A Clean Sweep

by Meg Fitzpatrick from Simply Nutmeg

I could spend hours just staring at my feet. In fact, I often do. Why? Because my feet are the only part of me that look exactly as they did when I was sixteen years old. I can stare at my ankles, too. I'll even allow my eyes to move as far up as my shins before I have to stop. It's the knees; the knees have aged. They're not so bad in the prone position, but when I stand up, there's this little saggy pin-cushion that sort of drapes over the knee cap. That definitely wasn't there at sixteen.

I guess it's safe to say that we age from the top down-- it must be a gravity thing. I was in my thirties when my magnificent, red, curly hair started getting less magnificent. Pregnancy hormones seemed to be involved. During my first pregnancy, my hair stopped curling. During my second pregnancy it started looking more brown than red. After my third pregnancy, my hair as much as gave up and half of it fell out. Now I have nice, wavy, not so magnificent, brownish, short hair. Big blow to the ego!

From there it’s just the California mudslide of the face, breasts, stomach, and buttocks. Really, if you can handle that one sentence gracefully, aging is a piece of cake! I’ve watched victims of other natural disasters, in the world and in my own town, handle their losses with such faith and dignity – tsunamis, floods, brush fires, hurricanes. My thoughts (obsessions really) about Botox put me to shame. But my feet, my feet are lookin’ good! I’m too sexy for my feet!

I miss the days of driving around town in my little blue Nissan coup when men’s heads would turn and road workers would whistle. It was the magnificent hair mostly. Why is it that nobody seems to wrench their necks when my fifteen-year-old mini-van tools by with the four car seats? Maybe I should try driving it with my feet!

So, how do I deal with my own natural disaster further developing as I write? I paint my toenails sparkly bubble-gum pink, I wear sandals whenever possible, and I marvel at how beautiful my inside is becoming. Actually, when I think back to the sixteen-year-old me, the one with the hair and the breasts that had yet to spend eight years nursing babies, and the pin-cushionless kneecaps, I was a train wreck! All that sheer beauty wasted on insecurities, inflated expectations, jerky guys, and fair-weather friends.

Some foreign alien seemed to enter my head in my late thirties and decided to clean out and organize. The alien made three piles on my front lawn: throw away, keep, and sell. These are the things the alien threw away: out went the worn out anxieties – anxiety that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, thin enough, sexy enough; out went the over-used fears – fear that there will never be such a thing as their college funds, fear that we’ll end up in the poor house, fear that I’ll screw up these four blessed children, fear that I’ll never have a flat stomach again; out went the inflated expectations – the expectation that my house will always be clean, the expectation that my children will always be well behaved and dressed in color coordinated clothes, the expectation that I will meet every want and need of every human being who casts their eyes my way. All of this stuff got put on the curb by the alien and, early one morning was picked up by a garbage truck. I’ve yet to miss any of it.

Here are the things the alien let me keep: in went my endless, unabashed love for my amazing husband and four beautiful children. In went a newfound desire to give, to share a little bit of myself every day. In went my unwavering spirituality and a willingness to allow it to lead me down the path of my life. And, in went my sense of humor, my constant ability to laugh at myself and my talent for making others laugh too. My alien put all of this stuff in see-through, labeled, plastic containers, so I can find them easily and use them often because really, what more do I need in life?

What went into the sell pile? Absolutely nothing! I think the alien was disappointed but I’m just not selling myself any more. I am finished trying to convince the people around me that I am worthy of their company, that I should be a member of their club. Here I am, take me or leave me, I’ll survive either way. If you decide to take me you will find that I make a terrific wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. And look down because I have really beautiful feet.

A writer, editor, teacher, and mom to four little menches, Meg takes life with a grain of salt and a little vodka. You can tune into her cyber sitcom at Simply Nutmeg.

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful Boy

It seems, according to All Things Blog, that mommy bloggers must write Birthday Letters. (Dooce, we all bow down to you in unison!) As Finn, my fourth baby and only boy, was born a year ago this week, here goes:

Dear Finnian Jude Badru Zen,

I'm sorry. Right after I give birth I'm tired and more interested in getting to know the creature who, only hours earlier, was cradled in the confines of my body. I give in to his Madness, and thus you will spend the rest of your life explaining four names, especially the last one, which is not a name but an entire philosophy. No pressure.

I'm sorry. They were just so crazy about you, and every time I turned my back, one of them was sitting on you, carrying you by your neck, biting you (with love), or feeding you a lollipop. I tried to keep them away in the beginning, but you were just so damn cute! I checked with the pediatrician -- no permanent damage from sucking lollipops in the first week of life, and your neck was most likely that long before the incident. We just hadn't noticed.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to spend so much of your first year in a shopping cart; it just happened. There's a whole lot of stuff you need when there's six of you who all insist on eating three times a day, who lose shoes on a daily basis, and also go through approximately six rolls of toilet paper in twelve hours. I'm sure I've read that the mall is a very stimulating environment for babies and that shoe stores are mostly decorated in colors that infants can see!

I'm sorry. I didn't actually take you out in dresses, or the pink onesies, or the lace socks, or the flowered bonnets, at least not when you started looking like a boy! It's just that baby clothes are so expensive, and I already had so many, and I didn't want you to spend any more time in the shopping cart. I've also read that it's okay for boys to play with dolls, and believe it or not, those floozy hooker figures count as dolls! It allows you to express your inner female. I'm sure any day now we'll get you some cars and trucks.

I'm sorry. That whole sanitizing and boiling stuff is really over-rated. They say dogs have cleaner mouths than humans anyway. I probably should have never given you a pacifier or a bottle or a teething ring seeing how Ezra is so crazy about them. And I promise I only mixed your formula with Sprite once! I was desperate!

I'm sorry. I never really let the others cry it out, but I'm tired, Man! I'm just over the sleep deprivation! How was I supposed to know your knee was stuck between the crib slats? You have to parent boys differently, you know! You have to teach them to work out their issues themselves, to problem solve. Buck up, Soldier!

I'm sorry. I wish this year could stretch on forever. A day will come in the not distant enough future when I will forget the precise weight of your fuzzy head on my shoulder, the smell of your milky breath on my neck, the feel of your tiny fingers twisting in the curls at the nape of my neck. In place of my arms, those little feet will have carried you down a road less traveled by me, and I will be sorry, very, very sorry.

"Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Darling, darling, darling
Darling [Finn.]"
(John Lennon)
Love,

Mama

Written by Meg Fitzpatrick

Meg is a writer, editor, teacher, and mom to four little menches. You can tune into her cyber sitcom at www.simplynutmeg.com.

Blog Review: The Misssy M Misssives

The blog: The Misssy M Misssives

The Reviewer: Nutmeg from Simply Nutmeg

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:
Stick with me on this one because we all know we should never judge a book by its cover, and first impressions are often wrong. This said, my first impression of this blog was, "YAWN!" The design is one I've seen frequently -- a standard Blogspot theme with no header and a slightly confusing sidebar. I found the lack of "about me" information very frustrating. Flying Martinis? Is this a bartending blog? Misssy M Misssives? The most I could glean at a glance about her was, "That's me." Nothing informed me that the blogger was from Scotland, and why the extra letters everywhere? If I had found this blog by surfing, I would have clicked off quickly, never to return.

DESIGN:
Enough said. Here's my advice: Customize the blog just a bit with a clear header and more defined sidebar. Give us a much more thorough "about Misssy" even if we have to open up a new page. Maximize the potential of your exotic location (exotic to me and hordes of others); tell the reader upfront where you live. Please tell me why there are so many extra letters; do you lisp?

CONTENT:
Here's the thing: the day I landed on Misssy's missssssives, she had posted 1001 words about ketchup. If you've read my reviews or my own blog, you most likely know that I have a problem with long blog posts. This position is an educated one. A very large body of research on internet reading points overwhelmingly to the fact that we read differently on the web than we do when reading a print document. When we read print, more than fifty percent of the time we will flip to the rest of a story or article continued on a later page IF the writer has done a good job of hooking us and building the momentum to the continued part of the article. When we read on the web, rarely are we willing to page down for content. Web readers seek short, well-written, concise bites of information. We look for interaction on the page: links, internal pages, comment sections. We do not want to read 1000 words about ketchup. Missy posts regularly, on average, every other day. She does not link often.

That said, because I was reviewing, I read through a ton of Misssy's content, and slowly, very slowly, found myself getting hooked! Misssy writes extremely well and nothing pleases me more as a reviewer. She is clearly intelligent, has a droll sense of humor, and, best of all, her content is extremely varied. You can't predict what Misssy will tackle from day to day. She may reflect on her exotic travel, old lovers, Madonna, ketchup, a Yeats poem, her work, or the telly. You can predict that she will use a lot of words in her reflections.

BEST AND WORST:

Best: I came to thoroughly enjoy Misssy's writing and I loved the glimpse into life in Scotland. She has a bright and quirky brain and sees things in ways differently from me. I love her turn of phrase, subtle sarcasm, and perfect grammar!

Worst: I have read Faulkner; I like Faulkner; but I would not read a blog written by Faulkner. Blog readers tend to be people who work for long hours at a computer, like myself, and break up the day with quick blog reads. Misssy is rarely a quick read. My mind wanders. I start to skim. I start to obsess over those extra s's...

BLOGROLLWORTHY:

With only a few design changes, more links, and more condensed posts, I think Misssy would really fly. I'm sure I'll come back to her blog regularly now that I've gotten to know the Martini's. Will I finish every post? That remains to be seen!

SCORE:

I'm going with 7 with the disclaimer that this blog has great potential to be a Bo Derrik. There's proof of it in Misssy's TOPBLOGMAG piece from last week. It's a must-read!

It's Not Easy Being Green

Written by Nutmeg from Simply Nutmeg

I recently attended an afternoon party with a group of young urban professionals, metrosexuals, and snobs, none of whom had children. Although the hosts were childless, the invitation clearly said “Bring the kids!” I knew I was in trouble when I joined the small crowd arriving on the front porch. Everyone looked so chic, with their high heels, beautiful little gift bags, and envelope-sized designer purses. I made my entrance lugging a diaper bag, a sack of toys, an art kit, a collapsible scooter, and four small, hungry, and uncooperative children. Was I supposed to bring a gift too?

The hostess looked at our entourage with real fear in her eyes and began lifting all her breakables to higher ground. Did she not read the invitation she sent out?

To say I felt out of place at this party, where I only knew the hostess, is akin to saying water is wet. Everybody had tasteful piercings and trendy Celtic ankle tattoos, while the coolest thing I was sporting was my new Velcro nursing bra. It was like an Abercrombie and Fitch fashion show only I looked more like I belonged on a Gap runway. In 1998.

You know it's bad when someone says," What's that smell?" and everyone looks straight at you. What? It’s not me! It’s him! Give me a break, he’s a baby and he tried sour kraut last night!

Whenever I attempted to mingle with a group, the intellectual conversation seemed to grind to a stop. You'd think I was wearing overalls with hay sticking out of my hair and a monkey slung on my hip. Why is it that people see a mother with more than two children and automatically assume that she is of one dimension? Is it impossible to believe that I may also be colorful - intelligent, modern, witty, even hip? I mean, I know Billy Holiday was a woman! I vote! I listen to Modest Mouse! I've inhaled!! And yes, I have heard of birth control, thank you!

There was a time when I would have tried to justify myself to this crowd, to point out that while I manage four children and run a house, I also hold down a job, freelance write, and have my own blog. That Bossy reads. But somehow I would have only ended up sounding like the porn star calling herself an actress, or worse, like one of them.

I realized as I stood in that crowd, that I no longer have a need to justify myself to anybody. I stand out like flashy sparkles in the water because I'm happy, authentic, and finally comfortable in my own skin, even if, on occasion, it might look a little green.

Blog Review: Mommy Has A Headache

The Blog: Mommy Has A Headache

The Reviewer: Nutmeg from Simply Nutmeg.

First Impressions: My first impressions of Mommy Has a Headache were not good. When I began reading the landing page, which consisted of about eight posts, I was actually offended. In the first few posts I read, the writer managed to deride fat people, ugly people, blacks, Hispanics, and even panda bears. Also a part of the landing page was a post in an advice column series called E-Spot in which readers write in with their sexual problems and receive advice from Emma. This particular 'letter' was from a swinging husband who didn't want his fat, ugly neighbor watching him having sex with another man on his back deck. I found it tasteless and not at all funny, but I'm a bit of a prude.

Emma and I did not start out on the best foot. Her posts also tend to be very long, and I found myself struggling to wade through the negativity.

Design: Again, the very first thing that caught my eye when I came to this site put me off. It was a request for a tip in the top left hand corner. This is something I had never seen before on a personal blog. I read many professional blogs in which you may find a small disclaimer toward the bottom that says something to the effect that if you have found this material helpful, feel free to donate to the site; but this was the first time a personal blogger had ever asked me to tuck a dollar in her garter belt. It felt wrong, because I'm cheap like that.

The rest of the design was clean and quite charming. The two-column theme with an original header and fabulous tag line (maybe it was one too many martinis) was refreshing. The left sidebar, (aside from the poll, which I find annoying,) was informative and easy to navigate.

Content: This woman can write, and she has a clearly defined voice. As a professional editor, I look for both. I found very few technical mistakes on this blog, and I read about 100 posts. After about ten or so, I could hear Emmak in my head, complete with accent. Her prose, despite the negativity and myriad references to shagging, is fluid and quite elegant. I think it helps that she's a Brit!

Let me make this perfectly clear: this is not a Mommy Blog, despite its title. There are very few references in her posts to her children or to her roll as a mother. She writes mostly about sex with an occasional post about how stupid or boring her friends' husbands are. This is a great site to visit if you are looking for a new sex toy or if you want to complain about your worst one-night-stand to a public internet audience. Emmak often asks her readers to share their own opinions and stories, which makes for a very lively comment section. She includes graphics and streams video that you would usually not want to view in the presence of children.

Reading this blog reminded me a lot of watching a Monty Python movie. I know it's supposed to be funny, and I can hear my own husband howling next to me, but I still don't get it! I started drinking beer after about twenty posts. By the thirtieth post I was smiling. By the fiftieth post I was laughing. By the eightieth post, I was considering driving to Baltimore to hang out with this chick! And by the next morning, this mommy had a headache!

Best and Worst: For me, the best part of this blog was Emma's intelligent, first-rate writing. It's a pleasure to read the way Emma puts thoughts together, even if I don't always care for the thoughts. As I continued to read Emma's content, I began to get a feel for her very dry and sarcastic sense of humor. This is one funny lady.

The downside of this blog was that after a bit, it was the same raunchy joke over and over. I also find cynicism a bit tiring after 40 or so posts. I think in smaller doses, Emmak would have a greater appeal to me.

Blogroll Worthy: I doubt Emma would feel at home in my blogroll. If your favorite comedy is Austin Powers, you might want to Blogroll Mommy Has a Headache. If your taste leans more toward Mrs. Doubtfire, you should probably take a pass. Although I probably wouldn't blogroll it, I can see myself stopping in to this blog on occasion when I'm in the mood for a little down and dirty humor.

Score:
I feel a little bad for this blogger because she got the repressed Catholic reviewer who loved Mrs. Doubtfire. Martini's just aren't my cup of tea! Nonetheless, this blogger has clearly carved out her niche; she is original and has a devoted readership. She is often very funny, if taken in small doses, and writes exceptionally well. I give this blog a 7.

Nutmeg's Four Principles of Stupidity

Written by Nutmeg from Simply Nutmeg

When I first saw that this week's theme was 'stupidity', I thought I was going to have to write a letter to the editor, because I had nothing. Dude, I'm just not that familiar with the subject! After some thought, I decided to turn it over to the experts, my four children. I don't mean that they're experts in stupid, I just mean that they have taught me everything I need to know in life. So I presented them each with one question: What comes to your mind when I say 'stupid'? It is in their answers that I found Nutmeg's Four Principles of Stupidity.

Rowan, age 4, answered my query with, "Standing on the potty chair." She was referring to a lesson she learned recently the hard way. She stood on the edge of a little wooden potty chair, flipped it over, and cracked her head on the sink. It really hurt. And there lies the First Principle of Stupidity -- most of us only recognize our stupidity in hindsight, like when we're icing the huge egg on our noggin.

I wish I could say I was better than the preschooler who tipped over the potty, but I usually only recognize my own stupidity after-the-fact. To illustrate, take my first car, a Volkswagen Beatle. Only a few weeks after I bought it, the windshield wipers died. I came up with the brilliant plan of tying shoe strings to the wipers, running the strings through the side windows, tying them together, and manually moving the wipers by yanking the strings from left to right in a horizontal direction. Let's just say that I learned the hindsight principle the hard way and that there are implications to real life if you can't pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time.

Maddie, age 7, answered my question about stupidity with, "Smoking, because you can get sick with a disease." At first glance that might sound like a platitude, but she has actually illuminated the Second Principle of Stupidity: Stupidity usually involves the mouth and the disease she's referring to is Bullshititis. Forrest Gump said, "Stupid is as stupid does." I beg to differ; the truth is, stupid is as stupid says.

I used to try to impress people by always knowing something about whatever the conversation was about. Even if I knew nothing. I'm sure, in hindsight, I made myself look stupid on numerous occasions, but this one stands out in my memory: Many years ago I got into a conversation with some older and wiser college students about music. I had not met The Music Professor yet, so my knowledge was limited to knowing for sure that Bruce Springsteen was cool. The conversation turned to jazz -- danger, Will Robinson -- and somebody asked me what I thought of Billy Holiday. Yes, I answered that he was my all-time favorite. Everybody looked at me like I had just coughed up a looger on their shoe, which, in fact, I had. Man, that lesson hurt, but it has helped me in the years since to shut the hell up when I find myself completely out of my league. Usually. Sometimes. Well, starting today... Abraham Lincoln said it almost as well as Maddie: "Tis better to be silent and thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt."

Keira, my oldest and wisest at age nine, responded to the question with, "Stupid is one of those words that's a comparison, like short." And there you have the Third Principle of Stupidity: Stupidity is relative, and one can always find someone more stupid than oneself. I recently read about an example of stupidity that made me nearly wet myself laughing. To test the security of a small, New York airport, government officials attempted to go through security with backpacks full of bomb equipment. The guards missed every single piece of equipment, but they did make the travelers turn over their water bottles!

Why do I enjoy this story so much? Aside from my love of irony, I enjoy it because I like to think those guards are so much more stupid than me! I may not know who Billy Holiday is, but I sure as hell can recognize a bomb when I see one!

And finally, I asked ten-month-old Finn what he thought of when I said the word 'stupid', and he answered, "Mamamamama." The Fourth Principle of Stupidity? Whatever stupid-ass thing somebody does, they'll always find a way to blame it on their mother!

A writer, educator, editor, and mom to four little menches, Nutmeg takes life with a grain of salt and a little vodka. You can read her stupid little blog at http://www.simplynutmeg.com.

Blog review: Four by 40

The blog: Four by 40
The reviewer: Meg from Simply Nutmeg

We took our clan to see Disney Pixar's Ratatouille this week, and I was particularly drawn to the character of the critic. Interestingly enough, he was named Ego. When you are a blogger, it's hard to review bloggers without allowing a little ego to get in the way. This week it was particularly difficult, as I'm reviewing Carla at Four by 40, a forty something woman with four kids who loves a boy named Nathan. Ringing any bells? You might say she had me at hello.

First Impressions: The very first thing that caught my attention as I scrolled down the landing page was that the author writes short posts. I'm a big fan of short posts with punch and strive for them myself. Thomas Jefferson said brilliantly, "The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words where one will do." Jefferson would have liked Carla, as she cuts right to the chase.

Design: The second thing that caught my attention about the site was that the theme was broken. The blog is basically a three column design with left and right sidebars, but the right sidebar does not appear until you page way down. When you click on Older Posts, the problem is corrected. My advice here is to check the right sidebar code for a missing or broken pathway. Cut and paste the present code into notepad before messing around with it though!

Glitch aside, the design did not stop me in my tracks. For a family blog I found the design somewhat cool and impersonal. The sidebars were very busy, but I rarely focus on sidebars when I read blogs and am used to tuning out the clutter. The content, nonetheless, was extremely accessible and clean.

At the top of the left sidebar is a section called "Check it Out" where Carla kindly has included links to posts from other blogs. I spent quite a bit of time exploring her list and will say, when choosing fine writing, Carla is spot-on.

Posting frequency: Carla deserves a blue ribbon here, as she posts just about every day and sometimes twice a day. She has written over 600 posts, and surely such dedication is appreciated by her readership.

Content: Carla clearly has a good sense of humor. Although sometimes the writing is awkward, most posts are succinctly written and have a fun, humorous slant, like OK Then and You Know What "They" Say. I did not find a great deal of variety or deep insight in the content. Carla has carved out her niche and sticks fairly close to it: cute, endearing, tidbits of her life with her children. Considering one of the highest viewed blogs in the blogosphere is a site devoted to cute pictures of kittens and puppies, Carla may very well have a brilliant thing going here.

My biggest complaint with this blog is that it is desperately in need of images. Aside from a few pictures of inanimate objects and one somewhat disturbing picture of Carla (I can do that with my neck too!), there are very few images or photos. I totally respect the choice to keep pictures of one's children off the internet, but I'm not sure that is why the pictures are missing because I did see Nathan and Timmers on a bike! I, for one, would love to see more pictures of the Streams in action. It would add the warmth of human touch that I found missing in the design.

Best and Worst:
Best - What I liked best about this blog was Carla's outlook on life which is evident as you read through her archives. Life is sweet at the Stream's and Carla is clearly a warm and giving mother. We have a great deal in common (did I just try to say I'm warm and giving?) and would most likely be fast friends if we lived in the same town.

Worst - I want to see those chillers! I also could do without words like 'chillers.'

Bloggroll-worthy? Would I return to this blog? How could I not when we have so much in common? I also like to visit blogs that I know are updated frequently. It's the most important thing a blogger can do to be successful, aside from writing well. I'm also drawn to short posts. Sometimes I click on a blog in my blogroll, see that I will need to page down, and down, and down, and click right off. I would return to Four by 40 knowing full well I could squeeze in the read.

Rating Out of Ten:

I think Carla has accomplished what she sets out to do in her tag line - to bring a smile on your face by sharing brief anecdotes of a mother in the trenches. The blog may have its greatest appeal to family and friends of the Streams, but it also appealed to this forty-something mother of four who found much to be familiar in Carla's quips, quotes, and vignettes.

Maybe When She Retires I'll Take Over the Show

Written by Meg from Simply Nutmeg

I think the whole world goes to sleep at night dreaming of being interviewed by Oprah. Actually, I've had both the dream and the nightmare. In the dream I'm being interviewed about my smash-hit memoir that is actually true. In the nightmare I'm on the show about the mothers who have lost everything because of their methadone addiction. Here are a few more shows I don't want to be on:

• Mothers who lose their children at carnivals and never find them again
• The very bad hair make-over show
• Women who find out after ten blissful years of marriage that their husband is really a woman
• The interview from prison show

I wouldn't mind if my fifteen minutes of fame came from being on one of these episodes:

• Moms who win the lottery even though they don't play
• Women over 40 who look 25
• Millionaire mom who saves the world with her blog
• Women who find babies in baskets on their front porches
• The 'how we got him impeached' show

I'm not in it for just the fame. I want Andre to do my hair too. I also want to be seen by all my old boyfriends who will obviously smack the sides of their heads and say, "Why did I ever let that one go?" (Too late, Dude!)

I'm sure if I made it on the show for whatever the reason, Oprah would think I was just the best, and that would be the end of Gail. We'd talk every night on the phone and I'd tell her what I thought of the day's episode. I'd tell her not to wear those clingy tan pants anymore and she would thank me for the advice. And listen. I'd most likely have to take over editing the magazine. She'd start leaving witty comments on my blog and I would subsequently beat Dooce in the Bloggers Choice Awards. Hell, I'd even beat Rosie.

In the mean time, my book would sell two billion copies and I would be invited on a world book-signing tour. I'd bring along the whole family, but I'd need to hire a couple of British nannies (ugly ones because I'm not ending up on the show about women who lose their men to the nanny.) I'd get to sleep in every day. Life would be sweet.

Maybe she'll interview me because I wrote a funny little blog post for TOPBLOGMAG. One can dream, right?

A writer, editor, teacher, and mom to four little menches, Meg dreams big every day at www.simplynutmeg.com.

VHw8XXTu

Written by Meg from Simply Nutmeg

You know what really bothers me, sets me smack in the middle of a post partum, hormonal hissy fit? Those damn word verifies. I know they're all over the net, and I understand they're a necessary evil to control the Viagra and teen booby trolls. Hell, I even have one on my own website. But mine is simple; you just type in a four letter word. You don't have to squint and hold your computer screen at arm's length to read it, and it's the same every time you have to enter it. It's also a real word so you don't spend precious blog-reading time trying to decipher gibberish.

My problem is that I'm old enough to need reading glasses but not old enough to admit it, or to go out and spend the three dollars they'd cost me at Walmart. I can't really see those stupid letters when you run them all together. I'm also not all that computer savvy. For the life of me I can't seem to figure out how to make my letters squiggly when I type them in. I've looked all over my keyboard and I don't see any squiggly letters. Then there's that line going through them. I've tried the hyphen, the underscore, I've tried to switch to HTML and use the cross-out feature. I can't get a line through my son-of-a-bum letters.

I really rail when the row of letters dips down a little in the middle. I thought maybe that was like an Etch-a-Sketch feature so I tried shaking my laptop over my head. Freaking letters stay straight! I've tried F1 through F12 - no go. I've E-mailed the folks at Blogging Basics 101 (where there are no stupid questions), but they haven't written a post about it yet. Maybe I need to upgrade my laptop. Or maybe I need to say yes to one of those 'updates are ready for your computer' messages.

Whatever the glitch turns out to be, I would just like to make it known that if you have a blog out there with a word verify, I'm probably reading it, I'm out there lurking, and I'm trying like hell to share with you my brilliant comments!

A writer, editor, teacher, and mom to four little menches, Meg is just hoping her blog addiction will keep her off that crack-cocaine! You can tune in to her cyber sitcom at http://www.simplynutmeg.com.