Jen on the Edge

Lori hooked me up on StatCounter this week, a way for me to track visits to Jen on the Edge.

I was torn about this move. On the one hand, I was happy in my ignorance about who’s reading my blog and how many of you are out there. On the other hand, I was insanely curious.

And then there’s my obsessive nature. Would I spend time — too much time — tracking my stats and worrying if things are down one day? Would I try to push the humor if that is what seems to please people and not talk seriously about other matters? Would stories of my thrilling days running errands and cleaning toilets excite you and increase my numbers or bore you and send you packing?

But you know the old saw about curiosity killing the cat… So I got hooked up with StatCounter. It’s all Lori’s fault. I blame her.

(Just kidding Lori!)

I would like to announce right here and now that I am NOT obsessed over the statistics. Honestly. Really truly. I’m limiting my visits to once a day and trying not to read too much into anything.

That said, the statistics I can track are simply fascinating. And I’m the person who dropped a class in statistics in undergrad because it was so fucking boring.

I can see if you people are coming to me from other blogs, through Google searches (and what the searches are — there are some FREAKS out there people — just sayin’), or starting off with me (because you like me for some strange reason). I can see what countries, states, and cities are represented.

And here’s the funny thing that’s leading me to my point in a very tedious roundabout fashion: I live in Virginia. My blog is linked to a blog of bloggers who live in my hometown. Dozens of us. I am also a Virginia native with relatives all over the damn Commonwealth (that’s fancy speak for “state” for those of you who live in non-fancy, non-pretentious states).

So I assumed that Virginia would be the largest source of my readers.

I assumed wrong.

FLORIDA is where about a THIRD of my readers live. I am not kidding.

And a big chunk of those people are coming from Winter Park. I don’t know ANYONE in Winter Park. Pinky swear, I don’t. I don’t have a retired grandma who’s begged her canasta and bingo friends to visit my blog so I’ll feel loved.

I checked further and a bunch of you Florida people are coming to me from Blackbird. Now, I’m not a 100% certain about this, but I think I can say with about 90% accuracy that Blackbird doesn’t live in or near Florida. But I could be wrong about that.

And then a bunch of you Florida people went on to Lori’s blog, so you are obviously a fine group of people with excellent taste in jewelry. So many people, in fact, that Lori emailed me and wanted to know who in the hell I know in Florida.

(BTW, you ALL– Floridians and everyone else — should go shop at Lori’s website. And, no, I don’t get a mega discount if I refer people. But I do think we all are most worthy of original accessories that make us stand out in a crowd. Well, we women, that is. You male readers, however, would do well to buy your women some bling bling. Christmas is around the corner you know.)

But I digress.

As always.

Wait, where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah right. Got it now.

Sorry about that. Pete fixed White Russians for Happy Hour tonight.

Anyway, I checked the statistics tonight and looked at the states and countries from which my readers originate. I looked at some locations and knew exactly who the readers are — like Aims, Linda, Jen, and Josie. Whenever someone leaves a comment, I make a point to read his/her blog to get to know him/her a little, so I thought I had a pretty good handle on the 17 people who read my blog. It turns out that the number is actually quite a bit higher and I don’t know who most of you readers are.

To be specific, besides Florida, I have no idea who’s reading me from Nebraska, Missouri, and Idaho — to name a few.

Who are you people?

BECAUSE YOU PEOPLE AREN’T LEAVING COMMENTS.

Hint. Hint.

So please, pretty please satisfy my curiosity. Let me know who you are. We don’t have to have a binding commitment or send Christmas cards or remember each other’s birthday (well, you all should definitely remember mine), but we can at least know each other’s names and where we live.

Because you should know by now that I am not patient, nor do I like mysteries, so this not knowing stuff is bugging the shit out of me, which means that I am most likely bugging the shit out of Pete as I pace around and wonder and wave my hands about and blather on about you Florida people.

I have really enjoyed meeting folks through my blog and other blogs and I’d like to know you.

So, drop me a comment or send an email to jenontheedge (at) yahoo (dot) com and say hi.

If anything, do it as an act of mercy for Pete.

[NOTE: Updated at 7 p.m. near the end.]

I have been wanting a pair of great black mary janes. Comfort is a MUST as I go about my errands, volunteer at the school, do my job, and leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I found these cute ones by Dansko on eBay — they were used, but barely — and got them for a really good price.

They were damn comfortable in the soles, but rubbed like hell where the strap was sewn at the instep side. AND they ran a little big, so I rubbed a nasty blister on one of my Achilles tendons. Not good people, not good at all.

So, after some deep and involved soul searching — okay, I gave it a moment’s thought — I decided to re-list the shoes on eBay. My commentary was nowhere as good as this, but I tried to do a little better than the usual description. I even included a pinky swear that I had only worn the shoes a few times AND always, always, always with socks, so the shoes still smelled of new leather. The shoes sold yesterday and I shipped them out this morning.

And I guess I know now why the original owner of those shoes was selling them barely used…

I’ve looked at other Dansko mary janes, but after reading reviews, I’m concerned I’d have the same problems as with the first pair. But they’re just so cute.

But I still want some mary janes!

Keen makes cute casual mary janes in various kinds of sneaker materials, but I really want some in just plain old leather, although I’m considering these too.

I found these at crocs.com.

I know, I know. Crocs. Reviled by many, loved by others, including yours truly.

(That said, I am just so OVER the basic Croc clogs, having worn several pairs over the past three years.)

I’ve ordered a pair and hope they’ll arrive soon.

[Updated at 7 p.m. to add: They arrived this afternoon! I've worn them for a few hours and they're VERY comfortable!]

Yesterday, I saw some AMAZING leopard print mary jane pumps by Anyi Lu. I practically left nose prints on the outside of the store window as I gazed with wonder at these shoes. They would truly make my life complete … if only they weren’t $300+. They are the same style as these, but in a fab leopard print. I have scoured the internet and can’t find the ones I saw in the store, so I might just have to cruise by the store and take a photo and possibly even try them on, just for fun.

In the meantime, I do have other fabulous footwear, including these, which always get comments when I wear them. I usually wear them when I volunteer at the school, as the kids just love ‘em. And of course I do have the basic professional clogs in black and brown, so it’s not like I’m going around barefoot people.

All the same, I might just give these a closer look……

* Original shoe whore post here.

Earlier this year, I wrote about how Elegant often “feathers her nest” before she goes to sleep at night. I mean, come on, who can sleep until eleventy billion stuffed animals are arranged in just the right formation?

This summer we put a double/full sized bed in Elegant’s room and she has been putting that extra real estate to good use. Lately, we’ve been coming in and finding enormous piles of friends all carefully tucked in, while Elegant wedges herself into a small area of the bed, heedless of her own comfort.

The girl spent all of last night at the foot of her bed:

Last week I bought a two-minute hourglass for the girls to use when brushing their teeth. Mostly for Elegant, who has been known to spend exactly two seconds on the task and then declare herself done. Surprisingly, she’s never had a cavity.

As I suspected, Elegant has been FASCINATED by this new tool. She holds the hourglass approximately six inches from her eyes in order not to miss a single dropping grain of sand. If we’re lucky, she’ll actually move her toothbrush around the inside of her mouth during this time.

Yesterday, Graceful came into the bathroom and started talking with Elegant, who was in the middle of brushing her teeth/watching time pass. Elegant very carefully turned the hourglass sideways to stop time, talked with Graceful for a moment, turned the hourglass back up to restart time, and then continued brushing her teeth / watching time pass.

I have to say that it’s not a good thing to start the day with only four hours sleep. I’ve had my normal amount of Mommy Caffeine and it’s just not enough today. I may have to drink enough that I’m actually levitating, if I’m to get through the day with my sanity intact.

There are four good reasons why I stayed up too late last night:

1. I have a cold and lying down makes me feel worse.
2. Pete is out of town, so there’s no one to keep me company in my misery. Luckily, he’ll be home tonight. (At this point I feel too crappy to welcome him home properly, no matter how happy I am that he’s back.) (Wait a moment, he did jaunt off for three days while I stayed home and solo-parented, so fuck it, he doesn’t get a hero’s welcome.)
3. I had a project I was supposed to finish for work. It took me longer than I anticipated, because I also spent some time emailing back and forth with Josie.
4. I was working on several different upcoming blog entries, instead of working on the aforementioned work thingy.

So really, I’m mostly to blame for my own exhaustion.

It was while I was emailing Josie about one of those blog entries that I realized just how far in advance I’ve written. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, but I have three entries planned for next week and two for beyond that, including one for more than three weeks from now.

So, some sneak peeks that hopefully will pique your interest and not send you running to someone else’s blog in the next month:

• Elegant’s birthday is on Tuesday and I’ll be talking about her wild ‘n’ crazy youth. Oh wait, that’s now. Oh well, there will definitely be some photos, some funny stories, and only a little bit of sentimental mom stuff.
• Pete’s birthday is the next day. I haven’t fully decided how to laud/embarrass him, but I have been scanning old photos into the computer lately…
• Our anniversary is on Friday, at which point you can see a photo of me in a dress, which is rare enough that it should be recorded, but it’s a dress with sleeves poofy enough to be hot air balloons. I shit you not. What can I say, it was the early ’90s and Laura Ashley was still in style.
• More ruminations of the Shoe Whore.
• The lottery and what I’d do if I won Big Money.
• Possibly, an open letter to mothers-in-law and some suggestions for maintaining good relationships with the wives of their sons. This wouldn’t be personal, would it? Oh no, of course not.
• And, looking ahead 24 days, not that anyone is counting in this house, Graceful’s birthday and what it means to be nine years old and on the cusp of teenage-dom. Again, humor and photos, not all sentimental mushy gushy stuff.

So, that’s the end of the sneak peeks. Off to my regularly scheduled job.

This past weekend, my father and stepmother gave the girls iPod shuffles as early birthday presents. To say the girls were thrilled is an understatement. I thought Grace was going to cry with joy, she’s wanted an iPod of her own that much.

The new iPod shuffles are just amazing. They’re not much bigger than a postage stamp and clip to your shirt or some other article of clothing. And they come in a fun array of colors.

We loaded the girls’ music onto their iPods on Sunday and it has been an interesting few days since then. We have now learned that we can get the girls to clean up their toys a lot easier if they have music going straight into their brains via their ear canals. Homework goes more quickly too if there’s the promise of music after the homework is done.

The house is quieter when the girls are plugged in. Well, not entirely. Often one of the girls will burst out in song. Elegant tends to sing softly and more or less in tune. Graceful, on the other hand tends to sing very loudly. Usually off-key. Unfortunately, my girl is not a good singer. Like me.

(True story: Last night I had a dream (nightmare?) in which Graceful kept singing opera at the top of her lungs. In my dream it was stressing me out greatly, because how would I break it to the child that her voice was horrible and she had no future in opera?)

There are drawbacks to the iPods of course. Pete and I don’t want the girls to be plugged in and tuned out for too long, so we’re trying to figure out guidelines for iPod use. On car trips and airplane flights, definitely. At the dinner table, hell no. What we’re leaning toward is a that little iPod time every day is okay, but we haven’t decided on a time limit.

One guideline we established within the first five minutes is that, if I walk by a child who’s plugged in and I can hear any evidence of her music, then the music is too loud. If I can hear actual voices and lyrics, then the child has probably just blown out her ear drums. Given Grace’s hearing loss, we’ll give her a tiny bit more latitude, but not much.

So my girls are one step closer to being teenagers and one step further from being little girls. My sister emailed last night and asked what the girls wanted for their birthdays. I responded that Graceful would like a cell phone, a Vespa scooter, and her own keys to the house.

Only, I wasn’t completely joking. Graceful would in fact love to have those things. But she’s only eight — for 24 more days — and too young. She, on the other hand, is a full-blown tween and already looking eagerly to her teenage years. And with her very own iPod, it would appear that she’s already on her way.

* “Listen to the Music” by the Doobie Brothers

I have decided that Graceful should be a judge or a Supreme Court justice, as she is wise and makes solid decisions.

A fellow third grade mother emailed today to invite Graceful to have a sleepover with her daughter C. Graceful and C were in 1st grade together, in different classes last year, and are in the same class again this year. In 1st grade, we invited C over here a couple of times and to Graceful’s birthday party. C invited Graceful to her own party in return. But, the girls’ interest in each other seemed to wane by Thanksgiving and they haven’t played together outside of school since then.

The policy in our house is that our girls have to have played at the other child’s house before a sleepover can occur. Graceful has not been to C’s house.

I also tend to talk honestly with parents before a first playdate, in order to ascertain such things as do they have a gun or other weapons in their home? This may seem a bit anal, but the first time I neglected to ask this question, Graceful came home from a playdate and told me that her fellow preschool classmate’s older brothers had almost pegged her with an arrow. Further inquiries revealed that the boys in question had a real archery set and had indeed practiced with the four-year-olds around.

Getting back to C and her invitation, Pete and I talked about it and decided to let Graceful decide. If she opted for the sleepover, we’d allow it, as another parent I know and trust has already done the vetting on behalf of her own daughter. Plus, C’s mother is so diligent and responsible, she makes me look like Britney Spears by comparison.

I told Graceful about the invitation and she was very excited. However, she gave it some thought and decided that she’d like to have a regular playdate before having a sleepover. She’s not worried or anxious or scared, she’s just decided to stick with Jenworld family policy — a stance I respect.

So I emailed C’s mother and explained. C’s mother responded that she understood and invited Graceful for a playdate on Friday, followed by a sleepover the next night, so about 24 hours apart. I thought that seemed a little too close together, but again opted to let Graceful decide.

I told Graceful about C’s mother’s new idea. Graceful mulled it over and asked if it would be possible to have the playdate on Friday and to schedule the sleepover for a couple of weeks from now, so as to “spread out the fun.”

When did she get so wise? It’s like she’s 40, instead of 8-going-on-9.

It appears that some people have more money than sense.

When I think about the good that $12 million could do, I really wanna go bitch slap Leona Helmsley. Except that there are probably laws against defiling the bodies of the dead. Plus, it would be gross.

But you get my point. I think.

And, $3 million for the upkeep of her mausoleum?! Again, a whole lotta good could be done with that money.

Food, clothing, and shelter for the homeless comes readily to mind.

What would you have done with the money?

I’m thinking about coloring my hair.

Not changing the color, just covering the grey.

For most people, this isn’t really a big deal. You buy the stuff in the box, do whatever alchemy is in the instructions, and you’re done. Alternately, you pay someone big-ish or even big bucks to do it for you.

But for me, I’ve never done this before. My hair is still mostly brown, still mostly has decent natural highlights, and the gray isn’t terribly noticeable. But the numbers of gray hairs are increasing slowly but steadily and I want to act on this now before I start looking middle aged before I actually get there. (Around age 60, right?)

There’s certainly a precedent for hair coloring in my family:

My mother has been a lovely natural bottle blonde for almost 16 years. (I remember it well: She was brownish six weeks before my wedding, a redhead at my wedding, and a blonde about six weeks after that. We never knew what she was going to look like that summer and fall.) (But you were always quite lovely Mom. And still are.)

My sister, too, is a lovely bottle blonde, although she at least started life as a blonde, as opposed to shifting gears altogether. But her hair darkened with time until it was more brown than blonde and Meredith eventually started having the blonde put back in. (She insists that it’s just highlights and lowlights but I fail to see the distinction between that and dye.)

My stepmother’s natural hair color hasn’t been seen since Reagan was president. His first term.

I’ve got a couple of aunts whose natural hair color I have never seen that I’m aware of.

On the other hand, Crazy Aunt Laura doesn’t color her hair at all, so I’m not the only hold-out.

I have one particular small patch of gray hair that I can trace to Fall 2001. How do I know this? Lemme ’splain:

Elegant turned one on September 4, 2001.

We all know what happened one week later.

Shortly thereafter, my one-year-old decided to follow the wisdom of the great Ferris Bueller: “Life goes by pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Only, she heard the “life goes by pretty fast” and went with that as her mantra.

Early in October we went to the beach. Did you know that one-year-olds are very slippery when wet? It was like Elegant had greased herself up, we could barely keep a grasp on her and believe me people, we were keeping as many hands on her as possible. She slipped away from me in one heart-stopping moment and threw herself into the waves. Luckily, it was an incoming wave, but she was still tumbled and flipped for about 20 feet inland until I could get her. I pulled her out of the water — spitting out water and completely abraded by the sand — and the damn child tried to do it again.

Two weeks later, we were at an orchard at the top of the mountain. There’s an overlook where one can get a nice view of our little city. The only thing keeping one from tumbling down the side of the mountain is a barricade of straw bales. Guess which child tried to wiggle between the bales of hay and to the other side? She was actually on the other side when I grabbed her by the collar and pulled her to safety.

About a week or two later, we were at a farm when the same child wriggled loose and ran into a field with a horned mama cow and her baby. We had a firm grip on her, but she definitely gave Houdini a run for his money.

Obviously, Elegant has lived and survived her toddler years, but there was a time there when we had our doubts.

So I developed quite a few gray hairs in one particular spot that fall. I have dedicated those hairs in Elegant’s honor. But there are others popping up here and there, their silvery brightness visible among the dark brown.

I’ve discussed this with my Hair God. He swears he sees only one or two gray hairs, but we all know that Hair Gods are paid so much money that they just HAVE to lie to their customers.

(BTW, I went to see the Hair God last week. That man is just SO good at what he does.)

Thus, I’m thinking about taking the plunge. Of course, I’ve been thinking about it for nearly a year and haven’t acted, so who knows when I’ll actually get around to it?

I was working hard this morning and in a great groove. I looked at the clock, realized that I needed to leave for my dental appointment at THAT moment, and rushed out the door…

… only to discover that my appointment is NEXT month.