1. I’d like to take a minute to mourn the passing of my Palm Centro. It was a good phone. Cute, easy to use, and had been with me through lots of ups and downs, all over the US. But the other morning, after being charged all night, I turned it on and after about ten minutes, the battery was dead. I took it to the Sprint store, where they said I wasn’t eligible for an upgrade discount for another month, so I should get the battery replaced at another Sprint place. Packed up toddler, drove to another strip mall, where they told me they had no batteries and they weren’t covered my phone insurance anyway. Put baby BACK in car seat and returned to first place, where my very favorite Sprint person, Laura (at Patterson Place in Durham, if you’re local, she’s awesome) worked it out so I could get a new phone anyway. Hooray! So I got a Palm Pre, which is very exciting and fun, but also runs on a totally different platform than my Centro, so I spent the entire afternoon geeking out trying to get everything synced up. Sorry, novel. I will get back to tomorrow, I promise. I only hope that after all this driving and syncing that my new phone and I will have a long, happy relationship. I am hopeful, at any rate.
2. What I am no longer hopeful about, even in a small way, is the UNC basketball season. Oh, my goodness. It is PAINFUL to be a Carolina fan right now. We lost another game last night, to Florida State. I’ve lost track of how many that is in a row now. I can’t remember another season when I’ve just been ready for the whole thing to END so I can just stop cringing. Oh, my Tarheels. I love you, and I know one day we’ll laugh about this. Or, maybe not. Sigh.
3. My husband has a VERY busy weekend ahead, which will keep him away from the house for a lot, and you know what that means: I will FINALLY get to catch up on my TV he hates. Despite my earlier threats, I could not bring myself to delete Grey’s Anatomy or Brothers and Sisters. Which means the minute the door shuts behind him, I plan to plant myself on the couch and start watching. I will keep a box of tissues handy, because both shows are weepers and without him raising his eyebrows at me I can really get my girl-sob on. It’s kind of sick how much I’m looking forward to this, actually. Even if the shark has jumped, I’m still following the boat, because that is how I roll.
4. I swear to God I am raising a sugar addict. As I am sitting writing this—on Thursday evening, because Fridays are nuts around here—she keeps running to the playroom door and yelling, “Cookie! One cookie, Mama!” then running off again. It’s like she’s doing laps or something. I can remember what that was like, though: when sugar was, like, everything to me. I could sit on the couch with a sleeve of Chips Ahoy and just eat them one right after the other (ah, the old metabolism, I miss it even more than my old phone). I still have not figured out what is the “right” amount of sweets for a two and a half year old. I tell her they are for special treats, special occasions only, but to her, every day is special. Or, every minute. Oh, here she comes again. Give me strength. COOKIE! I WANT A COOKIE!
5. Finally, one last word on the whole Common Sense thing, which has just popped up as a story on my PW Children’s Bookshelf. I know people are writing about this a lot now, and I’m glad I started a discussion, but I think I’ve said what I needed to, and I’m ready to let everyone else do the talking. I’m happy I brought attention to an issue that has been so thought provoking, but as an outstigator (see previous entry) I’m ready to step back and let the dust settle. Especially since I REALLY need to be writing right now. And when it’s all said and done, that’s what really matters. Not what people think, or how they might rate it, but that it’s done at all. So, back to work.
COOKIE! PLEASE, MAMA! COOKIE!