Kiss it and make it better!

Thanks so much to the two of you who have reached out in my hour of need. *sigh*


In a moment of weakness, which I've been chock full of, I went to peruse my Site Meter account. I made a promise to myself about a year ago to cool it with the constant Site Meter checks. I was making myself crazy trying to matching up the little dots on the world map with people I might possibly know. Then I was making myself more crazy with watching entry pages and exit pages. It got to be too much, so I successfully banned myself from it. It was easy actually. I just took it off my favorites list.


But now its back! At Site Meter, everything looked the same. There was Weaver, there was Brewer, there was Nance, there was a long list of people who stayed 0:00 minutes, okay. But then... Who the hell is that? I wondered. Some person had checked out the Cafe for forty two minutes! Where did they come from? The answer was this posting on Cleveland.com that put up almost my entire piece about the Man and his truck. How cool is that? The downside is that this link has been up for about a week and this forty two minute person was the only taker, but still I'm pretty tickled.


So now I'm back to being all cool with the lurkers again. Go ahead and lurk. Knock yourself out! Goodness knows there's a few blogs that I lurk on.


Now onto this:

I want this little key fob so bad it's causing me physical pain. When you whistle, it barks so you can find your keys. ACK! Too cute! Can't take it! Gimme, gimme, gimme!

Finally, here's some big love to my sis who went to CP with us in the drizzle and cold. Three roller coasters, three haunted houses and countless corn dogs later, we were the sleepiest family in the state on the ride home. It was wonderful having you out with us, babe!

Incommunicato?

Hello? Anyone out there?

I'm asking because it's been a bit quiet around my email inbox lately. Two weeks ago I would traipse home from ZombieLand and there would be like eighteen new emails. And it wasn't junk mail. It was from real people who had questions to ask or answers to my questions or stories to share or venting to do. And while at the time it could be a bit overwhelming, still it gave my zombie soaked day a bit of purpose and sunshine.

And what about this blog? I know you are out there. Lurking. Lurking. I don't mind the lurking usually, but this lack of email has got me looking at the bigger picture. Where the hell is everybody? What offense have I laid out, unbeknownst, that has caused all this shun?

The pebble that started this avalanche of communication examination was that comment from Jen Jen. While I was thrilled to hear from her, I couldn't stop wondering this: If Jen Jen is out there and I wasn't aware of it, who else is reading?

Maybe it's this new "Followers" widget I put on the sidebar. I'm checking that thing out way too much. Waiting to acquire followers so far sucks. But being a follower is very cool. You can check out every one's blogs that you follow all on the dashboard page. You don't have to go from site to site to site just to find out that there's nothing new to read. I'm a big fan of being a follower. Being followed? Ask me later.

So now you're thinking, Gee, J, if you would just write about something comment-worthy I'd be right there.

Is that so? That's how you feel? Well, you all seem to like Zombie stories, so here's a cute one.

Monday I had to zombie-sit gym. No. I'm sorry. Physical education. (Some gym teachers don't like being called gym teachers. W'ever!)

It's my last class of a long day and I've got first graders running around playing an adorable game of tag that involves a witch turning trick-or-treaters into ghosts and pumpkins tagging them back into trick-or-treaters. I've got "Monster Mash" and "One Eyed, One Horned Flying Purple People Eater" blasting in the background just to crank up the running.

I feel a little tap-tap-tap on my arm. Standing beside me is a tiny guy, about a wide as he is tall with Harry Potter-esque glasses.

"I'd like to have a word with you please", he says in a way that's more than a tad creepy for someone is age and height.

I size the situation up in flash. There's no way I want to hear what this kid has to say.

"Nope, I don't think so," I say with a smile. I wave a hand out toward the melee. "Go play!"

He looks stunned and put out by this, but spins aways into the knot of running kids. Another situation handled in my own expert way.

Ten minutes later the class was being led out the door single file by their teacher. Mr. Potter, I notice, is last in line. As he gets closer to me, he catches my eye and points one of his stubby fingers right at me.

"I'm going to write you a letter!"

And then he's gone with his class, the door bouncing to a close behind him. He didn't say it in a mean or threatening way, but it didn't exactly sound like I was going to be receiving a love note either. The whole encounter caught me off guard.

As the door finally came to a stop, I finally found a witty retort. "I can't wait!", echoed through the empty gym. Funny thing is, I mean it. It's going to be a gem!