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I have been toying with closing this blog down for several months.

It was my life line when my marriage fell apart.

And then it became a way to write creatively and explore my budding love of photography.

And now it feels like a burden.

I want to bring you great stories, but I’ve been so happy living my life that whenever I think “ah, this needs to be blogged” I promptly forget what it was I wanted to blog.

I want to be open to comments, but my last round of abusive commenting provoked me to remove my favorite list from this blog because I’m not sure I can handle another such attack.

I want to stay.  But I’m learning to balance my online time with my real-time.  And this means far more real-time than online time.  And, frankly, I like it that way.

So every couple of weeks I make the decision to say farewell.  And then a few days later, I change my mind.

And this would be why I’ve been posting so rarely.

Needless to say, I’m still undecided.

But, I am not undecided about my other blog.  The one that is even more neglected than this one.  I’ll be posting far more over there, for certain, because the thing that has me preoccupied is my transition into a position of artistic leadership.  I’m learning a lot and I feel it’s important to share.  I hope, if I fail here, you will at least follow me over there.

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Bloggy Welcome: Tasty Snack Treats

Please give a warm bloggy welcome to:

Tasty Snack Treats

Written by new mom, Emma, who was my roommate for several months in my young 20’s.

I found her listing for a roomie, went to visit in the pouring rain, and we hit it off immediately.  We lived in an illegal basement apartment which we paid for in cash every month.  It was quite large, but with only the tiniest of basement windows, all linoleum flooring, and some very nosy neighborhood children.  We also adopted a bunny who would come into my room at dawn and start scratching at my pillow so I would get up.  I forget his name.  I believe he lived out the end of his days on a farm somewhere in NH.

Emma is a marvelous and creative cook.  She lives on her grandparents farm with her parents, husband, and daughter.  I visited her earlier this year when her first child was born.  The house is amazing.  It’s an ancient farmhouse with narrow angular hallways, close-able doors everywhere, and an instant feeling of comfort.  I don’t know anything about her family, but it’s a working farm (she just posted that there are pumpkins for sale) and if there were ever a house whose walls I wish would talk, these are the ones.  I can only dream of what it must feel like to belong to a family whose roots reach so far and wide in one rural community.

My own family is spread across the country: our Mutt-like heritage manifesting in our tendency to wander.

Anyway, go check out her blog.  The recipes are delish.  Tomorrow I will be attempting the No Nuthin’ Cake.

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Dear Reader with Dietary Restrictions,

You sent me a lovely email a couple of months ago and we struck up a conversation about living alone with a young child and dealing with allergies.  At the time, you were so allergic to an item that almost any food at any time could push you into an anaphylactic reaction of terrifying degrees.

We talked fears and strategies.  I promised you recipes.

Please let me express my sincerest apologies for neglecting to email you back in a timely and considerate manner.  And, well, now I’ve lost your original email with its address and the list of foods you can eat.

If you read this, can you please email me again so I can send you some recipes and see how you are?

I hope to hear from you soon,

SerahRose

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Undies and Avatars

My Undies Are on Inside Out Today

I only discovered this fact in the middle of an interview when I reached back to find the cause of a tickle.  My tag, it turns out, was not designed to be on the outside of the undies.  I continued the conversation without pause.  No need to comment on the undie situation.  But I got momentarily distracted in the aftermath as it dawned on me that this was surely a sign that I needed more sleep.

You Too Can Have a Globally Recognized Avatar

Part of the reason I’m tired is that I was up late working on modifying someone elses blog.  Don’t worry, I was getting paid.  As my boss and I were picking through something, he suddenly realized that my photo was being displayed on his screen.  No one else had a photo next to their username.  Just me.  I’d forgotten I’d set up an Avatar to follow me around to various blogs so my face will show up when I leave a comment.

I thought you might like to know about it too.  Here you go.

If you still haven’t had enough of undies and avatars, watch this.  I keep getting it stuck in my head.  It makes me laugh really hard every time I watch it.

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Bloggy Bitch

I would like to interupt our regularly scheduled program of cute children’s pictures and life-changing epiphanies to bitch about Blogger.  I dislike it.  A lot.

I’m a wordpress girl thru and thru.

I started a blogger page a while back for putting up private photos and stories for family members spread out around the country.  Being a wordpress user (our own hosted sites, not just this wordpress hosted variety) I decided I need to check out the other top bloggy site to see how it went.  It went okay, until I got to photos.  Um, photos, of my child…pretty much the whole reason I was experimenting with the site.  Here’s what I discovered:

Why Blogger stinks:

1. s.l.o.w. image upload

2. teeny tiny editing window that you can’t make any bigger.  no matter what.

3. s.l.o.w. image upload

4. the connection to picasa only works half the time.  the other half of the time, it crashes my program

5. put more than three images in the window and you can no longer move them around at will.  they jump around on their own, thanks to the inability to format the lay-out of each photo at-will.  well, i could, but I don’t have time to futz with the html when I’m just posting a photo for Grandma.  I want user interface designed for dummies, baby!

6. s.l.o.w. image upload

And now, ladies and gentleman, I will leave you to our regular programming and hope that the last photo I just tried to upload to Blogger is finally done.

* * *

_MG_1173

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It’s pretty ironic, really, that I have been spending hours online messing with things like websites, social networking, and decoding twitter-speak and it has left me with no time to blog here.  At my first bloggy site of love.  (Can I tell you how much it pleases me that that sentence resembles “love at first sight” and yet frustrates me that I couldn’t edit it to make it a more recognizable pun?)

After declaring, on my thirtieth birthday no less, a year of just me, no DOing, I went and got doing.

I been doing a lot lately.

No, not in the sack.  You all have one track minds.

Here are my latest adventures.  They keep me up late.  I can’t keep my mind off of them.  I am excited beyond belief.  I am terrified to my core:

  • PictureBook Plays has gotten a complete overhaul after its last publisher turn-down.  The task was immense and still ongoing.
  • GAN-e-meed Theatre Projecthas been launched to the online public and is now in the process of a bloggy face-lift.  Next step…press releases. (fine print: we need to raise 32K by April 2010 so please email me and then send me a check)
  • I have been accepted to present a workshop at NAEYC in DC this fall.  Apparently, it’s not easy to get a workshop accepted so this is a huge honor and a big step in my career. 

More anon.

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My mom rarely set punishments.  I was never grounded.

Once, when I was somewhere around 8, I got lazy and didn’t go home to check in at the appointed time.  A couple of hours later, my mom found me down in the yard of the local school.  Her voice was strained, like she was trying to speak through a straw.  I think she reprimanded me.  And then she told me I needed to play inside for the rest of the day.  I don’t recall it as a punishment, but I do recall feeling guilty since I knew I’d been naughty and made her worry when I could have just walked up the street and told her I was okay and gone back to playing.  That was, after all, why I was wearing my lovely red watch.

Yet, somehow along the way, even without grounding, I learned my lessons.  Don’t drive after 1am if you don’t have to: you’re too tired, you’ll probably hit a deer, and you’re more likely to get hit by a drunk driver.  Always get pierced somewhere reputable, with clean instruments.  Always save your video games: you’ll have to quit before you’re done and go get dinner.  Keep a journal.  Midwives are great.  Stand up for yourself.  Chocolate is so worth it.  Take risks, with caution.

And, my all time favorite: “Sometimes good enough, is enough.”

Well, my mom may never have grounded me, but I had to ground myself to learn a lesson this week.  And I learned it.  It was rough.  Here was the deal:

One week of no blogging, no blog-stalking, no message-boarding, no surfing.  Essential emails only.

I broke the rules once or twice.  I posted on my mom’s group message board a couple of times:  I was snowed in with a sick kid and really needed more apple juice.  I would consider it essential.  I worked on a blog, but it was for work, so I considered it essential since it wasn’t part of my mom blogging.  I surfed a couple times but only for something specific that I needed to know, and then I closed the browser as soon as I found the answer.

It was rough.

But productive.

Really productive, actually.  Even with a sick kid, and now sick myself, I still got all my chores done and crossed a few things of the life to do list as well.  And I still got to bed on time, finished a book, and watched a movie.

I’m not sure what my new rules will be nor do I think I need to create any.  Just a little more self-awareness and self-control will do.

Lesson learnt, mom.

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