This is my 2, 451 st post.
Also, my laptop keyboard is dust-and-crumb-filled.
And this, folks, is why my blogging has being sporadic; I have nothing to say. I have been living a mostly unbloggable life these past weeks. Pretty much all I do is go to work and then come home and cough.
That will change today though. (Did you notice that? Cough and though LOOK like they should be rhyming words, only there are so not. "Come and "home" should rhyme too. What a fascinating language English is.) I will try to blog at least once a day for the next little while so that on the first of June (my 48th birthday) I will post my 2500th blog entry. How's that for manufacturing a pointless deadline and a ridiculous goal? I am the QUEEN of purposeless deadlines. I rock at retarded goals.
I'm anticipating a continuation of boring, non-creative days ahead, so to help me drum up thoughts to ponder, sentences to type, or photos to take - I'm having a contest. The prize? A $25 gift certificate to this place. How to enter? Leave a comment asking me to post about a specific word. Just one word.
Everytime you leave me a word, your name goes into a hat, no wait, not a hat, your name goes into basket, no, not a basket, come on, I should be more creative than that... your name goes into the second, totally never used sink in my bathroom, the one that I'm saving for my new husband. Because that's how I can show him I love him ... I saved my virginal bathroom receptacle for him. He'll be the first to use it. Where was I? Oh yes, the contest. I'll put your names in my future partner's sink, so when I curl my hair and pray for those folks listed on my prayer calendar, I can ALSO be thinking of/ praying for you.
On Monday morning, June 1 - (Yay Happy Birthday to me), I'll pick a name out of my husband's sink and give one of you a gift/prize to celebrate. If you don't know how to comment on a blog (come on, really?) then send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org
Thought I'd take a sec to talk about my boy, the oldest one.
1. He and his friend, Adam, have started a new blog. It's not as chatty as their previous solo efforts (here and here. Oops, there isn't another "here" - Adam must've taken his down), but it's good, if you like reading statements like We aren’t going to erupt into mini-orgasms panting about the revolutionary advancements in sensor resolution or encoding processes used in products. OY. Erupt in mini-orgasms. And he works in a church.
2. His facebook status last night was: Feeling sorry for myself, like a BAWSE.
And this morning his status is: Flying to Vegas, like a BAWSE.
I could ask him what a bawse is, but he would tell me to stop reading into his statuses. (Statusi?) and then he'd be all annoyed and shi... all annoyed and crap, so I went to urban dictionary.com to interpret my son's moods and feelings and this is what I found out:
BAWSE: Similar to the word 'Awesome' in meaning, this modified variation is used amongst the coolest people on earth.
Dave is bawse. Arrested Development is a bawse TV show.
Yeah, I don't get it either.
3. Last night's conversation:
Me: What time does your flight leave tomorrow?
C: I'm going to Harold's house at 2 pm. Our flight leaves Bellingham at 4pm. Should be in Vegas after 6.
Me: Are you bringing a camera along?
C: I can't decide. I don't know which one I'd bring...
Me: Well, if I could find mine, I'd let you borrow it. (On Friday, 8 of us friends went out for dinner to celebrated Sandra's birthday. Anticipating that we'd all have made an affort with our hair and make up, and that we'd be wearing clothes we were comfortable being photographed in, I thought I'd bring my camera and take some group shots of us outide in that perfect evening light before we sat down to eat. My camera wasn't in it's usual spot, so I assumed I'd left it in the truck. After I parked, I looked in the back seat and then the way-back of my truck and found 2 lenses but not my camera.
Then on Saturday, another lovely photography day, before I met dad and mom at Potter's garden centre to get pink geraniums I took another quick look for my camera. A few photos of dad and mom buying flowers would have been nice to have. But again, my camera didn't resurface.
I met up with Mandi later in the afternoon and she was a bright, cheerful vision of cuteness and a pic of her in her white skirt and red converse sneakers would have been fun. Again, I looked for my camera, this time in new, inventive spots (like the potato bin and games cupboard) but nothing. Her and I went to church together (can I say something here? If you are looking for a church to go to for excellent preaching - try out Northview. Honestly. Jeff is starting a new 4 month series on the book of James. He got through the first 4 verses last night. So, so, SO very good.) her and I went to church together and afterwards I was determined to take my house apart and hunt down that camera. But then Rose called and we went to the White Spot for dinner and then we talked for awhile and before you know hours and hours have gone by.
I got home a few minutes before Clint and that's when I finally admitted to someone that maybe I'd lost (gasp) my camera.)
Back to story:
Me: Well, if I could find mine, I'd let you borrow it....
C: Oh, I lent your camera to a guy.
Me: What? Who?
C: Oh some guy you don't know. He goes to White Rock Youth Church and needed a camera so I gave him yours.
And then he went into his room and updated his facebook status to the above mentioned: feeling sorry for myself LIKE A BAWSE.
If you are as confused as I am about the status and the lending out of my camera and the words on his blog - welcome to my world.
I have three of them that all speak separate languages I do not understand and three of them that do things that alarm me and three of them that don't do things and that saddens me and this is all probably pretty normal as far as parenting is concerned but I feel like I'm living on an alien planet with strange life forms.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. At least I know I didn't lose my camera.
2. I have a goal and a deadline - these are good things to have, people.
3. The most purplest flowers poked through the barkmulch by my front door this weekend.
UPDATE: I googled the phrase "like a bawse" and found that this is a Seth Rogen/Andy Samberg schtick on SNL that is available on YouTube. Because someone needed to borrow a cord or something the speakers on my computer aren't connected so I can't tell just how inappropriate this skit is.