Azeroth Addiction

The new expansion for World of Warcraft, Burning Crusade, came out yesterday.

One sacred rule I hold myself to is that I am absolutely, positively not allowed to play video games when I'm home alone with the twins and they are awake. This afternoon, I seriously considered parking the twins in front of Sesame Street so I could spend some quality time leveling my new blood elf mage, Qwghlm. It might be time for a twelve-step program.

(I think she kind of looks like me -- dishwater blond with ears that stick out and some out-of-control hair. Except that she's anorexic.)

Obama '08

Barack Obama, my favorite senator, announced that he's starting a presidential exploratory committee, the first step toward a bid for the White House. I have mixed feelings about this. I love, love, love Senator Obama. Love him. How can you not love that skinny kid with a funny name? I actually felt a swell of pride when I cast my vote for Obama back in '04 -- it might have been the first time I didn't feel as if I were merely choosing the lesser of two evils.

I think Senator Obama brings a fresh new perspective to politics, which our political landscape needs in a bad way. I can't even begin to tell you how much I prefer him to Hillary Clinton, who's generally considered the front runner for the democratic nomination.

Is it too soon? Is Senator Obama too much of a newcomer to really make a creditable run for the presidency? Or is his status as newcomer, outsider, fresh voice exactly what we need now? I don't know. I just don't know. But if Senator Obama needs volunteers in Chicago (like there's going to be a shortage!), he should feel free to give me a call. (But not after 8:00 pm.)

Will you still need me, will you still feed me?

I was just watching an ad for the Discovery Channel's "2057," about how scientists today are shaping the future and what life will be like in 50 years.

I thought to myself, "In fifty years, I'll be 81. Will I remember sitting here on the couch, watching that promo? Will I laugh about how absurd and off-base those predictions are? Or will I be amazed by their accuracy?"

Who am I kidding? I can never remember where my keys are NOW. In fifty years, I'll be lucky if I remember my own name and to chew with my mouth closed.

Dramatic Scene

[Kelly returns to the couch from a trek to the far-away beverage fridge, Cherry Coke in hand.]

Airan: I was going to ask you to get me one of those.

Kelly: Oh. I thought you were already drinking one.

Airan: [despondent] No. I wasn't.

Kelly: Are you going to be okay? Do you think you might wither up without one?

Airan: I feel myself wasting away. It's cold, so cold ...

Kelly: In these final moments, is there anything you want to tell me?

Airan: [dramatic pause] I'm a dude.

Peek-a-boo

Seriously, how cute are my kids?

Don't Be So Shy

Apparently, this is National Delurk Week -- all you folks who visit the blog regularly but never comment, countless thousands of you, now's your chance to leave a comment and say hello. Come on, lurkers, you know who you are. (And I know, too, thanks to site-tracking services -- here you thought you were anonymous!)

Peapod is like a box of chocolates.

You never know what you're going to get.

I am lazy, so I enjoy the convenience of Peapod. I don't use the service that often -- maybe once every few months. But when I'm desperate and the fridge is empty and the girls are tired of eating nothing but Cheerios, Peapod can be a lifesaver.

The problem with Peapod is that every time I place an order, something comes either not quite what I expected or else totally wrong. For example, there was the time when I thought I was ordering two leeks, but I was actually ordering two bunches of leeks. Eek! What can any normal household do with six leeks??

This time: I ordered soy ground "beef," and instead got tofu dogs. I know, I know -- most of you read "soy ground 'beef'" and thought "Gross!" But trust me when I tell you that soy grounds are quite nice. (Says the former vegetarian who longs to return to her old ways.) Tofu dogs, however -- there just ain't nothin' you can do to make tofu taste like a hot dog, and you shouldn't try. It's not natural.

What surprises will you bring me next time, Peapod? Shoelaces instead of string cheese? Instead of Sam Adams, will you bring Samuel L. Jackson? (Now that's a mix-up I wouldn't mind so much.)

click

Friends, I have been crazy busy lately. I have lots of freelance work (which is a blessing and a curse), and the twins' emerging walking skills keep me hopping all day long. I have so many things I want to write about and tasks I want to accomplish (like a certain promise made to FADKOG that I have not forgotten!), but everything is on the back burner for now.

While my blog is in deathly dull mode, might I offer up another diversion for you? Check out my oh-so-talented hubby's new blog: click. Chicago photography like you've never seen before. Visit. Comment. Admire.

More later -- it's back to the grindstone for me!

I See London

Low-rise pants have been all the rage for some time now. Personally, I love 'em -- they're comfortable, stylish, and perfect for short-waisted ladies such as myself. Of course, all the style experts warn that if you're going to wear those low-rise pants, you must wear low-rise underthings to go with them -- the world in general isn't interested in seeing your undergarments, no matter how pretty they are.

So here's what I want to know: When is someone going to come up with low-rise diapers?

Girls, Girls, Girls

Miss Libby and her mom, Kerri, paid us a visit this afternoon.

What a cutie pie! The twins had a great time sharing their toys with Libby and then instantly deciding they needed those toys back right away. Sure, they like the baby, but not that much!