My computer has been on a slow decline into the dumpster. I’d be working and it would start doing things like sending random instant messages to the zsar of russia (there is no zsar of russia! silly computer!) and other things of a completely fictitious nature. Finally it got to the point where it would only work if I kept it plugged into an electrical outlet. Unplugged it would last eighteen seconds.

You have come to the exact proper conclusion if you surmised that there were battery related issues. Smart cookie, you are! Mommy pats you on the head!

So now I’ve got it back and there are no more drunken russian messages waiting for me on Yahoo! I prefer it this way. Drunken Yahoo messages should be outgoing from this computer and not the other way round.

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Today I wore my new (favorite!) jeans to drop Madison off at school. I also wore my red (red!) coat and a pair of three inch black boots (jeans! are boot cut!) and one of the other moms said to me, she said,

“You look awesome! With your boots and your jeans and your coat!”

So I struck a little pose wherein it is safe to imagine that I thrust my hips forward not unlike a supermodel might do and she said,

“What? Are you telling me you’re pregnant?”

“No,” says I, “that’s my fashion pose. Don’t you know a fashion pose when you see one?”

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I bought ink cartridges the other day. We had to swiftly remortgage the house to compensate for the financial strain caused by said purchase.

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I am going to make lunch reservations for Dan and I at our new favorite bistro (and yes, I will wear the new favorite jeans to samesaid favorite bistro) for next week because Dan and I do not do enough nice things together anymore. We were the people who vowed that we would read just as many books after kids as before. We’d go to movies and carry the children along in backpacks where we would let them enjoy healthy snacks like bananas and figs and flax seed oil. We’d eat fine food and drink fine wines.

Well, the wine, it’s still getting drunk but that’s more because of the children than in spite of them.

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My dog absolutely fucking adores me. The same dog I swore I was going to send to the doggy fur coat making factory when he was in the business of pissing all over my new furniture last year. Same dog. He does not pee on things anymore and he acts like I am a beautifully wrapped present on christmas morn every single time he sees me. Even if it’s only been five minutes since our last encounter. In the morning he will not go downstairs until I do and if forced to go before I am ready he will wait for me at the bottom of the stairs and wiggle like I am the second coming of the dog bone making lady. He is my entourage. He applauds when I enter the room.

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Madison is four and reading and will be way bored in Kindergarten next year because she will reading at a grade one level by then and nevermind, when she gets to grade one she will probably be ready for Chaucer’s The Canturbury Tails. I’m sure they have that book in grade one. I’m not worried.

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