The Excuse
Mood:  chatty
Here it goes, my hubby thinks he’s the champion over this competition. He thinks he’s writing more. He is writing more. Let’s have no miscommunication in that department. I saw the gloating on his blog. I saw the sheer delight of it. But I tell you what. He didn’t start a novel last month for Nanrimo (National Novel Writer’s Month). I started one. That’s right. It was just getting good when I saw this job I really wanted to do. So I put both feet forward and showed ‘em my stuff. They thought it was good enough. So now I have another job. I’ve got to tell you. I love this job. I cut all day and help people get a hang of shooting video. And we fix their problems.
So all the sudden all my free time went to working out at the gym. I even lost the time I was using for my novel. The novel still lives in my computer. A good place for it. It’s not really ready for others to see. I kind of went down some racy lines, which I feel are cheap attention getting tactics my subject matter doesn’t have to be racy or complicated to tell a good story. I just need to write a good story and give people things they are interested in. If I pick my husband as the reader to write for him I won’t have anything left of my story. He’ll hack at it until it’s one page. He’s good at being direct. Maybe that’s not such a bad deal. Maybe if I write and he cuts I’ll have a book full of good stuff rather than crap. Then I can have my mom dust off the old grammar and go at it. My Mom is amazing when it comes to English. She studied it to teach. I studied it to write news. I like her grammar. There’s all these rules that I’m use to following that really don’t exist anywhere except in my head. Free writing like this is, in a way, rebellious.

Look at that tangent.
It’s time to go. I’m posting this but I sure hope you expect some revision later. I sure do.

Hubby and I hosting a food drive in our sleep
Mood:  don't ask
I work at a TV station as a production assistant. Usually I’m floor director and I run the cameras during the newscasts. Last weekend the news station did a huge food drive and so we all went to work on a Saturday for 6 hours or more of live TV. Let’s just say we all worked for about 9 and a half hours. On this fine day I was a grip. I carried cables around. I also helped hoist a camera onto an Abraham tank.

Two nights later I was reliving it in my dreams. However, instead of being a grip or a camera person I was a reporter. So was my husband. My husband was stationed at the bed and I was stationed on the couch. In order to be stationed on the couch I brought the two warm blankets and my pillow. Hubby was left in the bed with a sheet and the smallest blanket. About an hour later I decided I was clear. I left the blankets on the couch, grabbed my pillow and went back to bed.

The strangest thing about it was I hopped out of bed with urgency. Right from a sound sleep. No complaining no snuggling up some more. I just jumped up and ran for the couch.
Boy this poor hubby of mine puts up with a lot with all these nightmares.

Yetti Woman
Mood:  don't ask
Like any normal person I let the pink cow that I found wandering outside the night before out of the house. However, after I did I began to worry that it wouldn’t go back home to the neighbors at all. The slime on my hands from feeding hay to the cow still felt sticky. I opened the sliding glass door and was inspecting the backyard for my pink cow friend.
I noticed a big white gorilla shaped body. It was a Yetti with the head of a girl on it! I figured it’s just a girl with a huge gorilla body, I’ll go outside and talk to her. I went outside and she said don’t get to close and then began to chase me. She seemed pretty nice until she decided to chase me. I started saying no.
The screams of no, in the real world, were more like groans trapped in my throat. They woke my sleeping hubby. Seriously. It woke my hubby. Pink cows and ladies with the heads of Yettis make me scream in the middle of the night.

Diaper Duty
I've been thinking about diaper duty. I keep asking my hubby what he thinks would be best, cloth or disposable diapers. He has absolutely no interest in answering this question. In fact he can’t figure out why I am thinking about diapers all the time.

I couldn’t figure it out either. Was it all those baby shows on TLC? Finally I remember when the fascination began. It wasn’t when some friends left their babies toy phone on our coffee table. It wasn’t the baby shows.

It happened when my hubby and I went to a different friend’s moving sale. They had tons of baby stuff. One of the things was a very complicated looking nuclear waste bin where they stored spent diapers.

After trying very hard to discover the smell-proof qualities of such a container I began thinking about the types of diapers to use.
The hippie in me immediately thought cloth. Save the planet! The American part thought ease and disposability. This conflict began the debate and literally hours of research. In my head when I wasn’t looking stuff up it went like this Cloth? Paper? Repeat these questions for a week and you’ll have an idea of my agony over a question that is no where near plaguing us yet. I’m not pregnant. We’re not planning on it until our situation changes.

Here are my findings. Stocking up on cloth diaper supplies is expensive in the beginning. Remember that babies grow fast. So if you pick cloth be ready to go that next size up. It’s less expensive in the long run if you wash your own diapers. If you get diaper service it averages out to slightly less then disposable.

A couple of other things to consider about cloth diapers. When washing your diapers there are things you need like vinegar and baking soda for a bottom and environment friendly clean. You’re also going to use a lot of water. If you live in drought country and water costs you a ton, you may want to move toward disposable. You will also have to put the time into the cleaning process.

Boy, changing takes on a whole new world with cloth diapers. You have a diaper liner for doodoos that you place in every diaper. Cloth diapers, covers, and clips vary widely. You’ve got the good old trifold diapers with pins or the snappi. (I think this snappi thing is the neatest thing ever. No sharp edges and it will stretch with the baby. ) Then you need to put on some sort of diaper cover.
The other option is the Cadillac of cloth. It looks like a disposable with Velcro, but it’s got the diaper and cover in one. You still will need a liner to protect the precious cloth from the revenge of baby. These luxury diapers cost a little more. Cloth and disposable diapers protect your stuff at exactly the same rate. Don’t worry about your couch.

A quick public service announcement: Diaper doo doo goes in the toilet no matter which method you prefer. There are concerns about polluting the ground water if your diaper makes it to the landfill undumped. Many people do just throw the disposable away doo doo and all.

The disposable diaper. For my hippie friends there is some concern about putting leak guard material close to your baby. There are worries about shock and other things. So read your labels, watch for signs and be aware.

There have been some great innovations in the disposable diaper world in the past 17 years. About seventeen years ago is the last time I changed a diaper on my little sister. Leak guard for instance, takes the stuff, gels it up, and prevents leaks. No more plastic crinkle noise. Hoorah! Even the store brand diapers have made it to the new age of fabric like covers. Now, you just throw on these disposable babies. Put under baby, powder, and strap ‘em in. Toss these in your nuclear waste bin and take out the trash every other day depending on your sniffer sensibility.

You could do both if you really wanted. Change them in cloth at home, but go disposable on trips. The most important thing is that baby and you are comfortable with the choice.

We had a babe!
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: This is a lie!
We had a babe
A wiggley giggly Pied Piper sort of thing.
It cried and it crapped.
It smiled and it sat.
A mingler jingler Peter Piper sort of thing.
It picked and it cost.
Our hope was not lost.
Our babe had been born beloved.

Thieves, Scoundrels, and Scam Artists; HAULT!
Topic: WARNING! ADVICE!
I bet you've had a check stolen or some punk kid used you credit card number to call Polly Shore's Bio Dome hotline.

I bet you've lost or had your bank card stolen. I'm even willing to bet that once or twice some stupid guy from the republic of Bimini has sent you an email requesting all of your bank account information. I bet everyone reading this has won the lottery in the past month also.

Now here's a direct note for you thieves, scoundrels and scam artists: Stop it. You send so much I'm having a hard time throwing it all away!
Now here's a direct note to people who sell my information: I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it not the entire world.

Another note to for you thieves, scoundrels and scam artists: If you were clever enough to steal my information out of my mail box I will find you. If you are digging through the trash, I understand your fettish, but I offer you more interesting things to go after. Try looking for "National Geographics", expired computer hardware, or recycleables. No, none of these will help you pay off your loans, but you can do some good for the environment and add to your "National Geographic" collections.

Here's some useful information for all of you who have these problems. The Do not call website
Credit card bureau info

More tips: Shred everything personal. Never give out information to a person over the telephone that includes security information like a PIN. If you give them your security information the bank can't help you. If you lose a check or check card close your account as soon as possible. Finally don't be afraid to block junk mailers. Don't open stuff you don't recognize. Chances are someones trying to give you a virus. My brother doesn't even except forwards because that's a good way to get something you don't want on your pc.

Bumming Around Seattle
Topic: Story
There was a time before bums got paid three dollars a day to hold signs for companies while they asked for a little help in Seattle, WA.

A really dirty sixteen year old girl us to be able to get a hand from a bum when they weren't on shift.
That time was 1999.

In 1999 the air was a buzz with Y2K. The artist formally known as Prince's song 1999 was played way too often. People who weren’t cowboys bought clothes from cowboys with holes and cards that said where the holes came from for a great deal more than what consignment clothes usually cost. The other weird thing about these clothes is they would end up in designer stores. From the ranch, to grease stain, to big bucks in NYC.

In 1999 you could hop on the bus, go camping for a week and return by bus. The only problem is on the return trip you smell and look ragged. That means you're automatically invited into an exclusive homeless club.

These people are so nice! I was carrying my bible in one hand and had my sleeping bag tied to my backpack. I was also very lost.

I got off the bus in Seattle to make a transfer.

Right after I stepped off a bus a man with bedraggled clothes, crooked teeth and a big smile asked if I was married, then he asked if I was religious. He then offered to get me some money. He was just about to get me some when I told him I was ok.

He insisted that he get some cash. I told him no thank you again and asked for directions to my bus transfer. He gladly obliged and pointed me down the right street.

Along my walk I started seeing stops, but none of them had the right bus route number. I saw another man in a wheel chair wearing his army uniform with glistening metals. He knew exactly where to go and quickly gave me directions.

Aboard my bus, I began to tell the tales about my camping trip, about the people I met, and the things that we did.

Five people gathered around. I was so glad that a week long Mormon-camping trip where we pulled handcarts and killed a chicken for dinner was coming to an end. I was so happy that the five hours on the bus would be complete in just one hour.

The story doesn't end there. When I reached my final bus a man laughed and laughed. No one was talking to him that I could see; yet he laughed. He didn't have a cell phone. He had no one around him for a seat radius.

I watched him laugh. I wondered why the weirdoes were weirder in my hometown than in a big city like Seattle. At least what people said and did made sense in Seattle.

It's only a few years later and I think people's concerns have changed a little. We're not worried about Y2K any more. We're worried about the traveler. We're worried about people we don't know. We will always fear the unknown.

Stories-True or False?
Topic: Introduction
Hello and Welcome!

The principal is simple!I write 'em. You decide. Is this story true or false?

The cause is complex!
My husband challenged me to a blog off. Who can write a weekly blog for the longest?

This challenge came, I believe, because I was whining way too much about how I wanted to be a writer. The first step in writing is figuring out what you want to write about. The second step is writing. Today I skip the first step and just write!

These are stories of life and the pursuit of entertainment. These stories may have a liberal use of exaggeration. They may be dry like cardboard. We just don't know.