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(Not lately, that’s for sure!)

But anything new in the lives of hibby and hubby lately?

Well, hubby (dun da daaa!) graduated with his Masters.  Woo hoo!

Then we moved to a different country.

Then I opened a cake stand shop.

All in all, a productive last several months, I’d say…  Hopefully, in the next few, I can expound on living in Canada!  (I’m loving it.)

Pass the Buckleys, please.

We’re down for the count.  Both Hubby and I are ill.  I feel yucky, like I was squeezed out of a Play-Doh shaper.  That’s quite the word-picture, isn’t it?

All of this comes at a most inconvenient time.  We’re moving.  Our home needs to be packed up and moved out within a week.  Wow.  Overwhelming.

I think the combination of a pressing deadline, Kleenex fumes, and lack of sleep make for an incoherent concoction.  I have many thoughts swirling around, but none of them make too much sense right now.

Right now, if my brain dumped everything into Wordle, “sleep” would be the biggest word off of which everything else was hanging.

Well, wasn’t that a lovely little holiday sabbatical?!  All the holiday posts–on everyone else’s blog–were so sweet and festive.  One of these years, I’ll stay on the bucking bronco of blogging holiday festivities.  In the meantime, I experienced mental anguish, wondering in what fashion I’d return to my dear blog.  Since I’ve had my share of blog-breaks, I’ve had my share of come-backs.  (If you click over to the Suspense Story of one of my returns to the Blogdom, don’t miss the Epilogue in the comments!  The comments are the best part of the whole thing…)  However, this time, a friend suggested to just ignore the static and jump in.

So, without acknowledging my prolonged absence, I’ll just start up blogging again!

And, go!

……….(blink, blink)…………

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, GO!

………………..

Go now!

NOW!

…What was I going to say again?  (You don’t know, ‘cuz I haven’t told you yet, right?)

Um, I’m back.  Maybe?  Possibly?  Potentially?  I instill so much hope in my readers reader (hi Mom!  Mom?  Do you still read this?).

It’s mid-November.  The mornings here are feeling quite a bit like fall should feel.  Though, by late afternoon, it’s maybe a little too warm for November.

I couldn’t help but agree with my Google Widget that it’s what temperature this late in the year?!

temp in LA

In all seriousness, I don’t know what prompted this question mark.  If I’m disconnected from the internet or if there’s no readout, there’s typically just two dashes.  I thought it was kind of funny…

I know, quality posts around here lately!

Well, I came home from getting some gas for the car and my darling wife was making something in the kitchen, cooking up a storm.  She was dividing up a bag of flour into ice cream tubs and putting supper together all at once, and when I came in she held up one of her bare feet in the air, pointing it in my direction…

In confusion, I said “Uh, what’s going on Sweetie?”

She proudly announced that she was “barefoot and in the kitchen”, and that was “one down and one to go!”

I laughed and laughed and laughed when she called herself “such a feminist” that I had to blog it.

Gender nondescript persons alive!  It’s the 21st century: Finally, women can be liberated to love being feminine and not be expected to have to learn a blue collar trade and financially provide for their family.  Maybe one day, my oppressed brothers and I will be able to throw off the shackles of this Estrotalitarianist culture, burn our jock straps, buy things on a basis other than “cuteness”, talk without “expressing ourselves” and not have to worry about being sued for trying to raise our kids with a shred of discipline…

The tides are turning, and maybe one day, we’ll see change…

Frightfully,

Anonymous.

Last night, as I sleepily ventured from my bed for–well, what do you get out of bed for in the middle of the night?–eyes half-open, I stepped into the hallway.  My eyes flew open as I tried to process the information before me.  A bright strobe light flashed white onto the ceiling and walls.  No siren beeping or ringing though…

I called for my sleeping husband as my feet were firmly planted in place.  He rushed to my side, still mostly asleep, as I clutched my hand to my chest.  I sniffed at the air, willing myself to detect the oderless carbon monoxide that was setting off our hall alarm and that was slowly killing us in our sleep.

What if I hadn’t woken up?  Would I have felt the deadly affects of CO?  …What are the deadly affects of CO?

In the time I pondered these, Hubby sought out the source of the bright, silent strobe alarm.  As he brought a box down from the top of our open shelves, he calmly identified the cause of alarm.

It was a novelty, light-up hair clip that I had received at a bar mitzvah last year.  I had clipped it to the edge of the box because 1) I’m a packrat, 2) it was a souvenir of my first bar mitzvah, and 3) you never know when you’ll need a swatch of hair that lights up.  Like, all the time!

So in the end, we were no closer to death than what each breath brings us daily.

*drumroll*

Introducing the other half of this singularly sided blog (until NOW),

IT’S HUBBY!

Yeah!  I’m here, live and in the…uh…blog?

Well, enough with said stupidity.  Now for completely NEW stupidity!  Now I’m sure that some of you out there are hoping for something deep or theological or…uh…remotely, intelligent.

NOPE!

Not tonight.  I just got home from work, am tired, and have been talking to my wifey-sauce about her night and telling her about my night (NASTY!  Church custodial work can sometime be *shiver* …gank…nuff said).  As we were talking, she was telling me about her poetry post.  This “inspired” me to write a short, off the cuff limmerick about how bad I am at writing limericks.  She laughed and laughed and laughed and told me I “HAD to blog it”.

Which leads me to the now.  And the here.  And the now.

Here’s my run for the 2009 Pullitzer prize in “I dun hab gud skullz wid Englitch”:

There once was a girl who got Panera,

There was too many syllables in that line.

Doh! The second line didn’t rhyme,

DOH! Neither did the third!

Oh MAN!  I stink at writing poetry!

Please hold the applause.  Yes, I wrote that all by myself.  The Hibby & Hubby family hold the corner market on poetry writing.  HUZZAH!

Enjoy my masterpiece,

Hubby