Someone bring me some pizza, I'm busy.

My blog is moving. I don't know the details exactly. It's kind of like the Witness Protection Program. They're going to swoop in and wisk me away to a designated location and I'm just riding in the back of the van with the cute agents and their US Government issued sunglasses.

I'm busy. Busy. Busy. Please send pizza to feed my family.

Actually, Desperately Seeking Wordpress is doing all of the work on the blog transfer. That's not why I'm busy.

I'm busy because my very mean friend Becky gave me the Twilight books for my birthday and I accidentally started reading and now I can't stop and it's just a sick and frantic flipping of pages for every spare hour I can find and I'm pretty sure that Scott is so sick of me living with my nose in a book that he will at some point this week put a pillow over my head and put me out of his misery.

So while I'm reading, and then gasping for breath, can you go in and change your subscriptions to Carolyn...Online? Technically I'm moving from CarolynOnline dot Blogspot dot com to CarolynOnline dot com. See? I'm ditching the "Blogspot" part.

Basically if you're subscribed to Carolyn...Online in any way - either getting it in your email or through your feedreader - you need to resubscribe. I'm sorry. What a pain in the ass right?

I'm sure this will cause untold issues and the mess will be months in the fixing and the growing pains with be quite intense. I hope I don't lose any of you. If I do I promise to be like that dog and cat in that Disney movie that chased their family across the Rocky Mountains when they got left behind after the family vacation.

This post is for the bloggers. If you're not a blogger come back next week and find out why the Dept. of Family and Child Services is after me. Again.

Ok bloggers, most of you know about a little manic daily blog thing in November called NowGoBloMe. Wait that's not it . . . NoMoreBloPops.

Oh I kid. It's called NaBloPoMo = Nationl Blog Posting Month. And there's it's little bastard cousin called NaNoWriMo = National Novel Writing Month.

I'm not participating in either of these November events because I'm lazy. But if you are then good for you and keep it up and mainline the coffee and all that.

But I have decided to create my own little November event in solidarity with this frantic blogging month. I'm calling it NaBloCoEmFxFrGdsSk = National Blog Comment Email Fix For God's Sake. I think it has quite a ring to it.

My goal is to get every blogger who reads this to fix their email comment reply settings. Why? Because when you leave me these funny comments I read them on my 'berry and I giggle and then I reply to you and your funniness. Then I realize that you have your comment reply settings set to go to the land of lost emails: "no reply at blogger dot com." And our whole line of communication is lost. I just can't have that.

So I'm instituting NaBloCoEmFxFrGdsSk.

I'm not even sure which setting controls the email monster. But I'm going to let you look at my settings because I'm all sharey like that.

Ok so I'm sharey but I'm not very techy so you can't read these images very well. But you'll get the gist of it

First, if you're on Blogger log into your account. Go into the Settings Tab (see the big fat red circle I drew to draw your eye to the Settings Tab?)


Second, scroll down until you see the two places where you can put your email address. I have no idea which one of these actually controls the comment email address so I would suggest you just change both of them to your real email address. And that's that. Go forth. Participate in NaBloCoEmFxFrGdsSk and let the conversation begin!

I'm just one Super Nova away from creating my own black hole.

You know what's weird? Aside from your obsession with all things vampire and my dog's ceaseless ball licking?

Gravity.

Gravity is weird because there seems to be a rift at my front door. Really. Gravity is stronger just after you pass over the threshold into my house. It's so strong in fact that it manages to pull things off of my children and onto the floor.

I don't see another explanation for it. They walk in the door like normal bipedal backpack carrying mammals and then swoosh! the second they cross the threshold their backpacks fall to the floor. Their shoes fly off. Their jackets are sucked to the earth. I see no other reasonable explanation.

Gravity, it seems, is stronger at my front door.

It's probably hard to get the better of a gravitational pull all drunk with power and running amok in my foyer like that but I'm going to try. I've decided that everything that gets sucked to the ground by this errant gravity field will be my booty. Because I'm like a Gravity Pirate. Arrgghh.

So I will diligently gather up my booty every day and take it to the caves where I will bury my treasure. Half of my stash will go into the cave known as Tempel's Bed and the other half will go into the cave known as Parker's Bed.

Tempel's Bed will conceal a bountiful treasure comprised of dirty Uggs, smelly Tupperware containers with sticky strawberry juice, candy wrappers, one red fuzzy sweatshirt jacket with the sleeves turned inside-out, and a backpack heavy with Pokemon cards.

Parker's Bed will be ripe with stinky shin guards, muddy soccer cleats, reams of papers and file folders, one Tupperware container filled with the crust of a peanut butter sandwich, and a backpack heavy with ill-begotten colored pencils.

I will tuck these treasures in their beds - I mean caves - under their pillows and stuffed animals and blankets. Then every night the girls can keep watch over the stinky sticky smelly loot to make sure it doesn't get sucked through the black hole in our foyer.

A mother's work is never done.

Lies I told on Halloween.

Snickers are poisonous.

That gorilla is totally real.

Reese's give you Salmonella.

Sorry honey, there's no more beer in the cooler.

Oh no, mommy doesn't mind the rain. You take the umbrella.

You're allowed to go to the same house twice if they're giving away chocolate.

We have to hurry because Trick-or-Treating ends at 8:00 sharp.

Um no, I don't think that skirt's too short.

Oh no, mommy's not cold. You take my scarf.

You just close your eyes and go to sleep little one. Your candy is safe here with me.

Tempel Takes Manhattan

Today is Tempel's tenth birthday. T-E-N.

10.

Ten is a big deal. Ten is double digits. And the annoying world of tween. And the funny word of figuring out sarcasm and rolling eyes and newly developed dry humor.

Ten is good.

Scott decided he wanted to do something special with Tempel to mark the occasion so he gave her the gift of experience. We surprised Tempel with a trip to New York. Just her and daddy.

It's a big world out there and there are an infinite number of things to see and do and some of these things Scott wants to show the girls first.



Before she could go to New York with some loser boyfriend in college. Or head up for the weekend with a girlfriend. Or her grandmother for a shopping spree. Scott wanted to be the one to give her this peek at the world. So off they went.

They saw Wicked and the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and Times Square and and and. But most of all she got to spend time with her dad and cement in her little brain the memory of being special and being important and being cared for and loved.

Oh, and the most life changing part of the trip - visiting Nirvana. I mean Nintendo World.

It turns out I have the perfect voice for Silent Movies.

Ok, so their camera kept messing up. Or something. I can't remember but there was a reason we had to do the interview several times. Which made me dork out by the time they got to this version. And there were two wedding parties roaming through the room. It was really loud. And there was a rumor of a streaker at the elevator. But I never saw her. And it was at the end of a long day. And a lot of beer. And Darcy and I were trying really hard to keep our shit together and do one decent take. And my voice does not sound like that. Not even when I've been drinking. Which I'm not admitting to in any way.

Ahem.

This video interview was just posted on the website 5 Minutes For Mom. It was recorded at the tail end of the weekend at the BlogHer Conference in July. And my voice does not sound like that.

Oh, and you should go buy our Book. It grants wishes.

There are no stupid questions. Just stupid people doing their best.

Yesterday I walked into the Urgent Care Clinic three minutes after they opened coughing up the majority of my right lung, left eye swollen shut, face pink with fever, and looking as bad as I felt.

**********

Surly round Oompa Loompa receptionist lady: What seems to be the problem?

Me: Seriously? *cough*cough* I'm clearly infested with germs and viruses. I have twisted my ankle.

Oompa Looma: Sign in and have a seat.

Me: *cough*cough*

Way too perky nurse girl: Hey ma'am, how ya feelin' t'day? How's that ankle?

Me: I feel like I look. So pretty shitty. *cough*cough* I was kidding about the ankle. I feel sick.

Perky Nurse: Mmmm, ok. And your symptoms?

Me: Cough for two days, fever on and off, sore throat, aches, headache, head congestion.

Perky Nurse: Mmm hmm, any other symptoms?

Me: Well, that seems like plenty but now that you mention it I believe "irritable" can be added to the list.

Doctor: How are you feeling? It's not the ankle?

Me: *cough*cough* Um, no. And since you walked in here and found me in the fetal position with my coat over me coughing and wheezing I would think that fairly obvious. I feel sick.

Doctor: Do you have seasonal allergies?

Me: No. I mean I do in the spring but not in the fall.

Doctor: I think you have a sinus infection.

Me: A sinus infection? Really? That's so... pedestrian. I mean there's a pandemic going around and you think I have a sinus infection?

Doctor: Here's your prescription for a Z-pac.

Me: It's always the Z-pac. You should just get a giant Pez dispenser and put it by the door so people can grab their Z-pac on the way out.

Doctor: What's a Pez dispenser?

Me: Sigh. *cough*cough*