Hey! Maybe they can make pumpkin pie from the head! And other news...

Perfect Compliment and Perfect Post Awards

I'm not even going to pretend to be humble. The surprise, however, was real.

I GOT AN AWARD!

A PERFECT POST AWARD!

I like it, I love it, I can't stand myself I'm so moved!

Masked Mom, my new best friend who I did not even bribe or beg to nominate me, put my Parenting as if I might get hit by a bus tomorrow post up for the award.

As I told Masked Mom, when a really good blogger nominates you it's like total huge warm fuzzy compliment. Many thanks to her.

And to stand next to such august company over there at Suburban Turmoil and Petroville. I am listed alongside some of my favorite bloggers, such as Petroville, One Plus Two, Under the Mad Hat, Girl Con Queso, Mom 101, Chicky Chicky Baby. I read the blogs of nominators and nominees and wow, those are some good blogs out there with some awesome posts.

Go check out the entire list of Perfect Post Award Winners.

Perfectly Funny Comment

After last night---blog story to follow when I find my sense of humor about it all---my brain was so fried I decide to plug the children into the television while I showered. Persistence wanted me to sit with her for a minute so I made the mistake of doing that. When sleep-deprived and exhausted (yes, they are different) one should never stop moving. Be like a shark, be the shark, just keep swimming!

But I sat.

And I zoned.

I was vaguely aware that Sprout was assaulting what little of my senses remained with Bob the Builder but fortunately I'm halfway to brain dead so it had very little impact.

(As an aside, please, a shovel to the head before any more Bob or no, wait, let's save that for Angelina Ballerina. Seriously. Who likes that whiny little rodent? Please. Stick up for girlfriend or well, I'll feel free to trash her, liberally someday. Kipper, even WonderPets but SPARE ME THE MOUSE!)

Okay so Bob. As usual Spud is up to his antics. It apparently involved a camera rather than large machinery this time, and as usual in the end, his behavior merely warranted a guffaw by Bob in the end.

Patience was watching with an unusual level of attention. Her eyes were narrowed and she had on her Thinking Hard Face.

She turned to me, "Hey, Mom?"

I braced myself for some Complex Question that Would Tax My .25% Remaining Brain Power Likely Resulting in Smoke From the Ears and Inarticulate Stuttering from Mouth.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you think they'll ever make a pie out of Spud's head?"

Snort. Snort snort. BWAHAHAHAHAHA

And before my brain could scream, NO, no DO NOT SAY IT! I replied, "One can only hope."

And she says, "Yep, one can only hope. That would be yum yum good. I love me some pumpkin pie."

I cried I laughed so hard and did not even care that it offended her because she was totally serious.

Please tell me you also have visions of sugared Spud dancing in your head. Please.

copyright all text and images Julie Pippert, 2007.

Cancer's Calling Card

Foreword: I'm not a medical person, or any kind of expert. This post shouldn't be taken as God's word carved in stone by Moses. In other words, don't consider it to be any kind of authority or use it to treat, diagnose, or select medications. Do your own research and talk to your doctor, an actual expert, who, you know, went to medical school and stuff. This post is merely my best understanding of cancer and cancer treatment and prevention, as related to our situation, based on what I've learned from reading and talking to doctors. Author's Note: If you aren't interested in the cancer discussion and the things I learned, and only want to know the outcome of our appointment with the oncologist yesterday, skip to the end. I've divvied this up by sections, so go to the last section. What would you do if one day a postcard arrived in the mail to warn you that sometime in the next three years you would be diagnosed with cancer? Would you believe it? Change an

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Quorum

After being confronted with written evidence, Julie admits that she is a total attention whore. In some things, in some ways, sometimes I look outward for validation of my worth and existence. I admit it. It's my weak spot, my vanity spot . If you say I am clever, comment on a post, offer me an award, mention me on your blog, reply to a comment I left on your blog, or in any way flatter me as a writer...I am hopelessly, slavishly devoted to you. I will probably even add you to my blogroll just so everyone can see the list of all the cool kids who actually like me . The girl, she knows she is vain in this regard , but after much vanity discussion and navel-gazing , she has decided to love herself anyway, as she is (ironically) and will keep searching for (1) internal validation and (2) her first person . Until I reach a better point of self-actualization, though, may I just say that this week you people have been better than prozac and chocolate (together, with a side of white choc

In defense of vanity...I think

Do you have one of those issues where you argue with yourself? Where you just aren't sure what you actually think because there are so many messages and opinions on the topic around you? I have more than one like this. However, there is one topic that has been struggling to the top of my mind recently: vanity and perceived vanity. Can vanity be a good thing? Vanity has historically been truly reviled. Vanity is number seven of the Seven Deadly Sins. It's the doppleganger of number seven on the Seven Holy Virtues list: humility. There are many moralistic tales of how vanity makes you evil and brings about a spectacular downfall. Consider the lady who bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain her youth. Google Borgia+vanity and find plenty. The Brothers Grimm and Disney got in on the act too. The Disney message seems to be: the truly beautiful don't need to be vain. They are just naturally eye-catchingly gorgeous. And they are all gorgeous. Show me the Reubenesque Princess.

Julie Pippert: Using My Words

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