April 17, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
Honestly, I didn’t mean it turn out this way. Despite my best (and futile, I might add) efforts, this is indeed a Mommy Blog. Or a family blog. Or a not-a-mommy-or-family-blog, depending on how you look at it.
I read a wide variety of blogs. I read everything from cooking tips to photography tips to adoption journeys to critically ill children to political blogs. My brain has always been like a sponge and it requires a plethora of information to satisfy its hunger (Wasn’t that a great analogy? I couldn’t fall asleep last night until I promised myself I’d write it today. Go me!). I actually enjoy checking in on my feed reader each day to glimpse the “next episode” in people’s lives. It’s like television, only it isn’t. And I hate to say it, this is pretty much all I do for entertainment at the moment. My brain is too fried to read the two books currently on my night stand Born on a Blue Day and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. Oh, and still haven’t finished Harry Potter.) and I’m too tired to stay up watching television. Other people’s lives as entertainment? The NERVE! Isn’t that voyeuristic? Isn’t it pathetic? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to block me forever. The truth is I LIKE reading other folks’ soap operas. They are certainly much more interesting than mine.
I mean, who wants to read about poo? Who wants to read about my dog? Who wants to read about my frickin’ backyard? Apparently someone. I still get over one hundred fifty views a day, not including the searches. These are all one-time visits. I’m not sure why anyone would want to catch a glimpse into my mundane existence more than once a day, but more power to ya if you choose to do so. I’m just living my life here. There’s nothing extraordinary about us. Some of y’all may argue that point, but really. I’m just a material girl living in a material world. I’m just a girl, Take a look at me. Just your typical prototype (points for the correct songs and artists).
So, why do y’all read this stuff? I find it fascinating, that’s why I read it. I get good advice, not-so-good advice and some fabulous recipes (if you haven’t checked out Pioneer Woman y’all are smoking crack). I get my news from blogs, I get tabloid updates from blogs and I read fiction on blogs. Except I pretty much think all of it is fiction. Folks just don’t have the time to keep it ALL real. I mean, even I condense things and use flowery words (like mundane and plethora. But never jejune.) to make it sound better. Except for the poo part. I mean, there ain’t no prettying that up. It is what it is.
Speaking of which:
- The poo? On the toilet. ON THE FREAKING TOILET! He’s been going every day! Wanna know why? Do ya? Huh? DO YA? We took him off of the prescription la.x(a).tive (see what I did there? Hiding from the Googles.) and started natural enzymes and suddenly the trots went away and he began having control over his nether regions. He happily sits on the toilet every day at four. If you aren’t busy, c’mon over and see us and clap and sing songs…it’s all the rage.
- The backyard? Dry. Green. Lush. Needs mowing. The husband is a grass genius. The first year? Brown dirts spots that he tended to with more care than a newborn. Well, the grass is his newborn. The second year? Filled in a tad more, but we still had major mud issues. This year? GREEN GRASS, BABY! Now you know why I call him Forrest, Forrest Gump. Nothing pleases that man more than grass. Although I am sure it is a euphemism for some other type of fuzzy carpet (ahem). Freud would say he loved his mother.
- The dog? Headed to the vet in a few minutes (CRAP! We should have left! ACK!) to get her repeat ultrasound and blood work. We’re hoping for no tumor growth or spread. We’re hoping for better blood levels. She has been a different dog since starting on the glucosamine and is happy and thriving once again. Let’s hope it stays that way. Who else am I gonna jog with? Who else would sit on the third step EVERY TIME I LEAVE THE HOUSE? The third step! No other dog is that smart! Or neurotic or OCD!
That’s about it from my neck of the woods. Unless you want me to tell you about the debate last night where they asked the most asinine questions. As far as I am concerned, George Staphylococcus can kiss my lily-white arse because he sounded like a moran. I mean, that is the best they could come up with? Don’t get me started…