Hello. Hello. Hello!!

Oh my word, finally I have not just a moment to blog, BUT the ways and means to do it!

And by that I mean the Internet.

Oh lord, we have been without the Internet for a long time. I felt like I was.... I don't know, like an actual pilgrim or something.

Whew.

Ok, granted we still lived indoors, had working plumbing and cable TV. But seriously, who doesn't have the Internet these days?

And instead of wasting time googling spends their free time working in their garden and cooking homemade pies? Seriously who???

Barbarians.

That's who.

Just kidding.

Although, I don't have to be politically correct with you guys. Obviously, if you're reading this blog you do in fact have the Internet.

Am I right?

Or, this is a message miraculously being delivered to you maybe through lights in the sky, in which case, first of all I say hello, how are you? And second of all, just go back to sleep, believe me there is no adventurous destiny lying in these pages.

Unless of course fate has you listening to a bunch of bitching and crazy kid stories for eternity in which case I would advise you to say screw fate and get up and do your own thing.

Hey. So maybe there are words of wisdom for your illusive future after all....

Well.

That's settled.

Ok, is it?

What am I even talking about?

Does anybody know??

It's like my brain has forgotten how to put two cohesive sentences together in the span of two weeks.

Definite possibility. I have been writing, like writing and writing and writing. Just not blogging and those are two so separate things I can't even wrap my head around the differences right now.

Just know, if I start acting like a sixteen year old girl, in love with the wrong guy and about to start a revolution, I have slipped into Fiction Mode and will hopefully be popping out of it posthaste.

I've said before that I love Joan Rivers. I love love her. And that means I'm serious.

Anyways she hates showbiz. Like hates it. And says she's the most insecure comedian. BUT. She has to do it. She can't do anything else. There was no other way for her.

And that my dear friends is exactly how I feel about writing. Because when I'm not physically at a computer typing, I'm constantly writing in my head. It's terrible. Awful. Seriously, maybe it's a psychological disorder.

And not just one story.

Oh. No.

Too many. Way too many stories.

This book and then the next book after this one. Oh and the fourth book. Plus the series I have already started. Yes, all four books of those. Oh and when those are finished, the series that will be next. The one I am naming after Stella. Well, and if I write a series about Stella then I better write one about each of my kids, right? So those are at least two more books and they are a million ideas being brainstormed around in my cloudy, lightning bolted head.

It's too much sometimes.

If I could write as quickly as my brain worked then we wouldn't have a problem. I'd have just like twenty books lying around... not making any money.... But at least the ideas would be outside of my head and there would be room for coherent, grown up, intelligent thoughts.

Instead I just think, act, dream and behave like the characters I am writing about. Which is awesome since they're all in their teens.

Oy.

And I listened to Gill, he said, Write what you know. Anne of Green Gables anyone? And so unfortunately for me, those bratty heroines of mine are all some exaggeration of my character.

Take a breath.

Well, at least I hope they are an exaggeration of character, otherwise I'm pretty sure Zach should be sainted. Or knighted. Or given the Nobel Peace Prize.

Where was I going with this?

Oh.

Just to tell you that I have been working. And I am super excited for where this story is going. Even if it sells ten copies. I love the story.

And since I am usually as clueless as anyone else where my story will actually end up until I get there myself, it's like an adventure of unfolding creativity in my mind.

Does that sound like a drug overdose?

Yikes.

Well, I do know how this story will end at least. The last one I had no idea. I didn't even sit down intending to write that story! But, this one is going in a definite direction, the trip there is just the obscure part.

:)

Enough about that.

I've been plenty busy doing other fun summer stuff too with the kidlets! We've been going to free movies, which is my fave thing to do on rainy mornings. And did I say they are free? Because they are free.

Bomb.com

Splash parks and regular parks and the slip and slide and lots of Popsicles and grilling and smores and late nights and just relaxing.

I am loving this life.

This summer life.

But I do have to say. Last week when we were at the park.... I was totally twinsies with a ten year old.

That's right. I look up and this little girl is roller skating around, a total copy cat version of me.

It was kind of awful.

I kept looking at all the other moms and I just knew they were judging me. "She must be the nanny.... What kind of mom shops in the plus sized kids department? Oh my gosh. That nanny is totally breastfeeding that poor little baby right now! What a pervert!!!"

Ok. Can you imagine?

It was awful.

And who public nurses in a park to begin with right?

This mom. That's who.

So anyways. I was wearing the whole black leggings thing, and of course I'm going to match with somebody. Everybody wears leggings. Babies. Kids. Teenagers. Moms. Ok, fine, not hip, stylish moms, but I've seen some moms, ok? Ok.

But. Then lets just talk about the top. Tank top style, baby doll cut to cover the booty. I'm wearing leggings, remember? And lets not even talk about how no girl. NO. Girl. Should be walking around in a short shirt and leggings, because the look just is never going to flatter anyone. Unless maybe.... maybe... you're working out. But that's it.

Let's talk Camel Toe.

Ok? We've all seen it happen to the best of them. I have too much self respect. I do. I can't help it. :)

So. Back to the alternate universe in which I had twin day with a ten year old.

The cut, fine. Baby doll? I know. But here's the thing, I have ginormous bubbies and she is ten. The style was made for both of us.

What is terrible, is that they could have been from the exact same store, I can't use designer. Neither of us is Designer material.... You know, those mother/daughter matching outfits? Like that.

Same colors, which were blue and pea green. (I told you I was trying new colors, obviously what was I thinking????) And they both had these weird like prints all over them.

To top it off, we were both rocking the black cardigan because the day happened to be a little bit chillier than normal.

Ok. Lets be honest. Trust circle everyone.

She was chilly.

I do my best to never. EVER. Reveal anything above my elbows.

Nobody is invited to this gun show.

Until I find a successful plastic surgery to kill two birds with one stone. Those two birds do not need to be named at the moment. Suffice it to say, the cardigan is a must have accessory.

So.

The little girl totally copied me!

We were both even pulling off the whole messy bun thing on top of the head. And, don't think I'm bitter or anything.... But hers looked better than mine!

Dang it.

At least none of my children got confused.

And how could they? We were like Danny Devito and Arnold Schwarzenegger only.... not exactly....

The same day. I was sitting there with my writer's notebook in one hand, my favorite pen in the other, one eye on the baby and one eye on the girls when a mom sat down next to me.

And starts like literally talking my ear off.

Which is fine. I love to have grown up conversations as much as the next normal person, until someone needs to know every detail of my life. We're strangers, finances and sex are probably off limits.

You want to talk to me about even things like nursing, giving birth, how much I paid for the girls outfits? Sure. Those are topics that might need to be off limits, but I'll let them slide.

How much my husband makes a year and when is our best bet at getting pregnant and how often we try?

Too far.

Whatev. Though. I can be as inappropriate as the next person. So we, me and this stranger, chat the morning away.

She loves my kids names. I love her kids names. They are the same ages and playing well together. She is a stay at home mom, I am a stay at home mom.

You get the idea.

Although I will say this, she asked about the girls name and then said about Stryker, Oh, let me guess his..... Henry?

Really?

You went from Stella.

To Scarlett.

To.... Henry?

I mean, I get the whole like time period aspect of the guess. But, seriously, Henry Higginson. Have you seen My Fair Lady?

I probably would have gone with Samuel.

But who am I to judge?

Anyways. I eventually take the girls over to the picnic tables for our picnic lunch that I had packed and we say our temporary goodbyes.

We eat.

The kids go back to play.

I'm still there with the food.

So she comes back over.

At which point, she is gathering her kids to leave, but not without getting my number first.

Oh.

Yes.

Well, she asks for it.

And then I get distracted by a stripping Scarlett.

So when I return to the table, she has written down her phone number to gives it to me.

I take it.

And she leaves, with a, Hey if you're ever on this side of town again, give me a call, we'd love to hang out.

Don't you think its bizarre?

Believe me, the last thing I want to do is be ungracious. It's not about that. Our kids played fantastic together. They were the exact same age as mine and even her intrusiveness didn't really bother me.

But.

This is not the first time this has happened to me. And although I would like to believe it's my sparkling and gravitational personality, I know better.

In this interactive society where you keep 1,000 Fake Facebook friends and 1 real one. If you even have one. And stay at home, with the kids involved online and not in the real world it gets lonely.

I get that.

But this is also the crazy world of you need a healthy dose of paranoia to survive and keep your identity in check.

Your identity as in identity theft.

And how do you know you can just trust whatever random stranger happens to have kids the same age as yours and a double stroller?

Am I being too harsh?

Would you have handed over your number?

Even more, next time you were on that side of town would you be giving her a ring, hoping she picks up and has the morning free?

..............?

I don't know if I can do it.

I have a solid group of friends with kids already.

You know what this means right? I can never go back to that park ever, in fear that I might run in to her and be asked why she hasn't heard from me yet.

Shoot.

I liked that park.