I bought Alex a costume today at Target when we were killing time during the Open House, and he put it on as soon as we got home.

Since the moment he changed clothes, he will only answer to “Mr. Incredible” or “Dash.”

You can see that even Mr. Incredible needs his trusty V-Tech computer, because I think we all know that V-Tech computers are the computing tool of choice for superheroes.

Well, at least for superheroes who are three.

Alex – er, I mean – Mr. Incredible wanted to put on the costume again when he got out of the tub tonight, but I think there’s some rule in the Official Guide to Motherhood about how children need to sleep in fabric that actually, you know, breathes.

I feel pretty confident about what his outfit of choice is going to be tomorrow, though.

And don’t worry – I will not be donning a similarly-styled garment because 1) I care about the psychological well-being of others and 2) I can’t justify putting my c-section stomach flap in 100% nylon unless there’s some form of control-top panel involved. And even then it’s really iffy.

Also, this is my 500th post.

I haven’t even been blogging a year.

I feel this indicates some form of sickness.

1 Open House this afternoon
+
1 out-of-town husband
+
1 three year old who has decided that he’s Larry Boy
________________________________________________________

1 frazzled mama (who is hastily arranging Stunt Pillows and Artfully Askew coverlets, wishing there were some form of holster for Windex because I can’t seem to keep Little Fingerprints off of the doors and coffee table and mirrors)

More later!

D is out of town this weekend, and initially I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but then I figured that between our ear-piercing alarm system, my mad kah-rah-tay skillz, and my superhuman ability to shoot pools of fire from my eyes, well, we’ll be fine.

My friend Merritt is actually coming for a visit tonight with her little girl Molly – they’re on their way to Atlanta to see Merritt’s new nephew – and in celebration of the fact that Merritt and I have done some of our finest junk food eating together, I made a little trip to the store. I even bought CHEESE IN A BAG which should let you know that I am THROWING DOWN the junk food gauntlet.

OH YES MA’AM.

You’ll notice that I went with diet Dr. Pepper instead of diet Coke, because while diet Coke is my Drink Of Choice, diet Dr. Pepper is the drink I reserve for special occasions. Being with old friends is always a special occasion, so NOTHING BUT THE BEST for Merritt Leigh tonight.

You’ll also notice that there is one token healthy food in the whole pile – and they’re not “just” carrots, mind you, they’re organic carrots, which means that we’ll have a much more pure and wholesome vessel for delivering large quantities of Ranch dressing into our mouths. I contemplated buying some celery, too, but that just reeked of healthy.

When I was unloading the groceries I thought that if our friend Liz was going to be here, she would eat two bites of the fried chicken tenders that are in the big bucket you see to the right, and then she would say that she always feels gross when she eats fried stuff and she’d throw on her running shoes and go for a quick jog around the neighborhood before dark. And she would also eat the carrots without dipping them in Ranch dressing AND FIND THEM TO BE TASTY.

But I’d totally own her with the brownies. I really wish she was going to be here to have some.

So if you’ll excuse me, while I have the luxury of this –

– I’d better be getting that sausage in a skillet so that I can combine it with some Processed Cheese Food and Rotel tomatoes. I also need to make Ranch dressing with the WHOLE MILK and REAL MAYONNAISE that I bought, and oh my sweet goodness I think an artery may have closed off just from typing this paragraph.

As a public service, Merritt and I will get up-to-speed on the whole Vince and Jen break-up (do you SEE all the magazines?) and fill y’all in later because WE LIVE TO SERVE OTHERS, y’all. We live to serve.

Happy weekend, everybody.

So, over the summer, I got a little out of control with the whole blogging thing. I got a little obsessive. A little consumed. I was all about the posting, the commenting, the Site Meter checking, the commiserating, the relationship building – the whole deal.

But over the last couple of months I’ve felt like I needed to step back a little. Part of the reason for that is because of a “gentle nudge” from the Holy Spirit that was really more like being hit with a two by four. Another part of the reason is because my husband told me back in July that there were times when he wanted to throw the computer out of the window.

Both of those things sort of got my attention.

So gradually, over the last month, I’ve become a little less active in the blogosphere. I don’t read blogs quite as often (I still read all the ones I subscribe to, but I don’t check Bloglines every single hour). I don’t comment as much. And I’ve been posting less, too.

I’ve been surprised by how difficult cutting back on the interweb time has been for me. It’s felt a little bit like a diet, only it’s a diet where you lose absolutely no weight and still can’t fit into your old clothes.

In other words: all the deprivation with none of the benefits! Would you like to sign up?

In truth, though, I have to admit that it really has been a good thing. I may not be as connected to the internet as I was a couple of months ago, but I’m much more connected to my family. This past weekend, when it was just D and me at home, I probably spent thirty minutes total on the computer. THIRTY MINUTES! And I didn’t twitch or anything!

This morning I decided I’d better make my way through the piled-up email in my inbox, and I found myself answering emails that were two weeks old. Normally I answer emails within, say, two minutes, but I’ve let myself be a little lax lately. Honestly, I can’t think of anyone who emails me who would mind, especially knowing that instead of answering emails within 120 seconds, I’ve been sitting on the front porch with Alex, or going out to dinner with my husband, or talking on the phone with my sister, or getting some work done, or listening to the new Chris Tomlin CD (it’s EXCELLENT, by the way, as is the Selah Duets CD), or singing in the choir at church. I still love getting emails just like I still love blogging – but I’ve had to slow down the pace a bit. I think that’s understandable.

I guess I’ve just been dealing with what so many of us face: trying to find a balance, trying to keep blogging as a part of my life without letting it take over my life. I mean, if left to my own devices, what I’d WANT to do is to stay on the computer all day long, reading and blogging and commenting to my heart’s content. But it isn’t what I NEED to do – not when I have family and church and friends and work that also deserve my care and attention.

I guess it’s sort of like fried chicken…just because I love it WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING (ahem) doesn’t mean that I need to eat it three meals a day, seven days a week. I could, mind you – but I don’t need to. Sometimes too much of a good thing is just too much.

And so it goes with blogging.

Because here’s the bottom line, at least with me: I don’t want to be so busy writing about my life that I forget to live it.

Feel free to hold me accountable.

My cousin Paige always says that when the weather is cool, deer like to move.

Well she wasn’t kidding.

Alex and I were on the way to church tonight when a deer that was in fact on the move came in direct contact with my car, which was also on the move.

Alex and I are fine.

But the deer and the car, they didn’t fare as well.

I still don’t know exactly what happened…Alex and I were riding along, talking about what song we were going to listen to, and suddenly there was this large tawny-colored mass in front of us. The deer tried to leap out of the way, but it was too late, as the front of my car can testify.

After the unfortunate incident occurred, I pulled over to the side of the road and called D to tell him what happened. And when I couldn’t get Alex to calm down – preschoolers are understandably frightened when a disconcertingly large animal comes in direct contact with the front of their vehicle – we turned around and came home.

I looked for the deer on our way back to the house, and he was nowhere to be found. This led me to believe that he may have just been badly bruised (I was only going about 30 mph) and then hobbled off into the woods. I hope that’s the case, at least.

Somehow it makes me feel better to think that maybe he and his deer buddies are sitting around a campfire right about now, re-hashing the whole episode. My deer friend would be wearing a very large Ace bandage around his right hind leg, of course, maybe limping more than is necessary in front of all the lady deer so that he gets a little extra sympathy and some chocolate chip cookies.

It would be really nice if he’d pay my insurance deductible, but I’m probably out of luck on that one. Since the deer have a different currency system and all.

I hope he doesn’t sue!

And seriously, I really do hope he’s okay.

Bless his little deer heart.

* – punniest. title. evir.

For the last couple of days I have felt physically ill when I’ve thought of the shootings in Pennsylvania and the whole Mark Foley deal. When I think about those poor children in Lancaster my eyes fill up with tears, and when I think about Mark Foley my blood pressure shoots up to about 490 over 380, so I probably shouldn’t think about him for very long lest my heart explode.

Normally I don’t mention anything to do with politics on my blog because, well, who really cares what I think? There are all sorts of pundits on TV and on the internet who can weigh in sixty five times a day on eleventy billion issues, so my two cents is pretty much worth, you know, nothing.

But I do want to say something about the Mark Foley stuff and then I’ll never mention him on this blog again. And keep in mind that I’m just venting. VENT-ING. Because it’s my blog and I can.

So. Here I go.

When a clergyperson or parent or teacher or coach or political figure or whathaveyou uses his or her power and influence and authority to interact inappropriately with a minor – whether it’s by instant messaging or emailing or engaging in activities that are far worse and far more emotionally scarring than anything I care to put into words – then that person should go to jail.

Not rehab. Not counseling. JAIL.

Because the exploitation of children and teenagers is disgusting, it’s reprehensible, and IT IS CRIMINAL.

Congressman Foley says he was abused as a teenager by a clergyman and that while the abuse is (obviously) not the reason why he acted inappropriately with young boys, it is the reason he’s been plagued by shame for many years. I can’t imagine enduring something so horrific, and my heart really does go out to him for suffering as he must have done and as he must continue to do.

No one should ever have to endure such abuse.

No one deserves it, no one asks for it, no one chooses it. Period. As a survivor of abuse, Congressman Foley should know that better than anyone.

And I think that’s my biggest problem with the whole ordeal: Mark Foley DOES know firsthand the mental, physical, spiritual and emotional torment that victims of inappropriate relationships have to endure – and for him to PERPETUATE that? For him to POLITICIZE that? And then for other people to remain silent – even though they knew that he’d targeted young boys – because they were afraid THEY’D LOSE A SEAT IN CONGRESS?

It’s deplorable.

Because while Mark Foley’s career may be ruined, his victims’ lives will be forever affected by his behavior. But as far as I can tell, very few of Congressman Foley’s colleagues – on either side of the aisle – seem to be as concerned with the victims as they are with spinning this scandal as a means to a political end.

And that, my friends, is a travesty in and of itself.

It makes me sick.

It makes me angry.

And it breaks my heart – for the victims and for their families.

I’m done now.

I don’t feel any better.

But I’m done.