Well, That's Embarrassing

I must remember not to overestimate my significance.

Wednesday night we dropped off the face of the Earth when our phone service and computer modems went *blip* and stopped working. I spent days hours many long, tedious minutes on the cellular phone trying to get to the root of the problem, and fortunately I discovered that the fault did not lie with me, this time. The damage was big and wide spread and they could not be sure when we would have service again.

In my mind I am detached... I have no dependence on these modern conveniences, these virtual realities. I can quit anytime.

No Internet.
No dial tone.
No incoming calls.
No calls out.
No email.
No blog posts.
No MSNBC.
Utterly cutoff from the real world... or...

Yeah. OKay. I see this is somewhat overstated. I was cranky and frustrated and certain that I was going to blow deals, miss deadlines, lose my bearings and fall completely out of step with friends, acquaintances, and total strangers. I was edgy, a bit disoriented. As the hours without my beloved Internet and email passed, I began to imagine my importance in a grander light... I began to consider how much I matter, how necessary I am to the flow and function of the universe. I just knew people were trying to reach me. They needed my ideas and suggestions, my wise counsel and sage advice. I felt the weight of my duty to keep Chickenblog updated, to finally answer lots and lots of emails and to finish photography jobs. I fumed and clenched my fist in angry scorn of the phone company and their silly cables. Heads would roll!

In my mind I am detached... I have no dependence on these modern conveniences, these virtual realities. I can quit anytime.

Now for the truly shocking part: Without my tools and resources, without any means of communicating or being engaged with the real world, I cleaned house and made actual progress, including folding laundry and putting it away. I cooked dinner and washed the dishes. I built a fire in the fireplace, crocheted a scarf, cleared the car, and flossed. I watched a funny movie. I churned butter, cleared the gutters, alphabetized our wines and replaced all the dead light bulbs... it's true... all of it... except the light bulbs part. Seriously, I did get stuff done and found inner peace, harmony and wisdom.

Then, early this morning as I was reclaiming my desk from debris important stuff, I accidentally bumped the mouse and lo and behold our server is back. It happened just as the sun rose above the horizon and a heavenly shaft of light illuminated the room and my heart skipped a beat. I held my breath as emails came streaming in. I counted them, the evidence of my significance and worth in the world, the proof of my existence.

23. Only 23 emails.
7 junk.
10 ads that I actually subscribe to.
3 housing listings, which are sure to lead to disappointment.
1 my beautiful mommy, because, thank God, at least I can count on my mommy.
2 from my cousin, and I better get back to her asap, because I am so happy that after 40 hours of being cutoff from all, that someone actually was trying to reach me.


After 1, 246 posts, after blogging since May 2002, I still cannot profess to know why I do it. Why do I hang out my laundry, dirty and otherwise? Why do I post the good, the sad, the ugly, the trivial, the happy and dear?

Every now and then I hope my Internet disappears, so that I can be reminded that I do not need it. I love it and like it and enjoy it. I depend on it and rely on it, but I do not need it... not everyday, not all day. For 2 days I thought I was missing something important, but it's when the service is working that I am more likely to miss something important, when I am distracted by the Whole Wide World and failing to notice my real world. This is not a total rebuke of computers and blogs and Internet... it's too good and useful to dismiss. My mistake is overestimating my place in it and paying it too much heed.

I'm glad I can talk to my cousin, that we can make a connection and make plans to get together. I'm glad mom and I are exchanging emails, discussing the details of Thanksgiving. And, with some embarrassment, I am glad I was reminded that it's not a big deal if I am out of the loop with Whole Wide World Web.

HOPE Lives "All things Are Possible"

Yes we can!


"Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

That is the true genius of America — a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles:

- That we can tuck in our children at night and know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm.

- That we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door.

- That we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe.

- That we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted at least, most of the time."
-President Elect Barack Obama

Meltdown Results

Well, I am happy to announce that our big meltdown was a big success. Not only do we have 22 brand new and very original crayons to play with, but we cleared all of our boxes and drawers of old, broken, dirty, sad crayons. This was a seriously fun project and I was very encouraged to read Jess' comment about collecting old crayons from schools... I definitely want to do this project again.


Not all colors melt at the same rate, which is interesting and by no means disappointing. I love the variations and deviations. Trust me, these crayons are really cool. We tried 2 of them, because we could not resist the urge to play, but I am trying to save the rest as party favors... we'll see how well I manage. Every crayon presents it's own color/s temptation!


We don't go anywhere without drawing supplies... paper, pencils, pens charcoal, crayons... necessities all.


Maria has been drawing princesses and fairies, in anticipation of her derpday. Puff sleeves! Love those!


We appreciate restaurants with butcher papered tables. When William returned from the restroom he was greeted by Alex's expressive little friend.


Do I ever give the impression that I get a lot done? I was very nearly worthless today. Maria and I are sniffling and kind of dragging. And of course it is now, when my energy is hitting bottom, that my memory manages to surface every last ball I've dropped, every person I have neglected, every chore that has been abandoned... all the stuff I am not getting done. Feh. I seem to recall that last week my list of things to do seemed insurmountable, and today it's as bad or worse. This fact is really getting me down. Once again I am leveled by the I want to never move again, but I have to, and I wish we had our own home blues. It's devastating.


I hope the universe can forgive me for taking our sniffles out into the world. I took the kids out to eat and then to our favorite independent, local toy store. We had the place all to ourselves, and it was nice to sit in a bright and cheery world and play house.


Broken crayons can be repurposed and made good again. Yarn can become a hat. I'm not sure how I will ever accomplish all the things I need to, want to, but I suppose I can hope. Imagination. Faith. Hope. Princesses and fairies, play and prayer... a bit of glitter. Every bit helps.

The Colors of Our World

Messes everywhere and so we begin where we may, and I say let us begin with the pieces. Crayon pieces here and there and everywhere. We gathered them all, or probably only most of them. We sat together and unwrapped broken Crayolas, sorting them into color groups and discussing our combination options. We experimented with mixes and gradients, with a bright pink and a bumblebee black and yellow. And we have no idea what the results will be when we pull them out of the oven. We've never done this before.


We're excited to see our creations. To color with them, and to share them as party favors for Maria's birthday party.

We're Listening To: Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf," David Bowie, Eugene Ormandy and Philadelphia Orchestra. Last spring we watched a wonderful version of the story on PBS