I've moved

Read me at http://shrinkmamma.fmg.ro/ . See you there :)

No wonder we haven't received any presents for Easter..

..if you consider the fact that this stuffed rabbit was on my in-laws' table last weekend. If I'd be the Easter bunny I'd be pissed off too.

I've got this weird feeling..

..that I'm going to lose the battle of the blogs I'm in right now. No particular reason for that, except maybe the fact that lots of proxies and people from Malaysia started visiting out of nowhere in the last half hour, all this while I'm battling a Malaysian blog, and the fact that my battle is going way faster than the one with 180 credits that was submitted BEFORE mine .. We'll see.

Later edit - and what do you know, I was right. Sweetie, grow some spine and maybe a wee bit more confidence in your blog. This tactic won't get you more real readers. Just sayin'.

Oh Lookie 2 - the return of the (L)wookie

Fishing for celebrity blogs is fun - this week I found Chewbacca's blog . Where, you ask ? Why, on Blogspot, of course! Read it. You'll be amazed. You'll be outraged. You'll be enlightened.

Hint: Scroll down to the Valentine's day post for some good old fashioned wookie-on-princess action.

Dear Timi

I know it's hard being the child of a mom who plays with crazy people's heads. No, really, I do. All that clinical literature sitting on the shelves, all those medical journals for you to play with once you dig them out from under the coffee table .. but did you have to read that stuff and actually try it out?

A phobia won't get you more choc'lit. Nor will it make mommy spray perfume on your tummy more often. And choosing as a phobic object the nailclipper, from all things, is a real faux pas. We need to clip your nails sometimes, even if you display your best impression of "Mom has beheaded my doll and threatens me with hot needles". We know your voice can break glass if you scream long enough. We noticed that you can squirm and wiggle better than an octopus on crack. We painfully aknowledged the fact that you're strong and have the kicking power of a mule - and we have the bruises to prove it. But we still need to clip your toenails.

So here's my proposition - if you really feel you need to have a phobia, for that's all the rage between today's toddlers , so be it. But why not exchange the object of your fears from the nailclipper to, dunno, a Jet engine? Or a Hummer's steering axle? Mommy promises she'll let you freak out for as long as you want to whenever you'll see one of those.

Lorenzo Lamas, talk dirrrty to me

Ever felt like you just have to hear the Barbi twins whisper sweet nothings in your ears? Or wanted to tell Q to cut Picard some slack? If the answer is yes, run over to Hollywoodiscalling where for a mere $20 the C or D-list star of your choice will call whoever you want and tell him your message. I was a bit sad to see John de Lancie on the "available celebrities" list (or astronaut Rick Searfoss, for that matter) but they know best what brings home the bacon so.. I might as well have mr. Lamas call my mom to thank her for liking him in Renegade.

Oh lookie..

Most of you probably know about Will Wheaton's weblog (you know, the kid from Star Trek). But how many of you knew MC Hammer has a weblog? On our very own Blogspot?

We're almost there...

..to finishing the kitchen, that is. The second layer of paint is drying, we only have to put on the finishing touches. I have paint on my hands, my glasses, my hair, my forearms and the back of my neck, and my scalp is itching from the hours it spent under the hat. I'll post some pics of the various phases the kitchen went through this weekend later, until then here are some shots done in the last two days.

Here you can see miss T, thinking about new ways to get into the kitchen and snatch some paint without being spotted and thrown out by her pesky parents.



deciding the best way would be to lead them away from the main interest zone and distract their attention, she pretends she wants to see her grandma's chicken ..

and smiles satisfied finally seeing her parents out of the house and distracted by the flowers of granny's garden, which they, as usually, feel the urge to photograph: