shift

I started to start this post with "It all started in the shower." But that's not quite right. Closer to say it all coalesced in the shower. Even closer to say "Because it was naptime and I was in the shower and god only knows where the cats were and the husband was at work and the shower door was all steamed up except for the upper half that was covered by a towel and there was absolutely nothing, nothing to be distracted by, I actually had a series of thoughts about the same thing and was able to follow them long enough to have them led to that mythical aha! moment of clarity in which I finally came up with a brilliant new name for this blog that perfectly describes what goes on here." Of course, by the time I got out of the shower, found a replacement for the now-damp towel on the door, remembered where I put my other shoe, got the snarls combed out of my hair, logged on and clicked on the "create blog" button, someone else had already named their little bloggy nest "prattle". And "prattles". And "sheprattles". And prattler, prattleon, blather, blathers, sheblathers, blatherer, blatheron, and, my personal favorite, blahblahblog. Thankfully there is such a thing as thesaurus.com.

I kinda like the way that "twaddle" makes me giggle in a 7th-grade-I'm-not-sure-what-I-just-said-but-it-sounds-dirty kind of way. And it elevates me out of the mommy box. Not that there's anything wrong with the mommy box. I just was having to deal with an inordinate amount of guilt for how misleading it must feel to find me and my twaddle when searching for something as specific as mommy monologues. So *poof*, guilt-be-gone. And now I can legitimately ask you how you like my twaddle.

I'm keeping the green. I like the green. I like the almost monotone, I've got something to say but I'm going to say it sort of quietly so that maybe if you don't like what I have to say you'll just not hear it or pretend like you didn't hear it so we don't have to go and get all confrontational about it but at the same time not just quitetly fade into the background altogether wallflower kind of calm that this particular set-up delivers. I like publishing in Trebuchet. If you must know, most of my writing is done with a fancy fake French accent because that's how I pronounce Trebuchet in my head. That and because even twaddle sounds poetic with a fancy fake French accent and therefore all my twaddling instantly becomes more poetic. Try reading a paragraph or two that way and see if you don't agree.

I lost the old blog rolly-esqe thingy, so if you were coming here to access something that was over there -->, I'm sorry to make your life more difficult. Let me know what you're looking for and I'll give you directions. I might look at you cross-eyed or huff for using me as storage for something you could have just as easily added to your own reader or bookmarked, but I promise I'll look really, really hard before sending you on your way. Or, if you'd prefer, you can just click the "show all" link under the blogs now listed over there --> and chances are you'll find who you're looking for there. You get what you want, I pretend you came to see me, and we all go to bed happy.

I gave the boys the ax. Well, their pictures, anyways, because let's be honest, this hasn't been their place for a very, very long time. This is mine, mine, all mine and while I love sharing with all of you (yes, all 4 of you) where their lives and my life intersect, this is my story, told from my perspective and I don't have to share top billing with them if I don't want to. Plus, I'm really stumped with a super-witty way to refer to them and the crap I was coming up with was really laming up the joint. So they're out.

I have a love-hate relationship with my own pic, so expect that to be changing, too. Provided I can find something un-gopher-pigeony. I like to imagine that facial expressions and body language of the writer I'm reading and I like to imagine that you like to imagine that too. Even if my lilywhitebreadness makes it next to impossible to imagine that fancy fake French accent we were discussing earlier.

What else, what else? Oh. The labels. Gone. Mostly. Right now things are categorized by the title of the blog during the time they were written. Want something sleep-deprived and sappy sweet? Look into my mommymonologues period. Random, rambling, ranty, and utterly self-absorbed? Pick through the stuff and nonsense, vintage 2007-08. It took me the better part of naptime yesterday to get rid of the 47 different labels that I had accumulated. 47. I was only 10 varieties away from being a ketchup (catsup?) blog. Definitely time to pare back to the bare necessities. Maybe some day I'll get around to seeing if there are any common threads and if they need labeling.

I think that's it. Mind the third step if you come in past midnight. It creaks. Also, the bathroom door doesn't always shut quite tight, so feel free to slam it. Or not. Make yourself at home.


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2 comments:

Jolene said...

You are so funny! I love reading your blog. Sorry I missed our phone call. We were out of town and I didn't get reception up in the VA hills :) I hope all is well there.

susan said...

Jolene - :) Glad you guys had a good time in VA and that we were able to catch up this week. I missed ya, too, but I knew you'd have lots of good news to share when we connected again!