*snorty un-lady-like laughter*
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
- punch (3x)
- bitch (2x)
- ass (1x)
Whatever, dude. I do try to keep this PG-13 because my friends/family, especially my son, checks in periodically. *waves at the step-momster AND the momster-in-law*
Last night, I dreamed in sign. First I dreamed that I was thinking in sign, then that evolved into blogging in sign somehow. Then I was at a fair or a carnival or something and I was freaking out because a couple of my Deaf friends were with me and needing me to interpret for them what some policemen were saying, but the policeman who was talking was talking over a loudspeaker so I couldn’t understand what he was saying because I couldn’t see his face to speechread. *gasps* (That was a long friggin’ sentence.) When I say freaking out, I mean full-on, heart-racing, burny-tears-threatening, hand-wringing, pacing, rocking, freaking out. AND I was pleading with hearing passerby to help me, but they would just give me a blank look and move on. Then one of the Deaf was getting onto an elevator that I knew was dangerous, but I couldn’t tell them in time. I knew yelling out to them wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t run to them in time to grab them before they got in the elevator. That did it. I bawled. (In my dream.) So there you go. Dream analysis not only welcome, but strongly encouraged.
Which leads me to wonder if I could make the time to write a blog post, then video myself signing the post. Would anyone be interested in seeing that?
As I was falling asleep, I was thinking about how getting good writing out of my head and onto the computer screen made me think of butterflies, but I can’t quite think of why. (Then something about blowing smoke up my own ass, but I really can’t remember why in the world I thought that.) Maybe because you can be walking along and writing a great post in your head, and suddenly you think, oh, I totally have to remember this so I can really write it; but now, here comes the dance. If you dash back to those fantastic words, you will scare them off; not unlike the flip of a light switch sends cockroaches scurrying. No, you have to move slowly and handle gently, so the butterflies stay and you don’t crush them. Saunter casually and take a non-direct route (p.s. you must say in your head Rout, not Rewt, because I’m from Michigan and this is my post), whistle quietly and nonchalantly; then gently, softly, carefully, collect those butterflies on your fingertips and (still treading lightly and whistling quietly) place them in your Blog Butterfly Basket. Step back, breathe a deep (quiet!) sigh of relief, and enjoy your creation. Hope that other people might happen to walk down your path and glance at –better yet, appreciate and enjoy– your pretty, pretty basket. They don’t know how hard you worked to get all those Beautiful Butterflies into your Blog Basket, but that’s ok. You’re just happy your Butterflies are being appreciated.
*takes a deep breath and long exhale*
*enjoys the Beautiful Butterfly Blog Basket*
*tilts head- puts one hand on chin*
*hopes Beautiful Butterfly Blog Basket is being enjoyed and appreciated*
I got my hairs did yesterday and I love it. It’s a color that me and The Hair Bootifier have dubbed “Cherry Pepsi” and it rocks. I would put a picture up but I haven’t washed it yet, and I love you all dearly, but not enough for you to see my messed up morning hair. We’re still honeymooning so let’s savor the mystery a little longer, mkay? Pic tomorrow, promise.
I should probably mosey because I have a very full day ahead of me. IEP meeting at the school to discuss The Dinosaur’s plan at 3; dinner with a couple friends and to help with their sign homework at 6:30; out to Checkers with some friends for a beer and live music, both of which are totally yummy, at 9pm. Not going to stay until close, because Hunky will be at home with the boys. Hunky says I can go and he won’t hold it against me, but only if I hold it against him later. He adds that I can stay until close if I get just a little drunk and give him the naughty treats. We’ll see.
Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Hard.