Hubby and I are part of an organic food co-op, which we like a lot, despite the manager being among the most disorganized people around. Her email messages are these huge long lists of attachments in multiple colors, and pretty much only my Mac renders them correctly. I end up cutting and pasting the salient details and forwarding the mess on to Hubby.

In today’s email: oh, the hilarity.

When placing a special order by email, please remember to tell us your name, the name of your coordinator and what day you pick up. An email name of Hoochie Mama doesn’t tell us whom its for or where to send the food!

Yes. An email of Hoochie Mama doesn’t tell you anything except that the person sending the email hasn’t learned the “professional email addresses are a good thing” lesson.

My Tupperware totally threw off the crowds, as the chocolate chip cookies (and a small plate of brownies that someone else brought) were among the first desserts to disappear. One woman painstakingly made individual cheesecakes with fruit toppings, but it was cold and raining and eating a cookie or brownie one-handed is something I can handle. But balancing an umbrella while unwrapping a personal cheesecake? Forget it. So those went untouched by me, and by many of the other folks (sorry ma’am).

But the best was having someone say, ‘Oh these cookies are SO GOOD. I wonder who made them?’

I didn’t tempt lightning striking me by saying, ‘Oh I did!’ but I enjoyed the fact that the person munching really liked them. Stop n’ Shop cookies are really freaking awesome.

Oh, the magical presence of Tupperware. Makes everything look homemade. Even perfectly spherical and utterly store-bought looking cookies. 

This weekend I deliberately scheduled as little as possible because 10 days ago, Freebird had a vaccine shot that might provoke a “fever and irritability reaction” within 10 days to 2 weeks. Figuring that he’d probably be somewhat cranky, I didn’t plan on accomplishing a thing this weekend. So Saturday we did as little as possible, until our neighborhood block party late that afternoon - all my neighbors who I haven’t met all stood in the cold rain together eating food and making the best of the block party. it was kind of cool - Freebird ran and ran and ran until he about dropped from wet exhaustion (I carried him home while he shivered and said, “NO! NO! NO no!” over and over - not “No I don’t want to leave” but “No, no, no more. I am tired and cold and want to go home!") and I met the neighbors.

The fire department of our town came, though, which was cool - all these kids got to see a fire truck with lights on (no sirens though - that’s scary) come down the street, and then the firemen handed out hats, rulers and stickers. There was a presentation about their gear and the truck and I’m sure lots of pictures of kids “driving” the truck but before that all started, Freebird had stated clearly that he was cold and wanted to go home.

Sunday we went down to the beach, which was both fun and exhausting. Exhausting because that fever and irritability? Showed up on Sunday. But we went for The Best Pizza In the World while there, and walked on the beach briefly. The town isn’t raking the sand yet so I was on debris-in-the-sand alert, and I managed to pull a tangled fishing line with live hooks on it out of the sand before Freebird went stomping over it. Big red mean nasty hooks, too. I gave the tangle to a fisherman on the shore who was horrified that the recent storms had washed up so much dangerous crap.

There were also starfish all over the rocks on the jetty, which Freebird REALLY liked, because he knows how to say “Star.” And of course once he discovered that sand is fun to roll around in, kick, walk on, and potentially eat (ew) he had a very very good time. I don’t think we were on the beach for more than half an hour to 45 minutes, but something about the salt and the wind and the sun (it was nicer down the shore than at home!) is very relaxing, even if only for a brief time.

I might have to see if I can find some starfish pictures for the Bird to color on. And of course we have to take him back to the beach asap.

Well, Hubby & I should be taken back to the beach as well, but it’s more important to think of the children, of course. 

I have a block party at 4pm, and I’m supposed to bring a dessert. Did I make something? No.

But Hubby bought cookies and I put them in a Tupperware to make it LOOK like I made something. Sadly, I am too tired and too selfish to do the homemade thing. If I make cookies, I want them all to myself. 

I went to sleep at 930 last night. I was asleep, according to Hubby, by 935. I barely wanted to get out of bed this morning, and could have slept for several dozen more hours. Helloooooo gestation! You are makin’ me sleepy.

I also have a fetus who is either trying out for Cirque tomorrow, or is practicing TaeBo, because dang. Hop hop twist twist. Maybe it’s time for fetal Jazzercise, or maybe it’s time I had more to eat. Either way, hellooooooo there Baba O’Riley.

It was nearly 90 on Monday. Today it’s barely 60. We had the A/C on, now the heat, this weekend who knows. Our heating/cooling system, if it had sentient thought, would be all, “Dudes. WTFBBQ?”

I have a lot to do this weekend, and it’s going to be chill and rainy. I have a feeling my inner 10 year old will want to do what Freebird does in the morning if he doesn’t sleep until it’s time for him to go to school: wake up, have breakfast, play a bit, then get back into bed with a book and a blanket. Now, if Freebird does that, it’s so Hubby can shower and get dressed. If *I* do that, it’s purely because I want to go back to bed with a book.

This morning Freebird woke up early, and hung out with me while I got ready. Then I went to work while he went back to bed with a book, and I cannot even tell you how jealous I was.

I mentioned below that two things have happened since I restarted the writing over here at this nice friendly URL. The first was actual search terms (WOO!).

The other is not so nice. A not-so-friendly person who likes to blog lurk for extended hours has found my new and yet-still-green home.

Meh.

It’s not so much that this person has contacted me or made trouble for me as it is that she’s made a heaping big mess of pain in the ass for others, and really, the spite and vitriol I witnessed are more than enough reason for my wanting to avoid her and all contact with her.

So to have her loitering around here, reading every entry and refreshing multiple times, it’s just creepy.

On one hand, I shouldn’t care. This site is pubic and it’s not like I’m giving away state secrets, unless it’s some kind of big secret code what my referrals are.

On the other hand, it bugs the shit out of me that someone whose identity I can verify is just loitering and lurking. I don’t mind if people read without commenting; I’m a rare commenter myself. I do mind when I know of a specific entity who has caused messy trouble for other people is now haunting my archives. It’s creepy and weird and jeez, what is the point? What’s the goal? What does this person hope to accomplish?

Ordinarily my response would be to directly ask: What the fuck, yo? But since there’s passive aggressive chess going on, I did what I could to redirect the IP elsewhere, and have asked my host to do the same on the server end. Sure there are other ways to access my boring little corner of the universe, but that’s as much as I can do for now.

Honestly, I just don’t get it. If I knew what she wanted, I could probably take care of it. But she hasn’t contacted me aside from spending a lot of her time reading back issues of my boring gazette, so I can’t even guess as to the answer to my “What the fuck?”

I’ve been in the new digs long enough that two things have happened - and #1 is: Friday Referrals!

I don’t have any for Clitorious or the location from which one might poop, but I do have some funky search terms:

pregnancy and cabernet sauce: Well, it might have been a really good meal featuring a nice red wine reduction or cabernet sauce that LED to you getting pregnant, so if that’s the case, nice job! But if you’re worrying as to whether you can eat cabernet sauce while you’re pregnant, oh yes, go right ahead. In cooking and reducing a wine, most if not all of the alcohol is boiled off, so fear not.

oprah’s polydactyl foot: Oprah has polydactyly? No way! I had no idea I had something in common with Oprah. How rad. I wish it was all the extra dollars instead of all the extra toes, but oh well. Can’t have everything. And I don’t even have the extra toes. I’m short one. My sister stole it.