oat cereal. Not Cheeri-o-s, mind you, because we are cheap shop at Aldi.)

I have the Streptosomething throat and it is unpleasant. And I also probably have at least two ear infections and fifty-nine glands in my neck are swollen so I pretty much look like I have the mumps. That, in combination with my current state of questionable personal hygiene and yesterday's sweatshirt-turned-baby-barf-catcher make me one. hot. mama. yeah.

Since I'm sharing all my woes, allow me to tell you how very badly I wish to attend BlissDom. BAD. That's how. My supercool, personal-hygiene-issue-free pal The Stiletto Mom is going. And she has her very own catwalk panel where she will teach people how to properly strut The Choo about blogging. Or something. And also? This guy you've probably never ever heard of whose name rhymes with Barry Bonnick Junior is giving a concert. At the bloggy event.

(Aside: I just realized I am drinking the very last cup of Stash Lemon Blossom Tea in my house. Today officially sucks.)

Anne Shirley would say that Harry and I are destined to be bosom friends. Not that he'd like my bosom, because he has Jill Goodacre's to cuddle, and mine's sporting a big sign that says OCCUPIED right now. I could tell you all of the reasons why...blahblahblahmusicblahblahblahfoodblah... but I'll just pick one.

We both love us some Habitat for Humanity. Sure, he's involved in a very large and public way, and I am just little old me out here in BFE Western New York. But back in the day, before I had four short people running around shouting at me, I ran the HFH affiliate in my county. It's a small operation, but lovely, I assure you, and we build about a house a year. If you seem interested :cough:COMMENTS:cough: I can tell you more later.

One of the most awesomesaucest things we did was to participate in HFHI's House In a Box program. Pretty much we framed up a house in a parking lot, then numbered every. last. board. Then dismantled the whole thing, packed it in a shipping box and sent it to Biloxi, Mississippi, where volunteers built the rest of the house for a family that had been displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Everyone who worked on the house on our end signed the 2x4's with messages of love and encouragement.

I worked really hard to get my affiliate included in the House In a Box program, and on everything else we did for six years. It was amazing.

So yeah, BlissDom, Harry Connick, Jr., Habitat for Humanity and strep throat... I want to go, I want to hear, I love, and I'm *so* over.

Happy Tuesday.

****If you want the longhand copy of this post, email me your address.****