sort of pleased and disgusted at the same time

I just read a tweet that a local church raised $10,000 to help aid the Haitian relief efforts. That's really generous, especially considering that was in less than a week, and the less-than-ideal economic climate.

As a bleeding-heart-type, I totally get that.

And also I don't.

Where are these people when their neighbors are hungry? Where are they when the food pantry is empty and when they see small children running about in the ten degree weather with no hats, no mittens, and no snow boots? How is the kindness so much harder to find when over 60% of children in local schools get free breakfast and lunch (or pay 25 cents for it).

Are these the people who suck their teeth and roll their eyes when mamas use WIC coupons in the grocery line? Or swipe their State Benefit Cards? Or are they the people who quickly hand over the $4.82 that will let the person ahead of them in line get all their groceries that week.

Don't get me wrong, the devastation in Haiti is beyond horrific, and keeps getting worse. I'm not going all Pat Robertson on their sad asses. I just wonder what people are thinking when they consider loving their neighbors.

The one whose face is stained with grief.
The one who has it all together.
The one who works two full-time jobs to feed her babies.
The one from the other side of the globe.
The one you think is lazy.
The one who disagrees with your politics.
The one who offends you.
The one in need.

If only we could all realize that loving our neighbors is a full-time endeavour.
If only.

****updated****
Someone from the Effbook read this post and thought I was writing about the church that raised the money. I was not. I do admit that hearing about a donation of that size in that short amount of time cause me to think of the eleventy bazillion dollars that have been raised worldwide to help the cause in Haiti. It made me think about the staggering number of people who die each day due to malnutrition and lack of available clean water. I thought about how sad it is that we know that there is starvation and filth and poverty and war and abuse of power and a thousand other diseases of the mind and body. And it occurred to me the difference we could make if only we could all realize that loving our neighbors is a full-time endeavour.

did you ever...

CRINGE?

Mama, you wear *enormous* underpants.

WANT TO BURY YOUR HEAD IN THE SAND?

Doctor, you have a fat. butt.

WANT TO RUN AWAY?

Sometimes I breastfeed my Barbie doll with my nipples. And sometimes I breastfeed her with my penis.

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.****

to sum up...

Last week, The Mister worked approximately 100 hours.

This week, Miss O and I have strep throat.

That is all.

so that happened.

Mama. I sneezed a piece of apple out my nose.

Mama. I did. It came out of my nose.

I sneezed a piece. A piece of apple. OUT OF MY NOSE, mama.

I did this (scrunches nose, purses lips, blows air out of nose)...

And apple came out. It did.

Out my nose.

emmet otter's jug band christmas, or, eighty-five times was enough, thanks.

This is going to be a really short story.

Once upon a time, The Mister got Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas from his parents for Christmas. He watched it once or twice and then it sat quietly, innocuously, lying in wait, in the bottom drawer of the cabinet in the living room.

Then it was discovered by the short people, and ever since I have been subjected to the River Bottom Nightmare.

You can get it for $8 on Amazon. It's well-worth the money if you get your crazy meds for free, or if you need some time alone to do things like shower. Or stab yourself in the eyes.



Disclosure: This isn't actually a review. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

all the news that's fit to print. or something.

It's cold. Sometimes the Hateful Thermometer says things like 7 or 2, which are perfectly good numbers when strung TOGETHER, but alone? Before the wind chill is factored in?

Not. So. Much.

Also, we have the snow. Let's not pretend we're surprised by the snow. I know it's January. I'm quite aware of where I live. I just need taller boots.

By the way, if you have a tall and warm boot recommendation for me, please leave it in the comments. Bonus points for tall and warm and cute, but really I just need my toes to stay on my feet. They're threatening to hop off and move away. Extra bonus points for under $100.

Have I told you before how the tall people wear long underwear from October to April? It helps, that's why. We don't keep our house that warm. Two years ago, I was gagging on the price of natural gas whilst my children were running around the house practically na.ked. So we turned down the thermostat a couple of degrees a day, until the children stopped cavorting like jungle natives.

61 degrees. That's where the little arrow sits.

Now do you understand the long underwear situation Jason from California who gloats on his blog about his superb choice in location???

My long underwear is old, and the elastic is a little shot, and for a reason unbeknownst to me, the ass of pretty much every pair of undertrousers is completely enormous. Huge. Gigantic.

So I'm wearing a Bella Band to keep my undertrou in the up position. What's a Bella Band? you ask.



That stretchy white thing on those pregnant women is a Bella Band. I love things that multi-task. Also? It keeps my belly covered when I'm breastfeeding Sweets. Two thumbs up and back fat in check. And by "in check" I mean Closer To My Body Thereby Keeping Me Warmer.

At least that is what I'm telling myself.

And that is the news from Lake Daytonbegone, where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.