So in keeping with the spirit of all things New Year's Resolution, I'm modifying my personal agreement with myself as witnessed by all 2 people on the Interwebz! I'm leaving the once a week gig intact, but instead of committing to an ACTUAL hour every week, I'm committing to a THEORETICAL hour every week.
In short, when it FEELS like I've been writing for an hour, it's been an hour and you are free to go (as am I!)
Sounds perfect, right??? Right???
This week you get my thoughts on Minecraft. I find myself watching my kids play this game as though it were an ACTUAL program tediously thought over and revised to bring the optimum amount of entertainment. They have both the PC and XBOX versions. I don't watch them play the PC version, just the XBOX. That's when they play together. And by 'play together' I mean 'lead creepers to each others homes to blow them to smithereens' Being a third party observer tells me a lot about my kids that they'd never say out loud to me, not the least of which is how competitive they each are. I don't think even THEY know how competitive they are. It's pretty amazing, considering there's no real goal to Minecraft and nothing to actually compete for. I noticed that they share better in this 8-bit world than they do in real life. They are constantly asking to borrow things from each other like they used to when they were smaller and less connected to the digital media. They say things like 'don't loose this.' and 'if you want to keep it, I'll take 'such and such' in exchange.' Currently one is yelling at the other because something that was borrowed was not returned properly. (read: They threw it away on purpose) The best part of it all? They don't come to me to settle the disputes! They simply lead a creeper to the others project and set it off. I remember when they used to bite each other. Good times.
The game has even found its way onto their wish lists. Minecraft torches that really light up, large foam creepers. They've already planned their costumes for next Halloween, and yes, it's Minecraft themed. I'm constantly being asked to look things up for them. "What does and Ender Pearl do?" "How do I use the Redstone?" I'm learning quite a bit about the game I don't even play. It's simplicity is genius. It's got the potential for hours and hours of bickering, laughter, and creativity. It's got my vote. Maybe one day when I have a spare moment I'll tinker around in the world of Minecraft myself. Not while the kids are around, naturally. I like to practice when they're not here and then impress them with my 'naturally' impressive gaming skills. :)
Alright, it feels like an hour.
Happy Crafting!
(yeah, I know, I'm still working on it) 

Maybe a little LESS than an hour

One hour.
That's my commitment today. One hour of typing whatever comes to mind. Let's see what's rattling around the old noggin, eh?
Did you know that noggin actually refers to a small mug? Now you do.
Did you also know that in the course of typing that sentence I learned that my son butt dialed his dad? Now you do.
I find myself to be rather fond of being the recipient of a butt dial. Especially when it goes to voice mail. One time I heard the band teacher of my daughters school stop the cacophony of sound to remind the percussion section that they were not, in fact, supposed to make up their own tempo. That was his job. I got so far as to the end of class and a few garbled conversations at her locker before I realized that we were killing BOTH of our batteries. While I could easily charge mine, she could not. She had after school activities and would need to call me when she was done. When I picked her up she was curious how her battery had become so low when she hadn't used it and how I knew what had happened in band. It didn't take long to put it together. She tried to accuse me of stalking her, but I reminded her that she called me, making it more of an invitation to stalk her.
I've had some butt dials that were really not worth my time. Couldn't make out a thing! Then there was the time I inadvertently butt dialed 911. All of a sudden I was 7 years old again, terrified of what they would do to me because I didn't truly have an emergency. I was driving and had my phone in my pocket. It rang, so I picked it up. This was before hands free laws. It was emergency dispatch. Apparently the inside of my pocket sounded like it was having some kind of trouble and they wanted to be sure everything was alright. Very nice about the whole thing. The inside of my pocket was just fine, but was grounded from playing with my phone until it learned that calling 911 without an emergency is not funny.
I don't seem to make as many fanny calls with my new phone. Ha. Fanny calls. NOT the same thing as a booty call. Maybe the sleek designs are less conducive to pocket dialing. Maybe the phones really ARE smart enough to know better..... What will they do next? Start telling me to stop eating those cookies? That's where I draw the line. Allow my hind parts to call whoever you want, but start confirming what I already know about my eating habits and you've moved into nagging grandparent status. Not something I'd like to carry with me all day. I have enough voices in my head reminding me of my self imposed inadequacies, I don't need one in my pocket too!
Alright, upon further reflection, I have deemed one hour to be an excessive amount of time for this week. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue on for an additional 30 minutes, forcing you to optically sift through the insane ramblings of a syphilitic brain. I can be mean sometimes, but that's just cruel.
Next week then.
(where I may or may not have come up with a catchy sign off!)
TA!
(Yeah, that's not gonna work....) 

Early New Years Resolution

I figure I'll get a head start, since I won't likely keep up with it for long anyway!
My New Years Resolution is to commit one hour a week to this here blog. (as opposed to one week a year!)
That's right. Once a week, I will sit down and type up whatever happens to be on my mind at the time for one hour. No more, no less. If I have no thoughts, I'll just type whatever comes to my fingers until a thought forms! If my thought is longer than an hour, too bad. It might be funny, it might be serious, it more than likely will be boring, but it's more of an exercise of diligence and creativity than for entertainment. Though, I find myself HIGHLY entertained when watching someone exercise. Not in a creeper sort of way, though.
Anyway, That's the deal.
Also, this doesn't count. I'm going to start today. Sometime this week I will write for an hour. Not today, though. Right now I have a date with my kids watching Kung Fu Panda.

Making good on a bet

There are few things in life that will test a marriage quite like devotion to opposing sports teams. Here in the Shane Assylum we are no exception. At no time is this more apparent than during football season. Not only do my husband and I support two different teams, but now our daughter has opted to break out on her own and choose a team to support. It was a sad moment for me, as she chose the Seattle Seahawks :/ But I love her more than anything, and everyone has to learn how to be a devoted fan, through the good times and the bad, so she couldn't have picked a better team to start with. Really. I've been a lifelong follower of the New Orleans Saints. There were no words for the joy and pride I felt as my boys finally took the Superbowl Championship! One day, I hope that my daughter can feel the same for her team (and my son, should he choose a team of his own). My husband, however, has been a lifelong fan of the San Francisco 49ers. Occasionally this creates a very turbulent atmosphere in our home, like back in January, for example. My boys were given the opportunity to crush the 49ers into the ground! Er, I mean, they were to be matched against the 49ers in the playoff game. Same thing. My confidence in my team, as always, was unwavering, so when the trash talk started and someone crossed the line, there was a wager made. It was then determined that IF the 49ers were to win this particular game, then I would buy my husband a customized 49ers jersey and WHEN the Saints claimed victory he would buy ME a customized Saints jersey. I could already see myself opening that package and flaunting my new favorite apparel in front of him. Then the last minute and a half of the game happened. It was an amazing game, to be sure, and I am as devoted to my boys as ever, but sadly, the 49ers ripped the victory right out of the jaws of my beloved Saints. This meant I'd have to buy that cursed jersey. I debated for some time. I tried to justify Welching on the bet since the 49ers decided that snatching the win wasn't good enough, they turned the clock back to take the victory AGAIN. Jerks. But in the end, I just had to follow through. So I managed to bring myself to purchasing his jersey now that we're settled, and as expected, he opened the box and flaunted that eyesore of a shirt in front of me. 

He's like a kid at Christmas, and already posting the picture to the Book of Face before I'm even done getting a shot in his back... OF. Of his back, I mean. 

I know it's no less than what I would have done (and to be fair, he was WAY more gracious about it than I would have been), but I can't help but think of how nice my jersey will look on me when my boys kick their trash later this year during the Thanksgiving game.