Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor's Hit Counter

I was playing a little catch-up on my favorite blogs after catching up the laundry Saturday night. Barb had a count of 64351; Jo had a count of 154609. I had a count of 12258. As of Wednesday night it was 12,389, with a total of 14,994 page views.

I’ve been blogging a little less than two years. Sneaking up on 500 posts. That’s about 18 hits a day or thirteen people I didn’t give birth to, who show up to see what’s going on inside my world, or my head, or just to watch the train wreck. [Yes, on an average day the count is something like 33, but there were plenty of weeks in the beginning when I was mostly talking to myself.]

Some of you are dear friends in real life. Others have become dear through the exchange of emails, reminiscences, or sock yarn.

And some of you [the five I have given birth to] have a little peek into what passes for reality chez Ravelled. And maybe that will help you figure out what’s going on in your own lives, what patterns are being handed down from my side or your father’s side, and how they are diminishing or amplifying in the lives of your kids.

I really wish that your dad’s mother were still here to question. Ditto her mother-in-law. I think they could shed a lot of light on things that make us wonder about half of your gene pool. Your grandmother for whom Secondborn is named, was an amazing woman, the exemplification of Robin Williams’ genie’s phrase “pheNOMinal cosmic power ittybitty living space”.

Change of topic. I have unvented a simple, cheap, fast dinner-for-one, suitable for anyone who is cramming her life into 12x12x8 boxes in preparation for moving. One brick of ramen noodles, broken into four lumps and cooked as I usually do, with its flavoring packet stirred into the water while boiling. One individual-sized frozen trees-and-cheese, nuked for 2.5 minutes while the noodles steep. Drain the noodles and tump them into a latte cup. Tump the trees-and-cheese on top of that. Stir enthusiastically. Take the curse off. [Ask a blessing, for you more reverent types.] Enjoy.

The ginormous box is emptied out and refilled with organizing stuff.



And for those of you who know somebody who has a screw loose? I think I found it.



I now get to go play Solomon-of-the-graduation-tickets and figure out who sits with LittleBit’s father. I have a block of eight tickets, and a block of four tickets. And a daughter still on crutches. I wonder what provisions Nokia Live has made for delivering the [temporarily, in this case] handicapped to their seats?

Yeah. We have so many kids graduating that we have to use a concert venue. My older girls graduated in the Arlington Convention Center. Fourthborn and LittleBit get treated like rock stars.

LittleBit is calling me after her last final today so that I may permanently delete the school’s numbers from my cell phone. Woohoo!

Two days.