Is it just me? Tell me honestly.

This is what comes of forced TV viewing, this feeling of incredulity and frustration. Honestly, people – is it just me?

Due to an illness…condition…problem…whatever (since resolved, but at the time disconcerting and downright terrifying, but okay now so we won’t go into it and please, for the love of God, don’t ask what the doctor said because that will open up a whole new can of worms I don’t need crawling around just now so just know that I am healthy and normal now), I had to spend three days just sitting. I could read for short periods of time, but long term focus so close sent my head spinning.

The long and short of it was that the only thing to do was – gulp – watch television. A lot of television (and knit washcloths that I don’t have to look at much while I knit, but that’s neither here nor there).

Okay – Oprah. Explain Oprah to me, someone, please.

The show was about a woman who was addicted to hoarding and shopping. The advertising was for crap to buy for Christmas. The ads for upcoming Oprah shows were about Oprah’s favorite crap to buy for Christmas. Meanwhile, on the show, they’re talking about how Americans have too much crap and we’ve lost meaning in our lives. And Oprah is acting all bewildered about people who are addicted to shopping – the woman, who already has everything under the planet twice over and who required a Paris department store open after hours just for her, is amazed that other people are addicted to shopping?

Honestly, people – is it just me?

Then the car commercials: I was under the impression that a car was a means to get from point A to point B. Intermittent wipers are kind of a neat perk, but really it’s a motor with wheels. Then why the ad like “When you get in your car and turn it on, does it return the favor?” How screwed up do you have to be to rely on your car for existential fulfillment?

And why are people so obsessed about the smell of their houses? I love to go into people’s houses and smell what they had for dinner. Why is that a bad thing? It means you live in your house. I can’t believe a company can make money spending millions on advertising for a candle.

Okay, okay, okay…I know I’m old and I know I’m not the most technologically savvy person on the planet. But someone please explain to me why a cell phone can’t simply be a cell phone? Is there something about our surroundings so vile to hear that everyone has to be walking around with their own personal soundtrack?

(Oh, and don’t suggest I get that Jitterbug thing – it looks like the Playskool version of a cell phone. I’m not that hopeless. Dirtman, maybe. But not me. And is anyone concerned that the “skool” part of “Playskool” is misspelled?)

And when did everyone suddenly develop digestive problems? For God’s sake people: FIBRE!

And another thing: it’s “jew-el-ry,” NOT “JEW-LER-EE.”

And why are “Titanic” and “Independence Day” on all the time? I was just wondering about that. I don’t mind or anything. I’m just curious.

Thank God that little stint is over. I resolve to take better care of myself forever more so I don’t have to go through three days watching FREAKING INSANITY!

What's the big deal? What?

Scene in kitchen and living room. Sisiggy is in kitchen, Heir 1 is sitting at the kitchen table. Just beyond in the living room Dirtman is watching television.

Sisiggy: Look, I need some help in here.

Dirtman: What now?

Sisiggy: The dog pen needs to be cleaned and Hokie needs to be tended to.

Dirtman: Okay...so?

Sisiggy: Do you want to clean the poop or soak Hokie's boil?

Heir 1: None of my friends have to put up with conversations like this!

Sisiggy: Shut up and eat.

A day late...

I suppose I could back date this, but since I'm not officially blogging everyday anyway, I figure it's no big deal. Sundays are massive meal days and everyone comes here and eats stuff. So that's where I was yesterday.

All this blogging going on reminded of something I read on the internet by someone who did not want to be called a "blogger" because "bloggers" assume their lives are so interesting someone else wants to read about them. Apparently this person didn't agree that someone else's life/opinion was interesting, only his/hers. It made me wonder who was truly the most "self-absorbed."

When I started this blog two years ago, it was sort of like casting a line out into the ocean: Here's what I think. Anyone else think this? Am I alone in this? Can someone talk me out of this?

I've had one rule that I've stuck to since then: I never delete a comment, unless it's an obvious ad or at the request of the commenter (I think that happened once when a comment inadvertently posted twice). I don't claim to think in absolutes and I don't require total agreement.

Of course, I've never had anyone get really nasty. The few trolls that have stopped by have been immediately recognized and summarily ignored. They've never come back as I can tell.

I know a lot of people just hate the word "blogger," but it's just a matter of semantics to me. I yam what I yam. As in anything, there is good and bad and it used to be the same for the term "freelance writer." I remember going on a job interview and the interviewer making the snide comment that "at least you weren't a 'freelance writer.' That's just another way of saying 'unemployed.'" Instead I had a laundry list of jobs that had absolutely nothing to do with the writing job for which I was applying and which I subsequently got because he apparently thought that, since I could make a bank balance at the end of the day, I could put together a column. Yet he would have turned down James Michener because he was 'unemployed' (...and dead...).

So call it what you will. If you are threatened by the fact that there are people out there sending words over the internet that are trite or cloyingly cute or too personal or grammatical disasters and those people are called the same thing as you with your well-organized, sharply edited prose -- well, get over yourself.

I'm rather glad there is a venue for everyone to express their opinions. Because I think eventually the only opinion you will hear out of the mainstream media will be Barbra Streisand's.

We're posting, we're posting, we're posting...

I'm a little late in trying to post everyday, so I don't qualify for this. November sneaked up on me and here we are at the third. But it's good exercise anyway.

I suppose I could bore you with more puppy pictures and maybe I will tomorrow when I take more puppy pictures. Today I'm attempting homemade pasta and the two activities are incompatible. Even I know that.

Anyway, the usual question: What have I been doing, since I've obviously not been blogging?

I've been flour-obsessed. I'm trying to get to the point where I can conjure up loaves of bread without a second thought. It's loaf after loaf after loaf.

We are expecting a rough week, though. The last four puppies are heading to Europe. Even though they're getting to be a real chore to deal with (it brings us to ten dogs) and keeping them reasonably quiet and contained is a daily challenge, I'm going to miss them: Laid back Ringo, drama-queen Sadie, always happy Nanook and -- I think most of all -- gentle, sweet Breeze.

But then we still have our Blabby Abby and Hokie Doke to deal with here and they're getting big -- can't just pick them up and move them where you want anymore. At least not without hurting something.

I'm done. Leave some for tomorrow.