The directions said that we could write a poem if we wished, and that’s what I wished.

Be merciful.  Much appreciated.

BlogHer 09

It was many and many a month ago, in a kingdom not far from mine,

That a conference there lived, that you may know, as the fabulous BlogHer 09.

And this blogger she lived with no other thought

Than to go, which would be oh, so fine!

I have a blog, and they all have blogs,

In this kingdom not far from mine,

And we blogged with a love that was more than love,

I and my BlogHer 09;

With a love that the Twitters and Lijits and such

All supported both theirs and mine.

And this was the reason that, not long ago,

In this kingdom not far from mine,

A thought blew out of my head, inspiring

My beautiful BlogHer 09;

So that I opted to enter this match

And try hard to think of a line

That would be better far than all of the rest

Mine would win, and not one of thine.

Other bloggers, as happy as angels in Heaven

Were happy and made a beeline

Yes! All of them hurried (as all bloggers know,

In this kingdom not far from mine)

To meet me and Tweet me and say howdy-do,

Which is something just short of a sign!

For our love it is stronger by far than the love

Of those who blog nothing, and whine,

Or those for whom Kutcher’s divine,

And bloggers all know that that we’ll meet very soon

Via roadtrip, train, car and airline.

Naught can ever dissever our souls from the soul

Of the fabulous BlogHer 09.

For we Google all day and we think how to pay

For the beautiful BlogHer 09,

And we enter contests in great hopes one will rest

Any problems with BlogHer 09.

And so, all year long, granny panties or thong,

It’s our darling, our darling, our post and our song

In the kingdom not too far from me,

In the Tower, In Real Life, with me.

(. . . with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

The newest Carnival of Education is up; click on over and catch up on what your kids’ teachers and other kids’ parents are saying about the state of education these days. You can’t have a viable opinion if you don’t keep up! (This applies to everything, by the way.)  If you would like to submit a post to the Carnival of Education, you can!  And it’s EASY!

I wish I knew why I am so dog-tired all the time these days.  I know it can’t have anything to do with the fact that I stay up all night and try to go to work anyway.  I’ve done this pretty much all my life, except for when I lived with my parents, and it’s only been lately that it all seems to be catching up with me.  It can’t be old age – that only affects OTHER people – you know, the old ones. . . . so it’s got to be something else.  Maybe leprosy.  Or Tropicana Fever.  (brought about by too much longing for an island and an excess of orange juice to pretend you’re on one.  An island, that is.)  It’s to the point that I can’t listen to music while driving any more;  if it’s early in the morning and I’m going to the city to teach, it makes me sleepier.  Yes, even the really LOUD STUFF.  Too rhythmic, I suppose.   I had to start listening to Audio Books to stay awake, and you know what, my beautiful DIQ (daughter in question) was right – they’re cool!

Once I’m at the college, I’m wide awake.  It might be forced, but it’s real.  I love my job, and my college, so much!   Nice, nice people, my students.  I try to be as interesting as possible, and so far even the narcoleptic student has managed to stay awake.  He sleeps soundly until the very last minute, but that’s all right.  He’s not MINE until the stroke of 9:30.  They can all show up with pillows and warm milk and teddy bears if they want, and sleep all over the floor, as long as they’re alert at 9:30.  I don’t bother them until it’s time.

We do have all new faucets, toilets, and paper towel dispensers this semester: a wonderful thing indeed.  Gone are the days when people had to flush, turn handles, and “pull down” manually.  The new fixtures are all motion activated, but the motion has to be extreme or it’s not noticed.  What IS noticed, however, would be the row of adults, all gesturing frantically, begging the water to come on, or turn off, and waving dripping wet hands in the air in supplication, hoping for an inch of towel to peep forth.  It’s like a band of St. Vitus Dance victims at a revival.  Or a tour of Dutch windmill country during a hefty breeze.

I always feel guilty about leaving the stall before the thing flushes.  It always does, but what about the times when there’s a long line, and someone enters the stall before it flushes after the previous pooper?  Sometimes, that thing doesn’t flush for a minute or more.   Ick.  I have this THING about pooping on top of a stranger’s poop.  Color me goofy.

Dancing for the bathroom fixtures.  As if life didn’t come with enough indignities. . . .

I have an Etsy shop.  I only sell one thing, but it’s a really cool thing.  And, if you want a custom one, just ask me!  If you’re one of my readers, I’ll cater to your every whim!  Um, Etsy-style, that is.  What am I talking about?  Please, go check me it out!

Every home needs a place for a genie to live, don’t you think so?  I raised my children in a world of fantasy, and I’m overjoyed to say that they still know how to dwell there.  Please check out my daughter’s Etsy shop; she makes beautiful genie habitats.  I’ve watched her make these; every single teeny-tiny bead is placed by hand, individually.  Her pictures are lovely, but none can really capture the beauty of these creations. When the light catches one of her genie habitats, it’s truly gorgeous.

Also?  Blue SweeTarts are nasty.  The purple and orange ones, on the other hand, are FANTASTIC.  I wish I could find a package of SweeTarts with ONLY purple and orange ones.

Yes, that’s a petty wish.  I don’t care.  I love SweeTarts, but I don’t like the blue ones!  The raspberry/cherry (can’t really tell!) ones are pretty gross, too.  Green and yellow SweeTarts?  Meh.  No opinion.    But those yummy purple and orange SweeTarts?  Those are mine.  You can have all those OTHER ones.  Let’s flush the blue ones down the toilet.

I also love the purple and orange Pixie Stix, but I won’t go into detail because there is something vaguely unsettling about a woman my age sucking down a huge thick tube of tart powdery goodness.

Those little Pixy Stix straws just aren’t worth all the effort.  Besides, the end always gets soaked from the sucking, and you have to keep biting cutting the tip off to get all of the “stuff” out.

It’s nice to have candy that can’t be shared, though.  REALLY nice.

Besides, candy made by Gene Wilder or Johnny Depp can’t be anything but grand.  (If you don’t understand that reference, why, there must be something WRONG with you!!!!)