I didn’t take a lot of photos. I also didn’t take a lot of breaths. At one point, on the second night of the conference, I couldn’t hold back tears, and I ran up to the hotel room and cried. Yes. I did. But when I forced myself to lie down, pick up my novel and just relax, I felt better. (Awesome book, by the way.)

That’s when I realized I hadn’t taken a single break that day. While I may seem outgoing and (at times even) natural in social settings, inside I’m often anxious and tense. I’m really as shy as a turtle.

I need to make time to crawl into my shell and just collect myself for a bit — otherwise, I’m just all over the place. If you caught me JUST before I broke into tears, you would have thought me boring and spacey in a withdrawn sort of way. If you caught me AFTER the tears, you would have thought me just a weeee bit spacey and gullible in a Three’s Company‘s Chrissy sort of way….

Despite the social anxiety issssues, I had a great time. I partied HARD. And I haven’t done that in a long time. Those friends of mine, they dragged me out at a whopping 9pm for dinner and drinks, not at a quiet bar down the street from the conference hotel, but a longish cab ride away to the Lower East Side of NYC. The 15 of us (ahem) piled into an already PACKED bar in which there were men in plaid button-downs standing on the bar taking photos and swigging beers. Kind of like the gorj Miss Daniela Syrovy here in the green (with some seriously awesome and hilarious ladies — Joanne Acri, Theresa Albert and Emma Waverman [who's either yawning or showing off her FAB Martha-Stewart-party "ring" craft])….

…who stood up on a chair in her fab green dress and took this pic of all most of us….

Can you see the social anxiety on my (distorted) face? Hmm, maybe not, since by then I’d had a glass of wine (it doesn’t take much). Look at all the lovelies! Where to start? Let’s see, next to me, Corinne, Nadine, Rebecca, Brandie, Rebecca, Emma (sweet WILLER), Maureen, Cora, Lianne, and Tracy. The only person missing in the photo, if I’m not mistaken…, is Ms. GREENERS, who earlier that night did THIS….

Her fab keynote speech moved us all to tears…. Here’s a link to all the Voices of the Year keynotes, including Karen’s. LOVE!

Despite the short and very therapeutic cry, the conference was an amazing experience. I got to meet a lot of my online friends in person, and I got to hear some incredible, inspiring people speak, including “international activists” who risk their lives blogging and make a real difference…for all of us.

Another really rewarding and memorable part of the conference was meeting LINDSEYJAY and SANDYEL! They met each other through MY BLOG! They’ve both been commenting here since the dawn of Cheaty Monkey, pretty much, and there they were, ROOMIES in NYC. Can you say FAHKLEMPT! I need to get a picture of the three of us, HELLO? Picture, anyone? FAHKLEMPT.

[PLACE PICTURE OF LINDSEY, SANDYEL AND ME HERE]

I left the conference early, alas, because I had to get back to work Monday morning — and we drove to NYC. When I got into the car, I was greeted by a very-desperate-to-see-me THIS….

She covered me in kisses — like I HAVE NEVER. It was good to be back….

And I’m back! When I got to work this morning, I found this month’s issue of Today’s Parent on my desk. Look for a feature on my CELEBRITY BLOG on p. 22 and on the “What’s on the Web” page, and, again, my name in the masthead (much to my mother’s delight!). FUN! My spoofy PINK article on Celine Dion will occur in the October issue.

How was YOUR week?

Love! xo Haley-O

Credit: Photo of turtles by cygnus921.

I just spent about an hour sitting with my legs up on my suitcase just people watching and waiting for Emma to arrive with the keys to our hotel room. Familiar thoughts rolling around in my head: “WHY am I here?” “I could totally just bolt!” “Is that…?” “Should I say ‘hi’ to her or just turn the other way because it’s, like, 1000 degrees in here and I’m schvitzing and not ready, I mean, ‘hi’ can wait…we’re here all weekend.” “WHY am I here?”

The BlogHer conference can be a little overwhelming at first. I remember last year: I got in to the hotel, looked around the lobby at little groups forming, listened to the echoing “squeeee”s, and then I ran up to my hotel room and just stayed there for a bit. I think I must have changed three times: went down in a green shirt, went back up to my room, came back down in a black shirt, went back to my room, and went down again in a different black shirt, and finally started saying some hellos.

I’ll be okay. I just take a while to acclimatize.

I’ve actually been in NYC for a few days now (after a lovely few days in the country). We stayed at a hotel in Brooklyn — right across the street from the JAIL. Talk about JEEBIES. We walked alongside it, and a car drove by with a bunch of SCARY-looking dudes yelling up at the barred windows: “YO JOOOOO! YOOOO! JOOOOOO! JOOOOOOOOOO!”

JEEBIES!

My family and I spent the day in Manhattan yesterday, walking along the sweltering streets, past one-too-many crackheads and a sunglass store at which I purchased these babies….

I was in mid-sentence at the time of this picture-taking, FYI. They look a little big on the sides, but it’s just the angle (I hope). I went in thinking — “I will not buy mom-glasses, I will not buy mom-glasses.” Success, I think!

So there’s that. And this….

Betteh White in NYC! It was VERY hard to leave her this aft….

OY!

Gotta go. Party at the Canadian Embassy. Promise I’ll start being more social.

LOVE!

xo Haley-O

Oy, look at how mature her little hand is. FIVE. The Monkey’s five years old tomorrow (Wednesday, July 28). FIVE.

She was only 8 months old when I started writing this blog. It took a little tinkering, but I ended up naming the whole thing after her.

I’ve been calling her “Cheaty Monkey” since she was a wee 2 days old. After an hour of breastfeeding her, I’d catch her very convincingly pretending to feed so she could stay on my breast forever. Then I’d say, “you cheaty little monkey!” Anyone who heard me call her that would laugh. So I thought, a name like that might scare some readers away, but it’s me, and it’s her, and it’s making people laugh. So there it was. Cheaty Monkey. Totally inspired by my now five-year-old. FIVE!

I also called her “Ruby Tuesday,” for some mysterious reason (still do). But it never occurred to me to name my blog that…, fortunately. Whenever she did something really silly or funny, I’d hold out my arms and say, “RUBY TUESDAY!” And then I’d clobber her with kisses.

Can you believe this blog was once called “A Blog of Her Own” and then, ack, “Halespace”? Yes, Gorgeouses, it’s true! Thankfully, and soon enough, I realized that the perfect blog name, my very inspiration, was right in front of me, scootching on her bum all over my living room, all over the floor at Starbucks and, I remember distinctly, at the baby-camp-that-shall-not-be-named. (Remember that? No hard feelings. I should have known better. I was young….) Man, did that scootch make people laugh….

The monkey inspired this space, Gorgeouses; she inspired me to pursue writing. Is this sappy enough? Wait, I’m not done yet! I hope (and pray) I can inspire her to pursue her greatest passions….

And here we are celebrating her 5th birthday together. FIVE.

In honour of her birthday, we had Sleeping Beauty herself entertain the Monkey and a lovely bunch of mini princesses last weekend….

And, as you can sort of see in that photo way above (the princess figurines were quickly swiped before we could get a photo!), we got the perfect pink peanut-free cake from my friend Fran from Frantastic Treats. (Alas, I totally added 5 pounds of that CAKE to my butt!)

Tomorrow we celebrate some more. We’re having a party at it’sgrandma’s house, and the Monkey’s bringing fancy cupcakes to camp with her. Not just any cupcakes, mind you. These cupcakes are apparently ALL NATURAL. The lady at the bakery told me: “Yes,” she said, “they’re all natural — the Oreo cupcakes are made of real Oreos.” Heh.

My Cheaty little Monkey, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. You are, as you were from Day 1, AMAZING and HILARIOUS and ADORABLE and RIDICULOUSLY CREATIVE and SMART and BEAUTIFUL and CHARISMATIC and CHEATY — a cheaty, cheaty little monkey. And you continue to inspire me every single day, you magical, sparkly, precious little princess!

I love you. Five! Five! FIVE! Happy Birthday!

Love!

xo Haley-O

I’m struggling a weee bit to keep my head above water. In a good way, though. Like, today, I’ve been busy having a blast over at — *drum roll* — CELEBRITY CANDY, my new celebrity blog at TodaysParent.com! We’re working on the format a little, so you will see some awesome changes soon. But, it already feels like HOME.

Some of you remember I gave up celebrity blogging after Rascal was born because, well, something had to go. But, as soon as I started my first Celebrity Candy post just yesterday, it felt like HOME.

Of course, you won’t find much celebrity snark from me. I’ve always been a bit of a goody-two-shoes when it comes to celeb blogging (except for that darn Worst Celebrity Feet post that brings hundreds of visitors here every day — gahh!). And Today’s Parent likes to keep things positive. So we are, indeed, a match made in heaven — laaa!

What else? I’ve also been busy writing tons of articles. I honestly haven’t written this much since grad school. And, again, all this writing feels like HOME.

Want to check my stuff? I promised I’d keep you posted. Here are the latest online articles by me (on MSN and/or TodaysParent.com):

1. Help My Kids Are Out of Control

2. Bringing Sexy Back

3. How To Dress Like a Hot Mama This Summer

4. Still Carrying the Baby Weight?

Stay tuned, too, for my first PRINT article — in the August issue of Today’s Parent!

THAT’S what I’m up to at work. And more. And more. And more. More later, including très cool pics of the office that I’ve been meaning to share for, like, weeks now!

Love!

xo Haley-O

NEW NEPHEW….

I know my brother won’t want me to post a photo of his new baby boy on the blog — party pooper! So, instead, I give you this photo of the Monkey’s favourite baby doll, “Marshmallow,” lying in yet another one of her curiously concocted beds/worlds….

Congratulations, Mark and Sabrina! He’s beautiful! (9 pounds!!!)

NEW DOG….

Betty White continues to thrive in her new home with us. Having spent the first 5 months of her life in a high-rise condo, she probably didn’t get out much. You should have seen her last night, when I took her out to look at the moon. (Yes, I did.) WOAAAH….

NEW JOB….

Gorgeouses, you’re now looking at the new “Editor/Writer” at Today’s Parent.com!

I can’t even begin to tell you all the cool things I’ll be doing at Today’sParent.com — except to say that it’s so exciting. And, happily, I’ve been able to arrange it so my kids won’t feel a thing. Although, come to think of it, they’ll definitely wonder why mom’s not sleeping in to the last minute any more! And something tells me they’ll love that….

As many of you know, I’ve worked extremely hard since the Monkey was a baby. Blogging every day until recently, come hell (prenatal depression) or high water (screaming, sleepless babies), and it’s paid off. Not only am I now working at one of Canada’s most respected parenting magazines, but, I have to tell you, when I was young(er), I used to dream about writing for Chatelaine and Flare. And, would you believe? I’m working in the very same offices with them? I’ll be walking by the glitzy clothing racks on my way to my desk. How glam for a “couch writer” like me! And, I’ll actually be contributing to these magazines, as well, I’m told. All this, and I never got all the way through The Secret….

To top it all off, there’s my manager. Her name’s Hailey, too — clearly, she spells it wrong, though. She and I clicked the moment we met. But, want to hear what a big dork I am? I sat in HER chair when I went in for my interview! She’s still laughing (hysterically) about it. I’m just starting to get over the embarrassment.

I must say, motherhood has been, among other intense and amazing things, perhaps the most creative time in my life — brimming with opportunities, and with friends.

It’s a new adventure, Gorgeouses! And it starts TUESDAY.

LOVE!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Your questions/comments have prompted me to add this wee addendum: I’ll be writing/editing online.  So, by all means, SUBSCRIBE to TodaysParent.com!

I don’t believe in writer’s block. In fact, I believe more in the Loch Ness monster, Big Foot, the Abominable Snowman and Santa Claus (FTW!) all together than I do writer’s block. It’s a myth. A big old myth created to give writers a Romantic excuse for wasting hours staring at a screen white with nothing but a blinking cursor. I don’t believe in it.

Indeed, you see, I can’t. If I believed in writer’s block, then maybe it would happen to me. To think, after years now of writing this blog, I could experience writer’s block and lose everything — my quirky sense of humour (or so they tell me), my oomph, ma mojo — out of nowhere? Like a sea monster emerging out of the murky depths and screwing with the writer waves of my unconscious: gobble gobble hiss gobble gobble neener neener…?

I don’t think so.

Sure, I don’t blog as much as I used to. My mind is tired. VERY tired. Mothering two kids aged 2.5 and 4.5 is harrrd. (Aye, there’s the monster.) These days motherhood is so hard that I hereby give Argentina permission to cry for me.

What happened to me this past week as I sat down to my Macbook day after day, laying weary finger pads ever-so-softly on keyboard, just like my high-school typing teacher taught me to do — asdf   jkl; — was not writer’s block, but a classic case of “mother burnout” and “fustafation” (Rascal’s word for “frustration,” my favourite of all his fabulous words, next to “Podowdow,” his word for “potato”).

Yes, I’m tired. Burnt out. Needing-of-break. Disillusioned by BLOGGING. Why do I do this? Why does anyone do this?

I’ve been trying to force myself to blog at the end of these crazy “fustafating” days — in which, sayyyy, the kids are fighting non-stop, begging to the point of whining, screaming (my God, the screaming), NOT LISTENING TO ANY THING I SAY, pulling the cat’s tail, throwing stools and bowls and trains against freshly. painted. walls….. And why am I forcing myself to blog? For FAME? Sometimes I wonder. Why FAME? Why do people want it? The friends on Facebook, the Twitter followers, A-list, B-list…. What am I? Where do I fit in this community? Where have I been trying to fit in? WHY!? I… I… I….

It’s an ego thing. This social media phenomenon is DESIGNED to grow ego. It’s Starbucks CHAI LATTE CRACK for the ego. COME TO ME. READ ME. BE MY FRIEND. You LIKE me! You REALLY LIKE me! I’m KING OF THE WORLD!

I’m just not interested. I can’t be anymore. I’m not HERE for that. Seriously. I’m a mom wayyyy first. And, maybe because of the overwhelming pressures of motherhood, I don’t know, I find myself getting sucked into the social media vacuum when I finally sit down at the end of the day, selfless, and then sucked into Starbucks’ titillating, sugary wafts when I drop the kids off at school, and twitter when I get the chance, and now Facebook. One day I will write the book on SPIRITUAL social media practice. (Or, at least the blog post?) Agent…, agent…, anyone? Beuller? Is there an echo in here? *Crickets*?

Heheheh, I just said “titillating.”

There’s no such thing as writer’s block. No. There’s pressure to write — either self-, editor- or whatever-imposed.

All I know is first comes recognition. I won’t use social media to find myself. I’m just not there (not here). No one is.

A little unsolicited advice then (to myself): when this mythical monster they call “writer’s block” emerges, just remember you don’t HAVE to write today, or tomorrow. When you realize you don’t have to, it vanishes — like the ghost of your late cat that you thought you saw in your peripheral vision. And then maybe you’ll just write anyway. Like I am tonight. Because you want to.

Because you want to play with words.

Also, I’m not going to look now, but my cat is sitting on my lap staring strangely JUST above my head. I know there’s a glowing cat floating up there…. Just know it.

Sometimes there’s just too much going on, and at the end of the day, you just want to sit on your couch and numb out in front of Celebrity Apprentice (BRET MICHAELS, FTW!), be still like vegetables, lay like broccoli…. And that’s okay! It’s usually those days when you’ve eaten really really badly even though you just overfilled your pantry with health foods from The Big Carrot (which is WAY out of your way but oh-so-awesome)….

I won’t find myself there either….

In the olden days, I may have quit blogging if I couldn’t get my energy up to write for a week straight. But, my online blog buddies and truly loyal readers have taught me over the years that that’s not necessary. If I don’t write here for weeks on end it’s okay. And (though my parents would cringe if they heard me say this — hi mom!), it’s okay to be TIRED, it’s okay to be busy, burnt out, fustafated with ev-er-y-thing…. But writer’s block? Feh.

Love!

xo Haley-O

We actually got back from the country on Tuesday. But then Tuesday night we went to my parents’ house for the second seder, and Wednesday night I was preoccupied with a screaming boy who refused to go to bed, until, that is, I tucked him into my bed with the promise that I’d be back in ten minutes. And, well, of course, ten minutes turned into something like ten hours because I’ve been busy obsessing over THIS….

(He was fast asleep within two minutes, anyway, of course….) So, here’s the thing. If I’m going to call myself a social media consultant/specialist, I’d better have a Facebook account of my own — and not just sneak around Josh’s account (*cough*). If I’m going to continue working on clients’ Fan Pages, I’d better have a Fan Page of my own….

So, there you have it. I HAVE CAVED. Yes, I have caved. And, whad’ya know? There’s a whole space right down there in the comments for you to tell me that (let’s see, what have I heard so far on twitter, Facebook, email, and PHONE [what is "phone"?]), “Haha,” I have “caved,” I “couldn’t resist,” “It was only a matter of time,” “Welcome to 2006,” etc., etc.. Go for it. Have a BLAST. I deserve it.

While you blast me in the comments, I’d love some advice. What do you think a blogger should be doing on Facebook? We tend to overshare…. Do you want to see all our tweets (I’m thinking no…)? Or does that get annoying? How much is too much status updating (I have a debate going on). If you become a FAN of Cheaty Monkey (DO IT), do you expect some extra goodies (I’ll see what I can do) — like REAL fan pages?

Discuss.

Love!

xo Haley-O

“Oh, I’m sorry! My name’s Nick. I’m a reporter out here in Santa Monica, and I just finished up an interview with Julia [Child] for our paper out here.”

I was really going to have to get my phone number unlisted.

“I’d like to get your thoughts on some things. Because I asked her about you, and frankly, she was kind of a pill about it. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh. No. It’s fine.”

When I hung up the phone five minutes later, I felt numb.

…I sat on the couch beside Eric…. “That was a reporter from California. He just interviewed Julia. He asked her about me. She hates me.” I giggled, like I do in these breathless situations. ”She thinks I’m not respectful or not serious or something.”

…Eric put his arm over my shoulder. “What is she, ninety?”

“Ninety-One,” I sniffled.

“See? She probably doesn’t have the first idea what a blog is.“

…”I don’t know. Maybe she thinks I’m taking advantage or I’m — I’m not –” I was taken surprise by a sudden rush of tears. “I thought I was — I’m sorry if I –”

And then abruptly I was wailing….

–Julie Powell, Julie and Julia, pp. 333-334

So there was a Simon Fraser University Masters thesis written extensively about me and seven other “mommybloggers” (grrr…). I heard about it yesterday, of all places, when I was sitting at Podcamp TO, listening to a panel discussion, of all things, about what happens when social media goes wrong. My heart started pounding when I heard — my face turned beat red, palms sweating, hands shaking.

I’m used to people responding to my individual posts in the comments, on twitter, even on email. I’m definitely not used to someone reading my blog from start to finish, making gross assumptions based on posts here and there, and then publishing these gross assumptions and frustrating misreadings in a thesis — both offline and on — and not telling me about it, even after the fact.

At first I was furious. And I definitely (over)reacted on twitter:

I got really upset that The Thesis wasn’t in fact about the “works” themselves or the genre of blogging, as indicated in The Thesis’ abstract, and that, rather, it was about our lives, our income, whether or not we love that our children are away (for 2.5 hours, hello) at preschool, and so on. When Danigirl sent me the abstract (which was all I could see for hours until I got home to open the pdf file that contained The Thesis), I was a little flattered and excited. To be studied in the context of Bakhtin’s Dialogic, for example, and to be categorized as “Canadian Women’s Literature,” was so cool. Bring it on!

But, when I opened the document and searched my name…, I was floored. All those assumptions about all sorts of irrelevant stuff. It hurt. Bad.

I think the thing that bothered me most was when The Thesis writer suggested that I may have contrived how I started blogging in the first place. I told the world that Ali Martell introduced me to blogging when the Monkey was 8 months old, and that’s the truth — no questions asked. But, according to The Thesis writer, I “contrived” this bit in order to appear flippy and erratic or whatever. In another post, she ingeniously discovers, I mention that Jennifer Lawrence, who happens to be the author of the blog MUBAR (which no longer exists), helped me out when I was clinically depressed while pregnant with the Monkey. (And, by the way, an article was written about my prenatal depression and published in some major psychiatry journal — APA? — and, you betcha, the author asked my permission even though they used an alias and I’d never find it in a million years!). Yes, Jen Lawrence helped me, but it was OVER THE PHONE. I didn’t know she had a blog, or what a blog was.

Why does this bother me? Because it’s an insult to my integrity as a blogger. SURE, I might exaggerate things — for entertainment’s sake — here and there, and less so these days. But I would never flat-out lie. I would never “contrive” something. To me, that’s the ultimate insult to a blogger.

Somewhere, way out yonder in the internet ether, there’s a great old email conversation in which Ali reveals to me, “I HAVE A BLOG,” and to which I reply, “WHAT’S A BLOG???”

Anyway.

Whatever. I’m really okay now. I’m flattered that I’m in an MA thesis, even though the reading of “me” is false and unflattering for the most part. As you can see on twitter, I felt beyond violated and uncomfortable when I first read the thesis. But, I haven’t looked at it since, and I’ll never look at it again — and I feel better. And I can laugh at the broad assumptions, as I’ve also done on twitter:

And, this one….

Oops, how’d that tweet get there? (Disclosure: CONTRIVED.)

Here, see I can make light of The Thesis writer’s totally unfounded statement that I am the most “affluent” of all the bloggers (if she only knew!?):

Should the student have contacted me? It would have been the nice and, I think, scholarly thing to do.

Do I blame the student? Do I “hate” her SORT OF like Julia Child hated Julia Powell? No. I’ve done a Master’s Thesis, and I know how difficult that can be on several levels. This writer wrote the thesis in 2008. She’s obviously young, likely not a mother. There I go assuming, though….

As with all controversies surrounding “mommyblogging,”  people are now taking the opportunity to troll thoughtful posts on the subject and preach about the ethics of “mommyblogging.” We’re putting ourselves and our kids out there for scrutiny and misinterpretation, so apparently we should just suck it up, not react, and just plain expect this. But, surely we’re allowed to “giggle” or “wail.” On twitter?

Know what happened to me today? I went to Starbucks (shut it — I’m not affluent — I got a card for Valentine’s Day). Rascal and I sat beside a woman who was typing on her mini laptop. When she got up to leave, she said:

You know, I’ve been watching you, and you’re a wonderful mother. I see the way you talk to him and look at him, the way he looks at you. And I don’t see that all the time, unfortunately. It’s amazing to watch you. And I’m a therapist….

That compliment, that observation of ME, was so beautiful and so welcomed given my current frustration. And, so often, my readers and fellow bloggers, whether in comments, twitter, or email, make me feel THAT good with their genuine, caring feedback and friendship.

You can’t read a blog and claim to know the writer. As I stated several days ago on twitter,

You can’t judge a blogger by his or her blog. It’s not a novel. It’s its own genre. One absolutely worth exploring at an academic level.

If you’d like to see a copy of The Thesis, just contact me — which is easy to do for the record….

Love!

xo Haley-O

With the advent of twitter lists (which I doubt I’ll ever get around to making myself because I hardly have time to write to-do or shopping lists let alone SEVERAL lists dividing my friends into groups — high school much? — and unintentionally snubbing them, which is bound to happen)…what was I saying? I forget because I got distracted by Whitney and Jay’s conversation on this eve’s rerun of MTV’s The City….

That picture is so last year, like, when Jay and Whitney were still together. But I didn’t have time to find any current pics of them. But I DID have time to watch THIS WEEK’s episode just now. And I just want to say that, if Elle Magazine wants to interview bloggers — because, as Joe Zee (Elle‘s creative director) puts it, “blogs are the places where news is breaking right now” — they should come TO ME, and my SLIPPERS…. Remember these?

Still wearing ‘em! There’s nothing these two less famous bloggers have that I don’t, right? I blog in my pajamas, too, and shop with my mother…? No? Yes? Elle?

If I don’t get into Elle Magazine, can I at least get on X-WEIGHTED? I need to lose these last 15. Or maybe I’ll just curl up on my couch with my Puffins and make twitter lists, instead. It’s safer here in my comfort zone…. Except right now. Because Josh just made clam chowder, and it STINKS in here.

So, I do have a little list JUST for this blog because my poor blog gets pushed aside so often these days for other more “pressing” things, and this really shouldn’t be, really saddens me, really has to stop because I love blogging…, and if one more thing goes to sh*t because I’m working too much, then something’s got to give. Because DOGGONE IT, I’m important.

So my list, ahem.

1. I love the way Rascal says “banana” — “badanan,” as in, “MO BADANAN, MAMA! MO BADANAN.”

2. Rascal eats too many badanans.

3. The Monkey is addicted to hugging. In the middle of the Swine Flu pandemic, she’s hugging strangers (not that it really matters because Swine Flu is air born).

4. I had Kabocha squash for dinner.

5. Rascal can count to two now. It’s official: “One, Doo, ONE!”

6. Monkey is obsessed with drawing me without a body because, apparently, “it’s too hard” to draw my body….

7. WHICH I choose to take as a compliment, because why not and DOGGONE IT!

8. I’m the disembodied turbaned head on the far left of the drawing — next to me is the artiste herself, her brother, and a caterpillar.

8. I am NOT too old to love The City, OR The Hills….

9. I also love the Glee, The Office, The Tudors, So You Think You Can Dance and Survivor.

10. I did watch V, but I will never watch it again.

11. Just like I will never watch Fringe again.

12. Or the Y&R, which I quit a month ago, WHICH should be a post in itself because it’s a big f-ing deal.

13. I want Russell to win Survivor.

14. I can’t end on #13 not because it’s “bad luck” but because it’s just a weird number to end on.

15. #15 is a better number to end on than #14.

16. I always go for the odd numbers.

17. OCD.

18. But, #18 is an ideal number to end LISTS on.

19. Even though it’s an odd number.

20. I think I’m into even now.

After last week’s text-heavy blog posts, the weekend’s fairs and birthday parties and long walks with SUDDENLY-STUBBORN 2-year-old, I’m a little burnt out. And I’m going to LISTEN to my burn-out this time and HONOUR it by making YOU do the work today.

See, just like Chef Gustave says in Ratatouille — “ANYONE can COOK,” which I don’t entirely believe, by the way — ANYONE can BLOG!

So, checkit. I got to take a walk through the Monkey’s Kindergarten class today, and I nearly FELL OVER when I saw this painting she made and the caption under it….

Now for the caption she gave it:

My Brother Playing in the Garden.

Bwah! Her brother playing in the garden? How sweet of her to think of him when she’s at school. But, ummmm….

Okay, now it’s your turn. As BLOGGERS par excellence, YOU are going to make me a more fitting caption for this painting. K?

Ready, set, CAPTION ME!