Crashing

Some of you have reported problems with viewing the website (which, in and of itself, is understandable-- I can hardly bear to look at it myself 99% of the time); specifically, for some, the screen tends to freeze and crash the computer and in general trigger the Apocalypse.

The problem is apparently isolated to those using Internet Explorer, which--and I say this with the utmost respect for a very fine product--is a filthy, maggoty sewer hole into every spyware warren imaginable.

I emailed Blogger about the problem two weeks ago, and the techs very helpfully responded that I consult a list of FAQ articles such as "How Do I Post?" and "What Is This 'Inter-Net' Of Which You Speak?" So I'm still waiting for assistance from those quarters, and will probably will be sitting here until the Sun crashes into the Earth's crust, so here's a word of loving and grateful advice: Download Firefox and use that instead... not only to view this site, but for every blooming thing viewable. You can even import all your bookmarks from the eeeeevil IE. Mozilla readers haven't reported any browsing issues, and they're not-doing so with a middle finger cheerfully extended in the general direction of Bill Gates.

And that's one to grow on.

scratch like a monkey at: mb@blondechampagne.com

Janet The Reader's Continuing Rockage

Janet The Reader has once again awed me with her awesomeness. Thanks, Janet!

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Let's all hear it for me for retaining the ability to lecture out of the third person this morning. When one spends four consecutive days with a 19-month-old, one forms sentences to be heard and commanded, not that either will take place. So today my students very nearly heard: "Give your essays to Aunt Beth. No throw!"

On Sunday I attempted to fulfill my godmotherly duties, and after Mass took Jim the Baby Nephew on a tour of the church altar. He was terrified of the baptismal font, impressed for maybe a second and a half with the Advent wreath, and could take or leave the tabernacle, which means I am failing miserably in my charge and he's going to grow up to be a bad, bad Catholic who can't even cover a four-corner Bingo properly. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. You'd think he could explain transubstantiation by now.

I dressed the baby for bed on Saturday night (you see here the end of the procedure, which took a good half hour-- "Okay, wait, it's on backwards. Give me your arm! Give Aunt Beth your arm! No, your other arm. Come back!") and had to call upon the Power of the Socks From the Notre Dame Bookstore.
Notre Dame was trying extremely hard to lose, so they sent in the eighteenth-string kicker, who missed. A lot. You would think that in practice, just in case this type of sort comes up in a game-type situation, he and the holder might want to spend a few minutes--I don't know-- kicking the ball through a goalpost.

And the Bengals had to call upon the Power of the Sleeper Pajamas, against the Ravens. While at the airport I noticed that the score was 34-0 Bengals, and so I sat down to watch a nice breathable stomping for once, and then the Bengals decided that the game would be far more exciting if they just gave the other team the ball, so within five minutes it was 34-21.

I was watching with my toes just outside a food court Outback, from between a faux-white fence, because that is all you see in Australia-- white fences, furious people wheeling little suitcases around, and $85 cocktails. I'd forgotten what it's like to actually care about a professional football game in a group setting. "OHHHHHHHHH!" we said when the Bengals effected a turnover. "YEEEAAAHHHH!" we said when they did something not-stupid. We said "OHHHHHHHHH!" quite often.

Jim's vocabulary is coming on very well. His favorite word is "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" He would slip behind the door of his playhouse, and I would say, "Jim! Where is Jim? Did he go outside? Oh, Aunt Beth is so sad without Jim!"

This was his cue to burst through the door: "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" My job was to be shocked.

He also employs it as a food critic:

ME: Do you want Kix?

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want Rice Chex?

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want veggie puffs? (which, ew, but I still had to present them as a not only viable, but delicious, option)

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want fruit?

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

I bet I would have gotten a seat at Outback if I started ordering like that.

no throw at: mb@blondechampagne.com

George the Reader Mega-Rocks!

Big, huge, honkin' THANK YOU to George the Reader for his kind donation. I feel the love, brother.