I saw this on typealice and thought it would be fun. I chose to pick from with the most relevant, recent or interesting searches, as it wasn’t specific.

The rules:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

The questions that inspired the photos:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

If you guess what my answers to the questions were, I’ll send you a prize.
It won’t be gross, I promise.

When I left this blog, I was feeling a little exposed. I was also conscious of the amount of emotion I was sharing with the Internet and I wasn’t quite sure why. I didn’t really like the fact that my friends would start a conversation with me based on something I had revealed only on my blog. I wanted conversations and revelations to be with them, not a result of something I had written days earlier.

As a result, I decided to stop the blog. I wanted to concentrate on other things and most importantly; I wanted to share my thoughts and feelings with my friends through face-to-face conversation. So, did this happen over the course of the year I was away? Absolutely. I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of close friendships I have developed. There are people who used to read my blog that I only knew as acquaintances that I now call a close friend. There are others who used to be what I considered a friend but take away the blog and with that, all intimacy we really ever had.

Sometimes I hesitate to write this or mention this to others with blogs because I most certainly don’t think this applies to all who blog but for me, a blog stood in the way of real friendships and falsely propped up others. I had always thought I would return to blogging to would try to save the more intimate portions of my life for my friends and partner instead of just letting them read in online. These friends are not necessarily those in my same city, but they are the ones who return my emails, who come to visit and whom I feel comfortable talking to over the phone (normally, I loath the phone). They are the ones I call when I find out I’m pregnant but can’t tell anyone yet, who are genuinely excited about projects I’m working on and who know how to listen without judgment and always have wise advice.

However, I’m on maternity leave! I’m not reading anything mind-blowing or profound and I’m not taking any courses. Franklin had his booster shots last week and the book about Louis Pasteur was probably the most challenging read I’ve done in a month.

In fact, I’m overdosing on HGTV programs and the news channel until our cable gets cut before the move and providing 24 hour nipple for Eliza. The most perplexing thoughts I seem to have these days are whether her eyes are going to be blue or brown. What to write about? If I’m saving my more personal thoughts for more intimate forums, what do I fill in here? I suppose I will have to just wait and see – and perhaps set myself more of a challenge to read more interesting things than cute television realtors with British accents and whether Brenda Martin is innocent or guilty.

There have been a few hurdles and I've finally decided to forget everything and post.

I wanted to start out with a redesign but something seems to causing problems and I'm not sure what exactly is holding it up - except for my inability to actually have control over the ultimate design of this website due to my inexperience with MT. This will change.

I wanted to fix the archive problem that seems to have developed but from what I understand, it isn't fixable and I'm still not fully understanding why. This will also have to change. I stopped writing in this blog in December 2006. I don't like the prospect of having to manually enter all of these back into the archives but if I have to, I would like to get going on it.

Not much to write about yet.
Well, there is a lot to write about but for now, I'm busy with some illustrations and I have to go. I just wanted to get this post out of the way. I'll be back tomorrow.

Really, it figures that I make fun of people who concentrate their entire existence on celebrities and other pop culture propaganda from the US and then I get wound up in the costs of blogher and thus become ridiculous in a similar fashion.

Kudos to the somewhat snotty email to me this morning that was well-deserved:

I believe you were invited to Northern Voice last year and did not attend saying that you didn't have the time or the money. Did you think about going this year? What's so terrible about a Canadian blog conference? Do you think you're cooler? It's in Vancouver which would not be a plane ride at all.

You know, my mother reminded me about the conference a while ago but even the nanoseconds it took to rush over to the site to see about tickets wasn't fast enough. It was sold out.

Northern Voice is this weekend and I'm not there.
I would have loved to go.
I'm sorry I am missing it.
I am a gigantic idiot.

I'll bet breebop is there, and darrenbarefoot and ponzi and well, not jenandtonic or drowinginkids or chair...
Granted these afore mentioned blogs are not as close to me as the latter, I would still love to meet them - especially Briana.

I will definitely try to go next year.
It's not all about Vancouverites, right? ... and if it is, I can wear black and carry a cell-phone like the best of them.

(I'm just not sure if I can walk as fast)

You know, I have actually done this exact thing.


Blogher seems to be gaining momentum. When Chair contacted me to ask if I was going I nonchalantly replied, "I'm really not that interested". Then, when she mentioned that she thought it was in San Francisco I thought, "Blogher Schmogher, but hanging out in SF would be a most excellent time". I thought of my brother who lives there (free bed), I thought of a road trip down (alone!) and I thought of meeting people I read everyday (and not in an I read your work and analyze it academically. Therefore, you scare the living shit out of me with your big brain way). Blogher was quickly becoming an extra bonus to a mini adventure that was forming in my mind as I tried to concentrate on the Thailand Bhat and shorting stock.

I started to run up and down the Blogher site reading this and this and this and this. I started to imagine what it would be like to be in a room full of people who don't think I'm a needy exhibitionist but rather, someone who enjoys writing in a form that is conducive to such dynamic communication.

Then I kept thinking of this post and thinking... I might actually like blogging.
Blogher might actually be a large experience for me.
Blogher was not only on the same continent as I was, but on the same coast.

This was no good. This meant I wanted to go.
You can see where this is heading.

I bought a ticket.
I'm a university student, work full time and have a family.
What was I thinking about? - that I was a university student and therefore, score!
Student Discount!

I wasn't thinking about that potentially free bed moving to the East Coast in the Spring, or that D was heading back to full time school in September. I also didn't think of my marvelous talent that consists of immediately turning people off on first impression ("cold, snobby bitch" is a phrase I hear often).

I can't go.
Crippling bitchiness aside, the money just isn't there.

Of course, there's always Gocco cards to print. The Birth Invitations sailed out in a flash...
- but to raise the $800.00 to get there without having to camp out in the nearby airport each night?

Yeah, not bloody likely.

Seriously, just how cool is this, eh?
This is what dirtyolive.net looks like "organically"...

Try it out. I guarantee it will take at least 2 hours of your time.

wheeee!

For some reason, my website is all fucked up.
I wanted to eliminate the profanity on a post a little while ago and lo and behold... it's still fucking there.

So I'm swearing like the fallen angel that my mother always feared I was.

Fuck Fuckity Fuck Fuck

Nieces and Nephews, Mother-in-laws and proud Fathers, be damned.
My website is fucking broken and no one is answering my emails.

I was thinking of going to blogher this summer, but now I'm not so sure. I could have a free place to stay but then I'd be a loser and not do midnight shots with the cool kids. Then again, I've never been a cool kid so who am I kidding? I've only been the overly developed 9th grader that had older boyfriends but didn't know what to do with them - the boyfriends or the breasts.

You can't call me a slut.
You can, however, call me a tease.

Why would I go to blogher?!?
I hate blogging.
I really and truly do.

I think.

I just don't want to get there and clam up and say nothing and have people assume I'm a snotty chick that used to have bigger boobs than everyone else but who now has nothing to show for it but malfunctioning milk receptacles.

I'm just writing this now because I seem to have come to the conclusion that this weblog will never publish another word for me again.

It's all over folks.
None of you will read this.

(- but if you do... I'm truly, truly sorry)

The first time I felt like I had a real connection with another person was sometime in grade school. I remember tentatively bringing up the topic of farts with my friend, Leslie B, and how you don't... you know... ummmm…. like, have to fart out LOUD so that everyone could hear. (?!?)

She quickly followed up with her solution of slowly leaking the fart out so that no noise was made. Voila, no embarrassment.

You have to understand, we were approximately nine years old; embarrassment was a fact of life and something I dearly wanted to avoid. Boys could take the mere mention of a “training bra�? and turned it into the story of the girl "making out" with the principal and the janitor - complete with Broadway show tickets and popcorn.

To think that someone else had thought up the same tactic for slowly releasing her farts!
To hang out with someone else who was actually willing to discuss farts with me!

These connections happen few and far between with me in real life. The world seems like one big rush – to everywhere and everybody. When people ask you how you're doing and how your day has been, they don’t really want to know.
Sometimes I believe this is why I write a blog in the first place. I know that I've said in interviews that it had to do with Mother-to-Mother support and keeping in touch with old friends. I remember even pretentiously babbling about a global village raising my family along with me.

However, I'm beginning to think it was/is something a bit more personal.
I just want connections. Of course, I have connection with my spouse, but there is something that I love about that initial connection one can unexpectantly have with someone when he or she tells you personal flatulence strategies.
I've heard of infidelities when a person merely wants to experience that first kiss again; they want those butterflies in their stomach and that electric shock when their skin brushes against the other person. I'm doing wonderfully in that department so I'm not craving electricity. What I actually look for on this blog is that sparkle of recognition in another kindred spirit who also lets out silent, but deadly, gas attacks and could care less if her feet stick all the way to Tibet and beyond.

This is why I write in a blog.
I meet these people and have these strange little sparks almost every time I write here.
It's wonderfully addicting.

Then I think to myself... how did my public space, the place where I meet people and connect with the world, become so isolated?

Now I'm going to bed.

"What is a Causus-race?" said Alice; not that she much wanted to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.

"Why," said the Dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.")

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, ("the exact shape doesn't matter," it said), and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no "One, two, three, and away, but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out "The race is over!" and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, "But who has won?"

This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forhead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, "Everybody has won, and all must have prizes."

Lewis Carroll
"Alice in Wonderland"
A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

The Dodo has spoken. Please vote for me with great enthuasim and a much fair play.
(only once a day)

Best Blog and/or Best Personal Blog

Thanks, guys.

There are times when I am self-conscious of the fact that I write this weblog. I am acutely aware of how strange this comes across to people who are naturally private and are uncomfortable knowing more about me than they would typically ask.
It's like my co-worker likes to say;
"TMFI, honey - Too Much Fucking Information".

For others, it's a fascinating world that attracts them from the start. I am constantly amazed at the people who are accepting and even enthusiastic. My Mother-in-law is a good example of this.
At first, most of the people I knew in real life and who were attracted to this hobby were people I didn't really like very much. I was left wondering if I was also one of these attention-starved and needy whiners taking up a blog for socially inept affirmation. I mean, even though I like to read the blogs I read, I don't know them like I knew these people.
So, was I this... insane?

Thankfully, I eventually saw that there are idiots in every culture - sub or not. So, although I may be as insane as the other whiners I witness, at least it's not a pre-requisite to having an online personality...
Phew (?)

Nevertheless, I seem to have arrived at a spot in my life where I am almost unapologetic about this internet conversation I keep striking up over and over again. I'm not saying that I'm willing to sign my last name to this site and would be tickled pink to see it pop up in my workplace just yet. However, I'm willing to accept that I like to write, and what else does one write about on a somewhat daily basis but the things one experiences on these very days?
I wish I wasn't as personal as I am sometimes, though. I tend to cringe a bit when I re-read certain entries now. I won't erase them as they are honest (and I hope not too full of nonsensical blathering), but still.... anal fissures?
Ewww.

I suppose the realization has come with the fact that there is so much of my life going on outside of this space. I wouldn't, shouldn't and couldn't possibly write about it all. This makes me happy. I'm not simply documenting my life anymore. In fact, I've even stopped documenting all of Franklin's life. I'm just happy writing.

And you're still reading.
This blows me away.

Who knew I was capable of a hobby that doesn't involve the Olympics or solving world peace?!?
I'm clearly mellowing in my old age.

My first post back and the server goes kaput. Imagine being the person I am (neurotic and anal) and seeing a mistake on your previous entry without being able to fix it.
More importantly, imagine being this person (self-obsessed dork) coming back after a big gulp, sigh and giant leap and no one being able to welcome her back to the internet.

- not that I'm asking you to welcome me back.... it's just that although the server was not trying to "make it personal", both it and the human server of that writ of summons can kiss my warm, baby soft ass.

I know that some of you would appreciate a bit of a story. However, I still can't discuss it. It's not that I'm scarred and recounting the tale will reduce me to a puddle of mush, it's just that I can't give any details at this point. I can tell you this; it has nothing to do with my job, my freedom of speech or the name of my blog. In reality (remember that?), this issue has come waaaay out of left field. Seriously, nothing you would ever expect - at least, nothing I ever expected.

Incidentally, Franklin wants to be an excavator for Hallowe'en this year.
We have no idea but we're thinking it will involve cardboard and duct tape.

Suggestions?

Things are still up in the air and I'll probably be off for a bit longer. It's a combination of how freaked out I am and how much this entire incident has shown me that weblogs are creepy... and a source of ammunition to many people. I'm one of those people - who think it's creepy. Okay okay yes, I'm a little creepy too...

I used to know a woman who had a horrible weblog. It wasn't horrible in terms of writing style or design (okay, it was a little of that, but that's only my personal taste) but because of how mean and spiteful it was. She seemed to write only to be able to make personal attacks she couldn't seem to confront in her real life. I suppose this was a form of release, but it was the constant passive aggressive, false-front, spiteful and superficial shout to the entire world that disgusted me. It made me angry because she didn't seem to understand that weblogs are public and they can be read by anyone. Sure, you can trace IP addresses, but what good is that unless you are looking for smug satisfaction that someone is reading your snide messages?
Regardless, she didn't understand my point of view (which is fine) and I wasn't able to understand how she could attack people on such a public medium (which was perfectly fine with her). I was horrified to be considered a part of the same sub-culture as she was (which, I also believe, was perfectly fine with her) and therefore questioned why I wrote a blog in the first place.

Interestingly, I find this part of my blogging past a little humorous considering what I'm worried about right now. I really wish I could explain it, but I don't think it's a wise decision. People who are close to me and know the story think that I can use the situation as a topic to write about someday. However, I just don't think it's a good thing to do - at least not now.

Heh. Yes but... if I have to go to court I'll DEFINITELY be blogging about it later.

I really don't know what's happening - at least not the nitty gritty details.
I know that there are lawyers - who speak in a language I am scared of.
I know that the lawyer on my side hasn't called me to go to court - yet.
I most definitely know that no news is good news at this point.

Funny thing is, I don't mind this non-blogging thing. I thought I would miss it a hell of a lot more than I actually do. Of course, there are things that have happened lately that I would love to share with you but I think I'm going to wait a bit more before I'm actually back on. I suppose I'm just popping out to say 'Hi' and 'Thanks' - for all the comments and emails.

Our cat brought in a bird the other morning. The last time he did that was when my dog died and the house was one steaming pile of stress.
I think he senses the tension.

I have two entries for today.

I've chosen to publish the more mature and discrete one.
I hate it when I get all mature and discrete.

I'm not writing here for awhile.

Hiatus Time

Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic....

"lawsuits"

via Liminal Musings

1. Go into your archive.

2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).

3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).

4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

One third of government jobs are going to be cut over a three year period here in Victoria. BC's largest employer is the government. That will be over 11,300 jobs (according to the estimate in the paper this morning).


Bread

I have discovered a passion. I love baking bread. I baked raisin bread last night and it was so much fun. Seriously, it was so much fun to be studying at two in the morning while waiting for the bread to rise. Why do I find this so entertaining? I'm not sure. It's a combination of the quiet house, the kneading of the bread, the smell, the productivity of doing two things at once... probably all of those things with a dab of childhood memory thrown into the mix.

Whatever the case, we ate fresh raisin bread this morning.
It was good.
It would have been magnificently warm and fresh at four in the morning but I couldn't justify waking Franklin and D up to taste it quite then.

As well, I am sorry to say that the dork that I am took photos of the bread. Yes, I have picture of me hovering over fresh bread at four in the morning. I get a little odd during this time and seemed to be on a little yeast-induced high or something.
I wasn't able to load them onto flickr though as our internet is currently malfunctioning due to my incessant need to rearrange the entire house creating a need for longer cable cords.

I will load them next to this post later this evening. I'm sure you are all giddy in anticipation.
Lordy, this website freaks me out sometimes.


Kisses

How is it that no matter how hard you stub your toe or smash your finger, that little kiss - all slobbery and wet and tender - makes the pain slide away?

Sometimes I have to sit back and really question just who is raising whom in this house.

I wrote this post awhile ago but thought it sounded too much like a fishing exhibition. Yet sometimes, even for a seemingly exhibitionist like myself, it's good to get things out even if it's not post posted - you know?
However, here I sit with hits up the whazoo from who knows where and I really feel the need to say something about it all - as nice as it may seem that people want to read my site.

Also, I have to admit that I'm too preoccupied by my horror (and media obsession) with Hurricane Katrina and the action/inaction down there to write anything substantial (and comparatively trivial) about our cat the $700.00 we just handed over to the animal mafia vet clinic yesterday.


So anyway, here goes:
To those new to the world of blogs, my presence in various newspapers, magazines and websites as one of the "Top Canadian Bloggers" has little to do with my content and/or writing skill. I feel the need to point out that this is more a consequence of the vast number of blogs out there to chose from than my talent or "interestingness" (to borrow from flickr) and the enormous task for a journalist to actually wade through the masses in order to decide on their merit.

I was chosen to be one of the top bloggers in Canada for the month of August 2004 and now here I am, one entire year later, and no one else has been chosen as a subsequent monthly blogger. As a result, when you google "Canadian blogs", you will get this site at the top of the list. When you check out those listed under "top bloggers" you'll see my site still there (with some other extremely cool people).

I believe if you are a journalist who actually reads blogs, I will most likely not appear in your article. Perhaps if you are only learning about blogs, or need to fill a space concerning this "Weblog stuff" and don't have any idea what they are about (yet), you might start to think I am a good representation. I truly don't believe I am. I'm one small part of a much larger community. In fact, as a "Mommy Blogger", I'm a really small part of this culture. People blog about everything - politics, sex, travel, sport, family, war, jobs, technology, the world of Maddox Jolie, crafting, cooking, levitation, what's it's like to be a stunt double, photography, gardens, etc.

However, I have no other idea how to show journalists or new readers a better way to find interesting, witty and talented writers except to invite you to start by checking out the blogs I have listed on the side of my site (mostly other parents) or check out earlier months on Blogs Canada. It's not that I believe the journalists have done a poor job of their research, I just want you to know that I'm really not doing this alone. In fact, you can do this as well. It's very simple.

I'll have to warn you though, this may become addicting so leave some time open for the next couple of years.

(Did that sound weird? - because I feel kinda weird now.)

Really, what a way to go – potentially, but nothing is ever definite in my world.

People telling me I have responsibilities to my readers.
People telling me that they'd start a magazine for me to write in.
People whining and complaining...

Of course, this is all on top of the fact that my brother is visiting and told me his writer friend read my blog. I immediately got all, "whatever-the-hell-for-I'm-not-a-writer-and-I-would-be-embarrased-if-someone-thought-I-thought-I-was" and I asked all casual-like if she had a blog herself and he guffawed (yes, he does that) and spit out,

"NO! HA!"

Yup.
Obekaybey then!

Now quick! Let me distract you from my shame and point you toward a photo from a Luminara filled Saturday afternoon in which God appears to be blessing my family with joy and airplane rides (that incidentally cause dislocated joints, but I didn’t say anything).

.

Last night, after I came in from my run and finished watering what I stubbornly still call a garden and what the neighbourhood cats stubbornly call their litter box, I came to a revelation.

This blog.
It's pissing me off.

Actually, I have wanted to mention this for a while but haven't really had the guts. I appreciate everyone who reads this - especially the ones who communicate. Even more especially, the ones who communicate nicely.
However, it's still pissing me off.

I have things to say everyday, but I find it's becoming more of a whine than anything else. Add the whine to the fact that this blog is primarily about my son and you get a whole lot of complaining about... my son.
I don't usually complain about my son in the non-internet world. In fact, it's a problem I have with some parents.

The parents who talk about their children's challenges when their child is right there makes me see red.
I mean, seriously, you don't think your child is listening? Let me tell you, the child can hear and internalize everything you say - from a younger age than you might think.

This is also something I need to talk to daycare about - this talking about Franklin and his problems and successes at daycare - especially in terms of toilet training. He had an accident of the poop variety yesterday and it seems that he's been less willing to do sit on the toilet for either number. I know toilet training has set-backs at times but I wonder if the constant talk of accidents - one teacher telling another teacher that they are going to be busy because Franklin has pooped his pants, teacher telling Mother that Franklin pooped his pants, Mother telling Father that Franklin has pooped his pants... See?

I know that everything isn't supposed to be coming out roses - especially when it comes to my garden - but learning to pee and poop in the toilet is a big thing! Think about it, this is re-learning a basic bodily function placement.
Can you imagine if you had to learn how to sleep hanging upside down instead of horizontally - and every time you got it wrong your clothes got soiled and had to be removed and everyone talked about it for the rest of the evening and even the next day?

Yeah. Not fun.
No wonder he's been in such a crappy mood.

I have been too.
I want to take my family on a holiday to Tofino and stay in a cabin with no phone, television, radio or internet. I want to walk on the beach, wear rubber boots and collect sand dollars when the tide goes out.

I want everything to just stop.

There I was yesterday, making people puke with the display of adoration for my partner and today I am here to tell you that Franklin has a drastically different opinion.

For some reason, Franklin has decided that Dad is "un-cool". Dad's allowed to say "Good Morning!” but he's not allowed to come into the room. Dad's allowed to pour a glass of juice for Franklin, but he's not allowed to sit next to us on the couch. Dad's allowed to talk about digger and excavator and dump truck Halloween costumes on the way to daycare, but he's not allowed to hug him good-bye.

It's weird and I really don't know what to say. I can't just tell Franklin to smarten up and give his Father a hug. How does that sound?

"Hug your Father! Hug him or you'll get no dessert!"

Jeeesh.

Of course, I enjoy the fact that Franklin wants to hang out with me - but lately it feels like he wants to hang out with me only to not hang out with Dad. Personally, I wouldn't want D telling our son to give his Mother a hug. It’s supposed to be a pleasure - much like reading the comments on my site...

ahem

So... other than reading about the Oedipus complex, I've been perusing other parenting websites and this whole thing is as common as the day is long - which is a funny expression for me because the day is really never, ever long enough, is it?

Yes, this is called favoring one parent over another and I've read that it will eventually sway between the two of us as his ever-pleasant moods crash back and forth. I also know that this is only one part of the large quagmire that is a toddler's emotional development. Still, it's uncomfortable. It hurts. It sucks. I'm so eloquent.

Whatever. I'm going to go back to my little life of ranting and blathering and amusing and playing and stressing and whatever else my privileged butt can manage to do in a 24 hour day minus the 4/5 hours of sleep I get. Stages are stages. We'll get through this too. It's not like he's requiring an enema or anything - not yet, anyway. I wouldn't want to count anything out. He hasn't been doing much pooping lately - in his sleep or the toilet.

Sigh.
Sometimes writing in this thing is a pain in the ass - pardon the expression.

Something is wrong with my comments. I don't know what it is.

I'm sorry. I'm trying to figure it out.

You can always email me if you get really itchy.

Thanks for being so patient.

The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep, or
perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.

By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well

into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me.

-----------------------------------------------------

I'll see you when we get back.

There are these things I have been meaning to discuss with you and I keep getting distracted by Life.

Most importantly... well, maybe not most importantly but "First of all" anyway...

You may have noticed that all comments are held for short period of time.
This is a new component to a higher version of Movable Type. As a result, I have to approve all comments before they are posted to the site. This way I can get rid of the spam before it clogs itself in the dark recesses of my archives.

Speaking of archives...
I have been very lazy about uploading them. I also do not have April 2003 - yes, it's true. In fact, there may be more that I am missing but I am not aware of it yet. I upload when I feel like it. Lately, I haven't been feeling like it.
I seem to have some very meticulous readers out there who like to remind me of my spelling mistakes, my grammar, and my missing archives. I am flattered that you pay such close attention... but I'm starting to wonder if I actually knew you, would you be checking out the size of my pores?

Speaking of pores...
I have a new statistics counter. I feel the need to tell you that I am able to see who visits me and from where. I have done this because I talk about my family here and if I'm getting hits from a strange kiddy porn or a "dirtyolive for prime minister" site, I want to know. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I thought I'd give a heads up to anyone who might think I don't know you're reading this. More than likely, I know - unless, of course, I don't know you. You know?
I should probably reassure you, though. I don't check it like an insane hit slut to see who's reading this site and from where every single day. Rather, I get these little emailed reports once a week and I notice the jumps. Sometimes I look to see where they are coming from. I don't check how many times a certain person from Kelowna might be checking my site. I don't care about that. I just hope she reads me every once and a while.

I am not a strange SAHM stalker - really, I'm not.
I had been getting some hits from a msn group which called themselves something along the lines of SAHMs. This is a private group and not open to more members - something I neglected to notice. I thought I'd try to enlarge my dependable/alternate Internet social life by trying to join. I think I came across as kind-of creepy. I apologize. I'm now a member though! Too bad I wasn't able to get into grad school like that!

I'm going to be in a magazine this month. Canadian Family Living. I'm excited. I even get a free copy for my very own. This is the first tangible thing I have received as a result of my website. Of course, I have received intangibles such as envy, sloth, gluttony, wrath, pride, lust and greed. I'm not ungrateful for those lovely gifts - especially sloth, it just keeps on giving and giving and giving...

I'm going to be writing book reviews for bookfetish.org. I mention this less for my own publicity and pride, but more for incentive to get my ass off the hesitation couch and send more more traffic toward the site.

On a more Franklin-related note...
We harvested our first radishes of the season yesterday! You know how those people say that when a child watches his garden grow, they are more likely to eat the vegetables they have planted themselves? It's bloody true. Franklin really doesn't like radishes. They are too strong. I don't blame him, I'm not a big fan either.
However, they grow fast, can grow easily in a pot, and are simple to harvest. He plucked his first plump and juicy radish from his crop yesterday. He ate it like a strawberry (if he wasn't allergic to strawberries and they didn't cause him to break out in a rash). He gave me a small smidgen to taste as well.

Yum.

(notice the pinky - what grace)

I'm wondering if I accidently banned anyone who has ever commented on here.
(Yes, yes, I'm an idiot)

Could someone please try to comment - someone who has never left anything for me?

If nothing happens, could you email me to let me know I haven't actually holed myself in an internet ivory tower after all?

dirtygreenolive@hotmail.com

Thanks.

I got an email a little while ago from a woman in Singapore who wrote for the Straits Times Interactive. There were a couple of questions about my weblog and a couple of questions about me and... low and behold, I'm the "Blog of the Week" in Digital Life.

You can see the article here.

You'll have to register to get access to the paper.
It'll be good for you. I think it's one of the more popular English newspapers in Singapore and shouldn't everyone read the paper from another part of the world every now and then?

Unless you're like my paranoid friend who refuses to put her name anywhere because.... shhhhhhhh.. Big Brother might be watching.
News Flash.
Big Brother has been watching for a while now and he knows you turn your underwear inside out and wear it twice in a row because you didn't do any laundry over the weekend.

Think of it as my little weblog feature (accompanied by a smashing photo of me looking suspiciously like a drag queen) as an added bonus to gaining a larger perspective on life.

So this is it.

I'm not writing a long entry because I've spend half the night loading up archives.

It's still all over the place.

I'm also trying to figure out if/where I'm placing Franklin's photo. It might become more of a pop-up than a front page presence because to add a photo to this design might be a little much.

It's pretty different, eh?
It might not be as "family friendly" and it might not look like a "Mommy Blog" but I like it and I want to keep it this way for awhile. I am in LOVE LOVE LOVE with the picture of that olive.

Just look at that olive!

Juicy.

So, I'm looking for observations from other users.... font size okay? Clear? Navigation? Suggestions?

I'm changing my website design. This means I'm changing the "DNS nameserver" and making another hosting transfer. The place I'm with, however nice and courteous, has waaaay too many bells and whistles than I need. I think it's meant for large scale operations with many computers, and many pages that sell things and answer questions and require technical support. It's alos on the pricey side.

This little dirtyolive doesn't need all that much zippity-do-da.

I'm a simple gal. I'm changing to movable type and I'm moving everything over to tartgraphics. If anyone wants a great person to deal with - understanding, cool, human and an all around geek genius - go there.
I'm glad to be done with Yahoo! (or "Yahell" as she put it) and I'm excited about the new look.

I'll appreciate any feedback you have about the design. I've already emailed it to a small amount of people. They were all helpful comments, thank-you. That said, I haven't changed much. It might not scream "family blog", but I want to live with it for awhile before I tone it down - if I even do.
Nevertheless, I am still open to the comments.

So, I'm off to find that little "DNS nameserver" area. I've been travelling around in a panic looking for this little hosting thing. I actually have a trail of changes to follow just to figure out just who in the hell hosts this site.
Those who are anywhere near computer orientated, beyond my hack style of trial and error, are probably shaking their heads in disbelief right now. (Perhaps I should introduce you to the other people who have some sense of correct grammar and spelling.)

Hey! Who said web bloggers have to know what they are doing? My God, look at all the user friendly blogging programs out there!
I get the necessary done, that's my motto. If I figured out a way to hack into my ex-boyfriend's email in university, I can teach myself how to code an extremely simple webpage.

What more does this girl need, really?

Last night I handed in my assignment. I'm becoming such a newby economics nerd that I contemplated staying up late to work out a graph to reveal the perfect equilibrium between work hours and work quantity. All this from a couple of comments left on my last post. Don't worry. I scrapped that idea. I think I might be starting to sound like one of those 18 year old psychology majors who try to analyze all their friends in a drunken stupor while simultaneously analyzing the reasons why they need constant validation from their parents and peers.

(I don't need constant validation from my parents or peers. The above was a reference to all the idiots I used to serve during my bar working/drink pushing days. However, the fact that I felt the need to tell this to you might be an indication of the opposite.)

I'm writing this during my lunch break at work and a co-worker of mine has just asked me if I've heard the new Donny Osmond song. I think I'm insulted that she would think I listen to such music as well as the fact that she would assume I know who the hell Donny Osmond is in the first place - other than some vague parental pop culture smiley face.
I must be quite an interesting looking person. I can be ID'd for alcohol one week while being a 40 year old Donny Osmand fan in another. I am spanning at least 20 years here. It's fitting then, that I'm pretty much smack dab in the middle (31).
I wonder who will be Franklin's "vague parental smiley face". Tom Cruise? Usher? Josh Grobin? The possibilties are endless.

I find it funny that I need to mention that I am writing this during my lunch break. This way, no one can accuse me of "blogging at work". So many blogs I read forget that little disclaimer altogether. I'm sure many of us blog during our breaks, smoking just isn't cool anymore. However, only I seem to have the need to mention that I'm a NON WORK BLOGGER.

Personally, I'm scared shitless of "blogging at work". I've actually never done it "on work time". Really. Never. Check my computer. Seriously. Do it.

I'll be blogging on moveable type soon. I've noticed that the entries are not only dated, but time recorded as well. Now you will all believe me when I say I don't sleep. Seriously, I don't sleep. Blogging at 3 am has become a norm. My skin is proof. However, at least it isn't during work.

People are so strange about blogging. I've found that for some, it's almost as if they find out that I'm a stripper in my spare time. I suppose, I am in a way. I'm stripping my emotions for all to see. I'm an exotic language dancer, dancing for money… no wait… dancing for free, I actually pay to dance for about $30.00 a year.
I'm taking off each article of my life slowly and torturously - to the tune of whatever you have going on wherever you are at this moment. Right now, I'm stripping to a photocopier machine and a co-worker clearing her throat.

Sexy.

However, the only difference is between me and a stripper is that I know of only one person who is probably getting off while reading this.

Forget about my suspected pregnancy for a moment. I haven't taken a test yet. I'm waiting for a bit - I have tender breasts and I feel like I was drinking all last night so I'm about on par with the last time I was pregnant but, I'm still waiting.
Last time I took a home pregnancy test it was negative. I was 6 weeks pregnant.
I'm waiting to see my doctor. Those tests suck.

I am thinking about a lot these days.
I'm trying to keep up with the news in Asia without watching televisions images of children who are all Franklin in my eyes.
This means I'm listening to the radio at 1 in the morning when everything is quiet and no one can see or hear me cry.

Attempting to sleep is horrible. My imagination is my enemy right now.
What the hell am I doing?

Here are some things we could do instead of buying that boxing sale gift you didn't get for Christmas.

Medecins Sans Frontieres / Doctors Without Borders

Asian Earthquake/Floods Relief
Oxfam Canada

Unicef

Canadian Red Cross

Why does it always seem to me that those from the poorest areas of the world, in the most vulnerable positions, receive the worst.
I will never let Franklin forget how fortunate he is to live here.

So...

Along with the destruction of my archives, I have lost my new design as well.

Why did I not save all of this stuff to my hard drive many of you ask?
Well, because I'm an idiot.
Really, you shouldn't be surprised. I've been half-assing at this weblog thing for about 4 years and had always dismissed it as a little hobby. I wasn't that serious about it - until I lost it for good. Now I'm incredibly serious about it...
Did you hear that Yahoo!? I'm serious.

I am still hopeful that everything will work out.
What with archive.org, google caches, my Father's inability to read things off a computer screen and subsequent heavy use of his printer, and a couple of word documents I had kicking around... I may be able to piece together the last 4 years or so.
Seriously.

Plus there's the added fact that I just got a cryptic message from Yahoo! that may have to do with getting access to my "file". I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I think I may have all of you to thank for this. I haven't really emailed that wacko company since they hung up on me... twice.... in a row...

So, I'm trying to keep a level head - which considering the stuff that is going on right now in my life and my general level of crazy, it's a pretty high expectation.

I've also noticed that my webpage looks terrible. I think I mentioned up there near the start of my post that I've lost my new design I was working on. I'm not too upset about that because I wasn't very in love with it anyway.
There wasn't enough colour and dirtyolive-ness.

The thing about the webpage as it looks now is that I have such a rudimentary knowledge of html (yes, only html folks, I'm as old as old school gets - I'm ignorant old school). My page looks okay at home, on my ibm klunker. However, at work I use a mac and my page looks like a primary school report with extra large font and a spaced out design. It's really terrible. I could do something about font size but the point is, I need something new, as in not this. I want something that looks cool on everyone's computer. I want to BE cool to EVERYONE.

Haha

I'm kidding - as in not serious.
Seriously.

Does anyone want to design a website for me - for free? I look at the templates and I don't see anything that makes me go WOW! I want to steal that!
I have emailed someone from tart graphics about one of their designs. Lets see what happens there.

Meanwhile, about that child-rearing...
Franklin and I have had a couple of pretty touching experiences to and from daycare. There is a song that has a special place in Franklin's heart, some ubiquitous "Mommy Song" that I think he made up on his own.

The child can sing the entire precocious and atrocious song of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious but the "Mommy Song" sounds like Mommy Mommy Mommy repeated over and over again. I think this might be one of the sweetest things in the entire world... in the entire history of the world... in the entire history of the universe.

Seriously
I'm not exaggerating.

The whole "Mommy Song" thing started a couple of weeks ago as we were coming home one afternoon. I've tried to ask his daycare what this is but they don't know anything about it - which is why I am certain it's his own little thing.

There is no Daddy Song.

If this was a daycare thing, there would be a Daddy Song.
Trust me.

Last night, as I was in the rocking chair with Franklin, we sang the "Mommy Song" together. It's something I want to remember forever, cradling Franklin in my arms and singing Mommy Mommy Mommy over and over again.

It was better than everything and anything, ever.

Seriously.

So, people I have been emailing and talking to have been referring to certain dirtyolive posts as, "The One Where You Talk About Your Baby Sleeping" and "The One Where You Wrote About How You Want to Adopt" and other such non dated references. It's beginning to sound like I have a Friends sitcom going on here.

- and I don't.

So, perhaps I'm going to try and come up with titles. This shouldn't be so hard. Perhaps I'll just use the last sentence of my post as the title to the beginning. That way, you'll have some idea of where I'm going with all my babble. Sound good? Good.

Now back to regular programming.

My son is odd.
For instance, my latest evidence consists of his vocabulary choices. He doesn't just hand me his juice cup like a normal, cute, little 2 year old. He doesn't even say, "Here Mommy, take my juice please". Nope, he will pass the container my way and say,

"Here you go my Mother, this is a juice cup".

We've been reading "Are you my Mother?" to him every once and awhile so I'm thinking he may have caught this little phrase from the book. As well, about a month ago, as I was leaving from daycare, I said "Goodbye my son!" in a grandiose, overly dramatic flourish so as to distract him from the gooey cornstarch and vegetable oil swamp with which he was burying his T-Rex. He didn't feel the need to match my theatrics while answering back. Rather, he glanced up (very un-dramatically) and patiently replied,

"See you later, my Mother".

Now that I'm writing this, you probably think I'm crazy. Trust me, it sounds weird coming out of a toddler's mouth.

Well, after that big revelation - that even my son now understands what a goof-ball of a mother he has - I will depart. I figure, if I'm going to get all title-happy on my webpage, I might as well try out some CSS too. I'm going to try and look all proper, because then I'll be a real writer, feel misunderstood, and stick my head in an oven.

Too much Sylvia Plath.

Hi

No, I haven't decided to quit the internet.
- although thanks for those emails of understanding for those who thought that I had. Sillies.

We were out of town. I didn't get a chance to sign off here before we went. We were in a location with no internet capabilities.

There was no computer.

No computer.

I have a large paper due at midnight tonight.

I wrote most of it out long hand while we were away.

Wrote... Long hand.

I have a lot of work to do right now.

I hope you had a good weekend.

Oh yes, and I have also turned 31.

I have a friend who is thinking of starting up a weblog. She has some pretty interesting things to say and a particularly different point of view that not many people in the world get to see. Our conversations about blogging has opened up some more questions about how I feel towards blogs and why I write here. It seems the original reasons still exist, I have friends and family all over the world and it has been a good way to keep in touch with them. Our emails are not to fill in the details as much as conversations about life in general - conversations we would have if they were connected to my life locally and I saw them every other day. Of course, I still don't have as much info on their life but I tend to be the one to write the long, drawn out, babbling emails with a thousand questions anyway.


As I think about why I write this thing here, and who reads it, and all the consequences that have occured because of it, I have stumbled across some pretty interesting points of view around the net.


There are the regular articles that talk about the evolution of blogging such as Heather Svokos' Herald-Leader article, Rebecca Blood's history and perspective and the impressive (Weblogs and) The Mass Amateurisation of (Nearly) Everything.

As well, there are the numerous critiques of weblogging in posts like Quantum Tea Thoughts' Cardinal Sins of Blogging and Why (some person) $%*&ing Hates Weblogs. I agree on some points of both of these critiques, specifically Quantum Tea's #2 and #4 - although I have to say, what's wrong with the colours in #9?


I've been writing this for about 4 years now and although I'm still here, do I want to be a "blogger"? I love weblogging and I love weblogs. I love seeing the world through other people's eyes, especially new parents. I appreciate that they write these things, even if their design and literary talent threatens to deprofessionalize the media.

What I don't like about blogging these days is the validation therapy that some seem to thrive on. Is this all some sort of self-absorbed babble? I don't think so, or I certainly don't think this is what it is about for me. I don't scrutinize my stats page to see from where and with what link people are reading my blog. To tell you the truth, I get a little freaked out when people I don't know are reading it and frankly, it surprises the hell out of me - why are you here? what could be interesting about what I write?


When I was in the Vagina Monologues it was nice to look back and see the progression toward our performance. Now that Franklin is here, the archives are what ultimately keeps me writing and are very precious. I am looking for a way to print out and bind my archives. I want a book of my weblog.


In the end, I do tell people about dirtyolive.net, but usually only when it's a part of another story. This has become a part of my life and it is hard to separate it from everything else. I've also met some pretty amazing people and have grown closer to friends I think I would have lost otherwise. That said, this really isn't that personal - could you imagine how freaked out I would get if I had published my latest feats in acrobatic masturbation?

First of all, I want to say how incredible it was to get those emails from people telling me about the mishaps they have had from blogging. They were all interesting to read - some sad, but most of them hilarious.

Second of all, I will be away from my blog for about a week. I know you are panicking right now (notice the deep sarcasm here). I will try my best to get to a computer sometime during those days but I can't promise anything.
What is especially terrible is that I have an assignment next week that focuses on alternative service delivery arrangements and most of the analysis is to be read from Canadian government websites. I will be staying in a home with no computer access and I don't know how OK it will be to jet off to the public library for a couple of hours (OK, make that many hours). Bad Timing.

On the baby front, I'm finding an unusual sound coming from my child's mouth these days. He is quite a vocal kid, he has the ability to say, "Juice please Mommy", "Hup (help) Mommy", and "See Truck Mommy". Nevertheless, these type of cute little phrases are not what he thinks of when he is trying to pry open a DVD case in order to store his crackers. Instead he comes up with an incredibly piercing, high-pitched squeal.

Holy mother of Saint Bernard!
(I'm giving up cursing for Lent, seeing as how Franklin finds it fun to copy me and since we are about visit the in-laws...)

This morning I finally said, "Whoa Franklin! That sound is not OK! Please Stop!"

There was silence while we looked at each other, as if in some kind of face off. He pulled up his adorable little hand and said "OK, Stop peeze".

Then he squealed again.

I had actually prepared an incredibly tiring piece on the state of poverty in BC, specifically Victoria where I live, but I think I will shorten it down and take some of my slanted bias out of it. I woke up this morning happy I had not posted.

There are many blogs out there which are personal and very confessional. In these cases I find many opinions that are judgmental and selfish. I absolutely don't think this is a bad thing.
A blog is a blog is a blog.
It's your own forum, you can cry if you want to! In fact, I have on many occasion! (see various posts on anal fissures, breast-feeding, September 11, to name a few... )

However, for me, when I am aware that a certain group of people are reading my blog, such as family, friends and the odd acquaintance, I try to keep the petty personal matters out. This cuts down on the passive aggressive factor of blogging as well. It's not that I'm sterile, it's just that it is too easy to cause damage - just ask dooce or the house of winds, or many other amazingly talented people who started out with a personal diary in the vast internet ocean only to end up being pin pointed, discovered, exposed or accused of indiscretions.

Of course, every situation is different. I understand. I'm not saying Miss E should not post about her ex-husband, or dooce should refrain from making fun of her family's religion. I fact, I don't have the authority to say anything of the sort. As Miss E beautifully stated on another comment board, "It may be exhibitionist and narcissistic to blog, but it's just masochistic to read on when you're obviously uncomfortable with what you're reading".
So true and well said.
Of course, in my case, when the point of my blog is to keep in touch with certain people who I count on visiting the site, I am not prepared to make them uncomfortable in public. I can do that very well in person...

All I'm saying is, among others, my family and close friends read this. Some of who are closely connected to poverty in some way or another. My views in what I wrote contradict some and expose others. I'm not willing to make a friend feel badly about their life just because I have a certain view that I need to spout off to the world. There are just so many other things to talk about.
Like Chair and Jay's little bean's conception! Hooray! Congratulations you guys!

yeah, still no word on what to do with the pop-unders.
sorry about that

but hey! at least I'm getting what I pay for... except that I thought I paying for no pop-unders.

I'm in the computer lab at the university. I'm finishing off an assignment that I didn't feel was "perfect".
strange

I act like I'm a perfectionist but if you really knew me, or even kind-of, slightly knew me, you'd know that I'm horribly not. In fact, the only reason why I check my spelling on this thing is because I seem to have my personal little spelling dominatrix who brings out her email whip whenever she finds an error - that one with the sharp bit on the end,

ooooh it stings...

I've just come from class. I could be at home with D, suitably pebbled and watching reality TV but alas, my perfectionist nature...

yeah, right.

Of course, I'm here, blogging. I'm not finishing the assignment.
so, I'll get right on that... where's a good dominatrix when you need one?

So, I think it's all been transferred over to dirtyolive.net

You should have been redirected by a scary service of geocities which threatens to delete your free site after it moves everything over for you.

I'm still sweating. I don't want to loose everything.

How can I make a back-up of all of this? I gotta move all this stuff to my hard drive or something because if this was lost one day I would be very sad.

well, change your links everyone.

"This thing that you are reading? You may have noticed that it is a bit, well, off the cuff. Not finely crafted. Not sublime writing of literary merit. Not even consistently and inspiredly humorous. I am just writing a long (overly long) letter to the Internet, and to my future self. I read a lot of journals that have one gorgeous, brilliant, knock-you-over-with-their-diamond-sharp-prose, entry every few weeks, and hooray for that, but (from me at least) an even bigger hooray for those journals who spend their words on sharing the mundane in an interesting way. The hugest, hugest hooray, a hooray forty thousand feet tall, for the diarists and webloggers who see their publicly documented life as a process, and NOT as a well-written commercial product that they wait for some audience to approve or disapprove of. And a hooray the size of the known and unknown universe for those who bring intellectual discipline and expansive imagination to the documentation of their own personal inventories.

(Dude. If I had known I was going to get all heavy like that, I probably would have picked a better inappropriate interjection-as-noun to get all parallel with than "hooray." In fact I probably would have skipped over interjections entirely and gone for something more sensible.)"

Excellent, well put, Thank Goodness, just what I was thinking, nice, hooray!

Apparently some people have had trouble getting on to my site because of the god-awful pop-ups that appear. Alas, this comes with a free geocities site.

What is even more pitiful though, is that I own and am currently paying for dirtyolive.net and have not gotten around to transferring it over. I will be doing this soon. I just can't do it this weekend as I am lecturing a class on Tuesday and I'm not prepared yet.

"The Executive and the Bureaucracy", "Interdepartmental and Intradepartmental Relations" and "The Legislature and the Bureaucracy"

Amazingly, I find this stuff pretty interesting. I'm not so sure about the class though. It can sound pretty dry up there.

I'm going to try and spice it up by adding the case of Mohammed Al-Mashat. Many students in the class are quite young so I don't think they'll remember this incident, but it was interesting at the time. He was Iraq's ambassador to the United States during the Gulf War crisis. He was admitted to Canada as a landed immigrant in 1991. Apparently, his entry was considerably expedited by Canadian officials but no one accepted responsibilty for such a politically controversial decision. In fact, the minister of External Affairs, Joe Clark, wasn't even aware of Al-Mashat's application.

Understandably, this could all be quite boring to you, but the fact that during the inquiry minister's laid blame on public servants, opposition members laid blame on ministers, and even public servants disagreed among themselves brings up some interesting questions.

The appropriate relationship between public servants and politicians, ministerial responsibility, political neutrality, role of the legislature for holding public servants accountable... all this stuff I find fascinating.

So... does the fact that when D and I get a little silly and sing rhymes to Franklin that are a little psychotic mean that we will eventually raise a lunatic?

One example of this is the following (sung to that "Dradle, Dradle, Dradle..." tune):

Franklin, Franklin, Franklin
We made you out of spunk
Franklin, Franklin, Franklin
You're gonna be a punk

yay!

ahem...

As well, it seems there are a few people out there with some pretty specific taste. It sure is nice to nominated for a Bloggie! In fact, it's so nice I went over and nominated a couple of specific people I like to read as well.
So if you are so inclined, apparently the way it all works is if I get enough nominations I could even be in the running. Of course, it's an honour just to be nominated....

It seems I have a little publicity thanks to The Tyee! Nice to have a mention.

I have just explored their site to figure out what it's all about and it looks extremely interesting. Thanks for pointing it out to me Trevor.

Today is Friday and not a day too soon. I now seem to have a job that puts me in a position to have my work continuously checked on. I'm trying to adjust and not take it personally - it's not meant to be. Nevertheless, I'm used to working independently, making my mistakes, and finding them in due time - never creating a disaster and learning from everything.
There is nothing too horrible about someone pointing out your mistakes if you are still figuring out your role in the whole scheme of the workplace. However, these days I get this insane amount of pride when I finish a project and don't hear a rolling chair behind me with a subtle clearing of a throat...

I find myself chanting a bit of a mantra to myself - "classes, school, Masters program... more doors are opening Ada".

It keeps me from getting down and wondering if I'm just an imbecile in wolf's clothing...

I realize that reading someone's weblog gives very little insight to their actual personality and everyday life but every once and awhile I come across a site that makes me want to be friends with someone.

Mimi Smartypants is one of those people.

...blowjob stewardesses, futon sex, x-rated toy soundtracks, humping stuffed animals, and the sexuality of babies...

Oh, and by the way... the whole family (all 3 of us) are going for a short trip so I won't be posting for awhile.

The guy who has our old computer is holding all my email addresses ransom until we can fix it or find another computer to load everything onto it. As a result, there could be many people I owe email replies to but I wouldn't know it. I don't have the backlog of the mail, I don't have my address book, and I don't have a hardcopy of anything. - does anyone really do that?

Of course, all this wouldn't really matter if these people were to email me back asking me what the hell my problem was or if I even received the original email.
Miraculously, many people do not read this blog (gasp!) and may not even know about it. However, those that do... Geoff.... can you email me a fresh note so I can get back in touch? I want to know if you were able to follow my advice and take a stroll down Long Beach!

Our computer is in a perpetual state of "SAFE MODE". It's annoying and frustrating. I've tried everything and it looks like I'll have to reinstall Windows?!?! How the hell do I do that? It seems like a shifty way to completely screw your computer up if you ask me.

yuk

I hate posting when the computer looks so crappy. It's all about esthetics, baby.

I remember when Frank was very young - you know, waaay long ago...

I was laying on the couch having a nap with him sleeping in my arms and the CD we were listening to had ended. A new CD came on, one that I really didn't like very much, that belonged to D. I remember starting to cry because I was thinking of D and Frank and how much I loved them, how wonderful my husband was - despite, perhaps because of, some of our different music tastes.

It was clearly a case of hormone imbalance - for me to start crying like that with so little provocation. Now, funny thing here:

I miss the hormone imbalance.

I suppose it was like a drug in a way - just something a little different running through my veins and yippee!
(of course, I must admit, it wasn't "yippee" all the time back then)

I think Uncle Bob is hilarious. His movie memories are great. I completely agree with the "U2:Rattle and Hum" moment, it was beautiful.

- of course, it was 1988 and I was all of fourteen at the time and living in a small town in northern BC so I wasn't stoned like he was. Perhaps I'll have to see it again...
........ with my Mom.

I get this sense of disgust and admiration when I find an extra long hair coming out of my face.

On one hand I am thinking - ugh, this is a sure sign of getting old and warty witch-like.

On the other hand I am thinking - hmmmm, this is kinda witch-like, I wonder how long I can grow it before the tweezers take over?

I tend to find my body pretty hilarious at times. Especially when I can match D in the Fart&Burp Department.

haha, am I ever pretty now!

The traffic to my site has decreased dramatically which says a couple of things:

a) My site is boring except for the few good friends and family who look at it every once and a while.

b) Pregnancy is a wonderful thing when its happening to you but amazingly foreign to anyone else who could care less about your gas and thoughts on baby strollers

c) The Vagina Monologues are over this year and no one goes to our university site anymore and therefore do not find the link to mine.

d) 20 people a day is still not a bad average but it sure is different than the 70 a day I was getting in February

e) who cares about what decreased traffic says anyways? I didn't do this for traffic in the first place! geeesh.

f) are you still reading this? go outside and enjoy yourself!

g) these are no longer points but mindless ramblings...

h) ok, I'll stop procrastinating and start studying - Forest Practice Code, watch out!

later this afternoon...

OK, I haven't been as diligent as I should be with the briefing memo, but on the bright side, the kitchen is gleaming!

and of course, I've been surfing...

I find this photo very disturbing. I don't think it's because of September 11th either. I have a feeling it's been doctored but it's a little disconcerting when humans are bursting through nature in such powerful ways and yet underneath, we are so stupid.

It's like watching a monkey play with a sharp knife...

Two different searches for this site:

1) "crazy monologue scenario"
2) "picture of a child with snotty nose"

hmmmm...

I have always struggled with the reason why I have a weblog. I do know that I get an immense amount of pride creating it.

I think I enjoy the power of words so much that perhaps this is my own way of using them. I find it incredibly free and calming to be able to sit down and speak my mind.

I realize the purpose of my blog is not to "self-publish" but instead, to let others in my life get a glimpse of me and my thoughts.
People who read this and do not know me will not get a sense of who I am by reading this blog and I think they know this.

Regardless, this creation means a lot to me and I think the discussion in not.so.soft.com says a lot:

Morgan (on the subject of archives):

Do you think you're only a snapshot of what you are right now? Do you think you don't carry around your history with you wherever you go? You may not have to deal with the physical objects of the past but your archives are just as ethereal as your memories.

We are all the sum of our past experiences and those that know us best are the ones that have been witnesses, watching our growth.

For the past two years you've allowed anyone to have a glimpse at your growth and track its course. You did this, not by telling us about your past as you see it now, but by witnessesing your impressions at the time, allowing us to experience that growth in time lapse.

I don't think anyone can really paint an accurate picture of themselves, but by allowing us to look back, you allow us to paint a picture ourselves, and the very fact you allow that colors who you are too.
08/02/2002 14:43 [ link ]
>

crazy-bread!
If you do a search on my weblog, dirtyolive, on google you actually get this site on, or near, the top of the list!

so, I got that going for me.... which is nice.
thanks to the eatonweb portal

and another thing...

David, if you are reading this, I am pleading with you to please hurry and host my site.

This geocities thing of shutting me down when I have had too many visitors and apparently take up too much band-width(?) is driving me insane.
This geocities thing of shutting me down when I have had too many visitors and apparently take up too much band-width(?) is driving me insane.

"...imagination is the human mind's central life strategy. It is how we anticipate danger, pleasure, threat. The imagination is how our expectations are raised and formulated; it excites and ennobles our purpose in life. The imagination blocks out hunger, bodily harm, bad luck, injury, loneliness, insult, the condition of the marooned person or the orphan, grief and disappointment, restlessness, desperation, imprisonment, and approaching death. And from the imagination spring the ideas, the actions, and the beliefs that we hold." "Imagination is Everything: A Conversation with E. Annie Proulx" Atlantic Unbound

Ah Ha!
I am now the owner of my own domain!

dirtyolive.org
dirtyolive.net

I'm on the way baby...

Blogger Code?!?

B6 d- t++ k+ s+ u f i+ o+ x e l c-

I was reading over my weblog and I have noticed that I can get a little vague.
Sorry about that. I guess I'm still trying out my new wings on this soap-box, or whatever I have created for myself.

I have some other news as well. I have received an email from geocities:

Dear Geocities member,

Congratulations, http://www.geocities.com/dirty_olive seems to
be very popular and has been receiving a large amount of traffic.
Our records indicate that you're using more than the allotted amount
of data transfer we provide for a free web site, which is 3 gigabytes
per month (measured on an hourly basis). That means that during the
past few days we had to temporarily turn your site off to keep the
bandwidth within this limit.

So... that means I will be moving. The new address? I'm not sure. I don't know if you've noticed, but my ".com" domain name has been taken by a horrifically 80's inspired vodka company. I am thinking about dirtyolive.net.

regardless, I will let you know if I move with those ever so handy:

This page has been moved to the following address...

I have been a little speechless for while. I was thinking that anything I had to say was quite meaningless considering... but then again, I realized that was quite meaningless as well.
ooooh... how profound...

Actually, I found out this weekend that my Mom reads this! So now that I have a faithful reader I need to impress, I will try to be more regular.

now this is getting meaningless...

So anyways... I do have a couple of things to say that I will be expanding on in the future:

1.) unions. I support them but I am getting a little tired of seeing them abused. I support so much that this is a very sensitive topic with me and most likely not too popular.

2.) no, scrap this. It's dumb. I am very cold and tired and just wanted you guys to know I'm still alive. I'll be back later.

btw, check out the new link in my blog list. He works with me and will have some interesting things to say - seeing how he has a anthropology degree. (I tend to think that anthropologists learn some pretty interesting things. They are taught to see outside their bubbles and to realize that there are no fundamental anythings)

Then again, he is a bit of a goof...

I am reading "Disgrace", by J.M. Coetzee. It is very well written and quite interesting. The main character has started me thinking about older men. They are curious people to me - that is, men in their 50's and beyond.

It's funny. I think it all started after I read "Beautiful Losers" for the first time. The main character is so intimate with the reader... I felt very close to him. Of course, this is Leonard Cohen writing, geez.

Anyways, I was reminded of a time when I briefly hung out with a man who I believe was 63 at the time - I was 21. I really don't think I understood what was going on. We were good friends, but nothing beyond that - nothing that I thought was possible at the time.
He would take me to see "art films" that were all quite sexual and I thought he was showing me the other side of film.
He would teach me French and say strange things to me, telling me that it was a kind of "immersion". Who knows what he was saying, it certainly was a little strange and uncomfortable at times.
He would take me to little after dinner bars to buy me drinks I never knew existed and introduce me to the beautiful world of fine liquor. (yummm, good lesson learned there)

Eventually, he left for a carpenter job in the northern part of the province. I found out later, from my wiser and older roommate that he intended to come back and marry me. There seemed to be no question of my willingness in the partnership. He wanted to "have a young wife" and I suppose I proved to be an eager learner. I was never intimate with this man. In fact, I didn't feel there was anything between us. Crazy. My head was in the clouds I suppose. I was young.

Yet the result? I am now fascinated with older men. Not that I wish I had married him, or had gotten more intimately involved. I just thought that we were in such different worlds and yet we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

All those old memories and established patterns! All that experience - good and bad, scars and improvements. I believe that my potential life partner was an extremely interesting person. I could have studied him for a while.

Of course, I realize that all older people have their stories to tell and their experiences to relate. Nevertheless, older, sexual men who flirt and fantasize.... They aren't there to teach me anything a parental relationship would be comfortable with. Drinks called "beautiful", lesbian porn, dirty French words... these lessons that I learned from my older "teacher" that I think of fondly and love.

This is a page I admire