Science geek-out

So how cool is this?

It's a study that suggests that men with several older brothers are more likely to be gay. They hypothesize that it's a prenatal effect: the results only affected men with the same mother - whether or not they had the same father or were raised together.There's something about successive boys who had in common: coming from the same womb.

As a huge science geek and a person who's fascinated with genetics and evolution I find this awesome. They point out the RH factor as a similar effect. The first child of an RH negative mother is fine, but then her successive children are actually attacked by her own body as if they were parasites.

Is there some evolutionary reason for the gay factor? Is it somehow beneficial to the genome for females to produce a few boys then, if there are more male fetuses, begin altering them to be individuals less likely to reproduce? How would that be beneficial?

Perhaps since primates are not generally monogamous and you only need one male to breed many females, then it would behoove the species to have non-breeding males. Face it, the life of a male in the wild sucks ass. They get killed in fights between each other, eaten by predators trying to defend their females, get shoved out of the group very early and have to live in 'bachelor herds', and so on. If a female could 'gay' her younger sons then she would have non-threatening (to other males) family members to help her care for their siblings. It would also protect her younger sons from being ostracize to living on the fringe of the group with the rest of the overabundance of males.

Richard Dawkins definitely needs to write a book, LOL.

What do you think? Do you think it's even true (that being gay might be a prenatal effect)? Do you think it's totally random? If you're religious do you really still think that people just choose to be gay? How does this news make you feel? If you have multiple sons, does it make you nervous or are you cool with it?

Speaking personally, I will adore my children no matter what their biological makeup. I prefer dark hair but if I have a blond child I'll love him just as much as the others. I'm right-handed but a left-hander is cool by me. The mindless hatred of homosexuality out there and the prejudice scare me but it certainly wouldn't affect my love for my baby.

Politicking

Here it is Tuesday again and I don't even have a self-portrait to post. I finally rembember on a Tuesday and I don't have a pic.

*sigh*

I'm such a spaz.

I also haven't read any blogs in ages. Dear bloggers-that-I-read, I swear I still love you. I know I haven't called but I've been hella busy. Really!

I've put up my new barn drive gate, and am beginning the deconstruction prior to starting the pantry. I've been busy with the store. I've been complaining to Evil Genius Husband that this is exactly like having a job. I have to design the products, create the artwork, do the layout, upload the images, manage the products in the store, research trends, put up ads in a half-a-dozen places on the web every week, answer random emails, update the store blog, etc, etc.

I have a huge newfound respect for WAHMs now. All this stuff is v. difficult when you can't get sat down at the computer more than a few minutes at a time!

And just in case I have a few minutes left in a day that are unoccupied, Evil Genius Husband has founded his own political party: The (you guessed it) Evil Genius Party! And you, dear unsuspecting minions readers, are going to be the first to read the official Press Release:

"Election time is fast approaching. How do you feel? Does the electoral system have you down? Feeling isolated in your Red State? Alone in your Blue State? Do you wish we could all just get along? Are you stressed about who to pick, Republicans or Democrats? And which is which anyway?

Now’s the time to join the Evil Genius Party! We are for unity, not division. Universal employment, not acceptable percentages of unemployed. Global peace. Understanding. Choose enlightened leaders for an enlightened age. We don’t play divisive politics, we play You Politics. Working for you to bring improved health, long life, flying cars, and global peace.

The Evil Genius Party, a 21st century party working for your 21st century dreams."

Vote Evil Genius in 2008! Evil Genius Party: "No lackey left behind"
www.evilgeniusparty.org

*yawn* what time is it?

Go order one of these. (No it's not one of my t-shirts, LOL)

For every one of these FREE Make-The-Connection bracelet kits that you order, Merck "will donate one dollar to Cancer Research and Prevention Foundation, up to $100,000, for cervical cancer awareness."

Yes, this is just marketing ploy to promote their new vaccine for cervical cancer, Gardasil, but the vaccine is a GOOD thing and a dollar towards cervical cancer awareness might save some woman's, some mother's, some fellow Mommy Blogger's life.

Free Make-The-Connection bracelets.

You get two per kit. I'm going to order them and make them for my two baby girls.

(Big special hug to Snopes for the heads up)

Self Portrait Tuesday #6 (on Wednesday again)

Perhaps I should just begin calling it "self portrait day within a week of a Tuesday"? (and for all you droll wits out there, yes, I could just call it Self Portrait DAY and shut up about it, but it was originally Self Portrait Tuesday and it gives me some semblance of structure so it's Self Portrait Tuesday, damnit!)

Where was I?

Oh, the pic ...

I love mucking about in Photoshop (who doesn't?) and I was trying to ad 'noise' to the image to give it a soft feel but it just ended up blurry. (Yeah, my photography skillage is teh suxx0rz!!111!11!)

Anyway, that's my hand and Bulk's wee feet (several months ago) but I thought it was an appropriate pic since it's Litha today (the summer solstice) a time of growth and bounty and I myself am attempting to grow and be bountiful.

(Caution, tiresome babymaking talk follows)

Speaking of: I'm getting close to O here, and I've been dying to play about with these OPKs that I got at the dollar store! I've never used them (charting always worked loverly) but I'm viewing TTC as I do all things I'm determined about: throw everything at it - including the kitchen sink - and hope I hit that bastard.

I'm also trying Pre-Seed as age has taken it's toll on me and I've noticed my CM getting less and less. I actually have a very good feeling about it (which is weird for my pessimistic self).

Any of you have experience with either? Tips? Tricks? Droll witticisms?

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On to this week's list:

Four things I can't wait to do with my children:

1) Holiday in Britain. I just can't wait. I am so anxious to show them Charles Darwin's grave, the British Museum, Duxford airfield, the church in Stratford where Shakespeare is buried, Warwick castle, and the pebbly beaches on the Essex coast. I suppose we'll wait until the youngest is at least four or five to be able to appreciate everything. I also suppose I'd better start saving NOW, lol!

2) The chores. No lie. I can't wait until I can get some serious help in the barnyard. See, Evil Genius Husband and I almost cannot be seen simultaneously in the barnyard ... one of us has to watch the bubs. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold a sheep or catch a chicken by yourself?

3) Play board games. I know this sounds trivial, but I'm an only child. How many good board games / party games can one play with two or three people? Chess, scrabble, that sort of thing, sure, but no Pictionary! And Monopoly and Clue and Life and Trivial pursuit, etc, suck with less than four players.

4) Family meals. We already sit down at table as a family at least once a day, but, well, it only takes six seconds to go over the babies' day. I can't wait for detailed stories and animated discussions around the table as a family.

Next!

Alright! My fence is up, I've put the poles in and mounted the gate (with a big assist from Evil Genius Husband *mwah!*) Here is the barn drive before:

And after (man, I need to mow!):



Here's the gate from the outside - I'll be putting up wire on the inside of both the gate and the sides so that it's goat and sheep-proof:



I do still have to run the electric fence in the pasture, but that's not particularly difficult, just time-consuming and fiddly. I'm going to do a bit every day and should have it finished by the week-end.

Now on to The Pantry and the part of construction that is the most fun:

DEstruction.

I have to remove a ramp and railing from the deck and take out the back gate that I put up between the side yard - 'the garden' in the British sense, which includes the back deck, 'my' yard (with all my plants and flowers) and the vegetable patch - and the back yard which is the domain of the dogs, the pumphouse, and the brooder pens.

I've made an investment purchase of a satisfyingly long and heavy crowbar and plan to begin smashing and prising directly.

Here is the area right now - obviously needing to be tidied up even before chaos begins:



You can tell that this out-of-the-way corner has collected the junk of the yard. Here's the view from the deck:


My first question of the project is this: that is old aluminium siding ... how do I cut it? Can I cut it in situ since everything will be hidden in the end? Should I just leave it as is and nail/screw right through it? That makes me nervous, especially for the ledger board (that the rafters attach to) and the skirt board (that the floor joists attach to). I'd like to know what I'm nailing into.

As usual, all helpful thoughts appreciated!

Fenced in

Quite a few changes around here!

The turkey poults are ready to leave the baby pen and go in a regular pen, my two remaining baby geese, Dutch and Akeeyu (named after two of my fave bloggers), look like big geese now. The ewe lambs and two doelings are in their pen and ear tagged.

Ahh, spring. Busy!

I also lucked into a pair of peafowl - and India Blue cock and some off-colour hen, not sure what she is, but they're a breeding pair and I have the two other girl peafowl. I am not sure whether that male will breed all thee females (in the manner of chickens) or if they pair up like geese. We'll see.

The biggest and best news is our new fence! Since I've decided to build my pantry myself, I'm saving a ton of money, and I used a portion to get an associate to put it up our pasture fence for me!



I didn't have much to spend but after we scrounged some old t-posts, used a bit of barbed wire, and I threw in a goat in trade, I got my whole pasture (approximately a half acre) fenced PLUS a small pasture under the crepe myrtle for the pony.


It was a long and tiring day. Mr K and his crew worked steadily and I helped out while the babes were napping and after Evil Genius Husband got home. I am SO SORE today! And my knee ... well I can't describe it. I've been eating handfuls of Tylenol all day.

It looks like decent folks live here now, lol.

NOTE: I have many more pics, including a before shot but Blogger is being STUPID and won't let me upload the others.

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Now to begin the pantry. I have finally settled on how to do the foundation and the framing, I just need to decide about where I'm putting the roof (blend in with the existing roof or attach below the eave since it doesn't need to be so high?). Still pondering that one.
Speaking of pondering, I was thinking that there aught to be some funny, attitude-ful T-shirts out there for small farmers and/or folks restoring old homes by themselves. I could make some for my store. You know, for hands-on type people. What do you think? Do you guys think farming / DIY old-house-restoring T-shirts would fill a need? ("See a need, fill a need!" yes, I have watched Robots waaaaaay too many times.)

Keys to the Kingdom

So let me tell you about my day.

"Uh, oh" says Blue's collective audience warily, "Blue's been off the farm again."

Well, yeah, I have. See, the fence guys were out here all day Thursday. One of the things they did - in addition to putting up a bonny fence - was deplete my supplies of, well, everything: wooden posts, metal t-posts, clips, wire, field fencing. All gone.

So that, coupled with our being out of , erm ... bread and milk and cheese and stuff, prompted me to go out.

My first stop was Wal-Mart for the groceries (I was in the truck and didn't want to get the v. v. expensive fencing and risk having it nicked out of the bed of my truck while I shopped.) I had to get Fix-a-Flat because the tyre on my horsetrailer is down and as I stood there, perusing the automotive goodies, I heard the sound of a key cutter.

It may as well have been the sound of impending doom.

"Aha" said my brain, "You need a few extra keys for the truck since you lost the spares, you moron."

So I had the little bloke whip me up three and I went merrily on my way.

Cut to the truck, 20 minutes later. I've shopped, loaded the groceries in the VEEhicle, and decided to try the new keys. The first new key doesn't work ... neither do the other two.

Crudnuggets.

So with trepidation in my heart, and poles and wire on my mind, and while eyeing the four gallons of milk warming slowly in the cab of the truck, I drove around to the service entrance, leapt out, and went in.

Standing in line by the key cutter (of course) were two people: an unremarkable, portly, red-faced gent; and a scrawny, scowling, over-tanned old woman with yellow toenails. She was in regrettably short shorts and open-toed (yellow nails!) faux leather chunky wedges that she seemed to be slipping slowly down into, compressing her gnarled feet alarmingly.

Chunky black wedges. Gross bile-coloured toenails.

Perhaps that was why she was scowling so.

At any rate I explained to the little bloke about the keys and he said that 1) I would have to walk the quarter mile back up to the service desk because he couldn't take returns or exchange keys, and 2) the other chap (at the key-cutter) would cut me a new key but I'd have to pay for it: a fourth key.

He handed my key to the cutter, I stepped up behind YellowNails who frowned briefly at my facial peircings. At least I think it was a frown. Her purse-leather tanned face was so wrinkly (but tanned!) that I'm not certain.

Cutter Boy got done with the red-faced guy and I thought he was going to cut my key, but he didn't even look at me, he looked at YellowNails.

Beef Number One: Now, correct me if I'm wrong here but, if a customer who's order is NOT correct returns to the store - and assuming righting the wrong will take only a moment - you take her next, yes? She was supposed to have been helped but she was not. She is assisted as soon as is politely possible as she was technically there first.

If you got the wrong sandwich at Greaseball Burgers and you stepped up to the counter again, the cashier doesn't help everyone in line in the store before correcting your order. You excuse yourself, she excuses herself to the next customer and grabs your correct sandwich real quick. That's the way it works in my opinion.

So I was taken aback. But I figured, hell, a key only takes a handful of seconds to cut, I'll wait.

Then YellowNails proceeded to instruct Cutter Boy: "Ah want four of them on that one and two of them on that other one, the gold one, and two more uh THAT one ..." I kid you not, she wanted EIGHT keys cut.

Beef Number Two: if you are in line, say with a cartload of groceries, and someone steps up behind you with a packet of crisps, what do you do? I dunno about you but I always let them go ahead of me. I mean, hell, it's one item. Why should he wait behind my 45 item cart? I mean, how bloody minded can you be? That's like intentionally not letting someone who's waiting politely with his blinker on out into traffic. You're just being a wanker.

So I asked for my keys back and left.

On to the Lowe's (Aerodog please note correct punctuation!) to price treated 4x4s for the pantry.

At the Lowe's I apparently lost my mind. Not in the good running-naked-thru-the-store-waving-your-credit-card kinda way either.

No, I marched past the treated lumber and right up to the key cutting counter.

There I met ... let's call him Lenny ... The Control Freak. Now, I immediately explained the recent WalMart debacle to him. I explained how they'd cut the keys on the '20' blank and they looked fine but wouldn't turn in the ignition.

He listened carefully, nodded sagely, tested my key in the keyhole device thingy that was identical to Wal-Mart's and picked up a '20' blank ...

"That's what the bloke at the Wal-Mart used, " I said.

"A '20'?"

"Yes"

(inserting the blank and my key a tad briskly into the cutter) "Well, let's see what happens!"

Now, I should have known that ole Lenny had a problem. He had this sort of mad glint in his eye - like game roosters get - a bright, 'oh you wanna peice of me?!' sort of look.

He was also a little short guy. I have had this problem with these men my whole life. I'm a big girl. I'm just a hair shy of 5'9' which is not all that tall but I'm also, erm, solid. Add to that my own bold attitude and some bodacious ta tas and the whole package is, apparently, intimidating to the staturally challenged man.

A handful of seconds later we had a new key.

"Is your vehicle here?"

I pointed mutely out the huge glass entrance doors: the farm truck was parked directly in front of them (with four gallons of milk inside). One could see it clearly in the bright sunshine. It was right there.

"Well, try this key out right now!" Says Len.

That sounded like a plan! I held out my hand for the key. Lenny, however, clutched it to his chest and got out his radio. I frowned perplexedly.

Turns out that Lenny didn't trust me to go out to my truck with his $1.50 key (which I had NOT asked him to cut on that blank) and try it with out driving wildly off, cackling with avaricious glee at my larcenous acquisition. No, he was calling for someone to replace him at the key counter (there was already a woman there, just sitting) while he escorted the precious key out to my truck.

OK, fine. Fair enough. Someone could steal a key, I suppose. I waited less than patiently for the replacement and we set off.

It is the design of the Lowe's that they have only one exit door - situated behind the registers. This is assumedly to thwart shoplifting (of valuable keys, no doubt!) and makes sense. The bad part is that the entrance door and the exit door are roughly one eighth of a mile apart and I was parked in front of the former. So Lenny and I had to walk down to the exit. Or rather, Lenny bore the key, and his radio, down to the exit and I trailed after.

So we walked, Lenny aggressively out in front and me contemplating the top of his wee head and daydreaming of getting to pick up my fencing and go home at some point. Suddenly, I spotted something on the floor. Lenny stepped right over it and I realized it was a gold coloured watch. I stopped and said: "Someone lost her watch" and bent to pick it up.

Quick as a mongoose Lenny spun around and pounced on the watch, taking it right out my hand.

"That needs to go to Customer Service," I said.

"I'll take this to customer service!" Lenny announced, "Someone's going to be very unhappy that they (sic) lost this watch!"

At that second a v. well-dressed older woman cried: "That's my watch!" and Lenny glued himself to her and proceeded to tell her how he found it and that he was - at that moment - searching for it's owner while the woman thanked him over and over (the watch was gold and a family heirloom I gathered) and he assured her that he was just doing his job.

As I stood there watching Lenny just doing his job and wondering if there was a funny T-shirt design in this, a woman who had witnessed the whole thing nudged my elbow, "Why don't you tell her that YOU found the watch?"

I shrugged: "It doesn't matter. The important thing is that she got her watch back."

Finally Lenny finished fawning over GoldWatchLady and resumed his escorting my key out to the truck - again, walking in front of me. It was more of a strut at this point.

When we reached the parking lot, I again held my hand out for the key. Lenny ignored me entirely, walked right up to my truck, opened the door, got in and tried the key.

I looked pretty silly standing there with my hand out and my mouth open.

Of course, I was pretty silly. I mean there I was, in the presence of a Key Professional, an Expert in Keys, thinking that I could crank my own damned truck! Was I crazy? that sort of thing takes expertise!

"It doesn't work," exclaimed Lenny, grunting slightly as he tried to force the new key to turn (like that's all it needed was a little MAN strength.)

"No duh, asshat", I thought. What I said, however, was: "Yes, I know. The bloke at the Wal-Mart used the same blank." I pointed at the three keys that had been cut at the Wal-Mart which were lying on the dash.

Lenny picked up one and inspected it. It was identical to his. He tried the other one in the ignition. He tried his again. I scratched the back of my neck. The sun was very hot and my hair was itching my skin. Lenny pointed at the truck key in my hand, the original.

"Does that one work?"

I stopped scratching and had this brief inner monologue: How the hell else could I have driven here today, you dolt? Do you think that this is some elabourate scheme to make off with a key that doesn't even start my truck? Do you think I walked here with misguided larcenous intent?

I held my key out wordlessly. I couldn't stop myself. I think they call this morbid fascination.

Lenny tried my key and the truck cranked. He seemed genuinely startled.

I did eventually extricate myself from Lenny. Since he could no longer dominate the situation he kind of wandered off (his radio crackled - probably a desperate Key Emergency!) and it was a good thing, too, as I was having to shove my fist in my mouth to stifle hysterical insane-person type giggles.

I never did get my prices on the lumber. After the Lenny encounter I just drove away, dazed.

I did stop at the Tractor Supply, though, and ended up there for almost an hour. A blog for another day. *sigh*

Oh ... and if you come over for a visit? Don't drink the milk.

"Curses!"

My youngest daughter uses a curseword.

No, not like you think (although, if you know me and my proclivity for the wide range ... nay, the vast overwhelming panorama of curses that I am capable of ... well, let's just say a few have slipped into a toddler's vocab - albeit briefly).

But seriously, she is my first, at the tender age of two-and-two-months to use a word to express her displeasure or frustration.

Now, I have long (since her birth) felt in my heart that this will be my little research physicist. My wee genius with the curtly bobbed hair and glasses (no, there's nothing wrong with her vision, just go with the image here), spending long hours in a lab somewhere actually impacting mankind (maybe in a cure-for-AIDS kinda way or an Evil-Genius-nefarious-plot kinda way. Whatever.)

But, anyway, today, after going out solo with me, sans nappie (she's been nappie-free for about 3 days now - I consider her toilet trained), she ate supper with her sibs and as she was returning her milk to the icebox she dropped it.

"Bum!" she said and scrambled for the rolling sippy cup.

"Bum?" I thought. 'Bum' is our word for the general buttock-ular region (aye, and my bubs also say 'wellie' for rubber boots and 'petrol' for gasoline), she knows the word for milk, why ... ?

At this juncture the icebox door began to close. Bitty looked back, stamped her foot crossly, and exclaimed again :"BUM!" and lunged for the door.

She was actually using the worst word she knows as an expletive.

I'm so proud. My baby can curse!

----

So that's my most exciting development.

There's a hold on any construction since it has. Begun. To. Rain. Did I ever tell you how we live on Ferenginar? Seriously. We are on a narrow peninsula that extends out into a large lake and there's some sort of bizarre weather vortex phenomenon thingy. It rains here all the time.

Upside is that my garden and yard look fab. Downside is that my shrubs look like this and I'd better get the pantry framed and roofed pretty bloody quickly after I get started.

Another thing on hold is the fencing. With the money I'm saving on the pantry (by my screwing it up building it myself), I have enough left over to get someone with a tractor out here to repair my pasture fence. Yay! Of course, he, too, will have to wait until it stops raining. *sigh*

So, everything's pretty boring here right now. My two year old is toilet trained and cursing, my oldest son thinks he's a car like in Pixar's "Cars", (and this is a child who has never been to a theatre and has never watched telly ... erm ... of course he's has absolutely NO influence from his total automotive nut of a mother), my youngest son is using his mouth as a third hand (stuffing wodges of catfood, or three matchbox cars, or, say, an interesting looking champagne cork in and lumbering off with the intention of expelling and more closely inspecting or playing with said prize at a later time), and my oldest daughter is ... well, she is ... as odd as always:

Behold: Botanica, queen of the out-of-doors!

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PS: this was supposed to have been posted yesterday in the a.m. but Blogger is being bloody minded and wouldn't upload the above pic. Bugger it, I'm FTP-ing it up to my site myself.

*sounds of crashing and cursing*

Update: The rain has abated! The fence guy rang! Can you tell I'm excited?

Yeah, this is as fascinating as my life gets. Shut up!

Two fingers up!

I love the Lowes. You know how much I love the Lowes.

Well, it's looking like I'm fixin' to give them more of my money than I ever have before.

I really need my pantry.

Like, really, really really need.

I got back from that evil corporate mega-giant SprWal-Mart the other day and discovered, upon opening the trunk of the Evil Genius Mobile and again, upon returning home, that I'm buying things that I already have plenty of (while running out of things that I need - staples like ketchup) because my boxed and tinned food has nowhere to live.

Since I have no storage space, I'll tend to leave items in the car or the van, then I'll mistakenly think that I'm out, then it'll go on the list, then I'll buy more, ... then discover that I had TEN already. Also, since my limited space is in awkward, out-of-the-way places, I'll let things get down to GONE since I can't easily see what I have - or don't have.

And now I'm up to four or five blokes who have seriously perused the exterior wall of my kitchen, measured, stroked their chins, then sprang into their trucks with promises of getting me a quote.

Then they never return. They never call. Hell, it's like dating all over again, except it wasn't a chin that was getting ... eh ... uh, well you follow.

Well, sod it. I'm building the damned thing myself.

Yep, you heard me correctly. I, myself, am going to frame, roof, attach siding, install insulation, build shelves, etc, in a small addition to my home.

AND I'm doing the electrical work myself. AND I'm taking that window out myself.

AND I'm attaching a porch on the other side outside the mudroom door because I'm sick of the rain pouring straight off the roof and onto the doorsill because there's only a six inch overhang.

'Cause I (probably erroneously and foolishly think I) can!

If I was over on my other blog right now I'd say EFF IT! (only, you know, actually say it. A lot.)

----

So there's that.

The website I was building is finished. Now I'm just awaiting the owner's reaction and hoping that it's not: "What the HELL were you thinking?"

We do still need to go over it and tweak some stuff. Clients have no idea what the site looks like till it's uploaded - it's built sight-unseen (or site-unseen!) - and, as you can imagine, I might not have captured what the client had in mind. It's like doing a portrait using just a description. I ask what you want, what colours you like, what you're into, and then I have to try to collate that into a nice website. It's kind of scary but kind of fun as well!

As soon as we're done I'll give you a peek (with the owner's permission, of course)

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So I'm totally grokking this idea of Kateri's (found via Jo over at Leery Polyp) of us needing some sort of blogger symbol ... something to discreetly identify us, one to the other.

I love the idea of it being like gang signs and colours. That way when I finally go mental in the refrigerated dough section of the Wal Mart, an eye witness fellow blogger can be quoted as saying:

"That grrl was a wicked mess! She went foolywang! Bitch was throwin' blog-signs, yo!"

six, six, six

Ever heard the phrase: "Put a cork in it!"?

Well, we tried that and it didn't work ...

Today is this little (!) guy's first birthday. The Incredible Bulk, Hellbaby, or as we affectionately call him: Peach (Cause his big ole baby head is warm and fuzzy like a sunwarmed peach on the tree).

And he is a peach. He's charming, obstinate, happy, and loud. He adores electronics. He plays well with all his sibs, particularly Bitty Girl, and is inexplicably attached to me. He tries to help clean up in the evenings by flinging things into the toyboxes (and very often removing them again immediately), he can shut a door on request, and when I berate him for trying to turn on the telly he makes this adorable little I-had-no-idea-this-would-upset-you-please-forgive-me noise that he uses to great effect.

Happy Birthday My baby Bulk!

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On the mommy front, this day is looking Teh Suxxor (If you don't know what this means, well, be relieved) much like the past week. Ohh, let's do a numbered list! (no particular order)

1) I have to get the party together for Bulk (more for his sibs than him) and bake the cupcakes and decorate
2) I can't get a bit of javascript to run properly on the website I'm building and it's driving me mad. I haven't even started on the pics!
3) Google Base finally accepted my laboriously accumulated (like, took me 3 days to do this spreadsheet) list of store items but I have no idea when they'll be listed.
4) I STILL haven't made up my mind about an eBay store .... heck, I haven't even gone through the Pile O' Ebayables yet.
5) This cycle is in the dustbin (AF started today just for giggles). This is the first first birthday I've celebrated where I wasn't pregnant with the next baby. Makes me v. sad.
6) We're right in the middle of toilet training Bitty Girl with all the cleaning that entails
7) And Evil Genius Husband is just getting over several days of being v. ill with some intestinal yuck.

And you wondered why I hadn't blogged.

Oh, and we're going over to the inlaws today. Did I mention that?

I either need a holiday or a $500 gift card to Lowes.

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PS: the T-shirt shop has a nice, shiny, new, easy-to-remember url, evilgeniustees.com , and it's own blog for the latest updates and newest designs. Spread the word. Father's day is coming up soon and we have new shirts just for dad! 'Cause we're cool like that.

Victory!

(You have to imagine me here, sweaty and disheveled, torn tartan dragging the ground, spear raised aloft ...)

Ok, ok, it's nothing that exciting.

See, I'm building a website for a fellow blogger and I consider her a good online friend and so there's a tonne of pressure for things to be perfect. If it was just anyone I'd want the site to be good, but for a friend ... well, you get me.

Anyway, she'd gotten a Blogger blog at my suggestion and the damned thing wasn't working properly.

(Super)

So I spent half the day Wednesday emailing Blogger support, perusing Blogger Help Forums, posting plaintive appeals for assistance, and poring over the template code, trying to fixed the effin' thing.

Well, I solved it yesterday morning. YES!

So, sorry for the radio silence but I've been caught up in that and managing the store.

I'm seriously considering getting an eBay store. I've been ebaying for awhile now - not any sort of rabid power-seller or anything - just unloading my own junk, but I haven't sold for awhile. I've amassed the typical sort of things that I tend to pick up, just because they're cool, and either they don;t fit me (if clothing) or my home (if stuff, although that's rare) or I'm just sick of whatever-it-is.

So I was looking at my pile-o-junk that I keep meaning to eBay and it's got an eclectic, bohemian (hippy, funky, chunky, shabby chic, gothy, punky, victorian ... you get what I mean) sort of feel to it and a lot of my odder T-shirts in the shop would blend right in. That's what the lightbulb fizzled on over my head and I thought about getting a store.

What do you guys think?

(that you need to start making your decisions yourself and stop asking the internets)

(Oh, shut up!)

As I browsed through the help files on eBay reading up on how to open a store I looked around at folks selling the same sort of thing and ...

...and I started to itch.

It is my opinion that the nastiest, most despicable, disreputable, untrustworthy and unscrupulous people are drawn to eBay. I've met some of them. I have friends and acquaintances who've met others.

I want another outlet for sales (and a place to unload my extraneous crap) but I'm terrified of getting back in that cutthroat atmosphere. It was problems with liars and thieves (and the US post office ... oh wait ... same description applies!) that cause me to stop eBaying in the first place.

One thing that terrifies me is that someone will steal my designs.

It's one thing to use a common, uncopyrighted phrase ("Infertility Sucks!") on an original tee, but some of my stuff is all my own (or Evil Genius Husband's) and some has my own artwork. Yes, yes I know that if someone steals my stuff then I can drag 'em to court but you know how that goes. Bad-ebayer steals my design, sells 1000 of the shirts before I find out, then disappears. I can try to take it to court but I'd have to pay for court costs and there would STILL be 1000 lost customers and 1000 crappy rip-off shirts out there.

I'm being more paranoid than normal, aren't I?

Alright ... this post is too rambly already so I'm ending it here. Did I do a Self Portrait Tuesday this week? What day is it? GAH! I'm losing my marbles!