Manic Mom
Lives Here Now (anonymously, of course!)
Stop by and have a laugh from Manic Mom's Mental Myriads on Motherhood, and some other stuff too, but mostly motherhood, wifehood, thoughts on writing, etc. No politics will be discussed here or geography, and I will not be solving any mathematical equations. Just some BS on whatever I feel like blogging on...
Manic Mom's Mental Myriads now resides elsewhere. I'm still out there, but I've joined the Blog Land Witness Protection Program.
You know what? I expect rejection letters. I know they are part of the process of getting an agent, of finding the right match for your work. You have to find someone as passionate about your book as you are and that's really, really hard to do. And I'm okay with that. It's like online dating, or regular dating, or making friends, or blog dating, or mating... whatever. You have to find the right match. It's got to be a "Ying and Yang thang." Or something like that.
I smell like how a wet dog smells after chasing a ball into a lagoon, running circles around a skunk and then rolling into a pile of dirt.
Well, I have spent all day thinking of something really juicy, intriguing, mind-blowing to share on this here, the second-ever Confessional Tuesday ever, and I got nuthin'.
Seems like just yesterday I told you about the Woobie, and here it is, another Tuesday and I've got to confess something. Problem is, now that my mom is on to me, I have to confess something probably not worth confessing, something that if Mom reads, she can be like, "Oh, good, she's not talking about the topaz thing anymore."
I am adding LINKS to you Blogger Pals. If you don't see your name to the right, no worries -- this is a work in progress, and I'm trying to get as many of you up as I can. If you hadn't noted that you want to be linked, and want to be linked here, leave me a comment and I'll add you.
Gosh, I just went to the grocery store and I'm thinking, "Man, how depressing." The music they were playing over the intercom was just unbearable. If I were a single person, I would be crying in Aisle Five for sure.
I just found this online. It's something I wrote a while ago and just discovered it again via Google:
Last night we saw my favorite local band, and words can't describe the music, the energy, the atmosphere, the camaraderie of the group there to hear and watch and sing along with Poi Dog Pondering.



MMMM might be going under some changes in the future because of some unforeseen circumstances I will definitely explain to you later. You may have noticed my archives are no longer available, and I'm considering moving somewhere else into Blog Land.
You know how when a line in a song just gets you? I've been listening to this particular song when I'm running and it just hits a nerve in me. I think that if the singer was looking into my eyes, singing these words to me, I might just die.
Well, well, well, I have just been made the recipient of some very juicy Blog-Gossip and feel extremely privvy to be in on the big secret of two Blog-Lovers who have found each other through their Blogs, and will, because I am not a Blog-Ruiner, continue to remain nameless until the two make their own announcement on their own blogs. Why ruin all the fun!?
Okay, I'm going to confess something every Tuesday. It might be something really juicy, or really something I just shouldn't share, but I'm going to confess to something every Tuesday, and if you feel like a cleansing is necessary on your part, please, send me a confession in the comments.
Could there by anything worse than being eight-years-old and sick on the couch on Halloween? Poor Ajers is not well, with a cough, fever, all that. And he didn't go to school today, probably the one day all kids WANT to attend for there is a parade, and party, and cupcakes and treats and games. I did promise him in the middle of the night while he was hacking away that no matter how sick he felt, even if I had to pull him in a wagon, I would let him Trick Or Treat at some houses. I've also thought about asking any kid who comes to our door to give one piece of their candy to Ajers and then they could take two of ours. Think they'll go for it? Probably, but they'd most likely give up the crap candy for two of the good things I bought...
I feel like I'm finally gaining some of both.
Because MoDigLi did some cool digital-photography of old photos on her Blog, I thought that would be a fun way to spend the afternoon. So, without further adieu, some things around here that I felt like photographing:




I'll either hate or love Christa as she's becoming my Satan-Writing-Mentor, where I am selling my soul to her in order to write this next novel. I told her today I would write 3,000 words. I only made it to 2,088... But I did sneak in an In Her Shoes viewing, which was incredible, wonderful, emotional, sad, funny, uplifting! And even though I probably wouldn't pick Cameron Diaz for a BF, I do think she is an amazing actress, and any guy would love this movie, if only for the shots of her incredible bod.

My first-born is going to be eight-freaking-years old this week. Cannot believe it.
These are some of the things I love, and to be able to enjoy all of them in one setting is a great experience. We got to do this over the weekend.



I have been talking with my friend, who I will call High School Prom Queen, and she has been giving me cooking tips. She manages a family with three kids as well, volunteers, updates her household, exercises with me, teaches Religious Ed... all these things and she can still manage to create enticing, enjoyable, scrumptious meals for her family of five like pratically EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!
I'm thinking about taking one. I love this Blog, I think it's therapeutic for me, but it also takes up a ton of my time; time I could be thinking about learning to cook, time I could be sorting the damned socks on the living room couch; time I could be focusing more on the kids.



Here's a brief detail about our weekend: Today, Monday, I rose from the dead, ate Kentucky Fried Chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy for breakfast at 8:30 a.m. I've also inhaled a Little Debbie's brownie and four homemade (of course, not by me) chocolate chip cookies, and to rehydrate, I've had five diet 7-ups. I don't see a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatteezwhip in my future for a long, long while. That may just shred my stomach...
I'm working my way through a migraine, probably because I am scrubbing this house into a frenzy and am delirious with the fumes from the Carpet Fresh, Pledge Wipes, Clorox Wipes, Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner... but, alas, my close gal pals from Philly are arriving TONIGHT: Stacy, Julie, Kelly, Erica and Di, and we are going to tear it up Ferris Beuhler style in the city! So, I just had to clean the house, right?
If you're a regular reader, or even if you're not, if you like this Blog, or hate it with a vengence, you're invited to play this game:
I think I just got turned on by something I wrote. Wow. That was cool. I might have to read it again!
You've heard of that right? At Buckingham Palace, I think.
So, we're in the minivan, headed to the country to visit Hubb's parents. Diva and Ajers are in the middle seats and Tukey's in the way, way back being pretty quiet. He's never in the back by himself, and he's never very quiet. It's kind of a long drive, for a kid anyway. He must have been bored because all of a sudden, he has something very interesting to say.
I'm listening to this song from Black-Eyed Peas. So, let's get it started!
Wonderful, fun, hip, and cool Erin tagged me, so here goes:
Every time I get a Word for word verification and I see a Q on it, I cringe, because I know I'm going to automatically type a U right after it and screw up my word.
Okay, I'm going to just write.
About a lot of things. I'm going for a run; maybe that'll clear my head and I'll blog about this mixed-up funk later.
She got up to take a shower, kissing him before she left the bed. Hell, she would play the same game. Let’s see if he can hold out, she thought. She kissed him deeply, their morning breath mingling, and then she got out of bed, but he reached for her as she got up, touched the smooth skin of her back, tried to pull her back to him. This was what she wanted. But instead, she got up and left for the shower. She knew he was hard with wanting, but more than her wanting him, she was mad at being rejected, and now she wanted him to feel what she had felt. Rejection. This was a game she could try to play.
Does the whole world's female population have their periods this week?
How can I hide the 40-inch diameter mirror I bought at the flea market yesterday from My Hubby, aka Sleeping-With-The-Enemy guy, but not how he beats Julia Roberts, and not how he expects the Campbell soup cans to be lined up, but how he is now obsessing over the credit card...
I'm grounded. On credit-card suspension with no parole in sight.