Harvest moon

Doing the school run this morning, I spotted a large, almost transparent orb low in the sky, seemingly perched between two Rocky Mountain peaks. Having watched too many TV programs about the paranormal lately, it took me a moment to readjust my mind from "sh*t, the aliens are coming" to "my, the moon sure looks peculiar this morning".

Jumping up and down with excitement in the driver's seat, I pointed it out to the kids. The four-year-old said, with a voice that bore the tiredness of someone used to conversing with an imbecille: "Looks to me like a harvest moon".

Well, I say. You learn something new every day. It says something when you are learning it from your preschooler, but at least I could smugly comfort myself with the fact that she doesn't yet know the first thing about Neil Young.

Get your own identity

OK.

Do you happen to be one of these people who lack a personal e-mail address of their own? Do you instead use one that you SHARE with your significant other? You know the kind I mean: jackandjillsmith@yourisp.com.

Or perhaps you decided to include the whole family in this neat little display of over-attachment: thesmithfour@yourisp.com.

Maybe you have a MySpace or Facebook profile, where your main profile picture proudly includes you AND your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife, clinging to each other and grinning as if to say "WE SHARE EVERYTHING, EVEN OUR ONLINE IDENTITY".

If you are one of these people I have one thing to say to you: Please stop. Now.

Sound familiar to anyone?

Plans are in the making to go to a family friendly party with hubby and kids.

Official start time for party: 3 PM
Our estimated time of arrival, after first dealing with son’s soccer game and daughter's skating lesson: 5 PM

I get a phone call from hubby. The conversation goes like this:

Hubby: You know that party we’re going to?

Me: I do.

Hubby: Well, I just spoke to the host, and he said we really ought to get there for 3 PM, when it starts. All the fun stuff is going to start happening right away.

Me: Oh. So what do you want to do? Skip soccer and skating?

Hubby: Oh, no, no, that’s not what I meant, no.

Me: What did you mean then?

Hubby: What do you mean, what did I mean?

Me: Why are you calling me to say we should be there at 3 PM, if we’re still not going to be there until 5 PM?

Hubby: I just thought I’d let you know.

Me: You thought you’d just let me know we’re going to be late?

Hubby: Jeez! What’s WRONG with you?

Da blog is back!

Now with shorter, snappier, more regular but no less rampant posts.

The blog has been asleep for over a year (dude, it's probably more like two years) while I've been hanging out on MySpace and Facebook. Networking, schmetworking--enough with the glittery wall posts already. I'd rather just keep on shouting blindly into cyberspace.

It's Friday, it's a crisp October afternoon in Pleasantville and I am headed down to Spirit Halloween to get my costume before they only have Elvis and Marilyn left. Whatchathink I should get?