Sick. Miserable. Nothing to see here, folks; move along.

(Move along to this, maybe: this is something special that I’m trying to do even while I’m wiping my nose and quaffing flu meds. And then maybe consider throwing a vote at me for the Bloggies – I’m a finalist in the category of Best Canadian Blog, which means that if I win, BACON FOR EVERYONE – and also maybe for this BlogHer Room Of Your Own panel that I’d love to see happen. Also this one.) (You don’t need to be Canadian to vote for me in the Bloggies, and you don’t need to be going to BlogHer to give a thumbs up for that panel, so. NO EXCUSES.)

(When you’re done all that, send more Nyquil.)

Happy face, sad nose.

Happy face, sad nose.

(*Words of wisdom in the title of this post courtesy Emilia, age 4.)

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If You Go Down To The Potty Today, You’re In For A Big Surprise

January 25, 2010

Text of e-mail: “What you can’t see is the epic turd. I spared you that. So the four year old sits on the John and reads Vanity Fair while dropping bombs.” This is what happens when I leave the house for the day. Everybody gets all up in the body art and then someone takes [...]

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