Now that I have started checking my own blog in a reader (yes, I know that's kind of weird), I realize that edits I make after posting are not picked up in the feed.  This is unfortunate, as I almost always-- at least 90% of the time-- edit my entries after posting.  Often it is within a few minutes, but sometimes, as today, it is an hour or two later.  Sometimes it is the next day.  (Yes, I know that's pathetic.  What can I say?  Whether I write a post in Word and then copy to HSB, or write it directly on HSB, I tend to continue to add or change things after I hit Post.  I either remember something I'd intended to write but forgotten, or I continue rewriting in my head even after it's all said and done.  I'm all about continual improving of the not-so-final product, I guess.)

All that is to say, I added another paragraph to my last post, third paragraph from the bottom.  It's about Spaz' post-puzzle play and it's probably worth reading.  (Anything about Spaz usually is.)

Hmmm.  I am not going to do this every time I make a post-post edit.  (Post-post, ha.  You know, like "post" as in "after", plus "post" as in "add entry".)  That would get old in a hurry, for you as well as for me.  I might have to change my writing practices and not post anything for 24 hours after writing it, so as to give me time to get in all my edits before it hits the world-wide web and all my friends' readers.

Or not.  I don't know.  I'll have to think about that.  *Sigh*  Technology makes life so complicated...

Attention, please!  My RSS is now fixed and you may happily subscribe.  (If you didn't know it was broken and have already been happily subscribed, you may ignore the above announcement.  If you are unhappily subscribed, well, sorry.  I'll try to be more interesting.)

It was recently brought to my attention that my blog feed (RSS) was not working and that I needed to FIX IT (in capital letters, no less).  Okay, then.  It turns out that at some point I apparently "broke" my template, causing my RSS to be ineffective and thwarting all of the hungry hordes of rabid fans who were clamoring to subscribe to my blog.  At least that's what the techie at HSB support said.  Well, okay, he didn't really use the words "hungry hordes" and "clamoring" and all that; he just said my template was "broken". 

Doubtless that happened at some point while I was messing with it, probably when I replaced the lovely photographs of my beautiful children at the top of my page with that silly cartoony thing.  That was a move, by the way, which I immediately regretted; however, I had neglected to save the previous template, and having spent far too much time making the change in the first place, I have been too lazy to go back and do all the work of trying to return the blog to its previous look.

I suppose I should not be surprised that I "broke" something in the process of changing my template.  I am extremely html-challenged and probably should not ever try to mess with it at all.  I don't even know how to pronounce html, let alone play with it.  Is it hitmill or hate-mail?  (My daughter, who apparently has no tolerance for my brand of humor, says it is simply pronounced H-T-M-L.  Well, that's rather boring, don't you think?  And by the way, I was going to write each letter out, as in tee-em-el, but I straightaway ran into the issue of how to spell out "h".  How do you spell that out?  Has anyone ever tried?  "Ache"?  "Ayche"?  "Atche"?  "Eighch"?  And while you're at it, how might one spell out "q", "w", and "y"?)

Sorry, long rabbit trail.

Anyway, what struck me funny about the whole thing is that the HSB techie dude says the problem was that I was missing a *head* tag.  Which just seems ironic because I am always losing my head anyway.  "Sorry, you can't subscribe to my blog because my *head* is missing."

(And by the way, you need to imagine the < or > in place of the * wherever appropriate.  It doesn't work very well when I actually put those in.)

Now really, it makes no sense to me that a missing *head* tag would have anything whatsoever to do with my rss feed.  A missing *rss* tag or *feed* tag, sure.  But *head*?  What does losing my *head* have to do with my feed?  Okay, I suppose it would be hard to feed someone who was missing her head, but that really is stretching the whole thing a bit.  Anyway, what do I know; I'm html-challenged, remember?  So... I emailed back and told him that I would be happy to replace my *head*, if only he would tell me where to put it.  And you know what he said?

"It goes right above the line that says *body*."

So *head* goes on top of *body*.  Well, okay, I suppose that makes perfect sense.

The long and short of the matter is, I apologize for any inconvenience that my temporary headlessness may have caused.  I have now returned my *head* to the top of my *body* and will try not to remove it again.

Last night I fell asleep in my comfy chair with my laptop and no chocolate, and awoke in the wee hours and slogged my way to bed, whereupon I dreamed that I actually awoke in a darkened restaurant (the one at which my daughter works).  And I knew somehow that the reason I had been left sleeping with my head on the table in this empty and forlorn and very-much-closed-for-the-night place was because the waiter had gotten tired of waiting for me to make up my mind as to what I wanted to order for dessert.  And I was irritated because I knew that if he had only come back to the table one more time, I'd have told him that I wanted a strawberry sundae.

Which is odd because when I have dessert it almost always involves chocolate.

I just thought I'd let you know.

Then upon awaking fully and slogging my way out of bed at a reasonable hour of the morning, I was greeted, as usual, with the following sensory input:

(a) the sound of the dog barking her fool head off at nothing in particular, and
(b) the sight of the cat's rear end as she balanced among last night's unwashed dishes trying to lick droplets of water out of the sink.

The cat's on the counter, observed my sleepy, chocolate-deprived brain.  It wasn't long before that thought had morphed itself into this:

Well, the cat's on the counter licking forks and spoons
The dog is barking at the man in the moon
When you making coffee, I don't know when
But I'll feel better then, yeah
You know I'll have a good time then

(If you have no idea how to sing that, you may be too young.)

I just thought I'd let you know that, too.

As a matter of fact, I attempted to let you know that much earlier today, but after I had it all written up, it either (a) was eaten by homeschoolblogger, or (b) vanished into cyberspace.  Either possibilty I'm sure bears some odd connection with the dream, but I couldn't at the moment tell you exactly what, and the 14 hours between than and now have yielded no further clues whatsoever.

I no sooner got back here than the drowsiness beagn to hit again.  I am just about ready to fall asleep here in my chair yet again.  But there are empty chocolate wrappers next to me tonight, so I might get by without any strange dreams.

I cat bake ady sort ob a decet post todight because I hab a biserable code ad by dose is all stubbed up ad you wouldt ebed be able to udderstad be.  I hardy eber get sick, but this is the secod tibe id less thad a week, ad a totally differet bug thad the first.  Go figure.

I was fide all day yesterday udtil I wett to bed, ad all ob a sudded by dose wouldt stop ruddig ad I couldt stop sdeeezig.  I thought it was because I had pulled weeds ad dead plats out ob the garded ad thed later poked by head idto the boldy roob.  (The boldy roob is a codcrete roob off our basebet storage roob, udder the porch, ad it has bold all ober the walls ad ceilig.  We are habig a bold specialist cobe ad take a look at it toborrow.)  Howeber, I woke up this bordig with a bajor sore throat, so I thik this is about bore thad polled ad bold.

Are you followig be at all?

Adyway, by face feels like wud big dose, ad by head feels like it is stubbed full of kleedex.  I thik it bust look like a jack-o-latterd.  AD, you dow I'b wiped out whed...

-I drive to the library od a beautiful day, rather thad ride by bike.
-I take a dap.  I hate sleepig durig the day.  I dote do daps.
-I stay hobe frob by sod's football gabe.
-I let by daughter watch Spoge Bob.
-I dote ebed really watt to be od the copputer.

I thik where I wat to be is id the bathtub with a mug of hot lebod tea with huddy.  So I'b off.  I'll be back whed I cad talk.

If you've recently indulged your passion for pseudo-food at the Emporium of Square Burgers and Red Pigtails, you've doubtless observed that they have this Heisman Promotional Thingie going on for high school athletes.  And if you're really astute, you'll have noticed the little signs directing you to a website where you can find out all about it.  If you've actually looked at one of those little signs closely as you are idling in the drive-thru lane awaiting your junior bacon cholesterolburger from the dollar menu, you'll find that between the "www-dot" and the "dot-com" is the tag "wendysheisman".

Which of course translates to "Wendy's Heisman".

Unless you're weird, as I apparently am.  Because when I look at that, I see "Wendy, She is Man".

And now and forevermore, so will you.

You're welcome.

You know how many things need a mom's attention...  The completed math work needs attention.  The dishes on the counter need attention.  The overdue library books need attention.  The husband needs attention.  The kids need attention.  The teenager needs attention whether she wants it or not.  Dinner needs attention.  The ringing phone needs attention.  All that stuff in boxes on the basement floor need attention.  The blog needs attention.  The letter of recommendation for the cousin needs attention.  The clothes that have been hanging on the line in the rain need attention.  The field trip planning information needs attention.  The Wednesday night church kids' program needs attention. 

You get the picture.

I have my computer set to automatically back up files on a monthly basis.  This requires a disc to be in the computer, and since I don't like to keep a disc in the drive because I don't want to hear the disc drive moan and groan every time I boot up, I have to put the disc in the drive when it is time to back up.  As a result, on the first of every month, usually when I am behind the 8-ball trying to get a slew of things done before I fall asleep at the keyboard, I now receive the following message from my computer:

"File Backup Needs Your Attention."

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm OK now.  Really.

And now, if you'll pardon me, I think the Snickers bar in the secret stash cabinet needs attention. 

All I really wanted to do was to print up my kids' checklists for tomorrow and a scavenger hunt checklist for this week's Kids' Club.

But no.  "I'm sorry," says my color laserjet printer.  "I told you on Friday that I will not print anything for you until you replace the magenta ink cartridge, and I meant it."

Did I mention that the things I want to print today are black and white documents?  I don't need magenta ink.

"That doesn't matter," says the insufferably rigid printer.  "Rules is rules.  You need to replace the magenta ink cartridge before I print."

Never mind the fact that I don't keep spare magenta ink cartridges laying around and that Office Max is 7 miles away and closed at the moment.

Electronic devices can be so unreasonable.

Fortunately, I have a backup.  My good old trusty 3-in-one inkjet is not a legalist.  It will print whether it has its quota of magenta ink or not.  It may not be happy about it, but it will still print.

Fast, Crisp, and Finicky, or Slow, Fuzzyish, and Willing.  Tonight I'll take the latter, thank you very much.  So ppptttthhhh on Magenta Boy.

You may be wondering what the point is here.  There is none.  The title popped into my head as I was arguing with my printer, so I had to write a post for it.

Too bad my modem is not as nitpicky as my printer.  "I'm sorry," it could say.  "I told you before that I refuse to grant you late-night blog access until you replace your brain, and I meant it."  Then you would have been spared the pain of reading this pointless post.

...I mean, while watching a multitude of commercials interspersed with occasional snippets of Olympic coverage.

I might have to stop saying that, because actually, the commercial-to-coverage ratio is a lot better this year than it has been in some previous years.

I was really good and did not watch any Olympics during my school planning weekend.  Because I knew that if I turned the TV on, I wouldn't get any planning done.  But I showed remarkable self-restraint, thankyouverymuch, and we won't talk about how many times I ventured into blogland when I was supposed to be planning.  I didn't watch Olympics and that's significant, and now I am indulging to make up for it.

I like the Olympics.  The Olympics are about the only thing I watch on TV besides American Idol.  I cannot fathom why we did not think about the Olympics when we scheduled a mini-vacation to a friend's TV-less cabin for later this week.  Usually I consider a TV-free vacation to be ideal.  Usually.  Almost always.  But not when Olympics are on.  I'm a little annoyed by the timing here.  Why have we never bought a DVR?

Anyway...

*Synchronized diving is just totally amazing.  How do they do that?

*Speedos are so ugly.

*(And no, potential burglars, don't even think about it.  The shop employee and the dog will bite you.)

*Is anyone besides me tired of hearing about Michael Phelps?

*So funny that the US diving coach is Chinese.  Of course, so is my sister-in-law.  (Yes, I know that was highly irrelevant.)

*I mentioned to Huz that I much prefer watching diving to watching swimming.  Not him, says he;  he likes the speed and excitement.  Not me, says I.  I like the artistry.  Although that does not explain why my favorite winter Olympics sport is... short-track.

*I wish NBC would not show raunchy and violent commercials during the Olympics.  It is unbelievable what comes across the airwaves even at 8:30 pm, when HELLO, children are watching!  Do they not care?

*Beach volleyball.  I remember watching Olympics beach volleyball for the first time back in 1988, when today's players were little kids and Karch Kiraly was on the sand instead of in the announcer's booth.  The Olympics were in Seoul and we were in our apartment in southeast Grand Rapids.  We didn't own a TV, so we borrowed a tiny little one from the in-laws and rigged up some aluminum foil as a makeshift antenna.  While we watched, little BizzyBiz toddled around practicing his own newfound Olympic skill of walking.  Memmm-reeees....

*The nice thing about winter Olympics is that the athletes wear more clothes.

*Oh, my.  The one-touch recovery commercial is hilarious.  "Sorry that you lost your files, hoo hah..."  HA, HA, HA!  Sorry.  I don't get out much.

*Award for stupidest commercial definitely goes to the McDonald's chicken sandwich ad.  I think the only thing that could make it stupider would be if all the pseudo-athletes were wearing speedos.

*I can't believe that Huz & the kids have decided to watch Anne of Green Gables on the other TV tonight when the Olympics are on.  Who introduced these people to great stories like Anne of Green Gables?  Me, that's who!  And now they want to watch the movie while I'm trying to watch Olympics?  (Yes, we've watched it before, several times.  But last time was about 5 years ago.)  All the stupid movies they like to watch, and they pick this one when Olympics are on?  I don't think it's fair to make me choose between Anne and Olympics.

*I can't believe what I just yelled up the stairs.  I have been banished to the downstairs TV, which is bigger and nicer, but it has this odd object called a cable box hooked to it and, um, I don't really know how to watch TV on this.  The upstairs TV is nice because it's old and the remote is long dead and to find the channel you want, you just stand in front of the TV and push the button until you get there.  Simple.  Anyway, what I yelled up the stairs was, "What channel is channel 8 down here?"

*See, I have been typing about Gables and Cables while Americans are winning gold medals in swimming.  Because it's not as fascinating as watching diving and gymnastics.  Although did you know that Michael Phelps trains in Ann Arbor, MI?  Oh, sorry, I forgot that I am tired of hearing about him.

*I'm sorry.  The butterfly stroke always looks so funny.

*Finally, more men's gymnastics.  I enjoy watching men's gymnastics so much more than women's.  Still rings routines are amazing.  Parallel bar routines are amazing.  High bar routines are amazing.  Those biceps are...  Sorry, I'm being redundant.

*Zou Kai, Chinese gymnast.  So cute-looking, in a little boy sort of way.  I can say that about a 20-year-old, because I have a little boy who's 21.

*I'm so glad gymnasts don't wear speedos.

*Anne Shirley may be charming, but she can't do a high-bar routine.  That's why I'm down here instead of upstairs.

*Ads for men's beach volleyball tomorrow.  See?  The men wear clothes.  Why do the women wear swimwear?

*Back to the men in tights.  Of course I'm rooting for the US team.  But it's kinda hard not to root for the Chinese, too.  Although it would really be nice to see some teams besides China, Japan, and the US.  I do understand that they can't show everyone and there is medal contention and all.

*Remember when men's gymnastics were dominated by Russia and Ukraine?  I haven't seen any Russian or Ukraine gymnasts tonight.

*I want to see that one-touch recovery commercial again.

*It's Monday, but the events I am watching right now are occuring on Tuesday.

*So these three guys doing the pommel horse are of Chinese, Indian (I think), and Russian descent.  And they're all Americans.  Gotta love it.

*Oh my.  The Artemov dude came through.  Yay for him.  Gotta love that, too.

*So his teammates call Zou Kai the "little kid", too.  It's not just me.  Oh, he's such a cute little guy.  How cool to be the last performer for Chinese gold.  I do hope they show the medal ceremony.  I like to hear anthems other than just ours.

*Actually, my favorite medal ceremonies of all are the ones in which an athlete from some small, underdog country wins a rare medal for his nation.  Those are really cool moments.  Maybe we'll see one of those this Olympics.

*It had better not happen while we are gone.  Why didn't I get Huz a Tivo for his birthday?

*Meteor shower.  There is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight?  Who scheduled that for Olympics week?

Edited Tuesday to add:  I  did not see any meteors, but I DID get to see one of those cool Olympic moments!  Although my intention is to only watch Olympics in the evening (otherwise I'd get nothing done), my son had them on for a short while early this afternoon.  I watched with him just long enough to see a guy from Togo win a bronze medal in whitewater kayaking-- which Spaz says is Togo's first Olympic medal ever.  Too cool!  The crowd was so pumped, and of course the Togoan (?) kayaker was, too.  I love seeing athletes so happy just to win a bronze.  They did not show the medal ceremony, but I hope they will show it tonight during prime time.  Or maybe I can find it online.  Later, of course.

I was just thinking today that if I ever wanted to change Spaz' blog name, I could change it to "Hungry".

As I contemplated what sort of coordinating names the rest of the family would then be given, my mind naturally went to those of the Seven Dwarves.  The only problem is that, with the possible exception of Cheez, who could accurately be named "Sleepy", the rest of us would all end up with the same name.

"Grumpy".

So I guess I guess I won't do that.

I changed my picture.  See it in the sidebar?  It's right there >>>>>>>>.

I like my hair better in this one, plus it shows my new Old People's Glasses.  (Which I recently acquired after 33 years of wearing Young People's Glasses.  Not that you can tell the dif from the picture.)  This pic, by the way, was taken in May at Antietam Battlefield.

However, Huz and SoyCheez like the old pic better.  You know, this one of me with my laptop:

Of course, I could always switch to the one that SoyCheez so kindly doctored for me a few months ago.  Remember this?

On second thought, I probably shouldn't use that one.  I might scare away potential new readers.  (Besides, as I noted in the original post in which that picture appeared, it is highly inaccurate, as I always remove my wings and horns before settling down in my comfy chair.  Without fail.)

Anyway, Huz & SoyCheez think the new pic makes me look too much like a Homeschool Mom.  Which, as a matter of fact, I am.  Although SoyCheez remarks that I am quite pretty for a Homeschool Mom.  I think that was a compliment, although not for most of you other Homeschool Moms out there.  Sorry.  She obviously hasn't looked at your pictures.  But I don't think she meant it that way.  In fact, a few weeks ago, she mentioned that I am prettier than most of her friends' moms.

I guess I'll keep her after all, despite the doctored photo.

Oops, getting sidetracked again.  So which pic do YOU like better?  The new one or the old one?  (Not the BatLady one.)

While you are contemplating that, surely you will also notice that I have changed the little description under the picture as well.  My love language is affirmation, so it is imperative that you remark on how clever I am.

I eagerly await your comments.

Those of you who suffered mental anguish as a result of my last post will feel smugly vindicated to learn that I have received my just and well-deserved reprimand-- and from my own computer, no less.

I was persuaded to go here to see what my actions had wrought.  And of course I could not resist clicking on the video.  (To get the full effect, you have to turn off the blog's default music player first.)  I had made it almost all the way through will no ill effects, when suddenly Josiah (my computer) proceeded to shut down on me.

I should note that this random computer shutdown stuff is actually a fairly common occurance, especially when I am on the internet.  And unless I am in the middle of posting on my blog or commenting on someone else's, no data is ever lost, so it is generally not a tragedy but simply a minor annoyance.  I have narrowed the reason for these shutdowns down to three possibilities:  (a) The Mac commercials  and all the naysayers are correct and Windows Vista really is an inferior product.  (b)  The computer encounters a virus which shuts it down (which would mean that my AVG Free Virus Protection is actually the inferior product).  Or (c) The computer senses an impending threat and shuts itself down in order to avoid serious damage (which would mean that both Vista and AVG are functioning quite well, thankyouverymuch).

Oh, I'm getting side-tracked here.  This post is not about computer shutdowns; it is about one specific computer shutdown, which is the one that occured the other day as I was viewing the aforementioned video.

I am convinced that the reason for this particular shutdown was none other than option (c): my faithful Josiah was attempting to protect himself (and me) from a perceived threat to his (and my) well-being.

After all, how much Shaun Cassidy is too much?  For most of us, about three seconds, but Josiah apparently has a high pain threshhold.  Even so, four minutes and 59 seconds was obviously the limit.  I am pretty sure that just before he shut down, I heard Josiah scream, "Aaagggghhhh!  I can't take it anymore!"

Or something like that.

Most of my computer time these days is spent on my duties as Unofficial Coordinator of the Fifth Sorta-Bi-Annual Floatwad Family Reunion, a weeklong out-of-state event which is coming up in just a couple weeks.  (Grandfather in heaven, forgive me for thusly corrupting the family name.  I don't like to use real surnames on my blog.)

The result of this is that, despite all my wonderful ideas for posts, I don't have really have time to write them.  So in leiu of a meaningful post, I give you this:

Today at the health food store, I was subjected to a most inhumane form of torture.  It had nothing to do with the food I had to buy or the money I had to spend, and everything to do with the music that was playing on the sound system.

When I walked in, they were playing "Come Sail Away".  Not a problem.  (In fact, my 9-year-old was singing parts of that song last night as I helped her clean her room, compliments no doubt of Daddy, who delights in exposing the kids to classic and not-so-classic rock and roll even as I endeavor to shelter them from it.)  No, that song was not the problem.  Styx I can handle.  It was what they were playing about 10 minutes later as I was crouching in Aisle 5 comparing prices on canned garbanzo beans.

Talk about nightmarishly idiotic cult songs from the junior high years.  I had hoped to never have to hear this song again.  But thirty-odd years later, there it was.

And here it still is, running through my brain.  And now, because I am feeling mean and rotten and mischievious, I am going to make sure it runs through yours.  My friend CelticMom was so very appreciative of my reference last week to the Tab Cola commercials and the ensuing residency of the lyrics in her brain for the day, that I am certain she and all the rest of you will appreciate this reference as well.  Especially if you are female and somewhere in your early-to-mid 40's.

Yeah, my heart stood still
Yeah, her name was Jill
Yeah, I love her still
Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron

(Oh my, it's Shau-wun Cass-a-deeee!  Can anybody say, "Like, gag me with a spoon"?)

Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron
Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron...

Bwa-ha-ha-ha!  You can't escape it!  It will loop endlessly through your brain all the day long!  Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

You're very welcome.

Now send me chocolate, or my next post will contain Andy Gibb lyrics.