if my blogger account were a twitter account

Lately it seems all I'm capable of stringing together are brief snippets more suitable to Twitter's 140 character limits rather than the robust and complex posts to which my faithful readers have become accustomed.  I had big plans for a specific Christmas post, but it was fairly time-consuming, and I ran out of Christmas season before I could devote the appropriate amount of time to its completion.  Maybe next year.

And my determination to complete that posting project coupled with a rather hectic holiday season derailed any good intention of taking one of those snippets and developing it into adequate blog fodder.  So since it's a new year and excuses are for losers, I'm going to roll with what I've got.  Today I present a post in tweet-sized chunks: thoughts to close the old year and kick off the new in 140 characters or less.

• I have no idea how I managed to do twelve posts between December 9th and 24th in 2009.  I could barely spell my name  in December 2010.
• Because I'm a shallow selfish girl, all I want to talk about are all the Christmas presents I got, but no one would enjoy that but me.
• I have a twitter account but no inclination to ever tweet.  I blame my stubborn insistence on using my phone only as a phone.
• If I tweeted, I'd retweet FHDM's plug for today's Resolution blog.  Worth the read.
• Speaking of  FHDM, I got my Blue Like Jazz associate producer t-shirt in the mail last week.  First gift from my soulmate.  Score.
• For the first time since 2005, I didn't place in the top two in my girls fantasy football league.  I came in fourth.  Lame.
• My moma's preacher says no one cares about the fantasy teams of others.  People listen so they can talk about their own teams. He's right.
• When I came home tonight, my freezer door was standing wide open.  No idea why.  I'm not blaming Jess.  Throwing away food is depressing.
• I just found an unopened bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.  I'm considering eating only the recommended serving size.  Think I can do it?
• I feel the need to brag about accomplishing mundane tasks that any normal person would be embarrassed to admit they'd left undone.
• My Christmas tree is still up, but I've only been home a day and spent most of it sleeping and at work.  I once took my tree down at Easter.
• I did not make anyone (including myself) cry at work today.  Some days it's the best outcome for which I can hope.
• Michelle got a fancy new camera for Christmas from my brother-in-law.  She's a good sharer.  I like her.
• If Jess reads this post, she will hate it.  She's anti-twitter.  Hey, she just walked by.  Hi, Jess.
• I have a story about my landlord that lots of readers already know.  I can't tell it without being insensitive with these character limits.
• At one point today I had approximately sixteen tabs open in my browser.  I have internet ADD.  Bad.
• I almost wrote about how cold my feet are-then I realized that I was in the tweet trap: talking about what doesn't matter as though it does.

That's when I knew it was time to quit.  And if you were waiting to hear about the pretzel outcome--I did indeed eat only one serving (eight measly--but delicious--pretzels).  It's good to be back.

silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone

I'd like to take credit for the title of this post, but I stole it from G.B. Stern.  Thanks, Gladys, for letting me borrow your words.

But in the spirit of being useful and because I complain way too much, it seems like an appropriate moment to proclaim some thankfulness.  Lots of my facebook friends have been doing daily thankfulness statuses for the whole month.  I didn't, not because I'm ungrateful but because I'm lazy.  I did quite by accident mention something for which I was thankful on Monday morning, so I've followed up with that the past couple of days. Let's start there, shall we?  Please pardon the third person pronouns.  It's facebook's fault.

Ellen is thankful  . . .

" . . .for her Monday mornings which ease her back into work mode as gently as possible."  I don't have to go to work until 11 on Mondays because it's my late night.  I love that schedule of getting to sleep a bit late or having time to get some other things done in the mornings.  Plus it gets my late night out of the way early in the week, so it's not hanging over my head.  Of course, I'm usually so grouchy about having to go back to work, I don't fully appreciate these benefits, but this week I did.  


" . . . that the zombies in her dream weren't too aggressive."  Okay, that one's just silly, but when I woke up from a rather unsettling dream Tuesday morning and hopped right on the internet as is my custom, the lingering creepiness of the dream was soon overshadowed by the relief that it hadn't been grosser or more horrifying.  


" . . . that she gets to spend a few nights away from the yippy dog next door."  Poor yippy dog next door.  How I hate her.  Apparently Mr. Next Door rescued her from some terrible treatment, and he had her for months before she could make sound.  I felt all sorts of sadness for her when she was an abused dog who couldn't bark.  Such a tragic little figure, she was.  And then her comfort and confidence grew, and she was healed enough to bark. every. morning.of. my. life.  Now I feel all sorts of sadness for myself.  But I'll be spending the next four nights at Shane's, so her yippiness will be someone else's Thanksgiving blessing.

And now for some previously unpublished thoughts on gratitude:


I'm thankful . . .


 . . . for a ten day free preview of the HBO channels going on now.  I've filled our DVR with movies, watched a couple on demand, and have done a bit of work to catch up on all the past year or more of not watching movies.  For the holiday weekend, we are actually getting a free preview of the top tier package which includes access to all the premium channels, but the DVR is full, and I'll be a bit too busy basking in the warm bosom of my family to worry about it.  


 . . . for the interwebs.  I will proclaim, with no concern for how lame it makes me, that the internet makes my life better in countless ways.  And since my infrequent and often unreadable posts come to you via internet, imaginary readers, I'm sure you join me in my gratitude.


 . . . for my four-year-old Bible class.  My little children are precious and funny and even the ones who don't listen and make me work up a sweat are so sweet and charming.  I could tell you loads of stories that seem hilarious and special to me but would probably just bore you and go nowhere.  But trust me that the dozen and a half or so preschoolers who hang out with me on Sundays are the best part of most of my weeks.


 . . . for pajama pants.  I'm thankful for the rest of my clothes too, most of the time, but I'm always overwhelmed with gratitude when I can put on my pajama pants.


 . . . for Peeps and Meeps and Weeps.  Friends so precious and dear that miles and years cannot ease the hold they have on my heart.


 . . . for cell-phone alarm clock capabilities that allow me to never have to wake up to a blaring alarm again.  Nothing ruins a morning like a startlingly loud honking noise.  "Linus and Lucy" is ever so much nicer.

. . .  for chocolate-covered pretzels.  How they complete my life.
 
 . . . for her.  And him.

Seriously.  Don't they look like the sweetest, best parents anywhere ever?  They so are.



  . . . and for her (and her again) and her and her and her and her

. . . and for him and him and him (and him again even with that face) and her

. . . and for him and him and him and her and him and him and him

  . . . and for him and her and her and her and him and her (and for the her inside that striped sweater that we wouldn't meet for another five months) and him and her and him and her and him.

. . . for traditions that hold on even when they become crowded and noisy and logistically unsound.  And for the love and understanding that allow those traditions to be reevaluated and adapted into ever more good times.  For last times and first times.  For nostalgia and anticipation.  For family and every special thing that the word evokes.


 . . . for you, dear readers.  For being here and reading this and making all my Google Analytics dreams come true.


Love & stuff,
ellen

100 haikus (but not really)

Today's poems mark

my centennial blog post.

Let's celebrate me!

 Faithful fans have hit

almost fourteen thousand times

in less than ten months.

Lots of time wasted

on my rambling. Thank you for

stroking my ego.

 No more numbers talk.

Statistics aren't poetry 

though I love them so.

You keep coming back

even when I don't post much
because you love me.

You are good for me.

I need this validation--

whiny narcissist.

I'd hoped to make this
 post one hundred syllables
but I had more words.

I did consider
a hundred lines instead, but
can't divide by three.

A hundred haikus
seems beyond my skills which are
considerable.

But I will forge on
and see how many it takes
'til I've had enough.

I like the sound of
my own voice (or typing hands).
This could be a while.

Topics covered here

seem varied for your pleasure;

but in truth, for mine.

Christmas music to

abandoned project 4:4

to boring diaries,

the open letters
that led to my short-lived brush
with internet fame,

tv obsessions
to vacations with the fam
to crafty projects

to blogging soulmates,
the famous FHDM--
we're getting married.

I cry when I write

my five favorite things in

random birthday posts,

probably because
I devote valuable space
to another soul.

I haven't mentioned
my chocolate-covered pretzel
love lately.  My bad.

They're still my main squeeze,
but they haven't been on sale
since last December.

A little known fact:
I think I'm more interesting
than I truly am.

Maybe you'd learned that
in our time together here.
You're humoring me?


Now here's a shout-out
to some special faithful fans
who keep me going.

To cousin, scholar,
theologian, number one
blog fan, a thank you.

You've been telling me
to write more for years, and I
am glad I listened.

To my sweet moma,
who thinks everything I do
is perfect, thank you.

Because of your faith,
I'm the over-confident
braggart writing here.

For my siblings three
and the in-laws too, a thanks
for laughing with me,

for cheering me on,
and giving me the Handful.
They photograph well.

And to the Handful,
Pointer, Bird, Ring, Pinkie, Thumb,
thanks for being cute.

I know you don't read
the blog--and you still should not.
 I might use bad words.

And to the Popster,
who I once accused of not
reading my blog, thanks.

I'm touched that I rate
with Netflix watch it now and
your other dot coms.

For Rob-Bob, thank you
for pithy comments that make
my favorite lists.

To peeps like Hailey,
Mo and Beck and Martha too
your presence pleases.

Maybe other peeps
read the blog too, but they don't
leave me comments.

So, Peeps, if you are
among my faithful readers
I thank you as well.

To Cory the page,
who thinks I'm hilarious
in person or print,

I appreciate
your laughter though I know that
it is very cheap.

For Lacey who does not
comment but reads avidly,
you should drop a line.

To Bill, who comments
as himself now instead of
some celebrity,

thanks for stopping that.
Now learn to spell opinion.
Google will thank you.

And to Jess, who reads
on her phone and makes no comment
but talks to me live,

you listen to me
when I need a sounding board
and keep me writing.

I know there are more
(thanks, Google Analytics)
who read in silence.

Thank you for coming,

imaginary readers,

blogging for you thrills.

Here's to hundreds more!
I'll keep having opinions
if you'll keep reading.

*****Insecure blogger's
question:  Did I go too far?
Are haikus played out?

This blogger hopes not,
or I've just ruined it all.
Tell me I'm funny.*****

I have done my best
to remind you of the great
moments on the blog.

If I omitted
one of your favorite bits,
please chime in below.

 More talk about me
in the comment section here:
icing on the cake!

For those who don't count,
I made it to fifty-three
including this one.

an open letter to my #1 fan

Dear cousin, scholar, theologian, and #1 blog fan,

I know you need a blog today, a blog especially for you.  I know you must be just sitting around bored and sad that I haven't posted much lately.  I know when you don't get to ingest enough of my words, it breaks your heart.  And I know you don't have any other distractions in your life right now.  Nothing new going on, nothing to talk about, nothing tiny and cute and pink that needs to be held and loved and diapered regularly.  I'm sorry that you have so little in your own life that you rely so heavily on reading words that I have written to supply you with basic happiness.  I'll try to be better at soothing your soul through blog.

So I thought today, since there's nothing special going on with you, I should provide you with a few ideas to occupy your time:

1.  You should read a book.  I know that my regular composition of high-quality reading material has supplanted your need for print publications, but don't forget that other people write interesting words too, and some of them are even published in bound book form for easy transport and availability.  May I suggest the work of FHDM (FCILDM, in your case)?  Though I haven't read it yet because the internet does fulfill all my written word needs these days, I'll recommend A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  I watched a video series he did that related to the idea for this book, and it was pretty great, I thought.  I would even consider loaning you the book, if you wanted, though my future financial security would be better served if I made you buy your own copy. (and if you followed that link and ordered it from amazon, my more immediate financial security would also be served).  Of course, if you're more interested in reading material that is at hand, you could read Josie's Happy Birthday to You.


2.  You should familiarize yourself with Joss Whedon's entire body of work.  Of course, you need to start with Buffy, but once you get to season 4, you'll need to start Angel, and follow a complicated progression of crossover episodes for four seasons.  Don't worry, though--Shane can map it out for you.  You'll love Buffy, but Angel is where you'll really begin to appreciate the genius.  And, of course, Firefly will complete your life, though you'll physically ache that there are only 13 episodes.  But there's always Serenity to fill up a bit of that hole in your soul.  And actually I said his entire body of work, but you don't have to watch Dollhouse because I didn't.  I hear it's not as funny, so why bother.  But Dr. Horrible is a must.  And then when you've done all that background work, you'll be ready to watch the Whedon-directed season finale of Glee.  You're welcome.

3.  You should compile a list, in ranking order, of the ten things you'd most like to see me blog.  This will satiate your constant need to evaluate and quantify everything in your life and also provide fodder to keep this blog going so that our codependent relationship will thrive.  Win-win, buddy.  Also, I'll just be honest here and say that fresh ideas have been a little sparse on the ground lately.  It should probably go without saying after that ridiculous hair post, but never let it be said that I pass up an opportunity to use two or three sentences to describe my life when none would speak just as eloquently.  So that top ten list could save us all.  Do it for the imaginary readers.

4.  You should eat chocolate-covered pretzels.  Seriously, this could solve all your problems in one bite (or however many bites it takes to get to the bottom of the bag).  I was having a pretty rough morning until I realized that the bag of Flipz (that I bought myself at Wal-Mart almost two weeks ago and had been saving for my most desperate hour) was indeed in my work bag.  There was much rejoicing.  And then I ate them, and now I'm practically perfect in every way.  I don't even really like pretzels, but something about this particular salty-sweet combo is a balm to my soul and taste buds.  And I firmly believe they have the power to change lives for others as well.


5.  If all else fails, you could throw my stupid ideas out the window and take care of your sweet, pretty wife and get to know your brand-new, gorgeous baby daughter, and maybe even hang out with your hilarious, beautiful son when your family of four meets up for the first time later.  You could tell baby Josie all about me so that when we meet up tonight, she'll be prepared for how much she's going to love me.  You could read her this blog and explain about how loud and hilarious and needy and hair-obsessed I am so that she'll recognize me tonight.  And maybe pat her extra so that she won't be surprised at my firm baby-patting hand.  I've got big plans for us to be friends, so I'll appreciate it if you'd put in a good word for me before I get there.  And if that doesn't seem to work, tell her I'm bringing food.

See you soon, #1 fan.  I hope these words tide you over until I see you later.

Your favorite cousin,

Ellen

what i'm giving up, taking up, and hoping to gain

Last year was the first time that I gave up something for Lent.  I wrote about it in a facebook note to ask for encouragement and accountability.  I don't really know if that's how Lent is supposed to work, but that's what I did.  I'll say that giving up cussing in my head and dwelling on negativity that causes most of the cussing in my head was moderately successful.  I'd like to tell you that I stuck to working at it after Lent ended, and that's perhaps somewhat true, but I've long since gotten lax about it again, at least the negativity part. 

This year I asked my expert on all things Catholic if it was all right to talk about what you were giving up, and I have permission to share, as long as I'm not whining and complaining about what I'm giving up or out looking for sympathy or attention for it.  So I'd like to tell you about the self-improvement projects I'll be working on for the next forty-odd days.

• I'm giving up all caffeine except chocolate.  Last year I did an excellent job of justifying not giving up caffeine, because I didn't feel like it.  But I like the idea of a physical self-denial, and I like the reality of having something visual and tangible in terms of accountability.  So I'm going for it.  I was originally going to give up carbonated beverages, which left me tea and coffee--not that I drink much coffee.  But I've got a few showers and a wedding coming up during Lent, and I didn't want to have to pass on punch--one of my favorite things and something I don't get very often--because of ginger ale.  True self-denial would probably demand that I stick with the carbonation-free idea for just that reason, but ultimately that's not the decision I made.  So I'm going caffeine-free instead, which means taking sweet tea out of my life.  That's gonna hurt.  And since I don't like any non-caffeinated carbonated beverage besides ginger ale, this will effectively cut carbonation from my life except for celebratory occasions.  This one will likely also mean giving up pizza for the duration of Lent as I can't stand drinking water with pizza.

• I'm also giving up candy.  I feel guilty for not including chocolate along with all the other caffeine, but I sometimes need some for medicinal purposes.  Additionally, Ellie at work has already requested the chocolatey-est cake that I can make for her birthday, which falls during Lent, and there's no way I can do that without sampling, so the candy ban seemed the most likely way to avoid most chocolate without leaving myself a little room to not lose my mind.  This decision also means there will be no Dove truffle eggs in my pre-Easter life, which will probably be the hardest thing I do all year, and that includes reading the book of Numbers.

• I'm limiting my time spent on facebook.  My friend Kimberly is giving up facebook entirely for Lent, and when she told me that, it hit me where I live.  I waste so much of my day on the internet in general, and I honestly have no idea what percentage of that time wasted is on facebook, but considering how often I stop by to catch up, I'm sure it adds up significantly.  I don't want to give it up entirely because there are some really positive things that come out of it for me, but scaling back seems healthy.  I haven't yet nailed down the parameters for the limiting, but I thinking I'm going to aim towards checking once or twice a day for a maximum of thirty minutes.  I know some of you are shaking your heads and wondering what it is I do on fb that consumes so much time.  I can't exactly explain it, and I certainly can't justify it.  The word addiction would not be misused here.  I'm still working out if reading email notification from facebook counts as checking in.  Feel free to weigh in on this in the comments.

• I'm taking up encouraging speech.  I almost said that I was giving up gossip, which is certainly a noble goal, but I chose instead to not phrase this one in the negative.  I don't want just to stop gossiping, but I also want what I say to be uplifting or edifying.  I want to use words to help instead of harm.  No visual aid for this one, and I think it will be the most difficult to keep, but if I can manage it for forty-five days or so, I know I'll be the better for it.  And the next forty-five days might come that much easier.

• I'm taking up a stronger commitment to project 4:4 and the Daily Bible reading.  I've been keeping up, week by week, but daily I haven't been so hot.  In fact, I need to read three days' worth right now.  My goal for Lent is to be on track every day.  I know I'll be the better for it.  And the next forty-five days might come that much easier.

I'm still thinking about all of these, and I have around eighty minutes to come up with a few more things, but perhaps this is my final list.  It's certainly a tall order, and I'm certainly weak and lazy and likely to fail if I try to do it on my own.  That's where you and God come in.  So, imaginary reader, I seek your encouragement, covet your prayers, and hope that our relationship is one that includes accountability.

Oh, I also need to know if chocolate-covered pretzels count as candy.  And I need to know quickly, or things could get ugly.

if i had more money than sense

Whenever the Powerball gets up into the hundreds of millions, the Popster always buys a ticket.  He doesn't bother when it's any less than that, apparently tens of millions of dollars aren't worth his time, but hundreds he'll trouble himself for.  And when he buys a ticket, and sometimes when he doesn't, he and my moma decide what they'd do with hundreds of millions of dollars.  The nice part is that I usually end up getting a few million out of the deal.  In fact, the first things my moma usually lists off when she's playing this little game is who all she'd give money away to:  her kids, her sisters, the church, and so on down the line.  I  think most people probably say that they'd give money away whether they actually would or not, but when my moma and the Popster say it, I believe it.  They are generous folks, and I don't imagine the addition of eight zeros to their bank balance would change that.

So when the Powerball gets high, I root for them rather than buying a ticket of my own.  I'm not sure my heart is as generous as my moma's, and hundreds of millions of dollars is a big responsibility.  I hope I'd be generous, but what got me to thinking about the Popster and his Powerball tickets was because I was feeling full of wants today, wanting things that are far from necessities.

So if my olds ever win their hundreds of millions and I end up with a windfall as a result, I'd first try to spread some of that around to causes and efforts that help the hungry and hurting.  And I'd buy the last quarter of the college education I'm not using.  I'd pay off Al, but maybe not get a new car right away.  Al and I are getting along splendidly.  And I'd settle up some credit card debt and make myself a promise never to get mixed up in that again.  I'd stop throwing money away on rent, and make sure there was some money tucked away for a rainy day.  Those are just the smart responsible things one does when one can afford it.

But then, I'd do fun stuff.  The stuff you don't do or buy when you're trying to be a reasonably responsible, frugal adult.
Today, first on my list is a DSLR camera.  I know I just got a new camera, and we're getting along just fine, but the more I see what my little $80 camera can do compared to my sister-in-law's or any of the photographer/bloggers whose photos I drool over, the more I want an expensive big-girl camera of my own.

I'd buy a new couch, one that had never belonged to anyone but me.  I am to the point in my life where hand-me-down furniture is just no fun.  It would also be a color, not tan or beige or any other code word for bland.

I'd buy too many pairs of shoes.  I'd try not to, but it would happen anyway.

And I'd buy at least two more pairs of jeans and at least three more pairs of khakis.  I'm down to only one pair each that I actually like to wear.  And a new shower curtain.  And maybe dishes.  And chocolate-covered pretzels.

So those are the things I'm feeling greedy for right now.  What, imaginary reader, will you do when my moma and the Popster hit the Powerball?

a break

Apparently some of my more discerning readers are ready for something besides Christmas music.  Never let it be said that I don't listen to my adoring public.  (Though I will be back to the Christmas series next post--so don't fear, faithful fans)

So now I have to talk about other things . . . hmmm.

Let's talk about tv shows for just a second.  The season finale of So You Think You Can Dance was tonight, but I haven't watched it yet.  I'm going to be decently happy with any outcome, as I pretty much like all the remaining dancers.  My prediction is Russell, which might be the choice of my heart.  But you won't hear me crying if Ellenore, Jakob, or Kathryn win.  I think it would be weird if either Ryan or Ashleigh won, and I think they're definitely not the strongest dancers, but it won't break my heart either.

We'll see how that shakes out, but at the moment, I'm watching tonight's episode of The Sing-off, hosted ever-so-uncomfortably by Nick Lachey.  This show is hardcore lame, and I love it.  I'm pretty sad that Noteworthy went home last night, but I think Nota is my favorite.  If Maxx Factor doesn't go home tonight, I'll probably hurt someone.  Also the purple argyle sweater that Boyz II Men Shawn is wearing is perfection.  I love him, I mean, it.
And while I'm thinking about tv, if I ever meet the inventor of the DVR, I will probably kiss him (or her) fiercely.  DVR is brilliant.  Just sayin'.

I think I made Jess uncomfortable in Kroger tonight.  I was on a hunt for Flipz chocolate-covered pretzels.  They've been on the sale 10 for $10 for the past couple of weeks, and I may or may not have consumed several bags so far.  Anyway, I was looking for them in hopes that they were still on sale, and I was filling the silence by talking about how much I love them, and I said, "I want to have little chocolate-covered pretzel babies."  Apparently that was taking things just a bit too far.  Sorry.

I've been running the dishwasher up a storm this week.  I did all that Christmas baking (Jess's sampling pictured at right) over the weekend, and by the time I got finished with all the batches of whatever late Saturday night, I didn't have it in my heart to do dishes.  So it's been a gradual process tackling the mess.  Plus I made soup for ornament exchange on Sunday and actually cooked dinner for myself last night, and Jess eats and dirties dishes on a fairly regular basis herself.  Yes, I'm trying to justify why it's taken me days to clean up the mess.  But why not waste several sentences on something I could have summed up in a word:  lazy with a capital Z.

I think I was supposed to cover current events somewhere in the break blog, but reality tv is going to have to be good enough.  I've got tv to watch and that amazing cream cheese thing to make for work Susan's birthday.  I have this overwhelming need to bust out the camera and do a Pioneer-Woman-style cooking post about it, but then people might see the background mess of my kitchen and never eat anything I make ever again. Plus I'd also have to find the cable for my camera, and that's as lost as my address book.

Did I tell you that one?  I went on a lengthy hunt for my address book so I could work on my Christmas cards.  And though I'm practically famous for not being able to find my butt with both hands, I did a thorough but fruitless job of looking.  But thanks to the miracle of internet stalking, I was able to get almost all the addresses I needed.  No, your information isn't safe.  Just thought you should know.