This Week’s Cleanup Post

Here’s what the ladder bookcase looks like now that it’s together (no murders involved)

It’s the Wolverines vs. Purdue on TV. And the humidifier that I forgot to move in front of the cable box. Mr. Hot got tired of shocking himself on the pets. I was afraid of short-circuiting my laptop every time I picked it up. Hence, the humidifer. I’m still alligator-skin dry, but there’s less chance that there will be an electrical fire whenever the cat decides she wants to be petted.

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Shortman asked for an omelet this morning for breakfast. (Well, brunch anyway.) So that’s a good sign. Mr. Hot is starting to sniff and hack around. With my luck, I’ll get whatever it is they’re incubating just in time to head to Chicago next week.

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I’ve found my new host, and will be moving over there later today – hopefully I won’t be lost. I know I can redirect my URL, I don’t know how long it will take to finish, but I’m going to try to stay patient and make sure everything is stable before I go messing with it too much. Cross your fingers or toss salt over your shoulder or pat your head while rubbing your tummy – whatever it is to make the Blog Gawds happy – I’m going to need it.

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And don’t forget – help me keep my blogolutions. If you’re out there and want to be added to my blogroll – please email me or leave me a comment. I’ll update it on or around the last day of the month.

I blogolve to keep my blogroll updated monthly so I can pass along the wit and wisdom of my friends.

Also, get me your favorite crafty bloggers so that I can get them into the “Hotlight” for the month of January. Send me their link by January 20th, so I can “craft”…(hee hee)… a post worthy of their talent. They’ll also get this little piece of bling to display if they’d like:

I blogolve to pass along you and your favorites to all of my friends for a special “hotlight of the month” post. The topic hotlighted will be different every month.

—- Here’s what I’ve been working on. My “craftiness” is limited to crochet and cross-stitch. It’s a new throw for the couch – in a cool basketweave stitch. It’s all one color, the texture makes it interesting. And with the thickness of the yarn, it goes quickly. I’m nearly at the halfway point. —-

Shortman’s Day

Yesterday. Not a day that will go down as one of the best days of my favorite 16-year-old’s life. But let’s go back a couple of days even earlier, shall we?

—- Wavy Line Flashback to Wednesday, January 2nd —-

Shortman is a member of one of his school’s clubs this year. He hasn’t ever been a part of an academic club before. Baseball, soccer, football? Oh yes. Clubs with girls? Not so much.

Wednesday, they had a practice for the State of Michigan regional tournament. So, he dragged his ass out of bed around 11:00 and went up to school. Three hours later (3 hours of Word document creation and Excel spreadsheet analysis and web design) he came home and collapsed on the couch. An hour later, Mr. Hot woke him up.

And hoo-boy. Was Shortman sick. With one of those hacking croupy coughs and red-rimmed eyes, and snot draining out of his nose. Not a pretty sight, but Sudafed and a few seasons episodes of Futurama sent him off to dreamland for the night.

—- Wavy Lines Forward to Yesterday, January 4th —-

5:30 a.m. – Mr. Hot’s alarm goes off so he can get Shortman up. Shortman has to be at the school to catch the van taking them to the tournament venue. Which means he has to be out of the house by 6:30. And the cough? And the snot? Back in full force.

6:12 a.m. – I get out of the shower and stop at Shortman’s room. “You need to be out the door in 18 minutes. You’re not dressed. Your hair isn’t dry. You need to put your contacts in. Get moving!” “But I’m sooooo sick.” “Your team is counting on you! Let’s go!”

6:25 a.m. – “Mom, can you come here?” He can’t find his tie. And there’s clothing all over the room. And he has to put in his contacts. His hair is kind of dried in the usual moppy way that he dries it. He has his pants and shirt on. Oh and socks. With 5 minutes to go. I throw aspirin at him. (We’re out of Sudafed.)

6:27 a.m. – I find the errant tie; it had fallen behind his dresser. He comes out of the bathroom and throws the tie around his neck. I notice that his shirt is mis-buttoned. “Wait, let me fix your buttons. You missed a buttonhole at your collar.” I try unbuttoning all the way down the shirt. He mis-buttoned the very first button. Sigh. Untuck the shirt, tuck it back in. He puts on his shoes as he walks down the stairs. Mr. Hot, thankfully, has started the truck. “I’m sooooo sick.” “Shortman, don’t use your hand to wipe your nose.”

6:29 a.m. – Mr. Hot ties the tie. I look for his rules folder and his car keys. Give him a kiss goodbye. ” Be careful!”

6:31 a.m. – The truck is stuck. In the 10 inches of snow next to the driveway because Shortman’s “back up the truck” skills aren’t quite as finely tuned at 6:30 in the morning, in the dark, as they are at 7:30 in the morning, when it’s lighter. Mr. Hot runs out and gets it unstuck.

6:35 a.m. – Shortman is finally on his way. I’m upstairs hyperventilating.

6:50 a.m. – I grab my cell phone. There’s a message from Shortman that says “Just want to let you know I made it, and I’m in the van. I’ll call you later.” I remember that I forgot to check if he had money for lunch.

—- 8:54 a.m. —-

My cell phone rings and it’s Shortman. “Mom? Mrs. C (the driver and one of his teachers) got lost on the way here and we didn’t get here until 8:20. Then she told me the building my 8:30 event was in was down this road – but when I got there, they said the building I was looking for was in the other direction. So I missed my first event.”

Much commiseration followed. I made sure he knew where his next event was, told him to grab something to eat at the Student Center, and hung up.

—- 11:07 a.m. —-

“Well, I finished my last event. I coughed the whole time and my nose kept running. And now I have to wait until 4:30 and then the awards ceremony afterwards. There’s no tables empty to sit down.” “Well, why don’t you go by the bookstore and find a magazine, or find a comfortable chair and try to take a little nap?” “I don’t want to go back outside in the cold, so I’ll just wait until I can get a table.”

—- 7:00 p.m. —-

“Mr. Hot, where is he? They were supposed to be back at 6:45, and he’s sick and his phone goes right to voicemail and he didn’t answer my text messages.” “They probably stopped someplace for dinner. He’ll be here, he’s fine.”

Finally, (fi-nuh-lly y’all), he walks in the door. They stopped at McDonald’s. They came in 9th out of 30 schools. If he would have made it to his first event, they would have had a chance to place in the top 6. Which would have sent them to the State Competition.

Pure dejection. Oh, and snot. Lots and lots of snot. But he’s so damned cute.

—- Today, he’s been awake for a total of 2 hours. Vertical for about 5 minutes. And Christmas vacation is over in 2 days. And that was Shortman’s very sucky, not so happy, fairly awful, snot-filled, hacking cough day. —-

Tell Me Where to Go…

…and I don’t mean there. thankyouverymuchsnort. (Yea, I know. I hear that suggestion enough.)

But wait! Before we get to the meat of today’s question, thank you for letting me get that off my chest yesterday. Blondie is really a perfectly nice, very sweet person – and I agree with those of you who said she must be pretty insecure – there are other indications of just how insecure. For now, though, I’m simply going to listen and nod politely and if I really have something that needs to get done, I’ll tell her that I simply don’t have time to listen. If I can’t help it when my eyes glaze over, (ask Mr. Hot, it happens when he blathers a bit too long, too), then, oh well. Glaze they will. I’m not perfect. (snirk. Brought that full circle, didn’t I?)

So, today’s question is for all of you super-bloggers.  (Even if you don’t consider yourself a super-blogger…you are!)

Because I can’t seem to stop screwing around with this site, and because I had 283 hits the other day (!!! – highest.evah!!!), and I know that I’m in this for the long haul (361 more days anyway) – I’m thinking of moving to a externally hosted site. Still using WordPress – but because actually hosting on WordPress kinda sucks (no javascript, no plug-ins) – and I want to be able to offer you more (like CommentLuv!) – that means I need to move.

Sigh.

Again.

Glad I saved the boxes.

My address won’t change, so there’s no work involved for YOU (because my 2008 blogolutions are all about you), but I have some questions I need answered. And y’all are the ones I always run to. (No, seriously, it’s true. Shhhush.)

So, bullets!

• Who do you use to host your site and are you satisfied with them?
• I know that, in order to use WordPress on an externally hosted site, you must install something. Do you install it on YOUR computer (locally) or on the external site? If you install it locally, can you still use more than one computer? (i.e. my work laptop and my home desktop?)

Somewhere out there, I know there is someone that will help me figure this out. I’ll take help wherever I can find it. (Except from the person who came here after Googling “omg U SMELL LIKE PEE”. WTF?)

So, help a Hottie out, eh? In return, I’ll make sure the CommentLuv plug-in is installed, which will mean every time you comment, your latest post will get a link back. (Go see witchypoo and Sarcastic Mom – aka Lotus to see what I’m talking about.)

—- Maybe later I’ll tell you about Shortman and the very awful, oh-so-terrible, not fun at all, BPA tournament from Hell escapades. He deserves pizza for his efforts today. But not until he gets that suit off. —-

I’m Absolutely Not Fishing

If any of you were to meet me face to face (yes, there was that one blog date with Marianne and Kristabella), you’d probably look at me, think about the title of this blog and say, “Who the hell does she think she’s kidding? Hot? Meh!”. I mean, I’m not ugly or deformed (my Lebanese nose notwithstanding), I’m proportioned alright for my 5′9″ (and shrinking, apparently) height. I have a normal head of hair nowdays (alopecia areata ever lurking, but currently not flaring), and I’m a fairly upbeat and confident person.

Mr. Hot coined the title of this blog (bless his blind eyes heart, he really does think I’m hot) and since I AM the only female in my peer group, I thought it was as appropriate as anything else I was going to come up with. After all, even I can say that if you were to walk into our staff meeting, and you were a heterosexual male or a lesbian, and you had to pick the hottest manager, you’d probably pick me. (I’m not laying any bets on the bisexual among us.)

To go with these fair-to-middling looks, I have a short temper and can get very, very impatient when I want something now. I’ve been told that I take a very condescending tone when I’m trying to explain a concept or if I have to repeat myself. There are people I don’t like and won’t ever like, even though they’ve done nothing bad to me or mine. And I can’t change my opinion of them.

But, I will hug you when you’re down, and I will gladly give you $5 to put gas in your car. I will try to say the right things, things to make you feel better. Or, I will say nothing at all if it’s what you need. I will be honest, but not cruelly so. I will be your cheerleader. I will be your friend.

I love my family dearly. They have their faults. They’re not perfect.

Mr. Hot can be an ass. He has a short temper, and the memory of an elephant. He’s self-centered. He’s never, ever wrong. He is also one of the most forgiving people I know. He would give you the shirt off of his back. He truly hurts for the world; the poor, the sick, the mistreated. I’ve seen him so overcome with emotion that he has to walk away from a newspaper story until he can stop crying enough to read again.

Shortman is unmotivated by anything except World of Warcraft. He “forgets” homework and blames others for mistakes. Nothing is his fault. He has the typical smart mouth of a teenager and the carelessness that comes from thinking that he is immortal. He’s also unfailingly polite to everyone around him (save his parents) and will drop whatever he’s doing to give you a hand (except me and Mr. Hot) if you ask. He is more tolerant than any 16 year old I know. He has the infectious laugh of a toddler – you can’t hear his cackle without breaking into a grin.

Now, before you get all “Oh, Hotfessional, we think you’re beautiful” – Please STOP. (And I scream that in the nicest, sweetest way possible.) That’s NOT why I wrote what I wrote. It’s to give you some background for what I’m really here to write about today.

Lizarita! wrote a post about Faux Bloggers. Today, I’m dealing with Faux Families – specifically, someone who works for me (we’ll call her Blondie) and her daughter (and let’s call her Brainy).

Blondie takes up far too much of my time raving about her perfect life with her perfect children and her perfect 2nd husband. The perfect children (Brainy and ‘The Athlete’) are from her first marriage. Nothing that these children do is ever wrong. They are the shiny stars of the universe. Harvard and Yale are apparently courting them left and right, mainly because the ivy will simply whither up and die if Brainy and The Athlete don’t matriculate from their hallowed halls.

So, this morning, Blondie regales me of when Brainy first started preschool, at age 4, after The Athlete was born. And this conversation occurred about 3 weeks after Brainy graced them with her presence :

Miss Preschool Teacher: “Why is Brainy here?”
Blondie: “What do you mean? She’s going to kindergarten next year and she needs to be around more kids than just the ones at the babysitter’s house.”
Miss Preschool Teacher: “But she can write her name. And she can read. She can use scissors.”
Blondie: “So?”
Miss Preschool Teacher: “Well, she could TEACH preschool!”

Now, you see how craftily Blondie did that? She wasn’t the one bragging on her kid, the Teacher was the one heaping the praise. Brainy is now a senior in high school, and she obviously could teach those Ivy-League professors a thing or two. Sigh.

These encounters happen nearly every day. It has come to the point where I don’t even stop by her desk to say hi, or talk to her about Shortman (he and Brainy go to the same school). I’ve tried, when she comes in my office and starts up, clicking through emails and telling her I really have to get such-as-such finished. Lately, I close my door for a good 2-3 hours (which I hate doing!) simply to save myself the aggravation.

It’s not that she’s not doing her work (There’s woefully little work to be done some days, unfortunately, due to our ’short term tenure’ here.) so writing her up or reminding her of work to be done is useless. I’ve told her, on some days, “Look, since you have everything finished, why don’t you go ahead and go home for the rest of the day.” just to be rid of her. But it’s not fair to the rest of my crew, who may also be done, but stick around in case they’re needed.

What I really wanted to say this morning was, “Y’know, I was reading when I was 3 because I was the only child in a house full of adults who had nothing better to do than play with me and read to me until my mother came home from work and my dad came home from the Marines. I have a cookbook where I copied letters when I was 2. My stepdaughter graduated 2nd in her class of 500 and my stepson qualified for Honors College. Mr. Hot skipped kindergarten and got straight A’s through 11th grade. Shortman could read when he was 4 – and was the most popular kid in preschool because he was NICE and POLITE and a good colorer!”

Whew. Breathe. Thanks.

I was a mom before playdates became popular. I was a full-time student in my first new flush of motherhood. Then I started working with a bunch of men and didn’t hang around other Moms. I don’t know how to deal with people who live in La-La-Land Perfectsville. So I ask you, my dears. What would you do? Have you run across these people? Other than firing Blondie’s ass (highly unlikely to be approved by HR) or duct-taping her mouth first thing every morning, do you have any advice?

—- And Oh Mah Holy Hell people. Over 1200 words and I signed up to do this for 362 more days? I either need to apologize or pray that I didn’t use up my syllable quota. —-

Sucker

Like NaBloPoMo didn’t almost kill me. Like I need more to worry about during 2008. Like you all WANT more of me during the coming year – I’ve decided to go ahead and get committed commit myself join Blog365 – Version 2008. I’m not sure whose brainfart brainchild this was, and I can’t promise that you won’t be overloaded some days with camera-phone snapshots, but I’m going to do my best to write every.single.fucking.day (although I think I get February 29th off – must go read rules again.)

So, if you’re as stupid idiotic excited about this as I am, head over to Blog365 and sign up. Please make sure you add me to your friends list, too, because Gawd only knows I’m going to need some company in the padded room at the party.

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In other news, the tree is down and with Shortman out of the house today at a practice for his BPA tournament this Friday (yes, there will be suit pictures – and that reminds me – make that boy an appointment for a haircut tomorrow! done.) – my darling Mr. Hot is doing a top-to-bottom cleaning. Yay! He may get some……cookies!……tonight.

We also bought this for the living room. In this picture you can see (barely, if you squint) on the left side of the television a little two-shelf thing that the cable box sits on. It (the cable box) used to sit inside the television stand (behind the frosted glass doors), but it was “too hard” to change the channel unless you pointed the remote directly at the little infrared eye thingie. (Remember, when you say “too hard”, make sure you’re saying it in the whiny voice of a 16 year old 52 year old three year old.)

Since we don’t keep the tree up year-round, in place of the Christmas tree, imagine a 6 ft. tall silk ficus purchased before Franks Nursery & Crafts went belly-up.

The plan is to move the ficus to the other (left) side of the television, and put the ladder bookcase on the right side of the television with the cable box on one of the shelves.

I’m hoping it will make the room appear bigger when you first go in it, open it up some. Provided we get it together (without a murder being committed) and everything rearranged sometime this century, a (camera phone) picture may be posted here.

And really y’all. That’s about it. It finally stopped snowing (I think we’ve had about 9 inches since yesterday morning). There is blue sky showing. I’m back in the office (and yes, I’ve even managed to catch up on email since everyone and their freakin’ brother was out for the past week!) – and it’s quiet. There will likely be some new work landing on my plate soon (which, duh, another reason I shouldn’t have committed to Blog365) and it may involve some traveling (hey! duh! another reason to commit to Blog365 – travel always brings blog fodder.).

—- Now, don’t forget your submissions for the first Hotlight post – bling will be forthcoming (yes, I’m out of control with the bling – it has to do with my compulsive creative gene). —-

Okay, Much More Positive Now

The driveway is shoveled. It only took us a half hour or so, and just as we were finishing, one of the neighbors came by with his John Deere (complete with attached snowplow!) and took a look up to the garage. He said to Mr. Hot “Well, y’all look like you just ’bout got this licked, dontcha?” (I. Know. I live in Ann Arbor Michigan, but that’s exactly what this guy sounded like!)

I bet he was thinking, “These city-slickers don’t know nuthin’ ’bout shovelin’ no snow likes we get out here in the country. My dawg is bigger than that there tractor he uses to cut the grass.”

We smiled and thanked him for thinking of us, but honestly? Our drive may be 4 times as long as the one we had in Royal Oak, but it’s asphalt – and easier to shovel than concrete. Luckily we’re all healthy and in decent shape. (And other than the shovelful of snow that Shortman “accidentally” threw at my head, we have fun being outside together.)

So, ever since that, and my shower, I’ve pretty much planted my ass on the couch and watched football. Damn Tim Tivo Tebow was supposed to beat Michigan. It’s 41-35 Michigan (I haven’t mentioned my blind hatred for Wolverine football in a while have I?).

We’re going to have stir-fry for dinner tonight, and at some point probably watch “Green Street Hooligans“. (A Christmas present for Shortman – he wants us to watch it with him, and he’s already watched it 3 times this week. It must be good.) The Rose Bowl is on though, so I don’t know what timeline will work.

So, New Year’s Resolutions. Do I make them? Not normally. But this year, I have a couple three, and they are blog-related. Blogolutions, if you will. Yay! Yay for you! Because they are all about my friends – those of you that come here regularly to check in with my adventures.

Ooops, well, the first one isn’t really about you. It’s all about me and my blog. (I’m vowing to be a bit more selfish this year – snirk.)

- A new header every month. I’m enjoying coming up with the little badges I’ve created here and here. It’s an exercise in creativity. So, above you see my January 2008 header. The tagline is something I say (quite frequently) in meetings with the rest of my peers (who are all men, have I mentioned?). It shut them up the first couple of times when they realized that there wasn’t really any, y’know, mud in the conference rooms. “What could she be getting on her boots to make them….oh, never mind. Shit.”

Now for the “It’s All About You” piece.

- My blogroll will be updated monthly. I’m targeting the last day of the month. So, if you read here and I haven’t figured that out yet – please delurk and tell me where you write so that I can add you. I love my readers (and stalk some – but nicely, I promise, not creepy at all [snort]) and want others to love you too.

- My Hotlight of the Month – and I’m really excited about this. My friend Mouse is an indi designer of awesome retro designs and my inspiration for this blogolution. Totes and aprons! The first Highlight of the Month will be “Hot-Crossed Crafts”.

If you are (or you know of) a crafty little hottie that you’d like to share with others, email me with their site information (my email link is up in the right-hand corner) – and the last week of the month I’ll put a post together that will point you all to the wonder that we are. Please get me the information before January 20th (so I have time to do everyone justice). The subject of the Hotlight will change every month – so if you’re not crafty, it doesn’t mean that you’ll never get ‘hotlighted’.

—- So, there they are. My New Year’s Blogolutions.  Help me keep them, eh?  Licks to you all! —-

Your First Random of 2008 – a short one

Hi! Are you all hangover free this morning? Amazingly enough, I am. Probably because the champagne from the night before did my ass in. So I behaved myself – and it’s a damned good thing because this is what we woke up to this morning:

The Front Yard

The Back Yard

And Shortman woke up in one of those wonderful teenage boy moods – sulky and pissy and I’m just trying not to march up the stairs and slap the immortal crap outta him.

And my mother just called to wish Mr. Hot a Happy Birthday – and he hates people making a big deal out of his birthday – in fact, we try not to talk about it too much (or at fuckin-all) – and I had to lie and tell her he was in the shower and that she shouldn’t call back to sing to him – that I’d have him call her, and blah blah blah.

And OMG y’all, did I just start out 2008 on the most negative note possible????

—- Okay, we’ll try this again after I get back from shoveling the suck-ass snow off the driveway. Later taters. —-