Ten Things I've Managed Poorly

1--My blog. Obviously. An effective blogger wouldn't let two weeks go by without a new post now, would she? And this directly on the heels of a three week hiatus? Pathetic!

2--My career. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to have one by now.

3--My health. On account of how I hate making phone calls, and appointments, and such.

4--My waste? No. My waist? Meh, it could be 3 or 4 inches smaller I guess, but given the five--count 'em FIVE--hill repeats I ran Monday night, I'm going to go ahead and eat my pasta carbonara and say, no, not really to the waist bit. Frankly, I just couldn't to go any further with this theme until I'd dealt with the fact that the phrase "waste management systems" keeps running through my head.

5--My household, with the laundry being a specific sticking point. I've got a pretty good system down for the washing and drying, but the folding and putting away bit? Mired in inefficiency.

6--My humility. My mother tells me this blog doesn't necessarily have to be all about me, all of the time. I see her point, but have thus far failed to proceed accordingly.

7--My SAD. I'm working on a scheme by which I convince Mister to pack it all in and move to Libya for the pool parties and the wonderous Roman ruins, but so far? no dice.

8--The invitations to Saturday's Halloween party. Here's the thing, see. There weren't any.

I told the kids that I'd do the party. I told them we had to keep it small--manageable, if you will. I told them there wouldn't be any trick-or-treating because this particular neighborhood in this particular corner of Norway hasn't caught on to that particular tradition yet. Some have, but ours has not. So no trick-or-treating. But there will be games. And candy. And, most importantly, an opportunity to wear the costumes that Alpha Grandma stayed up all night one night making for you. Not you Emma, but you other two...you can wear the hand-sewn get-ups in luxurious brocades and heavy tapestries*. Emma's got that flimsy devil/fairy thing she seems to be so enchanted with. Everyone's happy.

I told them all this, then told them that they could choose three friends each. They all knew immediately who they wanted to invite. There was no fuss, no whining for more. Three seemed to be an acceptible number to them. Except Amanda--who only deigns to associate with two of the other babies at barnehage. But that was fine. Two friends for Amanda then. Whatever.

Then before I knew it, they were on the phone calling and arranging. The one friend couldn't come, so Emma quickly chose and dialed another. Then another. Of course, I realize now, that this was a mistake to allow the word to get out this way. I simply wasn't thinking at the time. I should have made invitations. I should have explicitly told them to keep this affair on the down low.

This all happened over the weekend.

Yesterday--Tuesday--one of Emma's friends who wasn't on her top three list, called and asked if she could pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseprettyplease come. It doesn't surprise me that this particular girl called, and asked so directly. She's that kind of girl. Of course I said yes. And I'll continue to say yes to anyone else who calls.

My concern is all those other girls and boys out there, and the mothers of said girls and boys who aren't quite so direct, quite so brazen as to call and say, "Hey, that sounds like fun. Can I/my kid come?" All those bitches? They hate me right now. And they're right. I really did fuck this one up royally.

9--My brevity, in the case of the last item.

10--My caffeine intake. Three cups of tea later, I'm finally done with this post. My first post in two weeks. Huzzah!



*There will be pictures. You seriously won't believe how lovely these costumes are. Well done mom!

Happy--From The Latin Meaning, Free iPod

Yeah, yeah. I'm late. I don't even have anything terribly amusing to report from my weekend away with which to make up for my lateness. Oops.

I mean, I do. I could. Our visit was exactly as chaotic and 'undone' as I expected it to be. But it's becoming increasingly clear to me that I'm the only one much bothered by the chaos, so chewing over it here only makes me sound like an irritable bitch. I figured I'd skip it and try focusing on The Happy for a change.

Turns out The Happy was mostly to be had in trees last weekend.

I tried my damndest get them all in the same tree at the same time for a picture, but they were having none of it. In fact, they were all oddly hostile towards one another all weekend. If I were thinking less happy thoughts I might be inclined to chalk it up to The Chaos seeping into their bones while they slept. Something in the Cherrios perhaps......

Ooo ooo ooo! And now for a piece sarcasm free Happy!

Emma just got home from school. She's aglow, I tell you. Bedazzled. Apparently, just before høstferie, her class was involved in some sort of drawing contest sponsored by one of the local newspapers (BergensAvis) in connection with the upcoming United Nations Day. Dudes! She won an iPod! A freaking iPod! Just a Shuffle, mind you. But still! An iPod! For something she drew! Wait, how many exclamation points was that? I don't think it was enough. !!! ! !!!

I haven't seen the picture. I'm not even all that sure what it depicted--one assumes something to do with world peace and harmony--President Obama and a chorus of angels perhaps? Em says no, but that's what peace is, right?

She was irritatingly vague on all the details. No, she doesn't remember what she drew. No, she wasn't the only one to win something. Yes, it was just her class who participated.....she thinks. No, she doesn't have any idea if the newspaper is going to print the winners. But LOOK at my iPod mom! An iPod!

There now. That oughta make up for the 3 week hiatus.

Every once in a little while I get it into my head that I'm going to give up on this whole blogging business.  It's trite.  It's silly.  No one really gives much of a damn anyway, so why not just spare myself the bother of it all?

Some might call this 'feeling sorry for one's self'.  Me, I prefer to call it 'insightful introspection', even if it is technically true that I only ever do it when I'm feeling sorry for myself.

Whatever.

I received a stern talking to from my mother via e-mail this morning regarding this issue.  She told me to knock it the fuck off already, and write something funny.  Like, NOW!

Sigh.

If she had been living my life in all this rain for the past month, she'd know what a Herculean task funny is for me at the moment.

Truth is, I got nothin'.  But, tell ya'll what, Mister bribed me into going with him up to my sister-in-law's farm for the weekend.  I'd share with you the terms of the bribe, but you wouldn't approve, so we'll skip it.  Suffice it to say, the Lord of Chaos himself runs his sloppy syndicate out of my sister-in-law's kitchen cupboards.  Simply (and lovingly--because I heart her and all, and I certainly wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea here) put, people tend to loose their collective shit when they go up there. Hilarity is sure to follow.

So, come Monday, I might, just might, have two or five funnyish acedotes to share.  Or--at the very least--a picture or two.

I'm here. 

I'm back.

I just needed a break is all.