President Bush was on “Deal or No Deal” this past Monday. He appeared in a taped message supporting a vet of the Iraq war. I didn't watch, and apparently, neither did you: Ratings matched DoNDs lowest Monday-night ratings ever. Maybe this is why Katie Couric is tanking on the news: too much Bush!

(And no, I don't mean for that to be a vulgar double entendre. People, please!)

So here in the little town of Mytown there's a chorus of oldsters and they got themselves a movie made about them that's now in national release. I haven't seen it yet but here's the trailer. Frankly I'm most excited because my electric-guitar teacher is in the chorus band and on account of his last name starting with an “A” he's listed first in the imdb.com cast list for the movie. As the kids around here used to say, it's wicked cool. But I don't think anybody really says that anymore.

It feels like Thursday. *Next* Thursday. Last week was pretty long and I think I'm still feeling the after-effects.

My teaching is starting to wrap up. I give the final exams on May 5th (happy Cinco de Mayo, y'all). I'm thinking the next week I might debut a new one-act at the Mytown Playwrights' Lab. All I gotta do is write it, first. Oh yeah, that. Working title is “The Association,” and it's a comedy about hunger and foreclosure. And though no celebrities are featured, I did get the idea during church last Sunday, so it's in keeping with my last one-act, “Bible Study.” Can't believe I haven't written anything since then!

Oh, but enough about me. How are you doing? How's the fam?

OK, first read this blog post by BeckyJSacto.

Then, read this blog post by BeckyJSacto.

I've been laughing from the time I read the second post, through the time it took me to send her an e-mail, and even as I type these very words. Peanut must think his (HIS!) mother is a nutjob. OK, a beanjob.

(Even funnier is, when you blow up the picture on the second post, it appears that the bamboo stalks are already in little water capsules, de-necessitating the water in the vase in the first place.)

Incidentially, here's what Amy Sedaris has to say about hostess gifts: “Don't you dare show up with bamboo! You might as well show up with a turtle. … Now that you've lurned all the rules of guest etiquette, relax and have fun, but remember: NO BAMBOO, TURTLES, OR SUNFLOWERS!” — p. 24-25, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence

Also incidentially, Monstro's commentary on the above can be found here. The title alone sent me into further paroxysms.

I used to date a guy whose birthday was April 15th. He said that when he was growing up, his father celebrated by working on their family taxes until the last possible minute and then making a mad squealing dash to the post office.

This used to make me feel sad for him. Now it just makes me smile. I blame Massachusetts.

“Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh.”

Thanks Shaken Mama for the quiz link!

… to my ever-so-exclusive blogroll. Have a nacho. Put your feet up.

I've been a freelancer/consultant for a decade now. I was telling my Writing for the Media students about what I've learned and figured it was good enough for a blog post.

1) Never apologize for a perceived or actual lack of experience in an industry or niche. Spin any inexperience into a positive. For example, if you're bidding to write a healthcare website, say that your lack of corporate healthcare experience is helpful because your questions will be the same as your client's customer's questions.

2) Underpromise and overdeliver. Think you're going to have something done by Saturday? Tell 'em you'll have it to them by Monday. Then send it to them before Monday. Shows you're on the ball. Plus, if you get waylaid by life (it happens), no harm done, you won't have missed your deadline.

3) Always listen to client criticism and thank them for it in your response. The client is who you need to please. If they think enough of your work to criticize your path, then reevaluate. Your work will be better for it, and your client deserves some thanks for that.

Those are my top three. Who else has one?

So yup, it's been a pretty miraculous week. Couple of weeks, actually.

Last Saturday, my two year old strung together his first full sentence, immediately followed by his second full sentence. “The cow says moo. The duck goes quack.” He's very in to cows and ducks. And elephants. Yesterday his nursery school teacher was telling the class a knock-knock joke and Lex shouted the punchline before Peter even got to it. And today I took him out for a pizza and salad lunch and he nixed the high chair in favor of a real grown-up chair, where he remained planted and untethered, happily eating and leafing through his Piggies book, for more than 20 minutes. This has never happened before, as my child is a perpetual-motion machine, and therefore this qualifies as miraculous.

And in the space of four days I located and phone interviewed someone to help my mom with some stuff that needs doing around her house, and helped convince a reluctant Mom that this was a good idea, and yesterday Mom interviewed her and three hours later, hired her. Did I mention that I did this from Massachusetts, and Mom lives in the SF Bay Area? And that the new hire charges the same hourly rate as my teenaged babysitter, and loves to cook and clean and bake? Yeah. Miraculous.

And I received an aforementioned rejection letter from Boston Playwrights' Theatre that not only had handwriting on it, but said that out of 400 entries, my “work in particular remained in the mix until the absolute end of the reading process.” (underline theirs, not mine.) Freakin' miraculous.

And after bemoaning the fact he hasn't got any committee work from his Ph.d school yet, Monstro just got an e-mail saying, “as a member of our Steering Committee, please look at this paper.” Instant committee work, just add water (or ink, or toner, whatever). Academically miraculous in a land devoid of miracle.

*And* I have a new friend, not just any friend but a BFF (she said it first!). It's been so long since I had a new friendship that occurred spontaneously and organically that I can hardly believe that it's true that I actually managed to make a new friend without having to plan or arrange or organize or force it into fruition. And we're like-minded on things like writing and working and raising kids and being sassy and not feeling guilty about tardy e-mails and the ridiculousness (her term) of certain dumb-@ss (my term) people. I'm 36 years old and I've got a new friend. Amazingly miraculous.

AND, most miraculous of all, I went in for an ultrasound this week and in the space of three hours went from believing that Peanut has Down Syndrome to learning that even with the trouble spot on the ultrasound, baby's likelihood of DS is no more increased from that than from my own “advanced maternal age” (their term, not mine). And frankly, having a healthy baby after 1) already having one of those and 2) reading Ella's blog every day for the past 12 weeks, is the most miraculous thing I can think of in this world.

Sometimes people tell me that they don't believe in God and then I have a week like this one and I just want to pat them on the head and say how cute they are, like dumb fuzzy puppies. Because really? It's funny, but true: the more you believe in God, the more He believes in you. And some weeks are all about reaping those benefits.

Don't believe me? Check out the week I've had and try telling me that it hasn't been a miracle straight from Heaven, or that any single one of the items above isn't miraculous.

Uh huh. Yup. Told you so.