That was just a short self-indulgent commercial break.
What were we talking about?
Like I could forget.
I dream about little flying globes with Latin scribbles, technical nightmares and NaNoWriMo that is NaNoNOT-getting written. But not to worry. That will all change on November 8th when my spinning babies come home to rest in the Peace Gallery that Frank Made.
That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
Frank lives in Canada with his lovely wife and cast of celebrated characters at the Honk 'N Hollr - his castle. We've been smoking up the cable wire between our two countries today with Peace Globe counting and such. Our email boxes are filling up with unwanted spam and all the graphics are slowing down our hard drives.
That's a small price to pay for world peace - don't you think?
I haven't slept in a long time and my soon-to-be-in-TaeBo-overdrive-behind is glued to the chair. My reading glasses are crooked, my hair has lost its lustrous bounce
...the cheesecake is gone and I'm floating in a river of cold coffee about now. This afternoon I lost an hour looking for the Clorox cleaning spray bottle.
It was in the refrigerator.
Have you ever seen such?
See how I'm rambling?
There's a reason. I've been flying through the galaxies this afternoon looking for spinning balls of good cheer and inspiration. No, Mom....I'm not in the medicine cabinet. You know. I blog.
"I do the Peace Globe project, Mom. Don't you remember?"
"What's a Peace Glow?"
"No. It's not a glow. It's a....."
"Ohh....." she said. "I remember now. That lobe job we were talking about for Aunt Sally's nephew. Right?"
I think it's time to change the subject. I've ignored her probing questions this afternoon quite nicely....."Did you say your friend lives in a cave?" ....Why do your friends have names like MADD and EDog and Peanut? Why don't they have normal names?!!...
There's not enough lighter fluid in hell for this.
(imagine nice flame photo HERE that blogger won't let me load)
Remind me not to try and explain NaNo to my mother. We share the same alliteration illness. Except I actually hear the words.
I can't bear the thought.
Why can't she understand? It's just a little globe graphic we're passing around the Blogosphere. Signing our names. A nice peaceful demonstration. Civilized even. People love it. Young and old. Near and far. Artists are making art, poets are rhyming words, cats are writing blog posts.
Nothing strange at all.