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What’s the Question, Again?

19 Feb

I’ve discovered in the last month that taking a philosophy class is not really conducive to humor blogging. I write what I experience, and it’s hard to find hilarity in the problem of evil. Wrestling with Theasymachus’ challenge doesn’t easily transition into comic dissections of Johnny Weir’s sequined outfits at the Olympics.

Although, really?

Forget John Locke’s classic “the Prince and the Cobbler” example. For the 21st century, let’s recast it. What if a woodland nymph woke up in the body of an Olympic figure skater. Which would he REALLY be? Athlete or sprite?

That’s funny if you’re a philosophy major. Trust me.

I tweeted to a fellow blogger the other day that I hadn’t posted in almost 2 weeks and got this response.

“Why haven’t you?”

And I replied: “Taking philosophy class. Issues my mind wrestling with not typical blog material.”

And whether accidental double-tweeting, or being deep and reflective, the answer came back again.

“Why haven’t you?”

I don’t really have an answer for that. Funny is safe, the triple axel I know I can land to polite applause. Serious is the quad that might be awesome, or might send me sprawling. Yes, we’re back to the figure skaters. That’s what’s inside my brain right now.

Philosophy and the Olympics. Socrates and Sequins. Aristotle and big air.

Sometimes, there are also LOLCats.

My point? (And yes, I have one). I don’t know why you read this blog. I’m always amazed you do, honestly. All of you: the real-life friends and the people I’ve never met. The commenters and the lurkers. The one-time visitors and those of you that click every single day.

But, after a career of answering the “Who, What, When, Where?” questions, I am finding myself these days more often wrestling with the “Why?” It’s not a comfortable process. Still, I think I have to write about it. So the blog? Maybe not bringing the funny as often, but I am going to be bringing the posting.

If that’s not your thing, I totally get it. If it is? Thanks for listening.

Rattle and Hum

9 Oct

Oh “Hi!” Yes, I do have a blog. You like how I did that? Write every day in September, and then just stop for nine days?

Here’s what happened. We went camping, and while we were gone, San Antonio had flooding, and lots of rain. And the storms blew shingles off our roof. And I mentioned lots of rain? It all came funneling in through the hole in the roof, which very squishy carpet in our daughter’s room. Also, pieces of the walls fell off. Which is not ideal.

Because our house already split in half earlier this year, I have had a lot of well-meaning friends tell me. “Wow, God is really testing you.”

I think, not so much. I think domestic disasters are just God’s special way of telling me my blog was getting boring. So I will be filling you in on all those things as soon as I am able to laugh about it. Which, according to the information on my prescription vitamin bottles, should be in a week or two.

In the meantime, my goodness, you have certainly come here looking for lots of important answers.

Today’s search inquiries that led people here:

  1. Can I say “crap” in my school paper?
  2. Michelle Duggar Hair
  3. Sniffing Preteen Socks
  4. Horse Head in Bed

Seriously, I cannot help the sock-sniffers, she-mullet searchers or those of you who have watched The Godfather too many times.

But the school paper question, I am qualified to address.

If you are in elementary school, you cannot say crap in your paper. Middle school, high school? Look, you probably can get away with it.  But your teachers won’t be impressed, nor will they be shocked. Crap is a poser swear word. It is not creative. It lacks panache. Go to and find something better.

Try balderdash, claptrap, drivel, nonsense, idiocy, or even the vintage poppycock, and make a teacher smile.

Real swear words, the ones with the punch you need, are off limits in an academic environment. Wait until you have a blog. Even then, you’ll want to use them sparingly for two reasons. First, saying them all the time becomes a schtick, and they lose impact. Second, and more importantly, your mom and dad and husband and minister and future bosses and maybe even your kids will end up reading your blog.

 And even if you’re 41 and totally confident in your belief that Jesus is worried about more important things than “bad words,” it’s just not worth the scatological excrement you’ll have to deal with.

So I hear.

My all-time favorite email exchanges about the use of “colloquial language” took place with Blogger  Roy Bragg . We were discussing what kind of things I needed to refrain from saying if I blogged for the San Antonio Express-News. Roy graciously gave me a very detailed list of what words I could and could not get away with on the paper’s website.

And then, in further clarifying discussion, because I was concerned about some recent posts on sex education videos, it included this gem: “Singing penises would be fine on”

It’s something I have kept in mind, but have not, as of yet, felt any need to reference.

I have, however, blogged there today about President Barack Obama’s Nobel Prize Award. So, if you would like to read a post with a semi-coherent point, go there.

Otherwise, I suspect you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.

By The Numbers

22 Sep

Posts so far: 101

Your favorite: Dear Facebook Quiz Addicts

Your least favorite: The Eyes of Texas

Number of real comments so far: 1,125

Post that has the most: Waiting at the Door

Number I have deleted for general dicketry: 1

Reason: Racist slurs

Post it was on: Dear  Martin

Most popular search term that brings visitors here: strawberry shortcake makeover

Post that takes you to: Overheard at Dora’s House

People who have come to read: More than I ever imagined. Thanks.

All Roads Lead to Commando Duggars on Facebook

9 Aug

I never fail to be amazed at the kind of searches that bring people to this little corner of the Internet.

I wrote about the Duggars once, speculating about the secret seductive powers of Michelle’s she-mullet. So about once a week, someone gets here by wondering if she is pregnant again. (For the record, I don’t know. But if she is, the mullet is to blame. Jim Bob cannot break free of its siren song.)

I also vented about my boy child’s opposition to wearing underwear. So a lot of people come here wondering about going commando or asking “what do I do about child who won’t wear underwear?”


I can’t help them, either. The “are you wearing underwear” question is STILL a regular morning inquiry here. But progress has been made. I no longer have to request to see the waistband. He just walks back to his room, defeated in his commando dreams.

I can offer no help for those wanting to find “good hippo porn,” “the best quizzes on Facebook,” or get a definitive answer on whether or swine flu is one of the signs of the apocalypse. I do not offer a “quiz to find out if I am about to go postal” (Aside to the determined searcher from Friday: I suggest a professional therapist).

I cannot tell you how long you would last in a fight against God or Jack Bauer, although I recommend you not quarrel with either. I do feel a little sad for the person who arrived here “searching for my lost happiness,” but I assure you, I do not have it. It’s probably hanging out with my size-6 ass, and my guess is, neither of us are ever going to find the two of them again. They’ve probably gone into the witness protection program together and are living on beach somewhere in the West Indies.

Sigh. I feel like a failure reading your search queries, Internet. I hear you as you go away, singing softly to yourself, “but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” Now, because of this, someone will search for information on Bono and instead, find this post. They, too, will go away empty handed. Please forgive me.

I *can* help a few searchers. For those who wonder “What will the puppies be like if I mate a Jack Russell and chihuahua?” — you know that cartoon character the Tazmanian Devil? Imagine him, only as nervous and trembling as a heroin dealer coming down off a trip in a room full of DEA agents. It’s not a combination the world needs.

I also have the answer to “the difference between naked and nekkid.” Naked means you’re not wearing any clothes, nekkid means you’re naked and up to no good. I know you can find a human-sized hamster ball at Hammaker Schlemmer. You definitely cannot get the swine flu from bacon.

However you got here, thanks for coming. Have a cookie, have a nice time, please come back.

I Am Pretty Sure My Mom Nominated Me

1 Jun

You may notice in the sidebar, a pretty red button announcing I’ve been nominated for a funniest blog award.

What? You didn’t notice? Well, I will post it here for you, too.

2009 BlogLuxe Awards 

If you click on it, you can vote for me and maybe I will win, and get to replace Sonia Sotomayor on the Court of Appeals after she gets on the Supreme Court. I am pretty sure that’s the prize. Or a Swiffer.

Also, did I mention you have shiny hair? And a nice smile? Go vote.

Of course, I will not win because Jenny and some pregnant lady I’ve never heard of are in the same category. Also Tanis, aka the Redneck Mommy. All these wonderful women, and probably all the other nominees, are way more clever and entertaining than I am. Plus, Tanis talks about her nipple piercings on the Internet, and I cannot compete with that unless I tell you about the Stiletto Fitness class I attended over the weekend.

No, seriously, I did. That post is coming.


Anyway, they are funnier, but *you* are nicer and better-looking than their readers. So you are going to go vote for me out of love and a wee bit of pity.

Then, you can come back and click on the links to those other blogs.

I won’t judge.


P.S. Also, one of my best friends, Elle, is also nominated, and you should vote for her, too. I am being very gracious about it mostly because she is in a different category. She cooks delicious things, and unlike me, does not go to Sonic so often the kids’ there know her first name *and* what she is going to order. 

 I like a lot of people on the internet, but I have known Elle long enough to have questionable photos of her, and vice versa.  So, also, please go in this category and vote for Elle’s New England Kitchen. Or she might publish them. Thank you in advance.

2009 BlogLuxe Awards

The One I Didn’t See Coming

26 Mar

She likes me. Right now, she likes me.

The very beautiful and talented Ingrid at Baseball, Baking and Books has given me my first-ever little blogging award. Isn’t it pretty?

She was just sharing the love all around, and in this post she also names some other lovely bloggers that you should check out.


If I was not a total dork (look, I learned from President Obama, I did not say “in the blog Special Olympics!”), I would put the pretty graphic in my sidebar. But I don’t actually know how to make that happen. I just joined Twitter a week ago, people. And I told my mom and dad all about my blog. I am an AMATEUR.

(Aside on the mom thing, I love her so much and she and my dad are the awesomest. But I may have actually *died* when she called this week after reading a post and asked why my dogs would call each other douche. Lesson learned there. Also, I may have suggested for her BEFORE reading the douche entry. And now I may be disowned. Another lesson learned there.)


Ingrid is so sweet, and she along with a number of other food bloggers have really welcomed me to this whole blogosphere thing.

Starting, of course, with my long-time friends Elle from Elle’s New England Kitchen and Nikki from CanaryGirl, who linked to my blog and tweeted and everything when I only had like 3 posts up.

These women are the sisters I would have chosen if God had asked my opinion. I like to think He purposely didn’t give me any sisters so I would find the women I needed in my life to make me a better friend, mother, wife, daughter and yes, help me better understand the gift of His Grace.

Have you ever seen those amazing mosaic pictures made from a thousand other pictures? When I take a magnifying glass to my picture of who God is, I can see Nikki and Elle. They, along with some other amazing  women, came into my life at a time I was deeply struggling with my sense of my value and worth.

I know the verse that we are all God’s treasure in jars of clay. But I met these women at a time that jar was shattered, and I didn’t really believe there was much treasure left. And they, even when they knew about all the cracks and the sharp edges and everything else, found treasure.

Showed me. Reminded me. Saved me.

And even though they don’t all blog, Jane and Bethany and Claire and Molli and Juanita and Deb and Denise and Shaye and Jen and Ginny and Shannon and Kerrie and Lizzie and Amanda and Sherri and Hae and Vicki are in that picture. All women I met on this crazy thing called the Internet.

And she doesn’t know me aside from a few comments and tweets, but I want Yvonne from Joy Unexpected to know I find her in that picture of God, too. I came to a post about the queen of aerobic dancing, and stayed because of her willingness to flay her own soul open and show the struggles inside.

I see this laughing, beautiful, insightful woman, and when she is heartbroken, I pray that she would see herself as precious as God sees her. And sometimes, Yvonne, in those prayers, I realize He wants that for me, too. So I thank you for that.

I feel the same about Jennifer Mattern at Breed ‘Em and Weep. She has the kind of insight that is only gained through excruciating heartache. I wish her warring heart peace, but I am grateful that in the midst of its battles, she opens it up and creates such achingly beautiful words.

The whole idea of these blog awards is to pass them on, so I offer this list, not exhaustive, of some women and one cool guy I have “met” since I started writing a couple months ago. Already, in some way, they are in my mosaic.

Neil Kramer at Citizen of the Month

Kelly Pea at Sass and Veracity

Jenn C. at Unmarried Wife 

Dawn at Vanilla Sugar

Cathy at Where’s My Damn Answer

Mrs.Messiness at This Blessed Mess but WordPress is giving her site fits today so be patient.

RJ Flamingo at Flamingo Musings

and Casey at Butter My Kitchen

Note: I know there are people I should have put in here and I’m just an airhead who’s running out of room.  And also, I went on a big sentimental grateful crying jag while writing this and my eyes are too puffy now to see your link. So I’m sorry and I’ll write another post about you and what a doofus I am.



Dear Cool Kids

18 Mar

I hear you’re all using this thing called “Twitter” or something like that. Want to help me out? Right now I have exactly one follower.

As a bonus, click now and see the total internet cliche icon picture of just my eyes and bangs.  Shut up about it. I have insecurities about my fat neck. I got voted “prettiest eyes” in the yearbook my senior year in high school, and ever since, I hate every other feature. Those voters warped me, man.

No, I’m not kidding. There really was a “prettiest eyes” category. It was the 80s. Don’t judge. Yes, LGV. I *know* you were most likely to succeed or something relevant like that. You’re still playing Mafia Wars on Facebook just like the rest of us.

Now, you all have to go to the twitter link and then you can come back and post “your eyes aren’t that great, either.” Then I will have nothing.

Oh yes,  “Hello 4,000 new visitors who wanted to see Dora’s makeover!”

Wait, where are you going?



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