So... I cryptically mentioned the other day that I am starting to archive old blog posts.

There I was, bawling my eyes out with one hand on the mouse, the other on the bottle--WHY! Why can't the QUOTA go the OTHER WAY? WHY WHY... and then a dedicated reader and participant in the whole FTB experience reached out and suggested that I NOT delete... Instead, as she grasped my shoulders firmly...shaking me with understanding and fury... She exclaimed.. "JUST PUT THEM SOMEPLACE ELSE!.." And with that the planets realigned and calm spread throughout the land.

So it is with this advice that I have started to compile les Archives -- found just up over there... No, not there... THERE - up at the top of the left hand column under PAGES. There you will find the beginnings of a compilation of "yeah I wrote that" words strung together into nonsense-grammatical-sentences -- historical rants and raves of almost daily observations. Don't get me wrong, the duds are being deleted... but as this process continues.. just know that if you haven't had enough of me yet - there is now a place where you can find MORE.

And it is with this that I am also starting an new "thing" called Two for Twosdays where I republish something from the way back machine... Because the other day while driving I heard Three Strange Days by School of Fish... which took me back a few decades to a time when I used to slip away (sorry mom & dad) to NYC to go to a concert series called Two for Tuesdays at the Twin Towers. And I'm so totally grounded for this. It was awesome-- AWESOME I SAY and always an adventure, and while I'm reading all this old stuff anyway... it took me to this piece, written last April.

Can I borrow your headlamp?

Almost 10 years ago (yikes!) I worked at a company that was deep out in the New Hampshire woods... a company that developed ground penetrating radar equipment and software. I will give you a second to think about this.

The radar tools were used worldwide for things like major infrastructure projects, highway repairs, and my favorite -- archeology and hidden treasures. I was titled the "Graphic Presentation Specialist" and spent a lot of time looking at pictures of digitized rebar. It was my job to make radar look sexy. I have always had a slight interest in science, so this was it wasn't too mundane for me... most of the time.

My co-workers were all scientists--geologists mostly... and when I needed approval on the latest product shot I would have to go on a scouting hunt through the woods to find the individual in question.. Once found, they were usually dressed head to toe in protective jump-suits, not as a precaution--just because they wanted to--testing equipment in the dank woods. Headlamps were also big in this office... when at their desks, they all seemed to need the extra light--despite the mind-burning fluorescents in the ceiling.  Gas masks were also in abundance, although I don't recall ever seeing or catching a wiff of any hazerdous chemicals. These were all regular people... just really smart and into the world underground.

There were some creepshows-- the guys that lurk around unibomberesk. But for the most part everyone was really friendly and upbeat. They had organized runs after lunch--big groups of geologists running on the country roads talking about rocks and rebar. I'm not going to lie--it was amusing... And, it was a good job. They had awesome beneifts and, because we were owned by a larger Chinese oligarchy, the 401K was-a-rollin. I probably would have stayed with the company longer than I did (about 1.5yrs).. but I began to laugh at the rebar jokes... I began to recognize the flaws in the digitized software accounts of cracked concrete... I started to think that the lights weren't bright enough--can I borrow your headlamp? It was time to move on... and so I did.

In 2001--after 9-11 and during the clean-up of, I was watching the news. Still living in New Hampshire -- although no where near the woods, I was of course somber about the course of events when... WAIT - in the background there... That man... I know him... Hey that's STEVE from GSSI--he's holding a peice of Ground Penetrating Radar equipment!

To date, the company is still going strong, and I will always have fond memories.

While cleaning out my closet.

Dust? Just toss em.
I'm hungry.
Everything would stay in place if he didn't pull it onto the floor everyday.
Can I get another week out of these?
The clothes I wear when no one sees me go here.
I'd surely toss that if I could reach it.
Pink fuzzy pants with black printed dog paws. 
She's nuts, why would she even think to contact me?
I didn't know I had this.
Is that mold?
I was wearing this when I met my husband.
Don't Mess with Texas?
Quick, where's my camera.
Now this is funny.
Will this ever be MY closet again?
Nana's gloves.
This will fit me if I'm ever pregnant again.
Tan suede?
I don't think Jerry Garcia would care anymore.
I'm calling it vintage.
Ah yes, the lost sippy cup.
I never wear belts anymore.
I'm ignoring her friend request.
I wonder where they are.
This will never fit me ever again.
My GAWD.
She's right, crushed velvet IS kinda creepy.
I haven't touched anything on that shelf in 6 years.
MOTHS? Now the Moth Man is COMING TO KILL ME.
No one is that friendly... must be spam.
Maybe if I FACE like Richard Gere...
I need hat boxes.
What was I thinking?
Even a shelter would be offended if I donated this.
This still has tags on it.. maybe I can take it back.. wait, when did I buy it?
THERE'S FOOD IN HERE.

Blogher 2010 is only weeks away.
Okay, so maybe months. But what is the harm in PREPARING? Are you going? What are you wearing? Are you hosting something? How will I find you? And - is there anything else I should know before we meet? If so, let me know -- because I've decided to set aside a little time to find out more. Tell one, tell all. Let's JUST KNOW so that we don't waste precious time FINDING OUT. What do you think? Not going? Well - I'd still like to know. So tell. Spill. Dish. GO.

I was at the library the other day multitasking.
Because that's what libraries are for, right?

Writing recipes, looking for design inspiration while simultaneously reading TITANIC TRUCKS to the boy running through the stacked aisles. I was beginning to think that a vacation might be something to consider when all of the sudden books started screaming and jumping off the shelves -- dangerously missing my head... I grabbed Will and dove under the nearest table. The piles of books surrounded us as one manuscript fell open at my knees... it was Poe, "I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity." It was then that I realized that something needed to be done immediately... Because I have reached the final point, and this is it. I am dangerously approaching the end of my blogging quota.

Visualize this to be like filling a water balloon to capacity or eating copious amounts of McDonald's like this guy did a few years ago... only to result in weight gain, heart disease, ulcers and bad skin.... because what did he think was going to happen? I wonder if he wishes that he could go back and undo -- kind of like going back and picking through - deleting the bad blog posts while copying and saving the good ones for republishing possibilities... revitalizing the QUOTA. But oh the HUMANITY.

I started For the Birds on August 22, 2008. It was a slow start... and, although I never intended for this blog to turn into what it is now... it has been a journey like no other... similar to swimming across the Atlantic or leaving the space shuttle mid-universe to test out that gravity theory... floating aimlessly into DEEP SPACE. And if you know what this blog is about, then you're a hair-slight more genius than I, because I lost track a LOOOONG time ago. But I am missing the point.

What I am trying to inch out there is that I am now starting the tedious task of going back, judging myself and then deciding who gets to stay and who gets to go hang out at the pearly gates of archival heaven. But what do you think? If you are here, reading this right now -- If you wouldn't mind turning time off for a few minutes and letting me know if there are any posts that must stay live... Because beyond self-inflicted torture, I am my own souvenir. And I'm sure that isn't the first time I've said that.   

I am living a double life. It's very taxing. One half of me is dying to buy up all the clearance winter cardies to keep warm in my house - it's still winter after all. It's Minnesota. But on the other, I think I must be dreaming of spring every night. Liberated toes. Open Windows. Cuffed jeans that show my ankles. So many live green things around that I might actually get sick of them. Shopping is a horrible push and pull between what's affordable, and, alas, all the full price spring things I really want. I almost did an entire post on sandals. Instead Ry, this week's green bits are in honor of your terrarium obsession. I'll let you click through the link and see what's really going on.

You can find me waxing poetic on kids spring obsessions over at Small for Big.

1. Dansko Sissy Sandals, Zappos.com $110
2. Moss for your wall, Ottoman  $35
3. Draped Sweater Cardigan, Textile Junkie at Target Red Hot Shop $59
4. Interchangeable Carpet Bag, Designs by Danna SALE $50
5. Kork-ease Colosseum Sandals, Sundance $128

It's not easy being green... heck, I'd live in a terrarium if I could... And who wouldn't? Kind of like being a goldfish.. or driving your car around at night with the interior lights on.  

And swam to crazy town.

While my lips are equally red... Even though I swear that own more than one shirt, this one goes the best with Nana's red beaded necklace. And when I arrived in crazy town, I asked the salesman where I could find a portable heater for our freezing cold bathroom... The red beaded necklace immediately hypnotized him  -- "We have batteries on sale," he said as my son ran free through the electronics -- "only $11.99 for a 24 pack". Realizing that I had him hanging by the fibers of his fisherman's bend -- I said "We're good, thanks"... and dared to glance at the washing machines....

I want to... Be understood...
Go to Reykjavik. Get my MFA. Drive a Mini like a NASCAR racer and then set it on fire. Talk the talk and walk the walk. Open a gallery. Win some money. Let it all go. Stop the hating. Know why he's crying. Cure things. Start it all over again. Dance. Know how to sit still. Go to the spa. Make it work. Wear flip flops. Have someone take care of it. Broaden our horizons. Go to Block Island. Be friends with Madonna. Cancel the Today Show. Plant tomatoes. Build the perfect playground. Be carefree. Host my own galleried show. Stop trying so hard. Bounce. Find the patience. Love all the sister wives. Take it all back. Move. Finish the house. Publish. Clean up the clutter. Find old friends. Quit Facebook. Bury the keys. Go kayaking. Bake wheat bread. Get the lawn furniture out. Speak. Build a following. Be the guy behind the guy. Hide. Just know. Filter. Damn the man. Buy new clothes. Wait it out. Sit in the sun. Make use of all 24 hours. Stop annoying myself.  

This past week was a strange one.

My phone has been ringing off the hook due to my ad placement for help--the cobwebs shaking off the receiver... Hundreds of calls--and I had the paper take the ad offline. It's been interesting to talk to so many people about what I want and need... One woman actually said that she was answering the post because of the economy... not necessarily that she has childcare experience... I told her to come right over.... Just what I'm looking for--Desperation in the name of Watch my Child. Are you kidding me? But then the weather warmed up and melted everything... only to have Mother Nature open her blind eye and demand MORE SNOW. And you should see my me when I say MORE SNOW, because both of my eyes start blinking wildly and every hair on my head stands up perfectly straight for about a half second...  Because no one is talking about MORE SNOW... so I won't either...

I had a client request this past week.. A complete and total 180°. "Abandon my Blog. And take me off of Twitter." But why? And the reasoning made more sense to me than most topics these days... "Because," said the Big Man on Campus... "Because I see what you and others do with your blogs and..." The explanation went on but it was a matter of upkeep and anonymity. And then it made even more sense. It is easier to be followed -- easier to be sought after if you aren't right there. It was only a few months ago that this same individual NEEDED to be connected.. But that was then and this is now... Now, where it's cooler to be hard to get - difficult to track down... a pedestal height that can be considered an achievement... I can hear the words now -- "He's not EVEN on Facebook"--but he never really was. The experiment tried and tried... but in the end - SOCIAL MEDIA FAIL. 

So now what? Is this the new wave of been there done that? As we are faced with even more tools to push ourselves more out there? Follow, Connect, Do it, DO IT NOW, What are you doing now? Why? HOW? 

Tools like this one:    

Because we've all gotten ourselves into this ball of internet wax - and it isn't going to melt anytime soon.... And although the bleacher seats are shiny and new -- they are still outside and, if I'm not mistaken, I do believe the forecast for next week just might call for snow.

How are you?

I've been thinking about our conversation -- about how you think that Picasso wasn't really a bad guy, he just had commitment issues, and I really have to disagree with your juxtaposition on the Tiger Woods matter -- but you are entitled to your opinion. Is it at all possible that the Olympics have gone to your well frosted head? Too much up close and personal?  Or are you just intimidated by Z-Germans? Because although they are undeniably günter höhne, I suspect they might be all talk and no show. But that's just me.

You know what else IS me? Closing one company and opening another in a span of three weeks... with a 2 year old sitting on my lap, while I design logos with one eye and bake dairy and egg free chocolate cupcakes with the other. Literally. And, as I look out the window I see glops of white starting to mix in with the monsoon. With one office half moved out and the other half moved in and décor resources beginning to haunt. Because Martha I am not, and I'm kinda happy about that. But what about you, Cupcake?

Enough about me. Let's talk about you.

How was your trip to Egypt and your journey to the center of the earth? Was it anything like the movie? And what did you and The Queen talk about? Did you dazzle her with your experience as Gordon Sumner's Sommelier... The Peace keeping battle where you carried Bono to the sidelines in what you panicked to be near death--only to realize that it was nothing but a drunken stupor? Or did you just go on and on about America's Next Top Model like you usually do? You really should allow yourself to take credit for all that you have accomplished... I mean you are only 20 minutes old -- and I know this is just touching on half of the story.

There was the time that Lloyd Dobler stood in the rain in anguish over his broken heart... gripping his pen? One can only assume. But, dear Cupcake, the point of my letter is getting lost in the fodder of "where are we now"? Because to come full circle would require more than a burning flag, James Joyce and the Easter Bunny. No. We need something much stronger and more organized... Something to inject life into the icing on top... Something with promise and compassion... Something for completion... with texture. Beyond all cause, and hold off the guard...before I start to make sense... Because, we need sprinkles.   

It means so many things.

Just tonight, for instance, a dear friend recommended this topic... 20 minutes later and just 5 minutes shy of bedtime, Will ran naked and free through the house like a wild child... Only to face the consequences of such freedom by projectile rocketing his dinner all over the house. He's fine now.... and if I weren't so responsible sitting here with the baby monitor strapped to my head as he sleeps... I might like to throw caution to the wind, taking a glance at the martini glasses..  But no...I'll only feel Plowed later. It parallels to the ad I just placed in the paper yesterday for a part time Childcare/Personal Assistant position... I thought Personal Assistant sounded so much more fun and exciting than "Mother's Helper"... Well - sexy sells because today I had a HUMONGOUS response... humongous being the WORD OF THE DAY.. ringing in my ears. People need work, huh?... kidding. I really just want some overachieving high school kid to play with my son for an hour and then pick up my mail while I work. Because... Yes, before I get Plowed, the work is starting again.

But can you imagine being the snow? Seeing this winter in the forecast and thinking (because we all know snow thinks) This is it! This is the winter that I am going to fall from the sky and do my mighty snow dance all over planet earth... only to fall, settle in a bit, and be unsuspectingly PLOWED... after all that hard work and build up..  It isn't unlike quicksand if you think about it... I mean, what CAN YOU DO? I know snow. My husband owns a plow and PLOWS SNOW... I've been PLOWING... Not so much fun, to tell you the truth... Snow. I've lived in heaps of it throughout many locations and times in my life and this winter has been eternal.. Plowing us under... I can pick snow up and tell you what kind it is... what wine to drink with it... what heel to wear. It's a gift, I know... but I'm getting off track.

This winter, my friends, is the retribution for all of our plowing. While the weather people of the world unite and try to scare the daylights out of us before a flake falls... The snow this year has taken heed. It isn't unlike anything else in life that can't be predicted.. leaving us with our feet stuck in a mess of something frozen, cold and extremely uncomfortable.. I'm spent. Who wants to get plowed?