Since I have been blogging I have gone through a desktop–the last of the Aerial Blacks. Yes I pay homage to fonts, and none of the other names cut it. And my laptop, the first Savannah Falls, love that name, died a mean and horrible death from Spam, Spyware and sordid late night adventures, that I wasn’t privy to until it was too late to help. Yes children sometimes it’s up to you to initiate the hard conversations because your parents might truly be clueless as I was.
The last two Savannah’s are so protected we couldn’t keep our home network as the firewalls would uninstall the printer, and it just became too complicated. So Bone much as the Savannah’s and I would love to take the credit for your virus, you didn’t catch it from us.
Since the Savannah’s are my children, I have them convinced that they began the Civil War–both were on different sides. I only began World War Two and wish I had been alive to remember exactly how. We have deep guilt issues that we do believe in passing along to our children
It’s snowing. So instead of going out, getting quarters for laundry and real food from Fairway, we consulted our favorite internet directory and actually compared diner menus. When we do that, and speak in the royal we, we know that we’re having an anxiety attack, one that can only be staved off by scrolling lists or getting out of our chair or fiercely writing in our blog
Things have been happening in our lives really really fast lately. Took the third Savannah with me on my trip, and she had the nerve to complain that she had to work. What about me? Oh I’m the mommy, she didn’t care. It was all about her, her, and more her.
But tomorrow might be about me, me and more me, and some of you. As might the rest of the week, into next. We really don’t know we’re playing this by ear, and since we’re all tone deaf that might be a bit hard. Oh right the Savannah’s were grossly insulted by that as we download our Cd’s and do the Itune thing for the Ipod Nano, and they actually think that they sing like Tom Waits–well, maybe they do sing like him–but Van Morrison?
Sar has just crowned us her inspirational blogger of the week, and we should have known the phrase in our post beneath this one that gave us the crown. But we’re deep into a weird combo of self-love, guilt and fear that we’re just not thinking today.
Sar’s birthday is on Friday, and we’re going to par-tee like it’s 1985, or like we did yesterday at Shayna’s amazing birthday bash. She had Mick serenade her all day; and hey we do have good papa didn’t let us meet a Rolling Stone stories. Not for now, and if I ever put everything into proper categories maybe I will find some in Courting.
Yesterday I wrote a post for BIO on BIO being a new model of a political community Wasn’t going to link it, but somebody we respect much told us to. The Savannah’s actually said no, but I, as their mother, exercised my parental veto right.
Before I begin telling more stories about my imaginary children’s misbehavior, and let me not even begin with Toto, the imaginary dog who morphs from being a Maltese to a Golden Retriever depending on my mood, let me stop for now.
But first a word from me. There are times that I hate blogging so much I vow never to do it again. That means that the next day I will be nominated for something or something else will happen, and voila, instant love is back. Blogging can be an incredible high. In the past seventeen or so months I have been given what every writer dreams of, an audience. Back in the bad old days of blogging when the radical right ran shotgun, and Google didn’t have its amazing spell check–sorry MizB, I love you, but I need their spell check, I had no idea how it would lead to meeting so many wonderful people and to my writing actually improving greatly. This post is an exception, I think.
The knowledge that people do read Courting and the feedback constantly amazes me. There is much more that I have to say about blogging, and either have said it already, or will say it, very shortly, in Courting and some other pages.
And see y’all much later tonight or tomorrow.