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 You Should’ve Taken More Math (or at least not slept through class) Apr 30, 2009
I turned on the “news” this morning. That is never a good idea but right now it’s nearly laughable. Here’s the actual, real, honest transcript from what I saw on Good Morning America. (which is to NEWS as US WEEKLY is to FACT)
Diane Sawyer: So, it looks like the numbers are going up. We’re now at 100 in the USA?
Swine Flu Expert: Yes, that’s right. So far those cases have been treated and are under control
Diane Sawyer: We did a poll and it appears 78% of Americans don’t think they’re going to get the disease?
Swine Flu Expert: Well, statistically speaking, we can’t say how many people will get the disease but we feel confident it’s not going to be 22% of the country
Diane Sawyer: But, Mister, what are we going to have to do to make people realize THEY COULD get it?
Swine Flu Expert: Well, see, they probably won’t…
Interrupts Diane Saywer: But we need them to UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY.
Swine Flu Expert: Well, see, we just don’t…
In Hysteria Diane Sawyer: BUT WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! WHAT ABOUT THE APOCOLYPSE!? WHAT ABOUT THE BIBLE?
Swine Flu Expert: Uh, er, what does the bibile…
Diane Sawyer: THE END OF THE WORLD MISTER! IT’S THE END OF THE WORLLLDDD.
———- End transcript———
Ok, so let’s do some math. We have 100 confirmed cases of swine flu in the USA. (No, wait, that’s too offensive to some cultures and entirely too mean to pigs, let’s call it N1H1, cool? Cool.) Ok. So we have 100 cases in the good ol’ US of A.
Everyone grab your calculators.
So, 100 cases out of 300 million people. (That’s a three with eight zeros behind it.)
Do some partial equations, some calculus, some long hand dividing and ....
that’s .003 % of the people in the USA.
Or .3 in a million.
You have a better chance at:
So, let’s recap:
Things that are going to kill us: Plastic, BPA, the Bumbo.
Things that you might catch: The Flu, Aids, Pink Eye.
Things that you might want to freak out about: Your pilot pushing the wrong button, your ass getting bit in your toilet, having too much water in your bathtub.
Thanks you might want to do: Wash your hands, cover your mouth and LEARN SOME FUCKING MATH.
This reality check has been brought to you by a heavy dose of PMS and listening to the “news” for two days solid.
When Pigs Fly Apr 29, 2009
The last vacation the mister and I went on was August 2003. People? Do the math. That’s over five years ago. FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO. In that time we’ve a) purchased a house b) got a masters degree c) had a baby d) sold the house e) moved to portland f) moved to Seattle g) had another baby h) started a business.
My god, people, who out of anyone that you know, needs a vacation more than we do? Don’t answer that. This is about me, after all.
So now we’re finally going to Las Vegas for a conference and we’ll be staying an extra two days to play. TWO WHOLE DAYS. We’ll be gone a total of five days without children. :: brain explodes :: I’m not sure I know what to do with that information. FIVE DAYS. NO KIDS. :: kaplow ::
So am I at all surprised by this SWINE FLU news? No. No I’m not. And I’ll tell you why, we’ll vacation again when pigs fly.
And apparently, that time is now.
Seriously, people, LOOK AT US! We’re so young. We’re so innocent. We have no idea this will be the LAST FUN THING WE DO FOR FIVE YEARS
Blogger’s Block Apr 26, 2009
I have what appears to be a sever case of blogger’s block. It’s nothing severe, of course, in reality but it does appear that my stats are plummeting like a patient at Seattle Grace. (Dude, seriously, does EVERYONE have to die on that show? W.T.F.)
Listen to it…
beep. beep. beep. beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
I’ve revived it again and again. Kicked it hard in the ass. Licked, stroked, loved it. And still, words fail me this week, like most recent weeks, because in the end, who the fuck cares?
Luckily for you, we got a new video camera. So :: maniacal crazy lady laff :: I’ll torture, er, post for you some home videos to let our lives speak for themselves. So often now, the children say what it is I can’t find the words for. I figure why not let them tell our story?
Like the day LB informed me of the plan for a new house. “Mommy, one day, I’ll have my very own bedroom and I will paint it pink!” “Yes, of course,” I always reply to this opening sentence. “And Baby O can have his OWN room and he won’t bother me with being so loud!” (I find this ironic since she is the one utilizing her outside voice MOST OF THE TIME.) “But,” she thinks outloud, “you and Daddy can still share a room because you don’t sleep very loud.”
This is where I hide my laughing for later when I tell my husband our four year old notices we don’t have enough sex. Because. Seriously.
A letter (now with comments!) Apr 20, 2009
It is 1:15AM on Monday morning. My husband is at work. He went in to “finish something up” and ended up staying a bit.
I can’t sleep when he’s not here.
So I finished a project, a personal project, that acted as a thought process. I always code when I’m feeing troubled, or anxious, or uncertain. Code makes sense. It’s logic. It is ones and zeros. It’s my zen.
So I redid my website.
And as I sit here, wondering if I should try to sleep or wait for my husband, I open one of my old journals looking for a memoir to write. There are so many journals, so many memories, so many really bad poems.
Tonight, though, I open to a printed page taped in my journal. It’s an email I printed out from Tuesday, February 29, 2000:
It seems an eternity since last we spoke. My hopes lie in that you are faring well. I fear the worst for my well being if this silence lasts one moment longer. Sparing your soul the agonizing descriptions of the depths of despair from which my feelings well, I cannot divulge the extent of my madness. Fear not, I breathlessly await your return. Ten days hence, Until then…
I smile. It’s nice to be waited on. I will wait.
I will always wait.
Today we hum. Apr 14, 2009
Today we celebrate the life of Maddie Spohr. The life that was too short, but that touched so very many people as the internet rocks in her wake humming a joined lullabye to our sleeping angel. We come together to lift and support our friend Heather, as she stands bravely for her daughter.
I’m sad I am not there at the memorial today as so many of my blog friends are. But I’m thankful for this place we come, to remember, to hug virtually, and to turn to our own families and hug them tightly.
In remembrance of Maddie.
Today And everyday Apr 13, 2009
From us here at Casa D’Flinger:
Hug your loved ones a little tighter today, tomorrow, and every day.
*I have so very many words but not enough energy. Tomorrow I hope to write.
** We have a March of Dimes walk set up for Maddie in Seattle. More info to be posted on SMB tomorrow.
*** There is not enough fairness in the world and too much chocolate at my house. I don’t know how to handle this information except to eat the chocolate.
**** We’re opening a shop of hand-made donations on Room704. Proceeds go to Heather and Mike to help with funeral costs. Thank you for all your support.
How to change your blog background purple for Maddie Apr 09, 2009
We’re going purple for Maddie. If you’d like to know how to change your blog background to purple, this is the place! If you don’t know me, my name is Leslie and I’m a geek. I mean, really really geeky.
And I want to share my geek with you.
If you’re using Blogger:
3. Click on Fonts and Colors.
——Some templates let you change using the pallet. If you see the the following, you can use this method here. If not, skip to #6
4. In the “hex#” box, place 6969a0
5. Click Save.
6. Click on HTML.
*It’s always a good idea to do a “download template” as a backup here!!
7. Find the code that stars with
8. !! COPY THE BACKGROUND LINE FIRST AND SAVE IT SOMEWHERE FOR LATER !!
9. Replace the existing background: #blahblah; with this:
10. Click Save!
1. Log in to the Dashboard.
2. Under Appearances, click on “Edit”
3. Usually the first template that shows up is your current theme’s CSS file. Check that this is correct (something like style.css)
4. Again, find the code that looks like this:
5. !! COPY THE BACKGROUND LINE FIRST AND SAVE IT SOMEWHERE FOR LATER !!
6. Replace the existing background: #blahblah; with this:
7. Click update!
1. Log in to twitter.
2. Click on Settings.
3. Click Design.
4. Click on “Change Design Colors”
4. Set the Main Background Color to #6969a0
5. Click Save Changes.
P.S. Thanks to Mommy Melee, we have a twitter background to use. To replace the background, download this graphic by “right click-save as” on THIS LINK HERE (or save graphic as) to your desktop. Then in twitter settings, just click on “Change Background Image” and browse to where you saved the image. Click Save Changes. VIOLA!
For Maddie Apr 08, 2009
Mrs. Flinger will be back online tomorrow, today, we have a moment for Maddie
Heather and Mike Spohr’s daughter Madeline Alice died yesterday, April 7, 2009.
If the sheer power of twitter and internet could heal broken hearts and bring Maddie back, she would be here as strong as Wonder Woman.
The words communion, commune, community all come from the same root. We are members of a community. (Whether we like it or not, sometimes.) If we RE-peat, RE-run or RE-do, we do something again. When we RE-member someone, we are, in a way, being with them again. Even the Big JC talked about it “Do this for the remembrance of me” (BCP, p. 362) Re-Member.
This morning, take a moment with me to remember . . . no matter how much time we had with the people we loved, they were important, they are important. They matter.
And so do we.
The serenity here is that we can all be together in this. Never alone. There is nothing we have to face without the hand of a friendly companion here in the 704.
We all matter here.”
This post is from Room704 where we come together in communion today with each other and our teary faces.
Blog Of Shame Apr 07, 2009
We’re going to the Salon of Shame again tonight. Tickets sell out, literally, in one minute of release. Apparently past diary entries is all the rage.
Seriously, it is. It’s absolutely the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
And since this is my memoir, how can I NOT post some old journal entries?
(And since you have them, how can *you* not post them? Ponder that for a while.)
So here’s a journal entry dated January 26th, 1997. I’m in college and I like this guy, Matt Bell, whos name I never actually write for fear that HE MIGHT READ IT. (WTF?) So he’s always “he” in my diary. Or “The Guy”.
It’s a miracle I remember his name at all.
Well, Friday during class I didn’t talk to him. I said “Hi” but that’s all. Then while I was out Friday night with Sue/Marjorie/Kim/Kelly he called! After I got home Brent and Jeff came over and gave me advice about him. They are so stinkin’ funny! (editors note: Stinin’? holyhell) So Saturday I called at 4:00. We talked until 5:20. I invited him to brunch after church and he asked if I wanted to watch a movie that night.
Of course I did.
So we saw the last Star Wars at his house. It went really well. he’s SO (underline three times) cute!
Today I got up at 6:30 because I was nervous. He came over at 11:50(ish). I made the dumbest moves in the book! OH MY GOSH! While I was talking to him and pouring orange juice, I missed the glass and dumped the OJ on the rug. DUH! I made the pancakes really doughy. I didn’t clean his pan, and was shaking and stumbling on my tounge the whole time. *sigh* If he ever calls me again, I’ll know he must REALLY like me. Either that or he is REALLY bored and needs a good laugh.
I guess we’ll find out…
——————- End Transcript—————
That’s all true, people. I was me even before I was Mrs. Flinger. Dudes.
Dudes. :: shakes head ::
So? You wanna play along? You wanna graphic? (People LURVE the graphics! YES! YES YOU DO! Or is that just me?) So post a journal entry, let’s laugh together at our younger us.
1 Part Gypsy, 1 Part Hippie, 2 Parts Nuts, Splash of Vodka: Shake and Pour Apr 06, 2009
I’m clearly losing my mind.
The sun is out today. This, in and of itself makes locals here in Seattle run around screaming, “MY EYES! MY EYES!” If you’re walking downtown about this time on the first day of sun in nearly four months, you can see businessmen in suits twitching on the ground from the sheer excitement of warmth.
I shit you not.
People suddenly “get sick” with all kinds of ailments. “CoughHikingCough” “KayakFlu” “EscapeToPark-itis” “GreenLake-Virus” And of course, the aforementioned twitching.
Today is that day. The day people drop like flies from their cubical and plug up the rivers and the Puget Sound and the trails.
Except me. Good ol’ Mrs. Flinger sees some sun and shrieks, “THAT IS IT! I WANT I WANT” and suddenly starts looking at real estate in Austin Texas because, why not?
I like Austin.
Houses are cheap! It still snows! There are trees! And Southern People! Austin is the “Seattle of Texas” and it’s the only place in Texas I’d live. We have no job there, we have no way of moving there, no reason to, no family. But I got an itch because I saw the sun and remembered what growing up in South Houston was like where I played outside 90% of my days and dodged Fire Ants like missile. Where Blue Bonnets litter the side of the Gulf Freeway and BlueBell is THE ONLY ice cream worth buying.
Austin is the perfect blend of conservative hippies, sunshine, and trees. But when I tell this to Mr. Flinger his head explodes and he begins twitching on the ground. “Can’t. Take. Gypsy.”
So we’ll go kayak before the rain returns on Wednesday and I’ll try not to yell “I told you so” when the next warm day is in July. (After the 4th. We’re always freezing on the 4th.) And I’ll hope Mr. Flinger doesn’t yell “I told you so” when I change my mind and want to move to Colorado in three weeks. Or Spokane. Or Canada. Or [insert land of impossible here].