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I am SO far behind in blogging.  Between not having my car and a lot of things happening last week, I never got around to downloading pictures from Lily’s swim meet and our trip to Yorktown to celebrate Mia’s 2nd birthday.  Here they are!  Make sure you click on “show info’ during the slideshow to read the captions.  Or don’t, and just make up your own captions. . . 

Part II in my wildly successful series on social media things that annoy Cristina.  Keep in mind that these are my opinions, and like you know what, everyone has one.

1.  Adding “Tw” to every word.  Tweet Up.  Tweeters.  Tweminars.  Kill me now.  People who twitter are annoying enough to the rest of the world.  When we start adding “tw” in front of normal words, not only are we annoying, we sound like raving lunatics with a speech impediment. 

2.  Using Twitter as your personal pimping pad.  Imagine yourself in the room full of 500 people you don’t really know. You pick up a megaphone and scream: “Contact me if you want information on how the internet can make you millions.  Call now and I’ll send you a free set of Ginsu knives!  But only if you are serious about making money!”  (that may be more than 140 characters).  That, folks, is what a high percentage of Twitter users do.  It’s so obnoxious. Nothing makes me unfollow someone faster than when my first contact with them involves being told to click a link, stop by their website to sign up for a enewsletter I do not want, or am told they are an “expert in social media”. (side note:  one “expert” spelled social media like this:  socail meda)

3.  Calling yourself an “expert”.  Nowhere else but on Twitter have I ever seen the word “expert” whored out as much.  65% of people claim to be social media experts.  It took me more than a decade to call myself in expert in a couple of very specific areas.  Twitter’s only been around for a couple of years.  How the heck can you be an expert???  Terms like “social media guru”, “Web 2.0 Hero” and “new media leverage expert” make me dry heave. 

4.  Assuming Stupid Followers. It is not easy to make money on the internet.  Newsflash:  the dot com bust was a long time ago.  People wised up. Just because you are slamming me with tweets about your get rich quick schemes doesn’t mean I’m going to buy it from your website.  In fact, chances are, I’m going to unfollow or better yet, block you.  Stop telling me how easy it is to make money on the internet.  I run two internet businesses.  I know it’s as hard as any other money-making endeavor. 

5.  Weird, mass-following keyword searches.  I must have posted a status that mentioned a pimple.  Within one week, I had about 20 “acne experts” following me and bombarding my stream with “new acne cure 2.0!” every 15 minutes.  From a marketing perspective, it’s smart to target your market.  Obviously they have a search set up for anyone using the word “zit”.  However, maybe check the context of the tweet before bombarding?  It’s obvious I’m not covered in acne based on what I talk about.  Nor did my tweet say, “Help - I’ve got more craters than the moon!  Please send me acne help!”  If I had, well then, game on. 

6.  Typing vomit.  Let’s get back to what I personally think Twitter is all about.  Twitter, to me, is about communication.  If you are there to blast out random crap about your company that has nothing to do with me, and fill up my stream so I can’t see the stuff I’m interested in, I’m going to unfollow.  For instance, I’ll call one fellow Twitterer “StuffedAnimal”.  They sell, yes, stuffed animals.  Every 20 minutes I’d get something like this: 

“Why oh why
don’t you stop on by
oh me oh me
our stuffed animals will make you cry”

I wish I was kidding. 

and finally . . .

7.  Ask and ignore.  People who constantly ask questions, like “Is Jeff Goldblum really dead”, receive responses, and only acknowledge the ones from the handful of people they will deign to talk with? Grrr.  This hits on my peeve about bloggers only talking to their perception of the elite.  If you don’t wish to talk to others, do not ask questions.  Or privately message those you wish to ask. Otherwise, regular lame-o’s like myself are going to assume you really want an answer, and take time to do so. 

There you have it!  Hope you twenjoyed it.  What are some of your Twitter peeves? 

Hey, guess what?  I’m kind of a perfectionist.  It’s a theme that has followed me throughout the years.  No matter how good I was at something, it wasn’t good enough. Even being really good at starving or withholding food wasn’t enough.  Someone was always doing it better than me.  One of my college roommates was anorexic.  It was like the battle of diseases - my bulimia versus her anorexia.  In retrospect it was so sick, it would have made for good reality tv.  “Watch her puke as her roommate starves!  Who can eat less than the other?  Tune in at 10 for the final showdown!”

Everytime I cycle through gaining weight, then losing it, the extremes are hard to temper.  At one extreme, I can’t imagine ever eating sensibly again.  My inner demon says, “You’ve denied for years.  You deserve whatever you want, whenever you want it.”  On the other extreme, my inner demon says, “You fat pig - you can never again eat like other people.  You aren’t like other people.  Barley and oats for the rest of your life.”

Doing Weight Watchers has been fairly enlightening.  Because no foods are verboten, I don’t get that panicky, “OH MY GOD THAT COOKIE WILL KILL ME” feeling like I did during the two years I went without flour or sugar.  And because I am “allowed” to eat whatever, I tend to want certain foods less.  In this respect, Weight Watchers - for now - has been successful.  I’ve struggled with food for too long to be able to proclaim that it’s the Perfect Diet. 

Part of growing older and looking back over all the years of the struggle has proven to me once again that there is no such thing as perfection.  I was reading an article today on “Phantom Fat” and unfortunately I can really relate to it.  Even at my thinnest, I only saw the fat girl lurking beneath the skin.  How could I be 102 pounds and think I was fat? Oh, the joy of a messed up head . . . and how annoying!  how irritating! that all these years later I still struggle with the image in the mirror.

I will say that I’m more able to accept the imperfections of my diet.  That occasionally I will order french fries with my grilled chicken, or get an ice cream cone with the kids.  That’s the joy of being “normal” and of eating “normally”.  Food isn’t good or bad - just because it’s a donut doesn’t mean it’s a convicted felon and should be in food jail.  Salad isn’t angelic, nor is broccoli.  I came face to face with that when I found myself eating a piece of cold pizza at 3 o’clock in the afternoon (!!!).  My first instinct was to freak out and feel like I’d ruined not only my day, but my entire life.  That combination of dough, tomatoes and cheese had the power to just crush my resolve and make me feel tiny (and huge, all at the same time).  Later, after the panic had subsided, I put it into perspective.  It was a piece of pizza.  A simple piece.

As the weight comes off, I’m hopeful my need to be perfect will come off along with it.  Hope is a very good thing. 

I briefly mentioned yesterday that there are certain “bloggy” behaviors that drive me nuts.  I thought I’d make a little list for those of you who are up and coming “famous” bloggers, and for those of you who are climbing the virtual ladder.  Also on the off-chance that some of the bloggers who irritate me read this, perhaps you’ll think about tweaking your attitude.  What’s funniest about this list is that in my previous life as a marketing consultant, this very same advice was given time and time again (with some substituted words) to many lawyers and accountants.  I guess the same “Do Unto Others” cliche really works in all walks of life

1.  Don’t Forget Who Reads You.  Those same people who started reading you 2 years ago, when you started (in the blogging world, 1 year is equal to about 25) are probably still reading you.  Only now they are being encouraged to comment (because comments are blogger crack), and the writers know that the more comments they have, the more advertising dollars they can leverage.  No one likes to feel used.  If you expect your readers to comment, you might want to spend some time around the world wide interwebs commenting on other blogs besides your best bloggy friends. 

2.  Newsflash - This Just In!  Just because you finally got your blog leveraged where you want it to be, or your book deal is finally being inked, doesn’t mean that the quality of writers has magically dried up just because you got paid (or noticed).  The same core group of mom bloggers still talk mostly to each other.  In the meantime, thousands of blogs that put theirs to shame have popped up - it’s unfortunate that it seems many of them are missing out on the larger blogging community because it’s easier to stay in the safe zone.  Matt Logelin’s a perfect example of this.  Aside from having his life ripped apart when his wife died after the birth of their first child, he’s managed to attract a lot of attention with his blog and get a book deal.  He travels a lot and always makes time to reach out to the people who read him.  He is always linking to new blogs.  And this guy gets as many comments as Dooce, so don’t tell me you’re too famous to deal with it.

3.  Ignoring comments.  If comments are blogger crack, then I really don’t get why more bloggers don’t occasionally respond.  Avitable is completely awesome at interacting with his commenters - he responds, he jokes, he engages.  I get that not every blogger wishes to engage, but I don’t really understand that.  If you are writing publicly, and putting it out there, paying attention to your crack supplier might be a good idea. 

4.  On that same note . . . one blogger in particular ONLY responds to negative comments.  She could have 3,000 positive comments offering support or humor or kind words, but she’ll only respond to the one a-hole who tells her she sucks as a mother and is a drunk.  Most of the time it’s not even that blatant.  It appears that if she even senses the person doesn’t 100% agree with her, she responds.  Or deletes the comments.  The bloggers I respect allow dissenting opinion.  Now if it gets personal, or crass, then I get why comment are deleted.  This goes way beyond this. 

5. Most bloggers twitter.  Nothing annoys me more than my twitter feed being barfed on by the same 5 bloggers in a sycophantic frenzy.  It goes something like this:

@totallyfamousblogger:  OMG!  Your latest post made me LOL!!!  Call me so we can talk!
@almostasfamousblogger:  Awww, shucks, I love you too.  Can’t wait to drink at (insert upcoming female blogging event here) with you!
@totallyfamousblogger:  What do you think about my boob job?
@almostasfamousblogger:  I love it! But you couldn’t be any hotter!
@totallyfamousblogger:  My kid just barfed. 
@almostasfamousblogger:  Tell your agent to clean it up. That’s what you pay that whore for!

It might not be quite that bad, but some days, it’s all I can do to swallow it.  Why not just delete them from my follow list??  Because I like their writing enough to want to know when new stuff is coming out, but I’m beginning to dislike them intensely as a person.  I’m not alone in that feeling. 

Speaking of Twitter,  it’s called a “micro-blogging” site.  I agree with Avitable. It’s not really a blogging site.  It’s a condensed narcissistic discussion about yourself, unless you engage.  So bloggers who constantly tweet about themselves and only to certain special people look like complete buttholes in my opinion.  I might care more about your car troubles or the fact that your carpet smells like cat pee if you actually responded to anyone other than yourself.  Queen of Spain is well-known and very busy - but if you respond to her, she will respond to you.  It makes me a lot more willing to take the time to read those who take time with me. 

6.  If you want to make money from blogging, treat it like a business.  Seriously.  Duh.  This is marketing 101.  Want a big following?  Want rabid fans who will bail you out of jail, or believe you were actually pregnant with a terminally ill baby even after it’s been proven you freaking lied?  Interact.  Become involved with your customers - aka your readers.  Take some time to check out their blogs.  You might even bring yourself to comment outside the popular clique.  Trust me, it won’t kill you.

7.  Recommend other blogs you like, but not the same 5 over and over again.  Help your readers discover new and great bloggers.  Just yesterday, The Checkout Girl recommended some blogs (including mine, which was totally super of her).  I added all of them to my RSS feed.  This might be a problem if you don’t actually read blogs anymore, but maybe you could fake it?

So there you have it. Homeslice’s 7 Rules on How to Blog Without Annoying the Universe (aka your customers). 

I haven’t been blogging, even though I’ve been thinking about blogging.  The reasons?  I’ve been busy embroidering (nap mat season has started), my kids are out of school, my laundry has been humping itself and multiplying, and swim team is killing me just a little bit. 

Even though I’ve only made it to the gym once this week because of crazy swim team practice scheduling and summer camp preschool stuff, I’ve ridden my new bike (!!!) twice.  Tonight I really wanted to work out, so I ignored the fact that it was raining and went for a long bike ride.  I got completely soaked but instead of letting it bother me I actually enjoyed it.  I remember riding my 12-speed to work at Potter’s Bakery in Traverse City in the wee hours of the morn (yeah, like 6 AM in the summer).  One particularly memorable event:  riding down Center Road under a brilliant and huge full moon, while listening to Bananarama on my bright yellow sports Walkman.  “Robert DeNiro’s waiting . . . talking Italian . . .”  More interesting imagining letting my own children ride 5 miles-ish to work in the dark, without a bike helmet, on a busy road with no shoulders or bike path, wearing a Walkman that drowned out any car noises.  It goes without saying that times have changed!

The one day I did make it to the gym, I was scarred for life.  I should have been forewarned - the women who work in Child Watch were talking about the “Guy With The Foot” when I dropped off Lily and Arden.  I tried to get them to explain but they clammed up.

Fast forward 15 minutes.  I’m sweating in a swine-like fashion when I look up into the weight room.  Imagine a Vietnam-era vet or hippy-turned-Harley rider stereotype.  You know, lots of wrinkles from smoking.  Red bandana around the hair (long, of course, and braided, of course).  Only this guy was doing calf presses.  And one of his legs, from the knee down, was buck naked.  As in no sock, no pant leg, no shoes - no nothin’.  This would normally disturb me as his sweating leg was rubbing all over the equipment I, and many others, use on a regular basis.  Unfortunately I didn’t have time to be disturbed because my mouth flopped open and my eyes bugged out. 

Something was SERIOUSLY wrong with this dude’s foot.  It was swollen, almost like a diabetic’s foot, but covered in what can only be called a crust.  Mixed into the crust were random red spots that glistened and oozed occasionally.  He was also missing at least one toe but I couldn’t bring myself to look at the bloated foot long enough for an accurate count. 

I get that he’s hurt.  He probably got hurt fighting for our country, or after a bar fight to protect some woman’s honor . . . but how can it be sanitary, or even safe, to wander around the gym with one oozing foot completely bare???  I’m all about working out and being healthy. I’m also not normally squeamish, but watching him wander from machine to machine, swinging the OozeFoot with him and touching all the things I will probably never touch again just put me over the edge. 

Anyone else skeeved by this???  Oh, the topper?  Never saw him wipe down a machine. Nope, not once.

(uncomfortable silence followed by non-sequitur)

Summer vacation has officially started.  Melissa Summers is being slammed, as she is annually, by all the bloggers who hate her and love to call her a bad mom because she hates summer vacation and can’t seem to find a good way to fill up all those hours with her two kids without going insane.  I’m lucky - both kids are enrolled in camps for half days.  This is good for two reasons - too much togetherness makes all of us crazy, and summer is the busiest time of the year for me.  Momma gotta work!  But back to Miss Summers.  I don’t find fearing summer vacation bash-worthy.  I do think if you dread summer that much, you ought to get your kids involved in some major camp-fests or whatever floats your boat and keeps you sane.  I just think it’s funny that every summer Melissa blogs about all of those hours, and the same few bloggers who write anonymous hate-blogs get all up in arms about it.  I also think it’s funny that Melissa normally only responds to negative comments on her blog, which are few and far between . . . but believe me, that’s a blogger rant for another day. 

In the meantime, I’m chugging away, hoping to put a serious dent in Ye Olde Lyne of Credit and trying to make sure my kids have a well-rounded summer, the perfect balance of education, chlorine, and s’mores. 

We’re back from Texas!  And since everything is bigger in Texas, I took MORE pictures, made MORE messes, and spent MORE for a haircut!  We loved every minute of it (except for the part when we almost got wiped out by a tornado). 

Sunday: 

We left our house a bit late.  About 20 minutes.  That caused us to feel hurried and rushed at the airport.  We almost left the car seats in the car, but made the shuttle driver turn around so we could retrieve.  We made our flight and had no issues, especially since we had a 2+ hour layover in fabulous Atlanta.  The girls seemed to like flying, when they weren’t fighting over who got the window seat. 

Tori and Risa were waiting for us when we arrived at baggage claim, so we shoved all our stuff and the two wild, keyed-up girls into the FunBus (aka Expedition) and headed to the house.  Casa de Bliss was nice before - but deeyam, it’s now called Spa Bliss.  The guest ‘room’ is nice enough for me to actually look forward to the day when Mike divorces me for a trophy wife and I can move in with my sister.  Between the pool and hot tub, pool table, TVs and super comfy chairs everywhere, it’s heaven on earth.  Except if you have to clean it. 

I took lots of pictures that will embarass my sister, but I am head over heels in love with her house.  If I could have any style of house I wanted, it would be hers.  It’s Spanish, it’s curved, it’s comfy, it’s cool, and it’s full of weird, quirky, and pretty things to look at.  It also might look weird sitting in the middle of a colonial suburb in Virginia, but I wouldn’t mind.  It has horses and animals, and a steady stream of teenagers tramping in and out of it. 

Risa made a delicious brisket for dinner.  I had to physically restrain myself from eating all four pounds of it. 

Monday:  We spent a lot of time in the pool and watching the tons of landscaping going on.  It was so impressive how that many people can accomplish so much in minimal time.  It made me want to hire a crew of 100 to come into our house and just redo everything.  Then reality hit and I stopped that fantasy train. 

In the afternoon, Risa and I took the girls to see Up in 3D.  Risa and I actually cried. It’s kind of sad!  Thankfully the girls didn’t really get the sadness parts and seemed to like the movie.  Her theatre spoiled me - it’s way more comfy and luxurious than any of ours here in VA. 

On the way home, Risa explained that the newest thing in Southlake is spires.  First everyone who was anyone had to have turrets on their houses. The more turrets, the better.  After the turrets of 2008, 2009 brought in the advent of spires.  We renamed some of the more obnoxious subdivisions:  St. Emilion’s became St. A-Million-Plus.  Patterson’s Pond, which truly is Spireland, became Patterson’s Sewage Swamp - these houses were put onto swampland and they are large, be-spired, and kind of ridiculous.  Costa Azul is now Costa Lotta Bucks.  Southlake is a haven for snarky sisters, I’ll tell you that much.  We were even treated to a tour of the most ridiculous houses in S’Lake.  If you look at nothing else, be sure to view them in the Flickr show.  It’s hilarious! And Risa, I’m not kidding.  For Christmas I am sending you a set of 28 spires that you can duct tape to the top of your tin roof.  Mark my words.  You will be the most spired house in Southlake. 

Tuesday: Risa and I left the girls behind with Mike and Nate and headed out for haircuts. I desperately needed one and her guy was great. Too bad I am still left looking for someone in Richmond because flying to Texas for a haircut is not really in the budget.  Nate and Mike had lunch together and we took Tori, Whitney and the girls to American Girl Place at the Galleria in Dallas.  We had lunch at the AG Bistro. Risa wasn’t all that impressed, but the girls thought it was the coolest thing ever to have special seats for the AG dolls and to be able to shop for clothes for the afore-mentioned dolls right there.  I had to talk them out of the $180 doll beds and into some other, more budget-conscious clothing for their Bitty Babies.  I was successful. 

When we returned home, Risa’s Jefe of the landscaping crew had determined that a huge tree meant for the backyard was going on top of the septic field, and while digging the hole, they’d flooded the hole with yummy smelling sewage.  She was thrilled.  (A side note:  El Jefe’s real name is Jesus, but his nickname is Chuie, which meant that meant spent the entire week roaring like Chewbacca.  Anytime anyone said something about Chuie, Mike would roar.)

Wednesday: We headed off to the Fort Worth Zoo.  First we had lunch at the most delicious IHOP ever.  I don’t know what the deal was, but the chef there was apparently under-challenged and everything was amazingly good.  I wish that guy cooked in Richmond!  It was half-price day at the Zoo, so it was packed. We parked in a remote lot and hoofed it in.  Unfortunately the girls were “tired” after the Battan Death March to the Zoo. It was also pretty hot (hello, it’s Texas in June), and very humid.  Risa thinks they didn’t enjoy their time there, but they really did.  We saw lots of weird funky animals (some of them very stinky,  I might add - especially the Warthog that peed while I took her picture).  We rode the new train, and a carousel.  We ate cotton candy and drank a lot of water.  We listened to the Grackles (sp?), an incredibly loud and black bird. 

When we returned to Southlake, we had a few moments to make dinner and cool off before the storm of the century blew in.  Risa had just taken the chicken enchiladas out of the oven when the power went off.  It stayed off til around 10 the next morning. 

We have lots of thunderstorms in Virginia, but this was much closer to Hurrican Isabel than anything thundery.  Within minutes, all of the poolside furniture was IN the pool (pictures in the slideshow).  The infamous inflatable dragon from the pool was wrapped around a fence.  Tree limbs and newly planted saplings were blown over.  It was a thunder and lightning and wind-fest.  We were all a little tense, because you just kept expecting the sky to fall and the house along with it.  Turns out there was a tornado a few miles away.  Lots of flooding, lots of trees down.  Tons of fences blown over or broken in half.  This went on all night. No one really slept (except Tori - that girl could sleep through an atomic blast).  The lightning was so incredibly loud. 

Thursday: 

The ice in the freezer melted all over the floor of the kitchen, so instead of sitting around being cranky and tired and hot, we went to Corner Bakery for a yummy breakfast.  The power was back on right before we left, yay!  We did a storm-damage tour - it was frightening and cool all rolled into one.  We cleaned out the 42 pounds of sand and dirt and leaves in the pool and swam and relaxed.  Risa had planned a fun trail ride for the adults, but because of all the rain and flooding we weren’t able to go.  Next time . . .

We had an adult-only dinner at a hibachi restaurant in Town Square.  It was delicious!  After Frank gave us a tour of the new sections of Town Square, including the newer brownstones (one of them goes for over 1.5M).  Seeing Southlake Town Square grow is like watching Frank’s small baby become a full-fledged man (or a woman with big hair and a lot of money).  I am such a country dweeb - half the stores I’ve never heard of.  It’s all very pretty and unlike Short Pump Town Center here in Virginia, they actually thought ahead about traffic flow and it’s easy to get in and out of. 

That evening after the girls were in bed, we watched My Bloody Valentine in 3D with Nate.  It was kind of gross and kind of funny all at the same time. 

Friday: 

We left early in the morning!  Wahhhh!  The planes were all on time, but it was VERY turbulent coming out of Dallas and again when we landed in Atlanta.  We only had about 20 minutes to catch a connecting flight to Richmond, so it was rushed to say the least between bathroom breaks and trying to grab lunch.  We missed lunch but the girls were big troopers and made it to Richmond on a lot of Teddy Grahams, Oreos and airplane pretzels. 

Everytime I spend time with my sister and her family I realize how much we are both missing. I am missing her cool kids, and she is missing mine.  There is little to no chance we’ll end up in Texas (but if we did, I’d totally pimp my Volvo out with spires), and little to no chance that she will be in Virginia, so we just have to deal with that fact. 

I do, however, have one gift from Texas that is still with me:  I gained 1.5 pounds while there.  My butt thanks you, Risa. 

My sister and her family is preparing for the onslaught of MY family, including two little girls who collectively can be so loud they might be considered an audible weapon in some cultures.  Risa’s been active in arranging a plethora of fun:  trail rides for Mike and I, miniature pony rides for the girls, lunch at American Girl (with treat seats for the dolls!!!), the Forth Worth Zoo (complete with train), tons of trampolining and swimming in her pool and foot massages every night for me from my sister (joking about the last part - she won’t get near my feet).  She also hooked me up with a $100 haircut hair experience with Roberto, whom I will annoy by calling Roberto in a high falsetto voice. 

The girls have been talking about “Tecks-Sass” for the past, I don’t know, 12 months.  Now they are just about to pee themselves with excitement.  I’ve finally over-explained enough to Arden where she no longer thinks we are going to have to parachute out of the airplane to get to Aunt Risa’s house.  Mike is excited too, especially now that he gets to have lunch with Nate instead of suffering through high tea with 4 girls and dolls at American Girl. 

I’ll be taking lots of pictures, trying not to get bucked off a horse, and nursing saddle sores.  I know you’re excited.  See ya in a week. 

I’m thrilled this week.  Of course next week I’ll be in Texas where everything is bigger, including the food, but for this week I’m going to allow myself to be super excited because I lost another 2 pounds.  I am 5 pounds away from my 20 pound weight loss.  And now I am off to the Y.  Would it be counter-productive to celebrate with a huge stack of pancakes? 

I had a major, massive, incredible workout today.  I broke some rules at the Y by hogging a machine for an hour and a half (and before you get all “HEY DUDE, 45 minutes is the time limit” on me, I got permission from one of the trainers).  I’ve been trying to complete a 20 mile ride on the Expresso bikes.  20 miles isn’t all that bad, but the first 12 are uphill - gahhhhh.  Anyway, after 90 minutes I made it!  I was literally soaking wet and barely able to walk, but I still felt pretty good.  I picked up the girls, silently praying they’d be nice and not have a fight because I had zero energy with which to deal (that’s what happens when you burn 880 calories). 

We got into the car, and Lily asked me, “Mommy, why do you have to work out?”  A million sarcastic responses flitted through my mind, but thankfully my mouth filter was engaged and I said none of them.

“Because it’s healthy for me, just like you work out at Little Gym and on the playground.  Also, I’m trying to lose a little weight.”

A millisecond later, Lily started to make the weird sniffling/snorting noise she makes before she fake-cries.  “But Mommy!!!  I don’t want you to be thin!  I want you to stay exactly the way you are, RIGHT NOW!!!”  Arden joined in the conversation with this little ditty: “Yeah, Mommy, I would not like to hug you if you were thin.”

So all I need to do, really, is fill the world with clones of my children, and stay just the way I am.  Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream from Gelati Celesti, here I come.