Today I woke with a nasty version of the fuckyou flu. Symptoms include having the feeling of an enormously inflamed throat, goosebumps from The Chills mixed with a feverish temperature, and the inability to turn my head past my shoulders. Normally, I do a full turn-around a la The Exorcist just to crack my neck in the morning. I went into work anyway and by noon I was sent home where I slept for enough hours to produce dreams wherein I worked at a pony ranch and sold sunflower seeds at a roadside market.

If you’ve read me with any regularity you’ll know that I write weird stuff when I’m sick because my brain leaves my body for a parallel universe where I am the President of Strawberry Shortcake Productions and where my business card simply reads I’M THE DECIDER.

What I’ll write later this week: how Mallory graduated from college on Sunday on the coldest graduation day in the history of the world, how Mallory moved back home and that while unpacking her “kitchen stuff” box I found THREE, COUNT ‘EM, THREE of my travel mugs that I’ve been missing for a few years, how Mallory is back home and in need of a full-time position with dental and a 401K.

Here I am over at BlogHer where Rita interviewed me.

Here I am over at this new website called “Thank A Stranger”.

Here I will lie upon the couch and request peanut butter and banana sandwiches that my kiddo makes me on her G5 grill that she got for Christmas.

After all that cathartic writing last week I was ready for some serious release. Unfortunately, I’m experiencing sinus problems that have me considering the following:

1) Taking a fistful of benzodiazepines. OR

2) Drilling two holes in the side of my head at the temples OR

3) Entrusting a large, muscular bodybuilder to squeeze my head like a zit.

Luckily, I had a full weekend planned and it will take me three days to even deal with the 42,000 pictures I took.

Hints for each day:

Friday was a culmination of Mallory’s Interior Design artwork with 13 family members/friends and a little bit o’ wine. That one will be written first.

Saturday was a get-together I do with all the women who taught with me during my second year of teaching. We were so youthful then (and most of them were childless or with one kid and I had three so their talking about one kid had me uttering One? Just one kid? Oh, hell. That’s like having a dog. Someone will always babysit for you when you want to go away for the weekend. Try getting a sitter for THREE.) and had much to learn about education, but we had fun making mistakes, learning from them, and realizing we pull the best pranks on each other.

Sunday was another get-together with chocolate, Fluid Pudding, Bossy, and possibly some chocolate-covered Fluid Pudding and chocolate-covered Bossy. Possibly.

Also, I’m currently enthralled with Winnie The Pooh. Obviously, it must be to balance the heavy stuff I’m reading with Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything. Pooh quote of today:

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh,” he whispered.

“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw, “I just wanted to be sure of you.””

Even though I thought I’d get a post out about it all, I wanted to leave you with that. Sidle up next to me and caress my hair until I fall asleep and not a moment before. I just want to be sure of you until this severe noodle nuisance goes away.

When a 5.4 earthquake hits the Midwest, it will freak our shit out. Honestly, I can remember the two earthquakes I’ve felt in my life and no one would believe they were both in Illinois. I have only myself to blame for the second one because I was bad-mouthing Mother Nature yesterday. The first was in 1987 and it was a memorable day for other reasons.

My first thought was that someone was standing next to the bed and hitting it with their knee. Then, I heard my flower pots shaking and saw the lamp hitting the wall. So I jump up and go across the hallway to Mason and ask, “Did you feel that?”

I sit on his bed and wait to feel it. I don’t for just a moment and then I DO AND AM GRATEFUL I’M NOT CRAZY. Not that I have anything against crazy people. I loves me some crazy folk. But I dragged him back to my room and pointed at the shaking flower pots and whispered loudly like I was hissing at him for not believing me, “SEE! THE FLOWERS ARE MOVING.”

“Ok, mom. Are you ok?”

“Well, yes. Because I wanted to double check with someone. So, I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy. You’re just awake and talking at 4:30 in the morning. Go back to bed and you can be crazy at 8.”

Why waste this early morning experience? I’ll serve up some links and pictures of Rare Good Hair.

HannahAndersson is way too expensive but darnit. They have these cute shoes that would make me feel like a sassy ballerina.

This dress? It would look great in an earthquake or not. It’s made by AngelRox and you can buy it here.

Possibly, this tuxedo top would look wonderful in a tornado. Or not.

This just completely irked me that someone would bother to write it. I won’t even bother with a rant. Insert your own.

Finally, a link to a video (thanks, MarilynM!) because I’m going to be late for work if I try to figure out how to embed a video AGAIN and it’s just not worth it. It’s of a young woman who choreographed a dance she made up when she was four. Watch it until there are about 30 seconds left (well, watch the whole thing) and see how her foot catches on her shirt. BRILLIANT.

One more thing: I had a good hair day the other day. That should be captured and done so crookedly and fuzzily, but captured nonetheless.

It’s not yet 8 o’ clock for me, but I think I’ll have The Crazies for breakfast and let the weekend play out with that as a catalyst. It will be fun for sure because Mallory has her senior show (whole family will be in St. Louis, so the Crazy Show Travels. Check your local listings.), seven of my girlfriends will get together for a Spa Weekend, and then Bossy comes to town for an event at Bailey’s Chocolate Bar where I hope to meet her. For the second time. Maybe this time she will remember me. I kid! I kid, Fluid Pudding. Chill. But you should know that it’s normal for me to announce my presence in St. Louis with an earthquake. All the cool kids do it.

Seems reasonable, actually, that this Friday begins with an earthquake then. Happy Weekend, all!

I have recently discovered this wonderful site where you celebrate the people in your life write about them for 365 days (I will have to narrow it because I know a LOT of people and have met a LOT of people in my online community) and I’m akin to writing short posts on them as opposed to writing heavy-duty stuff sometimes. There’s a post a-brewin’ in me drafts that’s a bit draining so let’s move onto some other things. (Note: I did not say “random” because I overuse the random)

With that said, The Random:

If my parents were to ask me as a little girl what I wanted to drink I would automatically say “milk”. Not Kool Aid or pop (mostly Coke) and definitely not water. I still hate the taste of water but that Metro Mint Water is pretty darn good. However, I’ve discovered through some gaseous afternoon times when I am shutting the door to my office so as not to offend that I am, indeed, lactose intolerant. It’s the kind of offend that requires three syllables and said with a southern accent: o-fay-und. This is my new love, though. It’s nummy. If the company kills baby marmosets and uses them to make milk cartons or something, don’t tell me.

When my superhero, Grace Davis, calls? Well, I come running. And I do kegel exercises all the way. Even though a few of the guys would like to join, they are just not equipped with the uhh… equipment. Need a reminder: Squeeze. Hold. Release. Repeat. Her first message on my Ning page after telling her that I’d get my mother to join Kegel For World Peace was:

Your mother? From whose pelvic floor you once tucked into for 9 fun and amniotic filled months? I can’t even Kegel, I’m that stunned and overwhelmed.

How can I repay Angela Pudding? Let me count the number of shoes we could online shop together…

Watched a great movie this weekend. Something forced me to watch it THREE TIMES IN A ROW. All I can say is that if you are looking for a sweet, stupid-free, surprise of a movie then go with Dan In Real Life. The acting is effortless, the dialogue realistic (example, when Dan says that he’s messed up as a father: I’ve hurt my kids. His mom: Then go un-hurt them.) the music is calming and makes me want to create a cheese tray full of cheddar cheeses, figs, pears, red seedless grapes, kalamata olives, and edamame. Also pancakes. Can I also just say that Juliette Binoche gets more and more ethereal as she ages? I can and I will! Don’t try to stop me!

The bulk of conversations around here tend toward whatever is going on at school for my sons so right now let’s just say that 7th grade health has finally gotten around to the Our Bodies segment and everything is about eggs and fallopian tubes and periods and no one is more worn out from talking about this with my 13 year old than me. There is the possibility, however, that I did learn a thing or two about my inner girl parts which is fine because that’s better than my outer ones. Nothing is more down my list of Things To Discuss With 13-Year Old Boys than my sensitive girl hole. My junk can be broached in a conversation with the girl child, but going over 30 minutes in a discussion of my lady parts is a bit much. This, after Kegeling for World Peace, I know. (Kegel, eveyone! Right now!)

It’s been hard to watch all the great stuff that went on at BlogHer Business because I was asked to be on the panel with Stefania since we caused a ruckus last year, but she did me proud and I followed with interest. However, I have just been asked again about speaking at BlogHer San Francisco this summer and I plan to drag along my mother and my daughter with me. Help me convince them, would you?

As soon as I get my post done for Going Green I’ll let you know. Surely you are tired of hearing it and are all WRITE IT OR SHUT UP, LADY and I couldn’t agree with you more. In fact, I’m hoping I just shut up already. I get so sick of me. But remind me to tell you how after a phone conference I irritated the irresistible head of Alpha Mom and the owner of glorious, luxurious hair Isabel Kallman and then had an email exchange and a phone call that ended with my crying and her encouraging me and now we are going to paint happy faces on each other’s fingernails and drink chocolate milk while reading Tiger Beat. You probably don’t need to know more than that. Except that I learned a great lesson in emailing people and I’m not too old to learn. Nor am I too old for Tiger Beat.

I was going to post about letters today and something stopped me. It was getting the sweetest kind of email from a friend and it came just in time. Letter writing is a beautiful art form and she sent something that touched me deeply and included something amazing: Prayers often come from our most vulnerable places. She also asked that I please remember to take a picture of myself just before turning a year older.

This quote is getting to me, too. “I carry with me all my things.” That which is important is always with me. With that in mind, a list of things of which I never tire. Order is of no import:

1. getting an unexpected plate of cookies

2. listening to Ave Maria sung by Stevie Wonder

3. learning something new from something old

4. reading a fantastic book that makes me sad when it ends

5. new carpet smell

6. singing “Funky Cold Medina” to my daughter and her roommates on speakerphone while they laugh at me

7. getting a visit from an old friend and hearing, “No, really. How are you?” in the most earnest manner ever

8. learning new phrases for farting (“Mom, did you just bust a grumpie?” asked my 7th grader. Answer was yes.)

9. having a Come To Jesus meeting with students and seeing them get it

10. black-and-white movies from the 1940s

11. excellent, buttery cake frosting

12. yummy-smelling freshly laundered sheets

13. low clouds on the horizon that resemble mountains

14. looking at maps of places until my eyes cross

15. finding strength I didn’t know I had

16. the peanut-butter colored paint in my sister’s new living room

17. holding my children

18. a fresh, clean face that feels taut and raw yet beautiful

19. baby toes without socks that oddly smell vinegary, but really good

20. having Jacob’s Ladder timed contests with my nieces