Well, I am going to participate in NaNoWriMo again this year. I am, however, going to be a rebel.

I am not starting a brand new novel; I am going to add to the one I wrote last year. Eve House needs a lot more background, character development and, frankly, has a sagging middle. Wish me luck forcing the draft through a grueling abdominal workout…

Well, our beautiful little daughter –call her the Terrifying Space Monkey Princess — was born July 20th.  She weighed 7 lbs. 13 oz. and was 19 3/4 inces long.  She is extremely cute, the TSMs all adore her, and are quite possessive and protective already. 

Woe betide any young swain who comes a courtin’ at this house.  He won’t even get a foot in the door.  TSM4, who just turned 2, calls TSMP “my baby” that’s how possessive we’re talking.  The four of them can’t do enough holding of bottles, fetching of clean diapers, or disposing of the stinky ones.  Need a pacifier?  No problem.  The passy patrol is always on duty.  They may even clean it off in their mouths first.  Is that service, or what???

Now, some of you might be wondering what movie could possibly pull me away from all the family fun.  Well, to be honest, all the family fun was kicked out left me for the day (water park).  I was forced to fend for myself, so I took in a matinee showing of The Time Traveler’s Wife.

Everything you really need to know about the plot is encapsulated in the title.  The movie chronicles the relationship between a man, Henry, who travels through time inadvertently and his wife, Claire, a woman he’s known since she was 6 years old.  Before you think “Eewwwww, dirty old man!” let me say that their relationship is in no way creepy.  And before you say “Eewwwww, science fiction!” let me say that there is no SF here.  Well, okay time travel isn’t possible, but the point is that there isn’t any hard science to deal with — the story is about the relationship. 

That said, I saw the movie in a theater with a couple of other AWOL moms and about 20 senior citizens.  I have to say it was a unique movie going experience.  The 75+ movie crowd is much like the teenage movie crowd for commenting loudly on what they see.  Sadly, many were having trouble following the time-travelling plot.  I heard lots of, “I’m confused.” and even one, “I don’t know what the hell is going on!”  The funniest though was when Henry went in for medical tests and two ladies in front of me started comparing notes on their favorite medical tests.  That is not a joke, BTW.

I mention these things not to poke fun at the elderly, but to point out how being at different points in our lives gives us different perspectives on what we experience.  This movie, as in the book, had so much emotional and relational grist for the analytical mill.  It was well worth seeing and I wonder what it would be like to see it again 10 or 20 years from now.  How will I have changed?  How will my thinking be different?  One recurring theme of the story is whether knowing the future changes things.  So, that is my question to you:  Does knowing the future change or destroy one’s free will?

It’s just a post.  Not a baby.

The wee diva has sabotaged two Friday evenings in a row with regular contractions and no actual appearance.  Other than that, I am still feeling round and watermelony.

I’ve also been goofing around with my playlist.  Since for some reason WordPress won’t let me post my player from Playlist.com, you’ll have to go here to listen to some of the stuff I like:  http://www.playlist.com/playlist/11840883467.

I’m curious to hear what you think.

Just a little non-witty, thought-unprovoking shout out to say that I’m here.  Wretchedly tired, but here. 

Hubby’s away on a business trip, so I’m doing the temporary single mom thing and wondering how so many women do it full time.  Also, we’ve just six weeks to go before the scheduled debut of Princess TSM.  I’ve finally got over the fear of “girl” and now I’m looking forward to having some estrogen backup in the house.  That’s pretty much it for this week.

A couple of months ago, I stumbled across a fantastic writer.  Jasper Fforde.  Since February, I have read all but one of his books and each was wonderful.  The most recent one I finished was The Big Over Easy, the first book in his Nursery Crime series.  It is about the investigation by the local PD after Humpty Dumpty was found broken at the bottom of his wall.

In real life, I have always imagined that Mr. Dumpty was pushed.  Seriously, what egg would climb a wall and sit there for hours if he didn’t have perfect balance?  He had to have been “assisted” off that wall.  I was glad to find a like-minded author’s account of this nursery rhyme tragedy.  Although, as it turns out, Mr. Dumpty was shot.

If you have a healthy sense of the absurd, you will love this book!

Hello.  And welcome back to our (semi-) regularly scheduled programming.  I have been most slack in my blogging as several of you have noted.  Thanks, Mom!  Thanks also to K~, E~, and D~.  Your continual nagging support is much appreciated.  I actually had sat down to blog a number of times over the last several months, but never got to finish.  Interruptions?  Here?  I so have five post drafts lurking about backstage.  They aren’t timely anymore, but I’m sure I’ll get around to posting them.  Eventually. 

So, on to the reason for today’s post.

I have been the lucky recipient of 24 hours of peace and quiet.  I can practically hear your shocked gasps and dumbfounded mumbling, “How is that possible???”  My personal superhero, aka my hubby, took TSMs 1-3 camping last night and sent TSM4 to stay at a friend’s house.  Yes, my friend J~ is a superhero too!  I am sitting here at hour 23 reflecting on my time alone and the things that I have noticed.

#1   I can get things done 3 – 4 times quicker without kids.

This is, of course, a no-brainer.  But it has reminded me that when my kids are “helping” me with a chore or project that they go slower because they are learning how to do it properly. (I hope.)  It gets frustrating sometimes.  But I have to remember that I am in the business of raising bright, happy, healthy, competent children – and not in the business of doing laundry, cleaning or beautifying the landscaping.  Let’s face it, if I were doing those things as a business the paycheck would be better.

#2   I hear voices.

In the same way I can sometimes hear my mother’s voice as I’m trying to make a decision, I hear my kids when they’re not here.  Scary, isn’t it?  It’s kind of like the mommy version of post-traumatic stress disorder.  I was laying in bed this morning thinking about what I wanted to do today, and I swear I heard my kids yelling.  Now before you think about getting me sized for a straight-jacket let me say that the reason for the 24 hr. leave was because I was getting overwhelmed by my kids’ constant chatter, questions and bickering.  It was just too much noise.  So how did my brain choose to relax?  By creating similar noise.  Bizarre.

#3   Getting away (or sending them away) occasionally is good, because it gives us time to miss and appreciate our loved ones.

At the end of my 24 hours of peace and quiet, I amstarting to miss my hubby and kids.  They will be home in about an hour and I am happy to see them, loudness and all.

#4   Being married to a superhero and having superhero friends is good.  Very, very good!

Having good friends in life is as important a need as food, clothing and shelter.  Family and social networks, the truly supportive kind, are what keep society (and SAHMs) from flying apart.  If you are the kind of friend who would watch someone’s kids just because, and not just in an emergency, pat yourself on the back.  You are a superhero too!

Okay, so boring title, yes.  But the words and definitions will make you laugh until you spit out whatever you’re drinking.  So.  Put the beverage down.   Read on and enlarge your “vocabulary.”  My personal favorites are 3, 8, and 14.  I’d love to hear which you enjoyed the most!

Without further ado, here are the winners of this year’s Washington Post Mensa Invitational which once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition:

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who is both stupid and a *wrong end of a donkey*.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone(n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve
accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. And the winners are:

1. Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.

3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.

6. Negligent, adj.. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.

7. Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. Flatulence, n.. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle n. A humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13. Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.

14. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent, n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

So, every mother who does laundry occasionally finds stray items tucked into pockets, or in the bottom of the washer after the clean wet clothes come out. This week, inside one of TSM1’s socks I found an unwrapped sucker. And of course, it was not one of those little dum-dum suckers; it was one of the BIG tootsie pops. *shudders*

I started to have flashbacks to when I found the crayons. You know, afterthe dryer cycle was finished?  I have never felt so grateful for finding something before it went into the wash.  Like many of you, I routinely find cars, happy meal toys and rocks (the TSMs love rocks).  I even sometimes find a bit of loose change, but I’m pretty sure that’s my husband.

What all have you found in the laundry lately?

The time has come.  I printed out my novel yesterday and had it spiral bound at Kinko’s in preparation for the task of editing.  I have not looked at it at all since I finished the rough draft.  I’m actually afraid of it.  A grown woman afraid of her creation.  What can I say, I’m having a Mary Shelley moment.

How do you even edit a book anyway?  I’m not sure where or how to start except that it involves me opening the book at some point.  I want to curse my friend E~ who got me into this, except if it weren’t for her I never would have written this in the first place. 

*looking around for someone to curse*

*finds no one*

So how do I do this?  Start big then work down, which is completely against my grain?  Would it be plot issues first, then characters, setting and dialogue?  This may seem kind of silly, but I am a tweaker.  I usually tweak each sentence until I get it right then move on — which works in the smaller formats I usually write in, but probably not so much for a book.

Maybe I’ll start tomorrow.

E-mail spam is interesting.  Well, mostly annoying.  But sometimes it does make me think about things.  Along with the CSI stuff I get, I have started getting spam for the Visa Black Card.  Seriously??? 

According to the ad:

For those who demand only the best of what life has to offer, the exclusive Visa Black Card is for you. The Black Card is not just another piece of plastic. Made with carbon graphite, it is the ultimate buying tool.

The Black Cardis not for everyone. In fact, it is available to only 1% of U.S. Residents to ensure the highest caliber of personal service is provided to every Cardmember.

They remind you that (although they sent you the email in the first place) the Black Card is not for everyone.  To be sure what they were telling me, I checked at the U.S. Census Bureau which estimates the U.S. population (as of July 1, 2008) to be over 304 million people.  Now, I’m not a math genius, but that means over 3 million people in the U.S. could potentially qualify for a Black Card.  Pardon me while I don’t feel too special.

And how does being made with carbon graphite make it the “ultimate buying tool?”  Does it magically give you more money, or a 50% discount?  I think I’ll just stab my current Visa card with a number 2 pencil and call it good.