It apparently doesn’t take much.

I told you that I was relocating the website. Messing with servers and such.

By the way, if something is screwy, let me know. I’ll do my best to fix it.

What I DIDN’T say (although I may have hinted ever so slightly through gritted teeth), was that there has never before been a time that I SO BADLY wanted to throw things. People. Lucy better be glad she’s cute.

I am just NOT accustomed to being completely clueless. Especially when what I’m so clueless about is touted all over the damned Internet as being “famously” simple. 5 minutes, they promised me.

Bull. Shit.

I decided that since I couldn’t get things the way I wanted them before my featured day on ITPR, I would just leave it be until I had a better handle on just exactly what was going on.

Except yesterday I woke up and there was a placeholder webpage where my blog was supposed to be.

I freaked out. Lucy woke up. Josh woke up. I got the hosting service on the phone and none of my passcode handshake musicfarts would work and prove that I was actually me and not some website thief preying on WordPress placeholder pages.

There were redirects and forwards and eventually things were ok to ride out the day’s traffic.

But this afternoon, I started to fiddle. Just a bit. Until it was a lot and I got real ballsy and went into the controls and removed all the safety nets I had set up in the morning. And then suddenly, the heavens opened. Angels sang, my boobs grew, my waist shrank, and all was right in the world because I for no reason at all suddenly knew exactly what to do.

So I did. And I will be fiddling with tweaks and controls until the end of time, BECAUSE IT’S MY WEBSITE AND I CAN.

Seriously, though. Can you tell I’m excited? I so am. And I have no reason to be.

Get out of here, kids.

Today my children set off to the happiest place on earth.

At least that’s what I’ve heard.

About the happiness, that is. I know they’re setting off to somewhere.

I’ve never been to DisneyWorld, and lots of people gasp when I tell them that, but it’s true. It just never happened when I was a kid, and now that I’m an adult it’s too expensive, too hot – too stressful.

I know I come across as a meek and gentle flower, but I can just visualize myself in that environment, hot and sweaty and crowded…and I would end up in jail.

I’m just saying, a day in the sun where I’m spending too much money and surrounded by crazed, uncourteous, entitled people? I’d cut a fool. No lie.

Which is why I’m grateful that my former husband is meek and accommodating, and patient to a fault with the kids. A trip to Disney is right up his alley.

What I’m not so sure about is the kids going away.

Don’t get me wrong, my kids have been away from me before. Hoo boy. They have happily coexisted in two households for most of their lives, and the fact that we all share a house now is nothing monumental to them. They’re beautifully adaptive and odd. I love them.

But they’re getting on a plane. TWO planes, actually, and then they’ll be off having a ball. And if they’re hurt I can’t help. If/when they’re obnoxious I can’t give them the LOOK. If they get lost I can’t curse at a Mickey eared cop until I get my kid back.

Ava sat in my lap last night and cried because I couldn’t go. She said she wanted me to see her in the plane.

While I’m sure she summoned the tears in the name of conning me into coddling her, it made me realize how much I’m going to miss them.


I can’t wait to hear the stories about roller coasters and princesses, video games and hotel rooms.

And as much as I’d like to be able to share the joy, I know it’s better to hear it secondhand when you are as far from being a people person as I am.

The 911

So, yesterday we had a fire.

Josh had set out to go to rehearsal in Tennessee, and I was home with Dan and all three kids.

Apparently Max had been eager to burn the brush pile in the backyard, so Dan set out to oblige.

I should also point out that there was a wind advisory yesterday, and if I were a responsible person/mother/citizen of the state I should have put a stop to this idea before the last branch was flung.

Once the flames were going, it quickly became apparent that the fire was going to spread.

And spread it did.

Dan went for the water hose attached to the house, Max brought around some garbage cans to transport water, and Ava immediately began to plot who (whom?) she would live with when the house inevitably burned to the ground.

At this point I really didn’t think it was a big deal. There was even a guy fishing down at the pond, and for some reason that comforted me, like nothing bad could possibly happen while we had a fishing visitor. I figured Dan could douse out the rogue flames and things would be over soon, so Lucy and I went inside for a banana.

In about 35 seconds, Max burst in and said that “Dad said to call the cops, because the fire’s coming.”

Now, let me make something clear.

In all of my 31 years on this rock we inhabit, I have never actually dialed 911.

For a few seconds I debated on whether or not I should actually use THE 911. I mean, surely Kossuth VFD has a direct line, right? I stopped my Google finger, though, and decided it would just be quicker to bite the bullet and dial the 911 and maybe I should find a deactivated cellphone real quick because hey IF IT’S THE 911 IT’LL STILL GO THROUGH and that would be amazing.

I didn’t do that, though, because remember the “fire was coming,” so I dialed, talked to the lady, and I hung up at a bit of a loss. I mean, they didn’t congratulate me or anything.

Pretty soon the road and driveway were full of volunteers committed to dousing Kossuth fires. They were everywhere, and then more came. They also could tell which truck was coming just from listening to the siren, like “Here comes Cecil, he’s in number two.” There was also one car full of a mom and three preteens that I’m pretty sure was just looking for a good time.

That pretty much ends my story. Cecil arrived in full on fireman pants. They put out the fire, saved the woebegone abandoned trailer in the field next door from possible damage, and chucked Dan on the shoulder while chortling about brush fires in the wind. It kind of felt like the end of a barbecue once it was all over, which I guess it kind of was, but no one was drunk and there were no hamburger buns.

The moral of the story is to use common sense. Sometimes that’s asking a lot. If not, though, be sure you have a phone to call the 911. Even a deactivated one. It’s supposed to still work. Let me know how that works out, because now I’m always going to wonder.

Off to roast marshmallows,