A little spy FYI

Earlier today, I came across the following piece of paper, tucked amongst a pile of books and magazines on the family room coffee table:

Now you know that if you happen upon a person wearing funny glasses, fake paper mustaches and old costumes, they just might be a spy in disguise.

You're welcome.

Monday Musings: Think you're a movie buff?

I consider myself to be quite a movie buff. Granted, I don't see as many movies in the theaters now as I did back in the pre-Kiddo days (and those that I do see tend to run more towards Up - a fantabulous, amazing movie BTW - than There Will Be Blood) but still, I still love the movies - almost any genre, in any language, from any era. (The poster above, incidentally, used to adorn my bedroom wall, and in college I had black and white movie stills decorating my dorm room.)

So, I was intrigued when a friend (hey, Xanny!) posted a link on her Facebook page to a list of the All Time Box Office, as adjusted for ticket price inflation. In other words, what movies *really* were the most popular, ever, at least in terms of the bucks they raked in during their theatrical release. I immediately clicked over and began to count. I've seen 23 out of the top 25, myself, and 83 out of the top 100. Not too shabby.

If you want to check it out for yourself, you can find the list here. How many have you seen? Any on there you want to see and just haven't yet? How can only one of the Harry Potter (NINE MORE DAYS WOO-HOO) films make the list, but all three Shreks and all three Spidermans (Spidermen?) be on there? Hmmmm. Anything not on here that you think ought to be? Anything on here you've never even heard of? What movies are in your all-time top ten? Mine are (in no particular order):

Sense and Sensibility
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The Sting
Goodfellas
Cinema Paradiso
Braveheart
Out of Africa
The Muppet Movie
The Princess Bride
Truly, Madly, Deeply

I also love all the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings movies, the Monty Python movies (especially Holy Grail and Life of Brian), E.T., Traffic, The Natural, Rounders, Love Actually, Glengarry Glen Ross, L.A. Confidential, Memento, the Pixar movies (did I mention Up? Go see it - but maybe not with the younger kids) and of course all the 80s movies like The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Beuller's Day Off.... Okay, I could go on all day, but I won't - your turn!

Happy Fourth of July!

We're spending the Fourth indoors, prepping Kiddo's room for painting. Kiddo and I picked up 3 gallons of Princess Pink paint this morning while Hubby was busily patching a squillion and three holes in the drywall (nail holes, not gigantic holes, but holes that needed patching nonetheless). I attempted to help Hubby with the sanding project - all the walls and trim and basically everything except the ceiling and floor in her room need to be sanded before we can paint - but even with glasses and breathing mask on, I was a wreck after less than half an hour of sanding. My eyelids did NOT like it one bit and promptly got all swollen and painful. Yikes. I hung up my sandpaper and resigned, and shall paint my heart out extra-hard to make up for quitting this afternoon's project. *blink blink cough sneeze blink blink*

In the meantime, the sun is shining outside and I hope everyone else is enjoying the holiday, despite the cooler-than-normal temperatures in our area. (Hoping it's sunny and warm wherever you might be!) I'm pondering grilling in honor of the holiday, but leaning towards making pierogies as those are easier and less work than dealing with the grill.

I shall leave you to the rest of your holiday celebrations (well, my fellow Americans, anyhow - the rest of you I shall leave merely to your weekends!) with the musical work of that awesome group of patriots, The Muppets:

Reflections in the dawn's early light

Ice packs that one can strap on to one's body are one of the best things, ever.

Sometimes, there is not enough Advil in the house. Even when one has an economy sized bottle.

The new house has a certain, clinging scent of Eau d' Oldster. It is improving with the removal of all the carpets and area rugs, and with opening the windows (something the previous owners apparently NEVER did), but it may take wallpaper removal and paint to banish it for good.

Good thing we're planning on removing wallpaper and paint.

We need a new showerhead and shower curtain in the master bath. (Hubby discovered this at around 5:45; I haven't attempted a shower in the new house yet myself.) Apparently, there was Major Badness when he attempted to use the Pepto Bismol Shower. Yikes.

We have traded the X-rated waterfowl of the old house for the Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds Social Club. And a nearby fire house with a siren. And a near-enough-to-hear-the-horn train tracks.

As I grew up in houses that were near fire houses and train tracks, neither of those sounds bothered me much. Kiddo seems to have slept through them as well.

They made some *ugly* wallpaper patterns in the late 60s.

One can survive on pizza, soda and donuts for a surprisingly long time.

I really need to go to the grocery store.

I really, really hate boxes.

TGIF y'all!

Hand me my trophy, please...

I am so ready for my trophy today. Mmm-hmm. Hand it over, will ya?

Why today, you ask? By which, of course, you mean today specifically, more than any other day, since I *always* deserve such accolades? I'll tell you:

Because today, the 101st day of full-day, eating-lunch-at-school school for Kiddo, I forgot to make her a lunch.

For the 100 days prior to this morning, I have gotten up, gotten Kiddo up, fixed her breakfast and then, while she sits at the table eating/picking at/staring at/utterly ignoring her meal (depends on the day), I fix her lunch and get her backpack packed with everything she needs (sneakers, notebook, folder, homework, snowpants, library book etc). Then, when that's done, I head upstairs to squirt some toothpaste on her Lion King musical toothbrush and get her clothes laid out and *then* I sit down at the computer for a few minutes and go through my morning internet routine (email, news headlines, People and E! headlines, blog reader list).

This morning? I got up, got Kiddo up, fixed her breakfast and............... got totally distracted by how I was constantly tripping over things that should have been in the laundry room but instead were everywhere in my kitchen. The counters, the floor, the stovetop, the table. Hubby finished painting the laundry room trim late last night and reassembled all the shelving in there, so instead of fixing her lunch, I decided that first, I'd put everything back into the laundry room. So I did, marveling at how nice and tidy it looks, with its fresh coat of Tear Drop Blue paint (we didn't have enough Soft Ecru, so we wound up killing off the leftover bit of the gallon we used for the downstairs bathroom, which is right next to the laundry room anyhow). I got a wee bit carried away by the beauty and wonder, and thus, when I finally emerged from the laundry room, I looked at the clock on the stove (which I could actually see again, now that it had been cleared of laundry room things) and thought to myself "Crap! Must get toothpaste on the toothbrush, stat!" and off I went upstairs. Kiddo came up a few moments later and we went about the rest of our routine ("I didn't hear Hakuna Matata play TWICE, Kiddo... Brush again!" "Moooo-oooom, I *did* brush two times already!" "No, you didn't, brush again NOW please!" ... "Why aren't you dressed yet?" "Mooo-oooom, I'm thinking!" "Well, could you please multitask and think while dressing?" ... "Stand still so I can comb your hair, please." "Mooo-oooom, I don't like it when you comb my hair." "You know, Bindi always stands still when her mom combs her hair, that's why it looks so nice on TV...") and it wasn't until 8:02, after the locating and proper placement of boots on feet, mittens on hands, coat on bod and hat on head that I reached down for Kiddo's backpack and realized that I hadn't made her a lunch.

Crap.

"Moooo-oooom, we don't say that word - it isn't nice or appropriate!"

Whoops, I thought I just thought it. Thank goodness "crap" was the only word I thought. I actually did swear aloud in Kiddo's presence the other day, but fortunately it was only the S word and it was under my breath after dripping paint on the stairs, and she was so enthralled by Happy Feet that she didn't hear me anyhow. I made it five and three quarter years before actually swearing in front of her - not too bad. But that was Sunday's award-winning moment, so I'm digressing.

Anyhow, I looked at the stovetop clock - 8:03. We need to be at the corner in three minutes. I briefly ponder how quickly I can throw some stuff into her lunch bag and as I'm standing there, empty lunch bag in hand, thinking "crap, crap, crappity crap" on the inside only this time, Kiddo figures out the situation and her face lights up.

"Mommmmmmmmm? It's okay, I am not sad that you didn't make me a lunch. We all make mistakes, don't worry. Accidents happen.

....

I can just be a buyer today, okay?"

One pair of very hopeful, big brown eyes looking up at me, breath held.

A-ha! (No, not aha, though I do love me some aha. Especially Magne. Sigh........ Whoops, digressing again.) A-ha! I can totally spin this, can't I?

"Hmmm, well, I don't know, Kiddo. It is a pretty big treat to buy your lunch........."

"Oh pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohprettyprettyplease, Mom? I'll do SUCH a good job today and I'll listen and cooperate and I'll clean my room and I won't bother the cat and I'll scratch your back for 130 minutes after school oh please Mom can I buy my lunch?"

"Hmmmmm."

I pretend to think about it for a few seconds.

"Okay. I guess that just for today, you can be a buyer."

And thus, I threw some white cheddar Cheez-Its into a baggie for her snack, tossed them into her Disney Princesses backpack and we exited the house for the bus stop, Kiddo loudly proclaiming Huzzah! and Hooray! and doing everything but throwing confetti. I texted her teacher to give her the scoop as Kiddo pondered aloud what she would buy for lunch. Toasted cheese? The entree of the day (which I don't even know, as I tossed the menu at the beginning of the month since, you know, Kiddo doesn't buy her lunch)? Ice cream? (I wouldn't be surprised if that's all Kiddo eats today....)

So, I am Mom the Hero for allowing Kiddo the rare treat of buying her lunch instead of bringing it (and buying milk, which thus far has been the only thing Kiddo has ever bought in the cafeteria) and I've got promises of good behavior and endless back scratching as well! So, gimme my trophy, please - Kiddo at least thinks I deserve it!

I'd like to say this will never happen again, that I've learned my lesson and that henceforth, I shall never neglect to pack a healthy, nutritious, cost-saving lunch for Kiddo from day 102 until the end of her school career.

I'd also like to say that George Clooney and Hugh Jackman are having a serenade-off outside my window right now, each proclaiming their undying affection and admiration through song.

I do have a great spot for that trophy, though - right on the stove top. It's all cleaned off and ready.

I'll leave you now, to get back to my cleaning and packing (the carpet cleaning dudes arrive tomorrow, so they have to actually be able to get to the carpet...) with a little of Kiddo's current toothbrush tune and a little Hugh and George, though sadly, I can't get any video of their serenade duel uploaded just now. I packed the cord for the video camera already, you see. Yeah, that's the ticket........

A Major Crisis of Epic Proportions

HELP! It's a major crisis of epic proportions:

I might cut all my hair off again!

I'm really, really feeling strongly like I should just give up on the whole "growing it out" thing and just go back to a short(er), Mom 'do.

I want something sassy.



Something chic.



Something hip.



Something cute.



Problem is, my hair just. Doesn't. DO THAT. Not without major fussing.

And that, my friends, is the major issue. I want short, sassy, chic, hip and cute hair without having to do anything to it to get it that way. Or, not to have to spend more than, say, 5-10 minutes maximum to get it that way. AND, once I do get it that way, I'd like for it to stay that way. Because remember this hair?



Yeah, here's the thing about this particular look. Within a few hours, and despite the generous application of gobs and sprays and spritzes of hair products designed to keep follicles from frizzing or flying away or even thinking of moving, my hair was back to Wolverine Fawcett Van Beethoven.

ARGH!!!!

So here are some pictures of my hair at present. Let's call these the Before Pics, mmmkay?

Front:


Back/side:


(Please also note the wall of boxes in the background of the top picture; those are the 34 boxes I collected from the friendly and accommodating liquor store earlier today. They've become our own, personal Mt. Everest for both Kiddo and Crazy Cat. I'm amazed the wall is still standing at this point...)

So, you see what my hair does when left to its own devices? See how it wings this way and that, curling at just the bottom in weird, opposing directions? This is the end result of washing, conditioning, towel-drying, anti-frizz seruming and combing, then letting it dry naturally. Not. Pretty. At. All.

*sigh*

Tomorrow, my plan is to go and get my hair cut. At the very least, I need to get it trimmed, to de-split-endify and get my bangs back in their official neighborhood (that being just north of my eyebrows). I can't get rid of my bangs entirely - my hairline at the front is weird and not pretty and I hate my forehead. So, bangs in some form shall stay. (I learned this lesson the last time I grew my hair out, when I grew out my bangs for like 2 years and when they'd FINALLY reached a length that I no longer actually had any more bangs, I promptly marched into my hair salon and had her cut them back in, breathing huge sighs of relief as she did.) If I could achieve one of the cute-n-sassy, short cuts, that wouldn't require crazy upkeep and daily maintenance, I would do it, at this point, I think... But then, there's a whole year (actually, 15 months!) of suffering through the growing-out hell hair that I've done, all down the drain in one, fell cut. Would I regret giving up after perservering for so long? Maybe...

So, dear blogosphere friends (and random strangers who happen across this post), what do you think I should do? Please keep in mind that whatever hair I come up with has to flatter (as best it can - I realize it is just hair after all, and not a full-head plastic surgery substitute nor an opaque, paper bag) my head, cheeks and chins... I'd rather not look too matronly, but it also has to be age-appropriate.

Choices are:

A) Cut it!
B) Keep the faith and keep growing it out!
C) Seriously, Heather, there are way more important things to be carrying on about than your stupid hair! I mean, have you heard about the economy? The wars? Global warming?

If you vote A, any style suggestions (links to actual photos especially) would be greatly appreciated.

If you vote B, any style suggestions for the next interminable stretch of growing it out (links to actual photos especially) would be greatly appreciated.

And if you vote C, I know. I totally know.... And yet, I obsess. I moan, I stare at myself in the mirror, I try things, then I come here and I whinge on and on. It's my blog and I'll foist my follicle crisis upon the world via this post if I want to!

Stay tuned.... I will post After pictures tomorrow of whatever winds up happening atop my crazy noggin!

The "What Barbara Walters Would Ask if She Were HOT" meme

My dear blogosphere friend Eudea-Mamia just did this meme, and then graciously gave me the following questions so I could play, too. I'm fairly certain that credit for the title goes to EM, by the way....

My questions are:

1. Name one moment in your life when you were very proud of yourself (non Kiddo related!).

Um, I could go a bit cheesy here and say this moment:



but actually, I was more proud of passing the test and the audition/interview to get into the contestant pool than actually being called for the show, which was much more luck/chance than me actually *doing* something. Out of the 65 people that took the contestant exam that same day I did, only 6 of us passed it. So, that was a "woo, me!" moment.

On a less trivial level, I was also extremely proud of myself the day that I was promoted to the director of my department at the agency I worked for prior to the Ultimate Promotion to being a mom. I was only 27, the youngest person ever promoted to "senior management" and had been completely convinced I would never be picked to fill my predecessor's gigantic shoes. Some of the folks that I was up against for the job had PhDs and decades more experience than I, so I was a bit stunned to hear that I'd gotten the job. I'm further proud to say that during my tenure, my team exceeded all our contract requirements and benchmarks, started two new programs (one was a school-to-work program for high school students with disabilities, the other a program to help individuals with epilepsy who were unemployed or underemployed find and keep suitable employment) and had our department chosen to be one of five sites nationwide included in a federal grant. We were a great team and we helped a lot of people with very little resources and a lot of obstacles. I was definitely proud of that.

2. Which superpower would you choose a) being invisible? b) reading people's minds? c) stopping time?

Well, hmmm. Invisibility would be cool sometimes - I sure would work out a lot more if no one could see me huffing and puffing and sweating away, for example, or those times when I'm out in public with a melting-down kid, it sure would be great to be invisible then... Reading people's minds would also be cool, but could be very dangerous, as well. I mean, do I really want to know what people are thinking about me, really? *shudder* Pretending people are thinking well of me is probably the safer route for my ego, so no, not reading minds after all. (Though I suppose it would come in very handy with Kiddo, who at the age of 5 and a half has already perfected the monosyllabic grunt answer to questions like "How was your day at school?") Stopping time, hmmm, like Hiro on Heroes (which is on again starting tonight, woo-hoo!)? That could be good - I could keep Kiddo from bonking her noggin or skinning her knees, get the cat moved from the carpet to the linoleum *before* she gacked up that ginormous, juicy hairball, assist Hubby's golf game with an astounding amount of birdies - eagles, even! - prevent folks from sliding off the roads in all this snow and ice we just. Keep. Getting..... Yep, I think I'm going to go with stopping time.

3. What would your superhero name be?

This was a tough one. I was pondering aloud via my Facebook status and one of my old high school friends helpfully sent me a link to a site that generates your Superhero or Villian name. You have to plug in different variables (up to three) and then it will give you your name suggestions.

I scrolled through the list of variables, and decided that these were the best three for describing myself:



I mean, I'm whiter than the driven snow (skintone-wise), especially this time of year. (Hubby and I often joke that folks can always tell when we were outdoors in the summer because of the blinding glare thrown off our pasty white skin.) I am a jokester (of what caliber - whether "humorous" really is applicable, I cannot unbiasedly judge), and my shape does change, albeit generally between StayPuft, Doughboy and Jabba.

This is what came up for my variables........



Hmmm, definitely some possibilities there. I especially like Pale Girl and Fool Laugh.

I changed up the variables a bit (after deciding I am at least Queen of my own Insanity, if not my kingdom.........):



And came up with these:



Giggle Baroness? Oooh, that's good - royalty *and* it reminds me of The Sound of Music. Hmmm, I'll need to think a bit more on it and get back to you later.......

4. Name your top three crushes - real, fictional, past or present.

Okay, real (as well as past and present!):



(wasn't that obvious?)

Fictional:



and



From the past:







I know, that's more than three. I just couldn't narrow it down any further!

And now, it is time for me, Giggleo (pronounced Giggle-Oh, thankyouverymuch), to get motivated and off to the store. We're on a new mission to eat most of the food in the pantry (which is overflowing) and chest freezer before we move, so theoretically, grocery shopping should be a quick and painless task. Theoretically, anyhow... If anyone else wants to take a stab at this meme, give me a shout and I'll give you some questions!

Friday Foto Fun: Follicular Follies

Hello, hello world! It feels like forever since I've been here! I've been buried under a mountain of boxes and used Puffs Pluses for the past few days, as I tried to continue with Operation Declutter around the home-from-school Kiddo, who has one heckuva bad cold. I know, I know, it seems like she is always sick, but actually she's staying healthy for much longer stretches than she used to when she was younger. I don't know if it is because of the circumstances of her premature, complicated birth or what, but she does manage to pick up a lot of germs. One of these days, I'll finally get a patent for my stylish yet functional Biohazard Bubble suit and then I'll be able to retire with my wads of cash to my private, tropical isle without fear of anyone ever catching another germ again. Until that day, though, I gamely troop on, Vicksing soles and humidifying rooms, steaming congested heads in the shower and squirting saline spray up Niagara Fallsian nostrils, losing game after game of Mario Kart Wii (yes, even when under the weather, Kiddo still kicks my sorry behind at All Things Wii) and fixing bowl after bowl of chicken noodle soup.

The good news is that Kiddo was able to return to school today, and thus life returned to normal, or whatever it is that approximates normal in my life these days... So anyhow, sorry I've been a bad blogoshpere citizen and haven't been leaving loads of comments or posting merrily away, I'm still here, just a wee bit crazed of late.

Before I return once more to my Mountain of Boxes, I will give you a little piece of Friday Foto Fun. You may recall, I have had hair issues pretty much my whole life. You may further recall my ongoing struggle to grow out the Mom 'Do. (Yes, I know, my hair is pretty much always a Hair Don't no matter what I try...) Well, it seems that I've finally, finally passed the stages of Wolverine Fawcett-Von Beethoven *and* Carol Brady. (And there was much rejoicing: yay.) Here's what it looks like as of this morning:



(Yes, I slapped on a little eyeliner and tinted lip gloss prior to photographing myself. I was feeling kind of icky following this morning's torture session - I mean Zumba class - and wanted to look spiffy for y'all. That's not blusher on my cheeks, either, by the way - just a combination of leftover redfacedness from working out and then walking all the way across the Y parking lot in the stinging, windblown snow. Brrr. Oh no, wait, I mean that's just my natural, youthful, rosy glow... *snort*) (Oh, and see that blank wall right behind me? A week ago, there was a jammed-full-of-stuff bookcase in that spot. Go, Operation Declutter!)

Okay, so I no longer can lay claim to being the illegitimate love child of Wolverine, Farrah and Ludwig. (I'm not a geneticist; you figure out how 2XY+1XX = 1 ilc......) Now I seem to have mid-90s, midsize market News Anchor hair going on instead. Woot. I'm in dire need of a trim again (as evidenced by my vision-impairing bangs) and have been feeling sorely tempted to just cut it all off again. (Chorus of screams: NOOOOOOOO! Don't!!!) (Or should I? Hmmmm.) I'm hoping that it is long enough now that when I do finally get around to going to the hair stylist, she can give me something more closely resembling an actual style, because as you can see above, I still have the dreaded Mom 'Do. Oh well, at least it isn't winging out all over anymore! If anyone has any thoughts on the topic, feel free to share.....

So that's what's going on in my neck of the woods. I have like half a dozen posts in draft form about all sorts of scintillating topics like Lost, American Idol, the aforementioned Zumba class and my ongoing adventures in the ladies' locker room at the Y, but right now, I must be getting back to my boxes - I want to get another load ready to haul off to the storage unit before Kiddo gets home from school. I am going to leave with you with the following video clip, because I've got Latin music on the mind after Zumba this morning and because it's almost Valentine's Day..... Enjoy The One Semester of Spanish Spanish Love Song:



Au revoir!

Snow day?!?

Last Friday, we had about a foot and a half of snow fall in our neighborhood between 9am and 9pm. School for our district was not canceled, though by late morning they began dismissing the high schools and middle schools early. Notice who was missing from that? Yep, the elementary schools, which dismissed at regular time. So, I sucked it up and made my way the 2.7 miles for Kiddo's class holiday party Friday afternoon. Hey, it only took me about half an hour... I brought Kiddo home with me after the party and we then waited for Hubby to make his way home, which took about four times as long as usual what with the ridonkulous snow and finished with him getting his car stuck in our unplowed/shoveled/snowblowed driveway. That was fun, sitting out in the car trying to gun it either forward into the garage or backward into the road without killing Hubby, myself or the house/car while he yelled and pushed from in front/behind the car....).

So, I was a little bit surprised after our district's big "We never close, mwah-ha-ha-haaaaa!" position on Friday during, you know, the really bad weather, to wake up and flip on the news this morning and see our district's name among the ones that did close today, when we're only supposed to get between two and six inches (depending on which local weatherdude you listen to for such info) of lake effect snow. The districts immediately surrounding ours are all open. But no, today they close our district. Today, when I have a busy schedule made up of many intricately planned items, all of which assumed Kiddo would be at school. (Um, they also assumed that Hubby would be at work, but he has a severe backache and just finished emailing his assistant to ask her to clear his schedule...) So, now I've got to reconfigure a busy day to account for gimpy Hubby and at-home Kiddo. It isn't even seven a.m. and my day is shot to heck. Yippie.

Oh, and with his back hurting, I think that means it is up to me to clear the driveway, too. i think this definitely qualifies as a bad case of the Mondays!

By the by, what exactly is the past tense of the verb snowblow? Is it snowblowed or snowblew? Hmmm....

If I have a chance, I'll get outside and take some pictures of our recent snowfall so all of you non-snowed-in-types can experience our winter wonderland vicariously.

PS - Just realized today is the first full day of actual winter. Guess it is symbolic and fitting to have a snow day then, eh?

What would you do?

Okay, internet friends and random visitors alike, I have a situation to pose to you:

There is a family that lives up the road from us. Their oldest child is in one of the other kindergarten classes at Kiddo's school. He is supposed to ride Kiddo's bus, but he hates the bus (he freaked the heck out at the start of the year) so he gets driven to and from school instead. Sometimes one of his grandparents drive him, but most of the time it is his mom or dad.

When I am waiting up at the corner in the afternoon for Kiddo's bus, I often see Dad or Mom driving this little boy home. They even wave as they turn the corner and head up the street, so they're acknowledging that I've seen them drive past.

Here's the thing: the little boy is NEVER in a booster seat NOR is he even in the back seat of the vehicle (they have two, four-door cars). He is always sitting UNBELTED in the FRONT seat. Sometimes he's not even sitting - this afternoon, for example, as his dad skidded a bit around the turn the kid was standing up and leaning against the front dashboard. You know, where the airbag is - the airbag that has all the dire warnings about grave injury or death should a child be in the front seat...

Now, the law for New York state regarding children and seat belts/booster seats is as follows:

Every child under age 16 in the vehicle must use a safety restraint. If under age four, he or she must be properly secured in a federally-approved child safety seat that is attached to a vehicle by a safety belt or universal child restraint anchorage (LATCH) system. A child under age four who weighs more than 40 pounds may be restrained in a booster seat with a lap and shoulder belt. A child of age 4, 5, or 6, must use a booster seat with lap and shoulder belt or a child safety seat (The child and safety restraint system must meet the height and weight recommendations of the restraint manufacturer).

Exception: A child more than four feet nine inches tall or more than 100 pounds is allowed to use a seat belt that has both a lap belt and a shoulder harness. To use the seat belt, the child must be able to sit straight up against the vehicle's seat back with his or her knees bent comfortably over the edge of the seat. The lap belt should be placed low and tight across the upper thighs; the shoulder belt should rest tightly but comfortably across the child's chest and shoulder (collar bone) without touching the throat. If the seat belt does not fit properly, the child should use a booster seat with a lap and shoulder belt.

Okay, so first of all, this kid is not taller than 4ft 9in, nor is he more than 100 pounds. He just turned five years old. Now, the law doesn't require that kids ride in back, but it is strongly recommended by both the DMV, police and the car manufacturers. In any event, the NYSDMV says

Air bags deploy (expand rapidly) from the steering wheel and/or dashboard, and, in some vehicles, from the side doors beneath or above the window. The force of an air bag deploying may injure those who sit too close to it. Make sure to sit with at least 10 inches between the center of your breastbone and the air bag cover. If you are the vehicle's driver, place your hands on the steering- wheel at the 3 and 9 o'clock positions to keep them out of the way of air bag deployment. For maximum protection, children under the age of 12 should sit in the rear seat of the vehicle.

Standing up and leaning on the dashboard sure as shootin' isn't sitting at least 10 inches away from the airbag cover. Heck, Hubby snipes at me when I put my feet up on the dash while he's driving (and it isn't because they're stinky - it is because he's afraid for what would happen if the airbag deployed while I was scrunched down in my seat with my feet on the cover). I highly doubt that the neighbors are just letting their son hop out of the booster seat in back and climb in the front just before they turn onto our street, either - it seems like they let him ride that way whenever. (By the way, on those days when one of his grandparents is driving him, he is always secured in back in a booster seat.) Argh. I hate thinking of what could happen to this kid if the airbag deploys, or if they stop short as he is unrestrained - that windshield doesn't look too soft and safe to hurtle through......

So, what would you do if you were the one who saw this kid riding, unbelted, in the front seat day after day? (By the way, the school is just under three miles away from our street, so this isn't like a "just up to the corner" kind of a drive.) I am not entirely comfortable with saying something face to face to either of the parents; I don't really know them very well at all (I don't even know their name, just which house they live in up the street from us) and on the few occasions when they did try to have him ride the bus at the beginning of the year, they weren't particularly sociable or chatty. (Yes, of course I tried to chat while we stood there - this is me, the one who talks to anyone, anywhere, anytime, and besides it seemed weird to me not to chat as we both waited on the corner.) Should I cowboy up and say something to them? Leave a note in their mailbox - signed? An anonymous note? Call the cops anonymously and report them? Mind my own beeswax and just keep my mouth shut? It just seems SO unsafe, so very dangerous to let this little boy ride unrestrained up front like that.

Anyone with any opinion on the situation, please weigh in - I'm trying to figure out what, if anything, I should do.

Burning question: Holiday card update letters

It's that time of year again - holiday card season! I, for one, am a huge fan of holiday cards. I mean, what's not to love? You're getting fun mail in your mailbox every day for weeks - something other than catalogs, bills and junk mail, you get to catch up with family and friends (even if it's just at this one time a year), it's a dash of daily holiday cheer delivered to your doorstep, or at least your mail collection spot. I also love the holiday card update letters. I get extra excited when I open a card and a folded-up piece of paper falls out. I love reading everyone's news, I love pictures of families or kids or pets. I *am* a Christmas nut, after all, and this is one of my favorite parts of the season.

I realize, however, that not everyone adores the holiday update letters as much as I love them. Hubby, for example, isn't as much of a fan. He put the kibosh on our own update letter several years ago and has lobbied against its reinstatement successfully every year since. So, I'm curious - which one of us is in the minority, him or me? I've put a poll over yonder in the sidebar, feel free to voice your opinion on the subject there or in the comments or both!

That's Heather with a Z!

Liza Minelli, Lance Bass, Carol Burnett, Naomi Watts, Heidi Klum, Mylene Farmer. You might be asking, what the heck do those folks have in common? (You might also be asking "and who the hey is Mylene Farmer?" Fair question, I had no idea myself! She is a French singer of some note, according to Wikipedia.) Anyhow, what Liza, Lance, Carol, Naomi, Heidi and Mylene all have in common is..... they're supposedly my celebrity matches, at least in terms of facial resemblance.

You see, my bloggy buddy Debbie over at Suburb Sanity put a post up this morning about her celebrity matches. In it, she bemoans the fact that several of her matches are of the male gender. I instantly knew I could make her feel better by going to the site she'd used and finding my own celebrity matches. I zipped over to the site, uploaded my most recent avatar photo and voila, here's what it said:



Naomi Watts! Woo! She's actually about a zillion times hotter than I am since I'm not even pretty and all, but I'll take King Kong's #1 Babe for sure! But then, look who is next: Thomas Klestil. (Who??) Yep, I supposedly bear a strong resemblance to a dead, Austrian diplomat. Huh. Well, at least he was President... Now, results that are sure to make Debbie feel better show that Tommy Boy isn't the only man I resemble. Nope, you'll note that I also resemble James Spader (and in his puffier, older Boston Legal stage, not his feathery, hot preppiness Pretty in Pink stage), as well as Josh Groban and Leonardo DiCaprio.

I then tried another photo. (Okay, I tried a few more photos.) I used a slightly different angle from my avatar photo shoot and this is what came up:



Ah, Mme. Farmer bumps Naomi Watts out of the top spot this time. She is my only female repeating face, too (Puffy-n-Wrinkly James Spader and Howie Dorough - wasn't he a Backstreet Boy? - also repeat). Hmmm. Number two? Der Bingle. Hee! Hey - he dueted with David Bowie (on an admittedly godawful Christmas song) so that's like some pictorial six degrees of separation then, right? And Andie McDowell snogged Hugh Grant several times on film, so that's decent in the pictorial/filmy 6 degrees way...

Here's the next one I tried - my avatar picture from earlier this summer:



Heidi Klum? Va va va voom! Now I'm pictorially six degrees from Tim Gunn, Michael Kors and Nina Garcia? Fierce! (Though again, Heidi = Major Hottie, Heather = Not So Much.) I do have several quibbles with this one, though, and not just because some of them are guys (again!). For example, my forehead is nowhere nearly as large or prominent as Christina Ricci's and while my mustache is becoming more visible as I'm aging, I don't think I'm up to Goran Visnjic (another hottie) levels of stubble. Furthermore, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm just about the whitest chick that ever was, so Martin Lawrence? Really? Not even in my darkest of tans, people.

I did another shot from earlier this summer, where I had my contacts in instead of my specs:



That's Heather with a Z people! I will confess to wearing about as much eye make-up as Liza back in the 80s, but not any time in the last decade or two. Look who else is in this one - a bunch of folks I don't recognize and can't be bothered to google, Matthew McConaughey (all right, all right, all right - another hottie I could never compete with) and some indie darlings like Leelee Sobieski (don't really see that, but okay) and Parker Posey, who always cracks me up in the various Christopher Guest films.

Speaking of the 80s, I had reminisced to Debbie about how as a 17 year old, I was twice mistaken for Bette Midler. Both times in NYC, one of them while taking a public bus. At the time, I was a wee bit "Whaaa?" not only because of the age difference between us, but because I sincerely doubt that the Divine Miss M would ride a NYC public bus. Come on, now! So, I uploaded a photo of me at 17 to see whether Bette would appear....



Lance Bass? Not even close. Oy. Oh, and hey there, Forest Whitaker, didja know we're alike? You know, you being African American, male, and a multi-talented Oscar winner and me being Caucasian, female and a multitasking stay at home mom....... Yep, we're practically twins! And look who else came up for Younger, 80s Jersey Girl Me - Anne Frank. ?!?!? Chuck Norris. ?!?!? Again, is my mustache really that noticeable? I mean, I didn't have any 'stache at all back in the 80s.... But there's Emmy Rossum, who is quite pretty, and Clara Bow too, so I was apparently a bit of an It Girl in my teenage years. Too bad nobody told me back then.

All right, time for the last picture. I was curious to see if this site would see the obvious resemblance my hair-growing-out self bears to a certain comic book movie character and/or famous, dead German composer.



Nope, no Wolverine or Beethoven. Carol Burnett - she's cool, I'll take it. Sean Lennon - again with the flipping facial hair? I'm running to the store for some Jolene Creme Bleach stat! Steven Soderbergh doesn't even HAVE hair, how the hey could my ginormous hair make me a match for him?!? (But, you know, he's worked with George Clooney several times so I'll let it slide.)

Anyhow, this is how I unproductively spent a good chunk of my morning. Overall, I bear the strongest resemblance to Liza, according to this site at least. I'm mightily resisting the temptation to load Hubby and Kiddo's faces into the site now, as well as all my other family and friends... Debbie, I hope this makes you feel better and helps you avoid the Botox, 'kay?

I want to be hopeful...

I really, really want to be hopeful and optimistic here. You see, I just got back from meeting the new, supposedly permanent aide that the school has *finally* managed to hire to work with Kiddo for her sensory diet. Today was this woman's first day. She has no actual work experience in terms of providing sensory support to children; from what I hear her last job was a lunchroom monitor position at one of the other district schools. I'm cool with that, after all I didn't have any experience in providing sensory support to children prior to Kiddo either. I am wondering, however, exactly what and how much she was told about this specific position for which she was hired... it sure didn't seem like much when I met with her this morning. The OT (whom I adore - we've been so lucky in the OTs we've worked with over the years) and I demonstrated how to do Kiddo's sensory diet, going through all the steps. I added extra explanation and gave her a nutshell description of SPD - mostly in terms of how it affects Kiddo, and also offered to give the aide some materials on SPD, which she said she'd like, so those will be going to school in Kiddo's backpack on Wednesday. (No school tomorrow.) She does have some personal, life experience with children with special needs, as she told me her son (now an adult) has Tourette's, so that should at least give her some good insight into things.

Why is it, then, that I'm not leaping for joy over this match? Maybe the way that she seemed surprised to hear that Kiddo is not cognitively impaired in any way - because that makes me wonder what she may've been told and how misinformed she was. (Please note: I am in no way denigrating those children who are DD or MR; I only mean to explain that in Kiddo's case, this is not the issue at hand, yet the aide seemed to think it was.) When I explained that Kiddo, for example, is eminently capable of eating her lunch all on her own (this after I witnessed another aide literally spoon-feeding Kiddo her yogurt in the lunchroom the other week, which made my jaw drop, as Kiddo's been able to feed herself since she was a baby) she seemed surprised to hear that news. So, like I said, I wonder exactly what this woman was told in terms of Kiddo's abilities, challenges and needs. I wonder and I worry about how this is going to go.

Kiddo's IEP is very clearly written. The *only* thing for which she needs assistance, and the *only* thing for which the aide is required, is her sensory stuff. This means doing her five step sensory diet (swinging, yoga, body sock, bear walk and deep pressure) three times each day and keeping an eye on Kiddo in the classroom to see if she needs any extra sensory input - things like her air cushion to sit on or putting on her pressure vest. She doesn't need help picking out which crayon to use, or eating her yogurt, or anything else. The fact that this new aide seemed surprised to hear that makes me worry. I don't know if she has a preexisting relationship with any of the staff at the school that may have led to her being misinformed about Kiddo's needs or what. (There certainly are some misconceptions about Kiddo's abilities and needs, despite attempts by her team and I to correct them. This is the actualization of the fear that some folks have about their child being "labeled" as special needs - people assume "special needs" to mean one thing that it doesn't necessarily mean, and can't get past their incorrect preconceptions. I didn't want to be one of those parents who worried about the labels - the goal here is to get Kiddo the support she needs so she can be successful in school. Unfortunately, just because I wanted to be optimistic about the whole "classified/label" issue, there are people who give credence to those concerns, which just makes me want to beat my head against the wall some more.)

I just really hope that she turns out to "get" Kiddo and catches on to her sensory needs quickly. I hope that she *likes* Kiddo and I hope that she has the energy and general wherewithal to work with Kiddo successfully. I hope that this works out, because it is now the ninth week of school and it is high time that the school has someone in place and can finally comply with Kiddo's IEP and meet her needs. I am a little leery that this woman (who was, by my best count, at least the FIFTH person offered the job) was just hired because she was willing to take the job and not necessarily due to her qualifications or because she'll be a good fit in the position or with Kiddo. There, I said it. I'm afraid she is just a willing, warm body so the school can say they are in compliance.

I hate not feeling more hopeful about this. I want this to work, I want this woman to be kind, aware, quick on the uptake, able to do what needs to be done. I want her to "get it" and get Kiddo and be a help and a support so that Kiddo won't have to struggle with a disregulated sensory system in school any more. I want her to be more than a warm body who fills a requirement. I guess I'm not as optimistic as I was the first day of school because of all the nonsense that has occurred since then. (Oh, I didn't even mention that I was NEVER informed by anyone in the administration *or* at the Special Ed office that this woman had been hired and was starting today, and not because I haven't repeatedly asked to be kept informed, either. I found out, once again, from "unofficial" sources who shouldn't have been the first to tell me. Seriously, WTF?) There seems to be a LOT more concern about not getting blamed for the noncompliance, for not taking the heat for the screw-ups than there is for doing what is best for the student with the IEP. That's why I'm worried that this aide wasn't hired for any reason other than to get the school in compliance by having a person in the job. That's why I'm not as optimistic or hopeful as I should be. At the same time, I don't want to prejudge this woman. I don't want a less than stellar first impression and my ongoing issues with the school to color my perspective. To quote Fox Mulder, I want to believe. I want to believe that this woman can handle things, can learn quickly, can do what needs to be done and meet Kiddo's needs. I'm hoping and praying it works out, but I'm just not as hopeful as I might be. *sigh*

I guess there's nothing more I can do but wait and see what happens...

Happy Halloween!

(That'd be Kiddo with two of her three stuffed lions, Ectobert, the World's Only Yodeling Lion - he says "Yodel-ay-hee-ROAR!" - and Baby Simba. Daddy Simba didn't accompany us to the pumpkin patch this year.)

Now, it may be that I'm grumpy this morning because I'm sorer than I ought to be for my age - I feel closer to 87 than 37 and have been popping Advil like Skittles - after working the Fall Fun House obstacle course at Kiddo's school yesterday. (I caught kids coming down the zip line and set them on the ground for about 3 hours, held the edge of the cargo net "Spider Web" and spotted kids for about 1.5 hours, and also helped kids cross the "troll bridge" ladder for a bit.) I just feel the need to vent for a brief moment about Trick or Treating. You see, our house is in a small, child-filled neighborhood. I have NO problems handing out candy to small children. I love it, as a matter of fact - I have Hubby take Kiddo out ToTing specifically so I can stay home to hand out candy and oooh and aaah over the costumes. (And we do good candy here, too - name brand, good mix of options - this year we have Milk Duds, Starbursts, Whoppers, Snickers, Twix, Reese's PB cups, Three Musketeers and Kit Kats.) My big Halloween gripe is the folks who have no business ToTing coming around and expecting candy. Like the older kids (I'm talking teenagers) who don't even dress up, just turn up with a pillowcase and think they can get candy. Worse, the adults who bring around a pillowcase and claim to be ToTing for either an infant in a stroller (I mean *infant* as in tiny, little baby who has no ability or reason to be eating candy) or for a supposed "child back at home" - sometimes the teens do this one, too. "I'm ToTing for my sibling/niece/nephew who couldn't come out tonight." Apparently there are a large number of children who can't come out in person each year. Now, I ought to just put my foot down - only give out candy to the kids, and maybe I'm grumpy enough today that I will this year, but in past years, I've rolled my eyes but given out candy anyhow. Hubby insists that I hand the candy out and not let the children pick which one they want, as some kids don't honor the "one piece per kid" request and grab a large handful. (Lest you think we're total Halloween Grinches, we get a LOT of ToTers - we've had to go back to the store for more candy in previous years. This year I bought almost $20 worth of candy. That's a lot of freaking candy.)

So, this year as always, Hubby will take Kiddo out through our neighborhood, and I will stay home for the candy-handing-out. I'm really hoping this is the magical year that no non-costumed, older kids and/or adults come around... At any rate, once Kiddo is in bed (usually by 7:30) I turn off all the lights and stop answering the door anyway. Since this year Halloween is Friday, I may extend the candy-giving-out a little bit later, but by 9pm I'm definitely done no matter what.

What do you think? Doth the lady protest too much and I truly *am* a Halloween Grinch for begrudging teens and adults and "double baggers" who are ostensibly ToTing for someone else not present the extra candy? How old is too old for Trick or Treating? (My mom stopped us from going out after 8th grade. By then, there were other Halloween festivities we partook of anyhow.) How late do you plan to hand out candy tonight?

Grinch or no, I do sincerely wish everyone a fantabulous Halloween! Now I've got to get my little lion off to the school bus before I head back over to school myself for another round of the fun house, followed by her class party and the big costume parade! Woo-hoo!

In case I need some character witnesses,

you guys will all vouch for me, right? 'Cause I swear I was TOTALLY joking when I was checking out at Lowe's earlier this afternoon, acquiring supplies for the Fall Fun House at Kiddo's elementary school, of which I am in charge. By supplies, I mean eight, count 'em, EIGHT, rolls of duct tape. Nothing else. (This was per the P.E. teacher's request; the FFH is held in her gym and apparently nothing short of duct tape will stick to the walls.)

As I was setting roll after roll of duct tape on the counter, the cashier's eyes were growing wider and wider and her carefully-plucked-to-one-hair-thickness eyebrows were going further and further up her forehead. So, I grinned, gave her a "what can ya do?" shrug, and said "Well, you know, the time-outs just aren't working, and I've got to do something to get my kid to behave..."

I swear to you, she believed me. She looked positively panic-stricken and utterly horrified, and her eyes began darting about, as if to flag a passing CSM on the down-low to call 911 or CPS or something. Even when I explained the true purpose of my duct tape extravaganza and produced the PTA's tax-exempt certificate to back up my story and purchase, she still seemed quite suspicious. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she copied down my license plate number off the parking lot surveillance cameras and calls me in. So, like I said, if I get hauled off for allegedly duct-taping my child into her room, you guys have my back, right? Right?

Honestly, I didn't think it was that outrageous a remark to make, or I wouldn't have made it. When I related this anecdote to Hubby afterwards, he said "That was pretty ballsy of you to say" and I was a little "Huh?" because, you know, Hubby knows me and my sense of humor and I really didn't think it was that bad. I mean, this is me, the one who, with Hubby, told the social worker with a straight face that our discipline plan was to lock our children in the basement and if that didn't work, then we'd go to the beating with pointy sticks during our adoption home study interview. She knew we were kidding... Maybe it was my hair. It's larger than usual today, thanks to the weather and the wind, so it was looking a wee bit more "mad scientist" than usual...



(Oh and PS - Lowe's was my last stop for the FFH shopping spree. I hit the mega-jackpot at Michael's, with ka-razy sales on their fall decor. I felt like I was on Supermarket Sweep or something, with the amount of stuff I was cramming into my cart. It was all 70% off or better, so WOO-HOO!! That left me enough money - after picking up the duct tape, of course - that I'll be able to feed our volunteers donut holes and possibly even cider on Thursday and Friday. Woo!)

In other news, the child for whom multiple rolls of duct tape are required if you believe me the way that poor, teenaged cashier did brought home her school pictures today. Despite the fear that HappyHourSue struck into my heart with this tale of Picture Day, Kiddo's picture is pretty darn cute. So cute that I'm mightily tempted to post it here on my blog for the world to see. I'm just a little paranoid about the pervy internet weirdos... (I seriously get some mighty weird Google search hits - folks that have NO business poking about my poor, little blog ramblings!) I'm considering posting it.... we'll see. But at any rate, like I told Sue in the comments section of her blog (which, btw, if you haven't checked it out, you must - she is hilarious despite her questionable cougar crush on various Jonas Brothers), my theory of School Photo Karma turned out to be correct. Because I myself never took a cute school photo in my life (they were Fugly with a capital F - I mean, I've never been pretty, but the school pictures were an extra level of YIKES!), Kiddo is apparently going to be blessed with decent pics herself now. (This year's kindy photo is only her second; last year's preschool picture was also cute.) So, whew on that and if you're on the family-n-friends list, be looking for a wallet sized beauty to be heading your way shortly...

Hello, my name is Heather...

...and I'm a blogaholic.
(your cue: Hello, Heather...)

Seriously, y'all, blogging is so much more than a passing fancy to me now. Back in March, when I staked my claim on this little corner of the blogosphere, I thought it would be a fun, occasional thing with which to occupy my time. I'd been regularly following a handful of blogs - some for years now, mostly belonging to friends with whom I had a preexisting relationship. You know, people I already knew who had started blogs of their own. I thought it would be fun to start my own blog, maybe share some laughs or thoughts or ramblings (as we all know, I'm really good at rambling) with my friends the way they'd been sharing with me. I've belonged to some message boards and private internet groups for years now, going back to when Hubby and I were starting the adoption process, and blogging seemed a natural extension of my online "life" (I feel the need to use quotes there to distinguish from my REAL life....) And narcissistically speaking, doesn't the world want to know my most navel-gazing of thoughts? My feelings on parenting, current events, life and George Clooney? Hmmmm?

I should've realized right away how very dangerous this blogging thing would be for me. It started, innocently enough, with the addition of a site meter to my blog. 'Cause, if you blog and no one is reading, did the post happen? (You know, like if a tree falls in the woods....) Then, I became a wee bit obsessed with the number of hits daily to my site. If it went over ten, I flipped out. MORE THAN TEN PEOPLE checked out my blog? Woot! I started checking out my site meter info first thing each morning when I turned on my computer. I tried not to "sully" the number of hits by actually visiting my page, because *I* don't count. Yes, I was avoiding my own blog, just lurking about in the background, working through my Dashboard.

That validation was enough at first, that simple knowledge that somewhere out there, someone was stopping by my blog. At first. Soon, I wanted more. "If I'm getting twelve or thirteen (or on a good day, TWENTY *faint*) hits a day, why am I only getting one or two comments (usually from my established friends)?" I thought to myself. "Why aren't more people commenting?" And there it is, the warning sign I think my fellow bloggers recognize: I was becoming a comment junkie. I'd pore over my site meter's stats, looking for repeat visitors - lurkers who'd never left a comment. I agonized over my posts, editing and tweaking them, polishing them 'til they shone, hoping that if I wrote just the right thing in just the right way, my comments section would fill up. I created a favicon and a button for my page that folks could add to theirs if they so desired (and I don't think anyone has yet!) I added widgets to dress my blog up. I changed my layout. I scanned the referral site info on my site meter - what places were bringing eyeballs to my page? Where were my viewers coming from and did they come back again?

It was around this time that I came across a web community called The Secret is in the Sauce. That is the point at which my blogging addiction become life threatening. Okay, not life threatening, but definitely housework threatening. I mean, who has time for such things as scrubbing soap scum off the shower walls when there are blogs to be read? (And it isn't just SITS, either, there are other sites out there, like Blog Around the World, and communities like BlogCatalog and Blogher. Whew.) SITS led me to blog after wonderful blog. My bookmarks menu (yes, I was a blog reading Luddite - I had no blog reader) was longer than Rapunzel's hair. Not only was I finding a new blog each morning via their daily Featured Blog, but I'd read all the roll call comments, click on the profiles of commenters who'd written funny or witty or meaningful comments, then browse their blogs. Of course, then I wasn't just reading blog posts, but the comments on those blog posts, and then continuing with the clicking through to profiles of commenters, going to their blogs, reading their posts and their comments and so on and so on and so on.

You know this vicious circle, right? I know some of you out there do...

There is yet another level to this, sort of like the chaser to the blogging. Twitter. A whole new place to post and read. Twitter is like a mini-blog or like Facebook's status updates on speed. There is the added challenge of only having 140 characters per Tweet, too - kills extra time when you have to edit creatively to get your thought into 140 characters! Of course, Twitter just feeds into the ultimate (at least, as far as I've sunk as of now) level of blogging obsession:

The followers.

Oh, how I long to go back to the day when getting a comment or three was enough. When seeing that I had more than 10 hits on my blog after a new post went up. Because now, I want it ALL. I have followers, but not that many. I see some blogs with dozens and even hundreds of followers. And Twitter is even crazier - there are people with thousands of followers. I can barely keep up with the dozen or so I follow! And yes, I admit, I want more followers. Right now, I have seven. Seven lovely folks out there who admit to publicly following my blog. What I wouldn't give for twenty, or fifty, or even a THREE-FIGURE number of followers!

Will it ever be enough?

So, to sum up, the dangers of blogging include:

- an unhealthy obsession with your site meter/counter
- Blogger Envy: when you discover a new blog that you adore, but at the same time, are more than a teensy bit jealous that this blogger writes wittier, funnier, deeper or just plain better posts than you do. Also extends to those with better blog layouts (in my case, likely because they have actually spent real money to have a professional design their blog layout) and those who are competent with Photoshop and post hilarious illustrations along with their writing.
- a Commenting Addiction, which can happen both ways: not only can you become easily addicted to bloggers' crack (aka comments) and not only feel the rush of elation when you have many, many new comments (like those glorious days when my blog was featured on SITS and BATW), but the subsequent crash when you have no new comments. This ties into
- New Post Despair, when you publish a new post and it garners few or no comments. You begin to second-guess yourself, to worry - am I not smart enough? Funny enough? Meaningful enough? Too self-absorbed? Too rambly?
and finally:
-Follower Addiction: when it just isn't enough to watch your site counter climb, but you want actual, true, professed followers and that number can't ever be high enough either!

There are those Mythical Ones, those bloggers who either get paid to blog (well enough to make a living at it, even) or who get the fabled Book Offer (with decently sized advance) to gather their bloggings into an actual book. I try not to think about them, because that will just lead me to crawl into bed and cry, and if I were hiding in bed, I wouldn't be able to blog! Well, at least not unless I had a laptop, anyhow...

Oh, and I ought to mention, I finally did start a blog reader. I just did the one through Blogger, so it isn't fancy, but at least it is streamlining my blog reading. Also, I cannot for the life of me figure out how to get Google Analytics to work for my blog. I need to hit Hubby up for help with that one - or else just content myself with my free site meter. And, to show you the ultimate evidence that I'm a blogaholic? Blogger was being funky yesterday for a while, not allowing comments to publish. This occurred during my morning blogsurfing, and I got so frustrated with not being able to post comments on the blogs I was reading that I created a Word document and SAVED the comments so I could go back and post them on the appropriate blog later. Yep, like I said, my name is Heather and I'm a blogaholic!