This, That, and HOLY CRAP

First of all, a big thank you to Jen, for alerting me that when she clicked on a link in my post a few days ago about Mike (the one about the Manhattan Declaration), it took her to my personal Facebook page! Shit! No offense, because I know that you are all lovely people and wouldn't, you know, steal my identity or e-mail my employer or stalk my dog if you knew my real name, but, as I am clearly destined to rise to fame and fortune through this blog, I'm thinking ahead to when the ignorant, unwashed masses are reading through my archives and planning pilgrimages and whatnot and all I'll really want is to be left alone and so I went back and deleted the link. If you've already clicked through and secretly discovered who I am but have decided discretion is the better part of valor, I also thank you.

Criminy.

And this is why someone as blognorant as I about how the Interweb works should not be out here alone. I tested that link, and it went to the fan page I'd intended to show you. I was logged in to Facebook when I added the link, but I just tested it again, not logged in, and it still worked. So I dunno. But it's a little freaky, considering that I have tried to keep this blog private and anonymous, for reasons we've discussed before. I still try to abide by the notion that the one person you never want finding your blog will one day find it, so don't post anything counting on your anonymity. But there's a big difference between that "one day" and, um, linking to your own personal Facebook page. For one thing, even if I'm OK being identified, my Facebook names MOTH, Tankbaby, and my tens of real-life friends. It would be quite easy to identify everyone I write about here, without their permission, which is the last thing I'd want to do.

Also, sometimes I cheat by posting a one-liner from my blog as my Facebook status, and I wouldn't want you all to be disappointed in my lack of initiative.

Argh. I had wanted to write more, if for no other reason than to be able to discard things like a scrap of paper that says "re: pumping at work--must realign afterwards, or go back to work with nipples askew as Marty Feldman's eyes" on it. But this little side trip to OhMyLordWhatHaveIDone took some time, plus I finally fixed the wacky fonts in my last post. How about some quick excuses and a visual joke, hm?

The last two weeks, I have felt like a hamster in a wheel, running ever faster, eyes fixed on a point in space ahead of me while I go...nowhere. Work is nutty, with new kids coming in and parents making bus drivers cry and staff out sick. I'm keeping on top of it, but just barely. I told MOTH tonight that I'm trying to find the exhilaration that comes of balancing, of riding the wave and still remaining upright. Only that joy is meant for the five minutes of cruising, not for weeks on end. Right now it just feels like that wave is about to crash over me, and the balancing is a burden, not a triumph.

And I come home, and my beautiful, burly boy is ready for Mama. Which is great and lovely, except that he's been all over the place with his naps, which means that I'm often not getting the 5 pm nap-so-I-can-write slot. I have been reading lots of blogs while I nurse or while I pump during the day (thank you, tiny smartphone with internet access!), but can't comment with my hands...full, so please know that I'm out here, and I'm trying to get a wee bit on top of things. And as soon as Tankbaby learns to read quietly at my feet, perhaps while rubbing them, I'll be less neglectful of my lovelies.

In the meantime, I give you a little pastry absurdity:



I don't know, maybe "frosted" wasn't fancy enough? "Coated" seemed too pedestrian?



P.S. For those of you who would have such things, here is the Muppet Monopoly game. Play it in good health, and don't invite my sister unless you enjoy groveling with your wheeling and dealing.

P.P.S. Ooh! New--the Sesame Monopoly game!!

P.P.P.S. And yes, I did put that picture up on Facebook.