Recently my Blogger stats started showing freakishly high page view stats. At first it was double my normal traffic, then triple, then five times, and I'm afraid tomorrow my blog will explode. Google Analytics shows the same amount of traffic I usually get. This problem far exceeds my tech knowledge.
***********
I started watching Downton Abbey last week, and became so engrossed in the series that I stayed up last night till midnight (!) to watch the last episode. I was SORELY DISAPPOINTED. There was no conclusion, no resolution, no denouement, no climax, not a single damn story line was resolved. This led to much consternation and asking of why did you let me stay up so late if you knew it was going to end that way because hello, its midnight, I could have saved all this non-resolution for tomorrow night and gotten a few more hours of sleep.
The next season starts January 8th. I am giddy like a schoolgirl at the thought. You should watch too if you haven't already.
***********
Last year I blogged here about how the smell of woodsmoke freaks me out, since we have lived near three houses that have burned down and our house nearly caught fire last year and oh yeah our furnace caught fire while we were sleeping. I am terrified of our house burning down, and the merest whiff of smoke is enough to send me into a "what is on fire????" frenzy.
The town we currently live in is not located in the wilds of Maine or the hinterlands where one might need a constant roaring fire. However, it seems that everyone here has a wood-burning fireplace, and they are all having wood-burning fire parties every damn day, because my house REEKS of woodsmoke. REEKS, I tell you. All day and night I am constantly jumping up to perform an investigation of what is on fire. Is it my furnace? The dishwasher? The oven? The toaster? Why does this smell seem strongest in my (poorly weather-sealed) basement? I have smashed my nose against the furnace grate on more than one occasion, sniffing deeply, like a cokehead on a bender without any of the gratification.
I can smell woodsmoke when we approach our town on the Garden State Parkway, for pete's sake. For the love, people, stop with the damn woodsmoke. I am entering nervous breakdown territory.
**********
Today I was driving on 95 on the way to my sister's house. I was wearing my granny sunglasses and driving my minivan. Two moderately attractive truckers kept honking and waving and blowing kisses at me.
Let me repeat--I am a nearly-middle-aged woman wearing grandma sunglasses and driving a minivan.
Oh yeah. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.
***********
I started watching Downton Abbey last week, and became so engrossed in the series that I stayed up last night till midnight (!) to watch the last episode. I was SORELY DISAPPOINTED. There was no conclusion, no resolution, no denouement, no climax, not a single damn story line was resolved. This led to much consternation and asking of why did you let me stay up so late if you knew it was going to end that way because hello, its midnight, I could have saved all this non-resolution for tomorrow night and gotten a few more hours of sleep.
The next season starts January 8th. I am giddy like a schoolgirl at the thought. You should watch too if you haven't already.
***********
Last year I blogged here about how the smell of woodsmoke freaks me out, since we have lived near three houses that have burned down and our house nearly caught fire last year and oh yeah our furnace caught fire while we were sleeping. I am terrified of our house burning down, and the merest whiff of smoke is enough to send me into a "what is on fire????" frenzy.
The town we currently live in is not located in the wilds of Maine or the hinterlands where one might need a constant roaring fire. However, it seems that everyone here has a wood-burning fireplace, and they are all having wood-burning fire parties every damn day, because my house REEKS of woodsmoke. REEKS, I tell you. All day and night I am constantly jumping up to perform an investigation of what is on fire. Is it my furnace? The dishwasher? The oven? The toaster? Why does this smell seem strongest in my (poorly weather-sealed) basement? I have smashed my nose against the furnace grate on more than one occasion, sniffing deeply, like a cokehead on a bender without any of the gratification.
I can smell woodsmoke when we approach our town on the Garden State Parkway, for pete's sake. For the love, people, stop with the damn woodsmoke. I am entering nervous breakdown territory.
**********
Today I was driving on 95 on the way to my sister's house. I was wearing my granny sunglasses and driving my minivan. Two moderately attractive truckers kept honking and waving and blowing kisses at me.
Let me repeat--I am a nearly-middle-aged woman wearing grandma sunglasses and driving a minivan.
Oh yeah. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.
