Around here, things have fallen into a bit of a routine. Wake up, take care of the kids, try to keep the mess level of the apartment from falling into a deeper circle of hell than it already inhabits, try to pick up freelancing work.
At 4:30 Doug gets off work and we pull dogs off couches or beds and stuff them into crates and head over to the house, where I paint whatever surfaces the contractor has most recently told me to paint and Doug drags brush around or begins to empty the garage or puts up dog fence or insert an icky job he’s taken upon himself. The kids, meanwhile, go up to the one room in the house that we’ve cleaned and wiped down and swept out and installed an air conditioner in. They come armed with American Girl Dolls, a portable video player, and whatever MSG-laden snacks we bought at Home Depot carefully selected organic bento boxes.
About four hours later, or whenever the light fails or the baby reaches her expiration date, Doug and I stumble up or down or in or out from wherever we were and sluice ourselves off to the elbows with the hose (the one source of running water anywhere near the house). We gather up American Girl Dolls, videos, empty plastic bags, used diapers, and whining children and try to make it to the car without dropping one or more. Once there, kids buckled in, being very careful not to touch each other because we are so unspeakably, obscenely filthy and stinky and sweaty, whoever is driving lays his or her forehead gently on the steering wheel and says “We can make it home. Just make it home. Twenty minutes.” And the other one puts one finger on the cleanest spot he or she can find on the driver’s once-may-have-been-green shirt, and says “We can make it.”
And so as the darkness falls, we make our thirtieth trip to Wendy’s Whole Foods and order whatever will make the baby stop screeching, and then drive the highway to the apartment, where the dogs hear an American Girl Doll fall on her head on the parking lot and begin howling while we’re still a hundred feet away.
One last burst of energy gets dogs on leash and bladders emptied, kids stuffed in the bath, and then we sit on the couch and watch a Warehouse 13 or a rerun of Without a Trace for the twelve minutes it takes for Doug to fall asleep sitting up. Then I shake him a little and he fetches the baby and puts her on his shoulder and takes her to bed.
And then, my dear friends, I get to come here and be refreshed and laugh and compare puppy pictures. I can live in your show triumphs and losses, your dramas and tragedies and joys and oh thank God for google chat because talking dogs with you-know-who-you-are is sometimes the only thing that gets me those twenty minutes between the house and here.
SO – that’s why my posts have fallen from a thousand words to a few here and there, and it WILL change once we’re on a more normal schedule. And once the puppy gets here I promise I will not fail on my daily-picture duty. But meanwhile, forgive me for my short posts and quick notes.
Also! The title of this post is because I am taking this opportunity, when my creativity is going into slapping endless gallons of white paint on basement walls, to get things a little more organized here in the blog. SO PLEASE:
If you have a blog, and I do not have your blog on my blogroll, PLEASE send it to me in a comment so I can subscribe to it and add it to my roll. I don’t care if your blog is about photographing penguins in straw hats – if you’re lovely enough to be reading mine, I want to read yours.
If you are on Facebook, please konk me on the head and do that magic little friendy-friend thing. I am still at the stage where I’m wandering around Facebook pushing buttons and clanging on pipes and yelling “And what does this do? Anything? Did a light just turn on over the sink? NO?” but I will get there, I promise.
If you are on Twitter, please give me your name so I can follow you. Also: do yourself a favor and follow Nathan Fillion. I am SO not into the celeb twitter thing but that dude makes us laugh ten times a day. Plus he’s Mal. COME ON AND SMELL THE COOLNESS.
EDITED: One of the things that is annoying about WordPress.com (and why I need to switch to .org and host my own blog, but that will come after the basement painting) is that it randomly drops your widgets if you have what it thinks are too many. Blogroll is back in place.