After 2 and a half weeks of loving family togetherness, we are totally sick of one another. My husband has officially been renamed Mr. Crankypants Cotta. At dinner, I offered him some steamed artichoke with lemon better sauce to go with his steak, and he replied, "I'm 45, and I don't have to eat artichoke if I don't want to. And you can't make me!" Yes, that's right, my secret plan was to force a grown man to eat green vegetables. But now he has refused, well heck, that ends that.
The children go back to school on Tuesday, and I'm throwing a party that day. It will involve lots of fudge brownies for me, a cleaning lady for the house, and much dancing back and forth. Weeeee!
Plus, I have been reorganizing some old posts and I may be ready to hit publish tomorrow, which means that a bunch of old stuff may go through bloglines or feedburner all at once and confuse the hell out of everyone. (Or I may finally figure out how to do it right...LOL)
I haven't wanted to write this stuff, I've been procrastinating because it's so painful. The last two days I've been commenting on everyone else's blogs, writing long long emails on other people's blogs and of course, spreading linky love to every blogger on earth. I've done laundry, I've cooked meals, I've read the papers, but I haven't finished writing about my own life, because hey why bother, when you can assvice half the world instead?
I've even ventured over to Liblogs, and scandalized I'm sure, most of them. Nothing like an aging mommyblogger with shrivelled up ovaries to scare the bejesus out of a few left-leaning versions of Alex P. Keaton clones, hmm? I think I may even have cyberpropositioned a Tory blogger, but I'm not sure, I'd had a few martinis by then. They really are very sweet mostly, incredibly polite to anyone who isn't another Liblogger or a Tory, but SO serious. I wrote the word fetish on one comment, and you could almost hear the shock out loud.
I admit it, I'm feeling a bit crankypants too, another excuse to procrastinate. I'll be happier Tuesday, I promise.