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.

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. —-

—- 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. —-

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. —-

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. —-

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.

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). —-

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! —-

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. —-

Can I tell y’all? (Witness!)

(Mr. Hot is in the kitchen singing Marvin Gaye. And Poopy the Puppy is draped across my legs in the living room. It only seems appropriate to Praise! and Hail! and OMG, I’m going to be struck by lightening one of these days.  Hell Yea.  [I didn't spend 7 years in West-By-Gawd-Virginia and not learn how to say Hell Yea.])

I can’t miss a day without checking in to make sure that Candy is okay. And that Kelley and Boo are behaving themselves. And that Kristabella and Marianne and Briar’s Mom are having fun.

On New Year’s Eve, I will be in the office in the morning and then will go with Mr. Hot and Shortman to see the Detroit Pistons beat the Milwaukee Bucks (I don’t think I have any Wisconsin readers, but if I do, c’mon, show yourselves!). It has become a tradition in our family – eat at the Palace Grille buffet and waddle to our seats to cheer RIP and the Prince to victory.    One year, we left our rental house with the taps for hot water in the shower broken to make it to the game – thank goodness we had a great landlord – we seriously could have come home to floods and pestilence!

But, I have to tell y’all thank you. Thank you all so very much for making these past seven months so much fun. For introducing me to a whole new world out there in the internets.

I hope you prosper in 2008. That all of your fondest wishes come true. Please believe me when I tell you all that you deserve your brightest and boldest dreams – that were it in my power – I would easily grant you all of them. For those of you that read “My Life as a Hotfessional” – for those of you who commented and emailed me – you will never know how much I love to see the new emails in my inbox.  I hope we are able to become even better friends in the coming months.

Happy New Year to All of You. May 2008 bring you all that you wish for.  For there is no better life for any of us than to be surrounded by those we love and those who love us in return.

Yesterday, we went up to Mt. Trashmore so Shortman could do some snowboarding.  The lodge has three separate facilities for those of us who hate the suck-ass snow and cold.  The first is a bring-your-own everything.  Food, drink, entertainment.  The second has a lot of picnic tables, is kept (slightly) warmer,  and the kind of snackbar type of food that costs way too much.  Think $3 for a slice of pizza; $3.66 for some mozzarella sticks, $2.50 for a bottle of water.  The third is an honest-to-goodness (humph) restaurant with a bar and menus. 

We decided to have a real meal for lunch yesterday, so we headed over to place #3 after Shortman had been out on the slopes for a while.  We walked in, looked around for a hostess, saw nothing that indicated we shouldn’t seat ourselves (of course, the conglomeration of Ski Patrol parkas that were clustered around the entryway blocking the entrance made for some manuvering skill similar to what some of the skiers were experiencing out on the slopes).

We sat at a table over in the corner so we could store Shortman’s snowboard bag and the other assorted shit we had with us out of the way.  And we waited. 

I tried to catch a couple of servers’ eyes.  Nothing. 

Finally, someone came out of the kitchen, and I beckoned, “Excuse me, could we have menus?”  She looked at us, and said, “Did a hostess seat you here?”  When we told her that there was no hostess when we walked in, nor any sign indicating we should expect one, she replied, “Well, you’re in my area, but I was just about to go on break.”  (Straw #1)

We picked up our things – all the while looking at her.  She started stammering, “I mean, I was going to go on break, but I’d much rather serve you than take my break.”  If I heard the word break one more time, I was going to break something – probably her head.  (Straw #2)

We insisted that we didn’t want to inconvenience her; heaven forbid she should have to, y’know, do her fucking job, so we got up and moved to another table. 

She followed us.  (Straw #3)

I do have to give her credit.  She was obviously concerned that we were going to cause a scene. (Moi?  Geez.  Like that would ever happen.  snirk.)  She took our drink orders, and someone else brought us menus.  Then, because “The Manager just came in, and is switching everyone’s tables”, another server came to take our order. 

I ordered the pulled pork sandwich with fries, Shortman had the Chicken Ceasar Wrap, and Mr. Hot ordered the Cheeseburger with mozzarella cheese and onion rings.  The waiter wanted us to know that the onion rings would be an extra $0.50.  (Actually, the menu said an extra $1, but okay, whatever.) 

When we got our food, Mr. Hot’s had french fries – and feta cheese on the burger.   He wouldn’t let me say anything, (because, y’know, my reputation obviously followed me to a place I’ve only been once before in my entire life!), claimed it was okay, he was too hungry to wait for them to change it to the correct order.  The server must have seen my face, but for the life of himself, couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  He kept apologizing, “I’m sorry if there’s something wrong.”  Mr. Hot kept telling him there was nothing wrong.  I just kept the grin plastered on my face. (Straw #4)

Shortman couldn’t figure out why I thought the waiter was at fault.  I tried to explain that I always double-checked stuff – and since there was only three orders, he could have certainly done a quick once-over to see if it was all right.  Especially since he told us he was new.  AND since we discussed the extra surcharge on the onion rings. 

These are really little things, I know, but when you pride yourself on being helpful and understanding of your clients (no matter how freakin’ stupid they are!), all of the little things add up to one BIG disappointment in how we treat others today.

There’s my little rant for now. 

On the other hand!  My new printer/scanner/copier/vibrator/masseuse would not power on yesterday.  Nothing I did or screamed would help.  I plugged it into a different outlet.  I changed the USB port.  I crossed myself, ate 3 sprigs of garlic and faced the west while throwing salt over my shoulder.  It was deader than the Ghost of Christmas Past.  (And the garlic?  Chased away Mr. Hot.  Damn.) 

I spent 40 minutes trying to resurrect the damn thing.  I hadn’t even used it!  Mr. Hot had printed a single sheet of paper.  Fucking power outage.  Fried the thing.  I knew I was going to have to deal with an Amazon return and packing and waiting and damnity damn damn damn. 

I decided to search for “Canon 530 will not power up”.  Lo and Behold, CNet.com came through for me!  (I’m going to lick CNet.com.)  Specifically, “When there’s a power surge, unplug your Canon printer for a minimum of 20 minutes to reset all memory.”  I unplugged it. About 4 hours later, I was ready to take a deep breath and plug it back in.  …….  Like I said, I’m going to lick CNet.com.  And therefore, because of the success of that little exercise, I am giving you some scanned pics, as promised!

A 10-year-old Hotfessional – Complete with Birthday Cake:

An 11th Grade Hotfessional – Check out the specs, y’all.  1980 in all its glory:

And this one is for Bossy - so she’ll understand my obsession joy whenever she posts a picture of Stella.  Me and my puppy, Bibi.  She was about 18 months here.  She lived to the ripe old age of 11 – nearly unheard of for a giant breed. 

—- And no comments about the shorts please.  This was circa 1978. —-

Have I mentioned that when our lights go out, we have no water either?  Because the well pump runs on electricity.  And the heat?  also electric.  All appliances?  you got it.

We got out the candles, lit everything up, and gathered blankets.  We called the power company, and were told (by an electronic voice) that they were so busy, they would need to call us back.  The Voice recited the phone number, and asked for an alternate phone number.  I gave her/him my cell.

Then, after staring at each other for about 3 minutes, Mr. Hot, Shortman and I decided to give up and head up to bed.  I slept with both phones on the table next to the bed.  No phone calls.

My toes were freakin’ cold in the morning.  Even with socks on and between flannel sheets and two blankets.  When I got downstairs, Mr. Hot said “Eleven o’clock.”  It was 7:30.   Eleven o’clock came.  And went.  Another phone call to DTE.  “Between now and 2 o’clock.” 

Shortman woke up about 11:30.  Mr. Hot yelled up at him,“Get dressed, we’re going someplace.”  And so we did.  Brunch (ahhhhh, coffee, finally!).  Met a neighbor eating in the same diner (She had been told 4 o’clock.  Sigh.).  Then to see “I Am Legend” with Will Smith.  Once again, I walked how of a theatre with swollen eyes.  Why does the dog have to die?  

We got home about 2:30 and lo – there was light.  And heat.  And it was good.

And yet?  No internet.  No cable television.   More phone calls – this time to Comcant.  (No, that was soooo not a typo.)   Yes, the outage was reported.  No, they didn’t know how long it would take to get it back on.

Five hours later, I called them back.  “About an hour or so.  They’re working in your neighborhood even as we speak.”  My neighborhood?  Have I mentioned we live in nowhere-land?  I didn’t know I had a neighborhood.

Once again, I called it a night and went up to bed, with my book.

Finally, this morning, we’re back up and running.  Everything electric.  Everything cable-y.  And we’re leaving in about an hour to head up to our local dump-turned-ski-hill so that Shortman can snowboard and Mr. Hot and I can curl up in chairs in the lounge and drink coffee and read.

I just wanted to check in and tell y’all that I miss you and will be getting to your sweet emails soon – later this evening when we get back.   I did pull a bunch of old pictures to get scanned in for your amusement (I swear, even Shortman said “Mom, what’s with the glasses that cover your whole face?”).  Oh, and Santa brought me this.  I love it.  It’s much easier to use than I ever dreamed.

—- Okay, now I must go get dressed.  We’re on a tight timeline.  Out of here by 10:30, back by 5.  There must be a football game on.  Later babes! —-