Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015

Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.

So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years, but it's just time to move forward.

Why I don’t publish my politics (anymore) (or again) (or that one time? at band camp?...) Aug 29, 2008

#Life#Depth and Faith

We’re in the midst of an amazing time in our country. People are charged. There are heated discussions happening at dinner tables. It’s bringing families closer, marriages to the couch together to watch and discuss and find a future. We’re waiting. We’re poised. It’s going to be a fun and interesting ride.

I have my thoughts and opinions like everyone else. I have my points I desperately want to slam around and I have my reasons to why I feel as I do. But those points sit in draft here because of one simple thing: We, the country, the community, the people, are still prejudice.

It’s sad but it’s true: Someone with a differing opinion than your own can drive you to not consider the points being made. Opening up a website to see a huge “OBAMA!” or “McCAIN!” graphic could repulse you to close the window before reading a single point, word, thought. In this time of division and discussion, we need to have just that: A discussion. And I think you will find we’re not so different after all.

Our skin color, the people we call our lovers, the size of our waist or the size of our bank account are all different and we’ve accepted (or are accepting) these differences. It’s OK. You can still be my friend. We can still watch the sun rise and hope for our kids.

But the letter on your ballot can drive away potential friends and partners and jobs simply because you are forced to choose between two parties. R? D? Or C) Best Candidate.

I’m voting for C and I know you are dying to know so we can all judge each other and point fingers later. And really? As long as you are passionate, as long as you remember why you’re voting at all, in the end? We’ll be ok.


(She writes and nearly reads at 3 years old. Can anyone say 2048? She’s got my vote.)

I’ve been drinking and THIS is the post I hit publish on? NIce. Aug 28, 2008

After several (aka: A LOT) of posts in draft, finally, I say Hi. The thing is, see, I write. I used to write anyway. Then I started blogging and blogging turned in to not writing and when did I write?

Did I mention the wine?

I love my job. Oh, god, I love my job. I love that I get to do the Thing I LOVE MOST in the world, aside from my husband, whom I don’t get to “do” enough, and geek out on nerdy things like Web Standards! Z-index! Ajax! CMS! WTF! But the truth is, maybe, a little bit, I love it too much.

Which is why I’m saying this because you are involved.

See, a little bit ago, I took my favorite sister (hint: I have only one sister) out for a few drinks at a local bar. Yea. (I, thirty-two year old mom of two VIA C-SECTION.. this is important…  went to a bar with her sister and totally got hit on. I KNOW. Dude. Poor sap. Yey me.) And what I learned at this bar moment was this: I am on the computer too much.  It was a great moment. The time in life when you’re just swirly enough to think perfectly clearly? The time in life when your baby sister says, “He hates the computer and you’re always on it.” And suddenly she solves your whole marrital crisis? Yea. Not that there was a crisis, per say, but rather a “hu, something is.. amiss….” and raur, you fix it and suddenly life is back on track.

Your blog? Not so much.

Which is why I’m STILL working on Flinger 2 point OH. That’s right. It’s still coming. And instead of posting all those things in Draft that I wrote in the past ten minutes you get this: My drunk, “I wrote this post after too much wine and cleaning the kitchen because THAT IS WHAT STRESS DOES TO ME: it makes me clean the kitchen” post.

And you love me for it.
Or. Lie. And say it anyway.

Mrs. Flinger who is not so much sure she will know this post in the morning. And that is pathetic.

My blog went through a mid-life crisis and all I got was this red convertible sports car. Aug 19, 2008


I’m not afraid to call a spade a spade. To cry wolf. To roll my eyes at my own self. Yes, yes YES. I get it. I know! I went to a blogging conference and realized I had to stop blogging. STAT.

Irony doesn’t stop there.

During an interview with The Washington Fing Post (like Oh My God),  I worked through some of my blog angst. It was like all I needed was for some reporter from some totally random newspaper to interview me and I’d go, “Hu. No, I see the value in blogging.” And I did.

And lo, the people rejoiced.

But there are changes. I’m changing. I’m currently caught up in design standards, type 2 diabites and “what the hell to do with my preschooler who is too smart for her own good”. The reason I started this blog has morphed in to something else. My blog? It’s growing up. It’s not about postpartum depression or newborn spitup. It’s not about accepting my role as a mother. No, it’s a place I go to connect, to voice an opinion, to reach out to like minded moms.

Which is why I’m excited to announce that there will be a MRS. FLINGER VERSION TWO POINT OH (:: OHohohoh echo :: )

Watch for it. Subscribe for it. Wait for it. It’s coming. It’s awesome. I’m so excited I can hardly sleep at night. (ok, that’s a stretch. I sleep just fine.) But I do think this is the Best Thing Ever that’s happened to this space and I am very excited to share it with you.

In the mean-time:

Let’s play a game, shall we? While we wait for routers to propagate, for servers to update, for this lazy-ass-designer (god, who did I hire to do this thing anywa? Oh, me, right..) let’s play a little “get to know you” ice-breaker.

You ready?

Grab a glass of wine. I’ll wait. (humm a humm)

Ok. We’re set: Here goes:

Let’s start a story and each comment hereafter continues the story as it is told above it. Remember doing this in school? Someone would start a story and someone else would continue it, add to it and so on? It’s fun. No! Trust me. Not like “drinking game” fun but fun-non-the-less.

Ready? I’ll start (shocker)

:: A man walked down the street. He was a good man, a noble man, a man who knew good fashion and wore superb hats. He clicked his heals as the cobblestone street passed under him. He was excited. He was energetic. He was waiting for new of ...... ::

Your turn. Ready? Go! (someone add to this and then someone else add to their story and so on. Got it? Yes? Good. Let the good times roll, people!)

Children get older, I’m getting older, too Aug 05, 2008

It’s so cliche, that whole, “their childhood went so fast” gig. I heard it again tonight at my daughter’s gymnastic. A mom, who has two kids in college, confessed she pines for those early years when one toddled around and the other ran frantic between friends and toys.

I looked at her like she’d been smokin’ the doobey.

But then I looked again at my son, already stable and walking, already half way up the stairs in the .2 minutes it took the lady to tell me this short story, already mostly bald from the stress of my working and I wondered: “Will it go too fast?”

It will. I know.

My daughter says the most hilarious things now. Things that generally make me guffaw in the car as I’m driving down the road to take her to a playdate/swimming lesson/gymnastics/preschool. She comes up with new sayings daily and literally has her own person now. She’s almost fifteen. Or four. Either way.

My son kisses me now on the lips when I say “I love you” and he snuggles his cheek against mine when I tell him it’s time to go to bed. He runs, happily, with his new-found freedom when I have the opportunity to let him outside. He is always busy building and sorting cups or Tupperware. Or his sister’s ponies.

Life is short and fast. It’s happening before my eyes. I’m working hard to find a balance and I’m struggling. I know we all do. I know. I also know I’m not in this for fame or money or popularity. I’m not in it to be The Best. I’m in it to be The Best I can Be and to be a good mom and maybe even a good programmer. Some days I might even make a client happy.

I love those days.

In the mean time, things are changing. Children grow up and friends grow in to family and family grows in to daily phone calls. Life spins madly on.

What is the meaning of this ten minute rambling session? I will not be here much for a while. Unless I’m hit with something I just HAVE to write. But I’m going stat-free (good-bye stat counter!) and eventually I’ll be ad free and one day I’ll be reader free, I’m sure. Because if there’s one thing we know, it’s that having a life does not bring on traffic.

And so? It’s the beginning of the end of sorts.

Where this road leads us? I have no idea. But I’m buckled in and ready for the ride.