The Should Expert

Because I belong to two writers' groups, there is always talk about how to get one's self noticed and what we should do. The experts claim that use of the internet to convey and create publicity is a necessity in the modern publishing world. Viral videos, greater circulation, we need to create an audience hungry for us. We should do this.

So I thought about it.
I probably should facebook more.
I probably should tweet.
I know I don't Digg and I don't Youtube.

Then I started thinking about all the "shoulds" that I have on my list.
I probably should read all the books my high school Senior English teacher assigned.
I should eat less fat and exercise more.
I should probably ballance my check book, put away my credit cards and learn not to impulsively stop through the drive thru of Chick Filet for a cookies and cream milk shake on days when the temperature soars above 90.

There are so many things on my list of shoulds....

I should weed the front yard that is checkered with dandelions.
I should have preread the Twilight series before my daughter got her hands on it.
I should know the names of all of the kids in each of my kids classes but I don't.
I should bake cup cakes for the treat sale this Thursday, but I'll probably punt and get Krispy Cremes.
I should volunteer more and shout less.
I should probably buy a converter box or get cable.
I should probably update my phone.
I should spend time counting my blessings instead of patrolling the house for dust bunnies, trash and laundry that has had time to grow crunchy.
I should write real letters instead of email, and I should talk to my two brothers and one sister on a weekly basis, not just when something happens like a car accident, a baby born or a job change.

I should fish.
I should sleep more.
I should know how to sew.
I should know how to can food and make jam.

I should read every day to my kids for 20 minute a day, but that comes out to three hours and that eliminates time I should be spending doing my hour of exercise, recycling, managing our money, staying informed about what is going on in the world and weeding the garden so I can smell the roses.

There are fifteen loads of laundry needing to be folded, 11 already in baskets and eight waiting because of the dryer fiasco of last week. I should defrost the chicken now so I can make dinner easy tonight. I should take a multi-vitamin. I should schedule a physical, two dental appointments, one audiologist, one opthmologist and one endedontist. I should also floss.

But back to writing.
I should write every day. I should edit every day. I should read/research every day and submit every day.

I should have DSL. I should own a blackberry.

I should bend the laws of space and time to get one son to his baseball game ontime and then get to a seperate field in a seperate town ten miles away to drop off my daughter. Then I get to ping pong back and forth until both games are over, while picking up my son from Metro because he has late band practice this evening and thus can't take the bus home.

So what am I doing? I'm sipping a diet coke, blogging and coloring with my kids. They have brown/blue/orange/green on their arms. It's great.

You should do this. Trust me, I'm an Expert.

Maternal Struggle Wears Thin

As a connoisseur of maternity clothing for over a decade and a half, (subjecting myself to the cruel whims of unknown designers since 1993) I have weathered many an ill conceived creation over the course of a nine month period sans periods. The following are my nominations for the Blackwell Worst Idea Ever pregnancy wardrobe options.

First up: the bicycle spandex pants of ’95, in homage to Lance Armstrong, because nothing says comfort to a pregnant woman like clingy gym togs that show every curve and generate sweat. That was a bleak year, spent mostly raiding my husband’s t-shirt drawer for something to cover my mid region as it expanded and my posterior. It was also the year I bought a poncho.

Second Nominee: The unfortunate au natural trend started when countless starlets would pose on sleek magazine covers wearing maternity shirts with only one or two buttons, allowing their beautiful airbrushed tan in a bottle six or more months pregnant bellies to peek out. Most women I know, hope if they are undergoing pregnancy, it’s during the winter months so they can hide and hibernate in large wooly sweaters.

Most women I know, have enough sense to recognize a half buttoned shirt is a half buttoned shirt. If a woman over 30 has a shirt half buttoned and isn’t a starlet, it’s because her toddler was busy working the buttons while she answered the phone, loaded the diaper bag and was slipping on shoes, or she just finished nursing the baby. It just doesn’t work if you are over the age legal to order a beer. And if you are under age...that isn't so good either.

Third option: Then there was the Maternity bikini, modeled by women who, if they chose, could go to a five star restaurant sans reservations wearing a bikini and get a table. Of course, these same women would not actually consume any food at a five star restaurant, bikini or no. No beautifully draped shawl was sufficient enticement for non model women to don the pregnancy bikini. It didn’t go anywhere. Even missing 10% of their grey matter owing to pregnancy, women knew better. That year, the poncho was growing a bit thin.

Fourth Alternative: Baby collar, pinafore, jumpers. Just slip them on and off you go to work was the pitch. The thing of it was, you felt like a fourth grader. Newsflash to designers. The fourth grade cute look only looks cute on fourth graders. Help! I’m maudlin and I want to throw up. The poncho now had a hole and the zipper was stuck but I still wore it.

Designers hear me, I am woman! We want pregnancy clothes that fit, that don’t look slutty, sporty or babyish. We are not knocked up spice girls. We also require clothes that do not insist we sit still to remain artfully draped and appropriately covered.

The genesis of all this, was the need to break out my old maternity clothing with the recognition that most of my past periods of confinement were during the winter. I needed things to make it through the not so cool months of May, June, July and August. Going to the local mall, I entered a chain store that caters to pregnant women. Alas, where it once had had someone behind the counter with a degree of style and some measurable sense, it had been taken over by a post MTV plays music kind of generation that sought to establish pregnancy as chic in the cutting edge Ipod/blackberry wireless world that goes clubbing on Thursdays.

Low rise pregnancy jeans and shorts? Leopard spot tanks? Yellow? Even the pregnant thin model wearing the yellow mini dress and four inch stilettos in the picture looked like she wanted an epidural for simply agreeing to be photographed. Yellow on a pear shaped form conjures up only one image:

Big bird.

The expectant model had managed to avoid that look, and instead gave the distinct impression of a perfectly ripe banana half peeled that had been grasped at the middle and squished. There were racks and racks and racks of yellow. I wasn’t buying.

Rushing home, I ransacked my husband’s drawers and pulled out a black t-shirt. It was oversized. It celebrated a now defunct hockey team. I could weather the weather as long as we didn’t have to go anywhere t-shirts weren’t acceptable attire, otherwise I’d have to break out the poncho.



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Fiddler at Work

Inspired by my husband and his new work toy...with apologies to lovers of "Matchmaker Matchmaker everywhere..."

Blackberry, Blackberry
Filter my spam.
Don’t make me check
At three a.m.

Blackberry, Blackberry
Leave me alone
For I’m in my bed
At Home.

I know you’re convenient and easy.
I know you’re efficient for work.
I know you improve productivity
But I find you more of a chore than a perk!

Blackberry, Blackberry
Wherever I go
The boss asks about work
And I can’t say no.

Blackberry, Blackberry
You’re like a great eye
A Corporate
merciless spy.

I’ve tried fleeing from you by camping
I’ve tried hiding on the deep ocean blue.
I’ve even gone to Pennsylvania Dutch country
But found emails there waiting, Four hundred and two.

Blackberry, Blackberry
You’re never off.
You don’t view weekends
As time one can sloth.

Blackberry, Blackberry
Please go away
And give to me
A perfect day

Please Give to me
One day work free
an inefficient work free day!

Have a blessed Good Friday Everyone...
If I were a rich man, I wouldn't blog for free, but there are more poor comics out there, go visit them too at www.humor-blog.com!