Trouble trouble boil and bubble

Wow. I'm stepping into a whole new world--giving up my resistance to change and my aversion to new technology. I'm blogging.

I could get into trouble. Those of you who speak to me on a regular basis know my propensity to tell a little too much information. I wonder if that will transfer in writing. That's the beauty of the computer: you get to preview what you say before you press, "Publish." Ah, the modern marvel that is editing. I wish my mouth had a "Preview" button.

Why do I blog? So that when you call to chat with the woman who has five munchkins pulling at her skirt, she can simply say, "Read my blog." That's kind of rude and impersonal--I'm sorry. (See how editing works!) Seriously, though, I don't have the freedom to chat. Look away for even a second and you've got paint on the chairs, the doorways, the highchairs, and the babies' mouths. Yes, it happened today. And I was in the room, cleaning up the paint. Acrylic paint. Doesn't come clean too easily, if at all. Sigh. This is why Jesus said to sell all you have and give to the poor. If you don't have anything, you don't have to worry about messing it up. Sounds like a free life. Sign me up! (As long as I can keep my high chairs, exersaucers, cribs, bouncy seats, playpens, slings, backpacks, moby wraps, rattles, movies, bottles, disposable diapers, bed and pillows, cell phone, computer, digital camera, ice cream maker, and minivan with built-in carseats. I cannot sell my convenience.)

Well, my chosen anodyne for the month is my Mother's Day indulgence at Serenity Spa today. So I sign off and head out to a lovely hot stone massage and Le Grande Classique facial. (It's not as glamorous as it sounds--they'll be sticking very long, very thin needles into individual pores to "extract" the gunk.)