take out the trash

We're going to call this Take Out the Trash Day here on ye olde blog.

First of all, blogging is so not dead. Just because a few people have gotten bored with it does not mean it's over. No offense to those who are bored, of course. But blogs are alive and well. Just ask Jennifer or Ann. Twitter and blogging are qualitatively different, in my opinion. Says the girl who doesn't use twitter (I know there's a twittering verb - tweet? - but I just can't bring myself to use it with a straight face), because I don't want to be sucked in. I don't need any other reason to look up and realize my quiet time is over and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. Ina Garten and Bobby Flay have that job covered.

Second. Last week I was ready to take on the world in order to do what I was convinced God was calling me to do; this week, I can't even form a sentence around the topic without questioning what I'm saying. What is that about? Is it spiritual backlash? Or is it just human nature to stare too long at the waters before stepping out onto them? I don't know.

Third, I was reminded today how much I rely on writing to process things. There are things I'm not telling you guys - shocking, I know - because it's just not quite ready for public consumption, but because I'm not writing it here, I'm not able to articulate my thoughts very well anywhere. The truth is, I write way better than I talk. Half the time I don't know what I think about something until I write it down. I just can't think on my feet, though I greatly admire those who can (you guys are much better at winning arguments, I'll give you that). I need to write the things I haven't said here, (though, as Brian just pointed out, writing and hitting "publish" are two separate decisions. Duly noted), even if I don't know exactly where the words will lead. Whether or not I'll hit publish, well, we'll see.

I almost ended that with a quote that floats around our house sometimes. It is from one of the crazyhead forums Brian used to read (he's broken the habit now - hooray - but he used to read fundamentalist sites all the time for the "You've got to be kidding me" factor). Anyway, one of the, um, contributors once finished an argument by stating solemnly, "The future is yet to be seen." Indeed.

Fourth, I mentioned my difficulty in feeding Silas breakfast on Facebook the other day. If you commented, thank you. Most of the suggestions are a part of our repertoire (except cream of wheat, because I have such an automatic gag reflex to the words "cream of wheat" that I'd forgotten anybody ever chooses to eat it. I can eat almost anything, but friends, I HATE cream of wheat). The problem is that he's been eating the same ten foods (eggs and bagels, eggs and bagels) since he was nine or ten months old, and now he's tired of all of them. Tonight I bought corn flakes and vanilla rice milk though, for him to try in the morning. Maybe that will work. Silas and food, Silas and food ...

One to grow on - the weather man is predicting snow on Friday. I would officially like to offer a rasberry in response. Pa-lease. It's not going to snow. It never snows here. Instead, it is going to be 35 and raining, just as it has been for eighteen of the last twenty three days in Alabama. I can't remember ever having such a miserable winter. All of the snow in the Mid-Atlantic region is COLD WET UNENDING UNENDURABLE RAIN in the Deep South. Not that I'm bitter or anything - I'm thankful for the rain, it's keeping my transplanted gardenias alive. But my children are ready to eat the walls just to break up the monotony. And some days I'm ready to take a bite, too.