Hello, how are you, I bought you a blouse.*

First of all I should probably come clean and tell you that I didn’t TOTALLY unplug. I read some things. Some blogs. Several blogs. Okay, I read many, many blogs. But I didn’t comment. Except on Jeana’s. Because NOT commenting on this post of Jeana’s would have been like hearing a preacher totally get after it and then leaving him hanging without a single “amen.” So I commented. ONCE.

(By the way, one day I’m going to grow up and be all smart like Jeana. And I will offer my opinions convincingly and intelligently and y’all will be all “oooooh” and “SNAP.” But until that happens, I’ll just keep talking about catfish and bacon and poo. Every blogger has her niche, you know.)

So, other than my brief comment at Jeana’s, I didn’t put any pressure on myself to “interact” with people – I just enjoyed what I was reading. And, as a result, I was able to read a whole bunch of stuff over the course of about 45 minutes, which I think is a pretty, you know, normal amount of time to spend on the computer every evening. Because the interweb hours that I’ve been logging lately? A little bit more than 45 minutes a night.

And then! You won’t believe it!

I actually TURNED OFF the computer when I watched television, and I didn’t write anything at all for 24 hours. That might not seem like much to you, but for me it’s a record as of late – if I don’t write SOMETHING every day I start to feel all fuzzy in the head. I even talked on the phone (Robin, are you proud?) and cleaned like crazy and washed clothes and made many, many PlayDoh creations with the little man. And I got the house back to the point where it feels like a home for our family instead of a repository for wayward toys.

So the break, it was good.

I even made up with the voicemail.

Leave me messages! Leave me many messages! And I will listen!

More later today….

*Do you know the movie? If you’re family or Todd, I KNOW you do – so let the other bloggy friends guess. :-)

Every once in awhile I rebel against technology. That doesn’t mean that I boycott it totally, because HOW WOULD I LIVE if I did, so instead I direct all my techy frustration toward one particular thing. I’ll decide for awhile that I’m not interested in checking email, or I’m not going to carry my cell phone, or I’m not going to surf the internet. Or, in the case of the last couple of weeks, that I’m not going to check my voicemail.

Voicemail is really, really on my nerves.

Because I feel pulled in about 65 different directions right now, voicemail is something that I feel like I can control. I can look at the blinking red light on our phone at home – AND IGNORE IT. I can pull out my cell phone, see the words “New voice mail” – AND IGNORE IT. I’m not saying that it’s a practical solution. I’m not even saying that it makes sense. But it makes me feel better.

Now please don’t misunderstand – I don’t know many people who love techy things more than I do. I can spend hours tweaking my blog template, answering emails, writing blog posts, talking on my cell phone, clicking through the TiVo. I like things that beep. I love pushing buttons (literally – not so much figuratively). But every once in awhile I start to feel so “connected” that I have to pull the plug on something. And for the last couple of weeks, that something has been voicemail. (I am returning people’s calls, though, because thanks to caller ID, I know who called even when I don’t listen to messages. Lesson: there’s no escaping the phone.)

D. and I had a little, um, discussion (read: argument) this morning because he feels like it’s irresponsible of me to not listen to messages. He says that there could be a message that someone died and we wouldn’t know – and while I think that’s probably a little extreme, I see his point.. And maybe it IS irresponsible of me. However, I think we can pretty conclusively deduce that, whether it’s a result of irresponsibility or, you know, STRESS, I’m feeling a little overloaded right now. OTHERWISE I WOULDN’T BE IGNORING THE VOICEMAIL.

All that to say: I’m going to unplug for a few days. From everything. Except for my family.

And in the irony department, this morning I pulled my cell phone out of my purse – and I had six (!) missed calls and three new messages. One message was from Bubba, with whom I’ve been engaged in a record-setting round of phone tag, and two messages were from Emma Kate, who was concerned that 1) I hadn’t answered her email from earlier in the afternoon and 2) she hadn’t talked to me all day and was wondering if everything was okay. I couldn’t help but laugh.

So yes, I’m okay. And yes, I’m unplugging. I’m sure I’ll make some phone calls; I’m sure I’ll do some writing; but I’m taking the fact that my husband and I had AN ARGUMENT ABOUT VOICEMAIL to mean that things may be a little too tech-heavy in our house right now. I’m thinking that maybe voicemail won’t stress me out so much if I take care of some of the things in my house that do not beep and ring. Like furniture that needs to be dusted and magazines that need to be read and food that needs to be cooked. You know, Ye Olden Hobbies.

And in the meantime, if you’re looking for something to do around here, the archives over there in the sidebar are chock-full-o-posts. I’ll even recommend a few:

The One That Reflects My Current State Of Mind
The One That I Need To Read Right Now
The One That Reminds Me That Blog-Wise, I’m Fit As A Fiddle
The One That Reminds Me What Really Matters
…and, finally, the one that has changed how I feel about the word “Vlasic” forever…
The One With The Misunderstanding

See y’all in a few.

Banner by Kelly
Thirteen Posts I’ve Enjoyed A Whole Bunch Lately
This list could’ve gone on…and on…and on…

1) Toni’s post about a trip with friends

2) BigMama’s post about her friend Gulley’s grandmother

3) Barb’s post about her addiction

4) Kelli’s post about some challenges that she’s facing

5) Diane’s post about how and why she blogs

6) Antique Mommy’s post about a trip to Tuna

7) Mary at Owlhaven’s post about sending her oldest to college (grab a tissue. or two.)

8) Robin’s post about why caller ID alone just isn’t enough

9) Lauren’s post about blogging breaks

10) Shalee’s post about forming community via blogging

11) Melanie’s post that is the essence of All Things Southern

12) Addie’s post that contains the funniest line I’ve ever read in my whole life ever (see the meme)

13) And of course I could link to Sarah and Shannon, but I think every single person who reads here also reads them. So you’re probably all caught up with them, but if you’re not – GO.

Seriously, I could have listed 20 more posts – I rattled this list off the top of my head (I HAVE AN ADDICTION, SIR) – so look for part 2 next Thursday…for real. :-)

Lately I’ve had a few email conversations about The Whole Blogging Thing. And inevitably, the question of books comes up – not what book we’re reading, mind you, but if we want to write a book of our own.

It’s an interesting topic to me for several reasons.

But before I get into why it’s so interesting to me, I want to be very clear: I have no intention of writing a book. I am not a book writer. It’s hard for me to even describe myself as a writer, period, because I still have that very graduate school-esque notion of how a writer spends her day: sitting in a coffee shop, typing like a madwoman, sipping on a no-fat soy vanilla latte, wearing lots of flowing (hand-knit) scarves while trying to contain her long, naturally curly hair with a clip that can’t possibly hold all the lustrous auburn ringlets, constantly pushing hair off her forehead, trying to finish chapter 9, eagerly anticipating that in two hours her musician boyfriend will pick her up on his motorcycle so that they can go drink wine and admire the sunset from her spacious but cozy beachhouse that she’s in the process of remodeling.

Not that I’ve created a stereotype in my head. Or anything.

Now I realize that it’s not an accurate perception on my part…I know that there are lots of women who work on their writing while simultaneously taking care of their families and shuttling their kids around and holding down a full-time job outside of the home. And I would most definitely consider those women – who have ambition and purpose connected to their writing – as writers. I just don’t consider myself as one. Remember, I am annoyingly literal, yet I realize that the sentence before this one is probably fodder for an entire day of therapy, because obviously I DO write, and obviously I DO put what I write “out there,” yet I would never, ever, ever ever ever describe myself as a “writer.” Ever.

Okay. Anyway. Here’s the part that fascinates me (she says, diverting attention from her strange curious psychological make-up).

I know there are a lot of bloggers who are hoping to get published. Who are working on novels. Who are in the process of editing novels. Who go to writers’ workshops. Who stay in contact with publishers. I think all those things are wonderful – and I have great admiration for women who can juggle all that they do and still make time for Serious Writing Business.

And I wonder: is blogging, for you, a means to an end? Is it a way to get exposure as a “for real” writer and ultimately get published? Can you be a “for real” writer if blogging is all that you do? In other words: is blogging in and of itself enough for you? Would you be disappointed if, say, three or four years down the road, your blog is functioning just as it is right now?

Keep in mind that I’m asking myself these questions, too – because the truth of the matter is that if I didn’t like for people to read what I’ve written, I could very easily keep all my silly little essay-things in a Microsoft Word file, store them on my hard drive, and call it a day.

But I don’t.

I write stuff (BUT I’M NOT A “WRITER” OH SWEET MERCY NO). And I put it on the INTERNET. Where people read it. Which makes me think that I’m kidding myself, just a little bit, if I try to claim that this blawg is just something I do for family and friends. I think it’s gone a little past that with me.

Does anyone else wonder about this stuff?

And if you think I’m crazy, please don’t tell me. The whole “writer” label has me in enough of a tizzy as it is.

While Alex seems to have mastered the, um, liquid aspect of potty training, the, um, other aspect is proving a bit more challenging. And of course by “challenging” I mean “I could pull out every single increasingly gray hair in my head from frustration.”

As I nearly did yesterday afternoon.

And since A. generally gets terribly upset when he has an accident – resulting in your basic teeth-gnashing and garden-variety wailing – I usually have to calm him down a bit before I can inspect the, well, severity of the accident “site,” as it were.

Which I will not be describing in detail. Because I care about you.

So after yesterday’s sobbing subsided, I told A. to stand right. where. he. was. I was fearful that if he started to walk, the contents would, er, dislodge, and I’d have an entirely different kind of mess on my hands (not to mention my floors). I managed to move A. over to a towel I’d spread out while I gently – gently! – pulled off his underwear.

Underwear safely removed, I gently – gently! – made my way toward the bathroom. To, you know, dispose of some stuff. I was cradling those underoos like I was carrying fine china on a silver tray, and I can say in all honesty that I’ve never been so intent on not touching “china” in my life.

But it probably won’t surprise you, given my long history of grace and poise, that I tripped about two feet away the commode.

It never ceases to amaze me that, in times of duress, seconds seem to stretch on for hours, and the human brain can process several – lo, many – pieces of information in a very short span of time.

My brain, as it turned out, honed in on three critical facts:

1) Oh sweet lordy, I tripped.
2) Oh sweet lordy, I’m carrying poo.
3) Oh sweet lordy, WHAT IF I DROP IT? WHAT IF I DROP THE POO?

And in a moment that would certainly be featured on SportsCenter if cameras had been in place and if I hadn’t been juggling, you know, DOO-DOO, I recovered in such a way that I in fact propelled the substance in question straight into the commode.

Like a lay-up. Or something.

You would probably feel really sorry for me if I told you that the flushing sounded like wild applause, so I won’t tell you that part. But I think you would’ve clapped if you had seen my mad skillz in action.

By the way, as I was “taking it to the hoop,” the underwear never left my hands and protected me from the poo like a shield, which probably had something to do with the fact that Batman’s picture was all over them. Poo-repelling is one of Batman’s lesser-known powers, apparently.

And thus concludes Episode #3,293 of Things I Never Experienced Before Motherhood.

The joy, it would seem, is unending.

Since several people mentioned that they liked the recipe for the easiest casserole in the free world last week, I thought that this week I’d share a salad recipe that I use a lot. It takes about 5 minutes to put together, and it looks really, really pretty when you serve it.

2 hearts of romaine, chopped coarsely
1/4 cup diced red onion (cut off a quarter of the onion, run it through your vegetable chopper, throw it on the lettuce)
1 cup broccoli florets (buy them in a bag if you’re in a pinch time-wise)
2 cans mandarin oranges, chilled and drained (I keep my mandarin oranges in the refrigerator so they’re always at the ready)
1 1/2 cups chow mein noodles (I use LaChoy)

(This apparently is the post of Many Parentheses.)

(You don’t have to use the parentheses when you make the salad.)

(Ahem.)

Anyway, the colors are beautiful next to each other, and if I’m taking the salad somewhere I’ll arrange the oranges and chow mein noodles all pretty-like. :-)

Best of all, this salad is great with any dressing – Ranch, vinaigrette, Italian, etc. – you can use whatever you have on hand.

Works for me!

For more great WFMW ideas, go see Shannon at Rocks In My Dryer.