Blog Feed – Page 81 – making unbreakable

facepoo(k)

It’s no secret that I don’t love facebook, but given what I do it’s a necessary evil. I consider facebook my Internet equivalent of a nasty rush hour commute. It has to be done if you want to keep your “job.”

I think it’s messy. And yet it’s kind of the best way to keep in contact with the people in my life who don’t blog or who don’t want to come to my blog and risk seeing pictures of my internal organs.

Also it just felt strange when my Grandma in Law who is older than a lot of things on this planet showed up in my friends list right next to Tanis. Something just felt off about that.

So last night I performed a facebook intervention. I kept the people I’m related to, the ones who knew me before Cody, the ones who were at my wedding and the ones who have seen me do the ugly cry. If I hurt anyone’s feelings I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal. Truth be told I was never on facebook much, every time I clicked over there it was “GROW CORN!” “MAFIA WARS!” “SARAH SENT YOU A DRINK!” (and truthfully if “Sarah” was really my friend? She’d know not to send me dirty martinis, same goes for you “Jenny,” if you really knew me? You wouldn’t send me growing gifts. Truthfully I’m the only person I know who can kill virtual plant life.)

The poking, the quizzes, the likeness, the so and so became a fan of toe fuzz and suggested you become a fan too!

JUST TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH!

So here’s what I’ve done.

I made a moosh in indy fan page. Where I can keep all of you my lovelies. Where I don’t have to worry about my frail little grandma reading about my latest escapade with a syringe full of menopausal death.

If you feel so inclined won’t you please be a fan of moosh in indy? (Fan sounds so strange. But whatever, apparently if facebook were a country it would be like the fourth largest country in the world and I’m guessing that it would be a little heavy on the dictatorship, so if facebook says fan, I say fan.)

And also, how do you use facebook? Do you think it’s kind of messy? Like myspace graduated from college with a generals degree yet never amounted to anything much to the disappointment of his parents (who ironically were just college kids themselves?)

to the grad school widows…

School has started yet again.

But for the first time in eight years it hasn’t started for us.

This one is dedicated to all my dear graduate school widows…be you first year or fourth…

Someday you will get your significant other back.

You will be able to go to the park at a moments notice and not have to worry about finals, tests or boards.

And when you do get them back?

They’ll be even better than you remember.

At least that’s what happened to us, and what I hope happens for you.

psst…want to win a toy?

Go here. Disclosure and details all over yonder, all you need to leave is a comment and look at the adorable cuteness that is my kid and our creativity. Otherwise, read about Mishi below. xoxo

meet mishi.

Mishi is Mishelle Lane from the blog Secret Agent Mama. We often have camera wars.

She has done a whole series of posts dedicated to introducing you to the people she met at BlogHer. They are a lovely series of posts and further assure me of the theory I had that you would have to be a serious butthole not to fall in love with Mishi immediately upon being graced with her presence.

Today she did one dedicated to herself, but I knew as soon as I saw her first “Meet…” post I had to reciprocate. Unfortunately she got to me before I got to her. She wrote me song, I’m just getting sappy.

Her camera is a natural extension of herself. She never looks awkward holding it and never does she look out of place with it smashed to her face.

She has a gift for catching moments, not pictures. (Her flickr stream is here, these are two of my favorites she’s taken.)

I love her, she makes the Internet and the world in general more lovely with not only pictures but her presence.

I’m her Betty, she’s my Al.

You should love her too.

my sister in law’s house burned down.

I’ve used this blog for a lot.

Let me tell you I never thought I’d be using it for this purpose.

My sister in law’s house burned down.

They have three little kids. My niece and nephews.

The live in St. George, Utah. Thank you to those of you who have already mobilized on their behalf.

A facebook page has been set up with a Wells Fargo account number and a bake sale is scheduled for this Saturday.

For now, besides prayers and emotional eating, this is all I know how to do.

Their boys are 6 and 4, their daughter is almost 2.

If you can be of any help with anything at all, even if it’s a toothbrush, please don’t hesitate to contact me and I will get you in touch with the right people.

Thank you for anything, this is a lot different when it’s actually happening to someone you know and love.

(Everyone is fine as far as I know, the cause of the fire is unknown as of now but it originated in the attic Saturday night.)

of geeks and goblins.

Oh sweet sweet Gen Con. A time when boys (and girls) of all ages come from the depths of their parents basements to spend fleeting moments in the August sunshine if only to travel from their hotel to the Indianapolis Convention center.

Gen Con is for gamers. World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons, Heroscape.

Gen Con also smells of body odor and feet.

There’s not much I can say about Gen Con that the pictures don’t convey except that every August since moving here Gen Con has given me a sweet calm assurance that no matter how geeky I get on the Internet there will always be those who outgeek me. And outstink me.

Are you amazed? Think I’m a little mean saying these boys don’t get out much?

Well check this.

OH HAI? DUDE? CAMERA IS UP HERE! HELLLOOO??? THOSE AREN’T YOOOURRSS!!!

HELLO?

THIS CAMERA TAKES PEEEEKCHUUUUREEESSSS!!! FROZEN IN TIIIIME!!!

*ahem* Gen Con rocks. Hard.

(And thanks to everyone who went with me. I’m so glad I was able to share such a marvel with you.)

i found my farmer.

Last year I took this picture at the Indiana State Fair.

Aimee said she wanted to eat him with a spoon.

Jenny said “The quintessential farming grampa. I would totally guess that he has a bowl of oatmeal in his lap and a bloodhound asleep on his foot. ”

Emily said he reminds her of her grandpa.

This is been one of my most favorite pictures I have ever taken. I only took one of him, and this is what I got.

365 days later guess who was back at the PinBarn with his Ox named Jerry?

He was wearing the same overalls, the same hat with the same pin, the same denim shirt, the same lanyard, the same glasses, the same ox named Jerry and the same sweet smile.

His name is Jim.

His wife’s name is Nancy.

Together they own Promised Land Farm in Thorntown, Indiana.

They raise turkeys and train sheepdogs. They offer fresh eggs and collect antique tractors.

His site has a newsletter you can subscribe to called “Baas, Beeps, Barks and Gobbles.”

I love him.

which came first, the blog or the SEO?

I told Chris Brogan I had to pee today.

(Christ Brogan is kind of a big deal. He has 90K followers on twitter (#6 out of like 2.5 million on twitter. Everyone knows who Chris Brogan is apparently. He’s right up there with that Guy Kawasaki guy (whose house I ended up at last year) and Mashable (who BTW was in the Hot Blogger Calendar with me and I thought “Gosh, this Pete guy is handsome, I should tell him he’s handsome, I’ll bet that would make his day. Everyone likes compliments! Turns out “this Pete guy” is a really big deal too. I’m apparently oblivious to big deal status.(Also, I’m older than that Pete guy. Seriously? Cougar. Rawr.)))

Today most of the sessions were about SEO, keywords, ROI and something called a longtail. (OH HAI BRAD I’M OLDER THAN YOU TOO! GrrRAWR. And I still don’t know what a longtail is! I tried! Really! Not even sure if I have one! Or need one?)

I approach this whole blog thing differently. Frankly according to most of the panels today I’m a big fat failure as a blogger.

I started to keep my family updated on my kid (because guess what? I’M LAZY!)

I kept going because I love to write.

Now if you’ll excuse me, two elephant ears in two days is far too much for a lady to handle. *ahem*

(Oh yeah, I wouldn’t hate it if you threw me your vote for “Indiana’s Social Media Superstar ” or “Indiana’s Best Family Blog” in the first ever BLINDY awards if you’re feeling generous. I’m up against some stiff competition. Less than two days to vote! Too bad they don’t have a write in catergory for “Indiana’s Overshare Superstar Blog” I’d totally win it.)

indiana state fair, one pony ride down.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

O’Reilly, Astley and Swears.

I have never been rickrolled.***

I know what it means. I know what it is. But it has never happened to me.

Today on twitter Backpacking Dad sent out a rickroll. I didn’t have time to fall for it before I knew it was a trick (rick?) and that’s no fun for my first rickroll. Knowingly clicking into it? For shame.

I lamented that I had never been rickrolled when someone sent me this link to Bill O’Reilly getting rickrolled at the end of his program.

I’ll save you the bleeding ears.

Bill O’Reilly freaks out and screams the F word a few times at the camera. I mean, I don’t love 80’s music either but I was NOT expecting that. I couldn’t stop it fast enough.

the moosh noticed the crazy conservative screaming at me from my computer screen.

“Why is that guy screaming that you suck? Is it because you’re still in your underwear?”

Thankfully we just had to have the “we don’t say suck” discussion rather than the “we don’t say…you know what” discussion. And the underwear thing? Whatever, my kid almost lost her innocence at the mouth of Bill O’Reilly. BIGGER PICTURE HERE PEOPLE.

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(***A rickroll is when someone is all sneaky and links to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” video under an unassuming link. You click it, thinking you are going to be taken to blog about pork chops but instead are taken to the video. Then you have the song in your head and you’ve been rickrolled. Song. In your head. All day. Seriously, there’s a whole Wiki entry on the phenomenon.)

(In other delightfully ironic news, the moosh’s BFF, PK learned the F word today too. Cody also thinks it’s cute that I never expected a conservative to swear like a sailor.)