Okay, ya'll. I really hate to do this but I think I'm going to have to go back to blogspot. I really don't want to, but, you see, I got an iMac and we moved the pc downstairs to the playroom. Unfortunately, I cannot post to my blog or edit it from my Mac. They aren't compatible, or whatever the proper terminology is. So if I feel a blog coming on, I have to get up from my beautiful iMac, head downstairs to the pc, which is now surrounded by CRAP that belongs to the kids. (Yes, my computer is surrounded by crap, too, but it's my crap and that makes a world of difference.) So, until Weebly can get along with Mac, I will move back to blogspot. (http://mypollyblog.blogspot.com) Hmmm...now that I think of it, I haven't actually tried posting to blogspot from my Mac so it may not work either.  I'll try it out, and if it works, I'll give you the heads up to move on over.  Weebly Dan, you've been most helpful. Please let me know if you think weebly will work better with Mac in the near future. Bye for now.

It’s come to my attention that some of you are not privy to Pamnation, and it’s high time you learned.

Here’s how it works (true story)…

A friend from book club was wearing a lovely necklace at our last get-together. We all oohed and ahhed about it, until she finally she told us a friend from my neighborhood made it.

Today I called my book club friend to get the jewelry-making neighbor’s number, as I wanted to see her jewelry. So I called her and went by this afternoon.

When she opened the door, I said, “Oh, you look familiar.”

“Is it school?” she asked. No. “Church?” No. Oh well, we’ve probably seen each other at the pool or something.

We chatted while I looked through her jewelry and found a couple of things to buy. Then, as I was walking out the door to leave, something in her living room caught my eye, and I stepped back into the house to look again.

“I used to have a sofa just like that,” I said.  This look came across her face and she asked, “Where did you used to live.” When I told her near Garner, she said, “I bought that sofa from you. Remember, I broke the heel of my shoe while I was there?”

Sure enough, there was my red, camelback sofa, the one that I brought from Florida. The one I nursed both my babies on. The one Olivia leaped back and forth to from the coffee table. The one I had reupholstered from pale yellow to deep red. There it was in her living room.

I will say, she has given it a lovely new life. She has much the same colors as we did in our old home. The sofa sits between two built-in bookshelves in a room filled with music and love, as evidenced by the beautiful piano, guitar and drums set up in there.  She said it’s where she plants herself making jewelry while her husband and children are playing music.

Now I ax ya, what are the odds of that sofa moving to the very same neighborhood to which we later moved? And what, for crying out loud, are the chances that I’d ever find out about it?

That’s called Pamnation. You never know when it will strike. But you can count on it striking again!

Do you read the comic strip Zitz? If you do, then you may understand what life in this household is like these days.

For instance, Zach has this female interest. She’s Indian. I tell you this for a reason, which you will soon see. Tomorrow is the Diwali festival at the amphitheater down the road from our home. For those of you not in the know, Diwali is the Indian Festival of Lights. There will be lots of cultural festivities throughout the day, including dance performances, arts and crafts and lots of food. Then it culminates with a performance from India’s first and only boy band, called none other than A Band of Boys.

Well, I wanted to go to this festival but, of course, Zach was grumbling about it, like he does a lot these days with anything I suggest. “Aww, do I have to go?” That was his attitude. UNTIL, he texted with his friend, who said she was going to the Diwali festival, and suddenly, he is looking pretty good for the fact that he even knew what the heck it was, much less was going also. (Yeah, now he’s going.) And do I get any credit for broadening his worldly horizons. NOOOOOOOOO!

Another source of contention is his 8th grade school trip. It was changed from Boston to Outward Bound. Let me tell you, suggesting that a bunch of teenage girls and boys at various stages of puberty go out into the wilderness for several days without showers, without toilets, without blow dryers, is akin to asking them to go to school nekkid.  So, naturally, Zach is doing a lot of grumbling about it.  I said, “What if you had an open mind to the possibility that this could be a great experience? What if you just put some positive thoughts out there about it?" To which he replied, "That's like acting excited about doing math homework." I said, "Well, you can do it grumbling and get it done, or you can do it with a good outlook and get it done. Either way, you did it, but how was the experience for you?" 

For some reason, I just don't think he's getting my point. I need to figure out how to say it in teen-speak.

So, like, what if you, like, just went or whatever? Like, maybe you'd, like, have fun or something.

I didn’t win the dadgum Paula Deen Limerick contest. Apparently poets – with really good southern drawls – abound in our area. I think it’s because my accent wasn’t quite up to snuff. I should’ve had Dennis read it for me. Or Dr. Land. Either way, I lost. You can hear the winners, if you want, at share.triangle.com/PaulaDeen. Here’s mine, so you can see how it compares.

A sweet lil’ lady down South
Feared havin’ to live hand to mouth
She made fancy fixins
Threw buttery gritz in
Now, ya’ll love ‘er from North to South

Oy vey. I’ve wanted to write in my blog on so many occasions lately and then something comes up and I don’t seem to get around to it. Life would be so much easier with a round tuit.

So, what’s been happening? Well, let’s see. My son started shaving last weekend. He is very proud of himself. He’s had a dirty upper lip for sometime now and, apparently, it bothered him. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that his friends were calling him Carlos. He was so happy to get the shaver (an electric one) that he didn’t even get embarrassed when I told the checkout clerk that my son was starting to shave. He just stood there and beamed. “Use moisturizer,” she said.

Why is this a big deal to me? I mean shaving your face implies manliness. George Clooney. Five o’clock shadow and all that. I definitely have a double standard. I’m sure Olivia will be shaving her legs by the time she’s 13. But a boy shaving his face, that’s different, right? Were my friends shaving when we were 13. Somehow I don’t think so. I suppose some were hairier than others but still. (Jack, you could probably shed some light on this. When did you start shaving?) Maybe it’s those damn hormones in our food.

Of course it did prompt Olivia to ask me if she could start shaving her legs. An emphatic NOOOOOO was my answer. Nine-year-olds do not shave their legs. I do recall sneaking into the bathroom with my friend at about 9 or 10 and shaving my legs. Sherry and her friends spied on us through the window, which got me really angry and embarrassed. I think I got in trouble.

I am 5 weeks post op today and doing really well. I’ve been going to yoga class and walking regularly. No one would know I recently had major surgery. It’s amazing. I go back to the doc next week for my six-week check-up, at which time he should clear me for all activities.

The night-blooming cereus is going nuts. I had 8 blooms a few weeks ago and now it has 11 more buds. However, the weather is finally deciding to act its season and we will be dipping into the 30s at night by the weekend. I may have to move it to the garage or else those buds will stay clamped shut.

I’m writing this from my beautiful, new iMac that my darling husband authorized for our 20th anniversary. It’s really suuuhhweeeeet. I mean that. I’m taking classes at the Apple Store, and hopefully will be whipping out awesome montages in the near future. My next class is iMovie so I will be getting started very soon. Who’s my first customer? Jamie? Buehler? Anyone?

Yeah, I know this is boring. Think of the pressure on me after such a long absence to come up with something well-written, witty, captivating. And yet.

I’m supposedly getting published in the Lush catalog. I wrote them a letter while recovering from surgery, raving about how much their products relaxed me, etc. They sent me a coupon and asked permission to publish my letter. Now, if someone would just find my blog and offer me lots of money to publish IT!

Oh, and I might get published in the newspaper for the Paula Deen limerick contest. Now, if I make it to one of the finalists, then you’ll be hearing from me again to vote for me. That’s how the winner is picked, by popular vote from readers. So I’ll keep you posted on that.

Alrighty then. Nice catching up. Don’t be a stranger yourself.