Wait; what just happened?

So, The Gue up and moved to Australia.

The month of June was somewhat turbulent. By the time July rolled around he announced he was leaving the continent in August. I'll admit I was a bit shell shocked by the whole thing. And it made me emotional. And maybe I even shed a tear or two (I'll never admit to it).

Now that I've had time to deal with the whole situation I'm faring much, much better. We still communicate and I'm genuinely happy for him.

Plus, brilliant new blog:
www.theblunderdownunder.blogspot.com

In addition to the old blog:
http://www.wordsfromthegue.blogspot.com/

Parts of the old blog were inadvertently deleted...anyone who can tell me how to recover it wins a prize. Email me for details.
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I have big plans for the weekend. I will be leading a one woman intervention for a manic depressive. This is one of those things that no sane person should attempt on their own, but I am totally going for it because I don't know any better. Wish me luck.
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Sundays are officially my favorite day of the week. Sunday is family day and Mr. Little Man and I usually spend the day together doing fun stuff. My new reason for loving Sundays is that a "somebody" has a new boyfriend.

I live vicariously through her adventures. Sunday mornings bring coffee and hilarious emails detailing her hijinks. And there are always hijinks. I want to set up a blog for her emails because they really are publish-worthy.

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Oh John, if Sarah Palin is not ready for Katie Couric, then I'm not sure she is ready for Joe Biden:


Also, if Tina Fey doesn't get an Emmy for this I will be shocked:


The McCampaign makes me laugh.

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Can someone PLEASE have Britney Spears' dad call Amy Winehouse's dad to give him step by step instructions on how to get his daughter cleaned up? Seriously.

You know I love Amy Winehouse and I'd feel like I was missing out on future music if she went and died. Not that this is all about me, but you know what I'm saying.

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What I am reading: My tax bill....man it's a killer
What I am listening to: Jenny Lewis - Trying My Best to Love You

The Nanny Diaries

One of the things that added to my summer woes was the search for a new nanny. Or rather the search that brought me 3 nannies in 3 months.

No one ever thinks that child care is a big deal until they have a child that needs caring for. If money were no object I'd love to stay home and be a housewife (or whatever they call it when you stay home and take care of a household without actually being someone's wife), but unfortunately, like most of the population, I still have to slave away at the sweatshop.

The nanny that we'd had for 16 months we adored, but there was 1 problem. She was habitually late. She was great with Mr. Little Man; she just could not be on time to save her life. The bus would arrive to drop Mr. Little Man off after school and she would not be there. It was just too much stress for me because everyday at 3 pm I'd have to steel myself for the inevitable phone call telling me she wasn't there. It was just too much.

So we found a new nanny. And that didn't work out....and then we found new nanny #2...and that didn't work out either. Fast forward to nanny #3, who we shall call M (but in reality I should probably refer to her as Q). And yes, those are James Bond references.

We love M. We may have had a slight mis-step on her first day when Mr. Little Man, who is almost as tall as her, reached out and touched her breasts in his first attempt at playing Tune In Tokyo. I, was, of course, MORTIFIED. Thank God she didn't think it was a big deal.

The thing is when you hire someone you never know what you are gonna get. Are they going to go through your mail, steal your identity and ruin your credit forever? Are they going to eat all the chocolate in the house so that when you're PMSing and in dire need there is none left? Are they even going to bother to look after your child, much less take him to the park and encourage him to do crafts? It's a scary thing. Especially since I am one of those people that thinks that not having a criminal record means you simply haven't been caught yet.

We lucked out with M (Q?). Actually, I kind of feel like I hit the jackpot after all the sturm and drang of the summer. Mr. Little Man has taken to her really well (mainly because she allows him to be the boss).

It often happens that by the time Mr. Little Man gets off the bus he just wants to be alone. He's had people in his face all day and he just needs a little alone time with the TV. As a result of this M gets bored, so she cleans. My house. Better than me. She makes the beds and does the breakfast dishes (I always leave them in the sink). She dusts and vacuums. Yesterday she organized my office and cleaned the windows...BECAUSE SHE WAS BORED. Seriously, JACKPOT!! She has freed up a significant portion of my time so that me and Mr. Little Man and I get to go out and do fun things when I get home instead of me worrying about trivial crap like cleaning.

I don't care what I have to pay her; she's never leaving.


And, just for the hell of it, I present to you a video....Johnny Foreigner - Salt, Pepa & Spinderella:

Exactly how connected do I need to be?

I am not technologically savvy. At all. Gadgets do not interest me. I can get the basics done with my computer, but please don't ask me for help with anything complicated.

My iPod is probably the most advanced piece of equipment I own...and like so many others I will be forced to buy a new TV come January because even my TV is ancient.

When I buy a product I really like to make sure its something I can commit to because I know I will have it for a very long time. My last cell phone I had for 5 and a half years. My last car I had for almost 9 years (until some bastard decided to steal my beloved Honda). I just don't believe in replacing something until I absolutely have to.

And now I find myself in somewhat of a quagmire. I am a wanted woman.


on an unrelated note: Katie Holmes is single handedly trying to bring back the pegged pants. I think I've covered this before.....and no, pegged pants are still a train wreck.