Still here.

I have not been abducted by aliens. And they definitely did not tell me to say that.

I am still here. Busy smothering my children. Who, for whatever reason, are refusing to go to bed and/or stay in bed this week, so my blogging has suffered. I had a good birthday (why thank you for asking!) and won free stuff!! from this hilarious lady, and been sleep deprived all week (due to aforementioned party-animal children). I did manage to stick my foot in my mouth last weekend. (I do it frequently.) Here's how: while at the library, I noticed a woman with a baby in a sling. I went up to her and said, "Excuse me?" Her husband had the nerve to try to finish his sentence so I had to repeat myself, "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt," why do I say these things? If I was that sorry, I wouldn't have interrupted. I continue, "I noticed that you have your baby in a sling, and I was just wondering if I could feel the material." Feel the material? Honestly? That's the best I could do? How about something less creepy like, "I like your face."

"Oh sure! Go ahead I'm not sure what kind of material it is I just bought it at the Farmer's Market you can get them at the Farmers Market you know," Innocent Bystander says to me. I think I made her nervous. And hey, who wouldn't be a bit nervous when a complete stranger says they want to feel the material?

And what do I say to this woman whom I have made extremely uncomfortable in the space of less than one minute? I say, in a really snotty tone (that's not how I meant it to come out) while fingering the material of her perfectly lovely and very well-made baby sling, "Oh, I know. I like to make my own." Typed out, it looks harmless. In reality, in the subtle nuances in my voice, what I really said was, 'You bought a sling? I sew my own slings. Which means I am better than you. I am pooh-poohing you and your store-boughten sling from the Farmer's Market.'

So, to the Innocent Bystander who backed away slowly from the snobby insane lady (aka: me), I apologize. I love your sling, it's beautiful. If I had an extra $45, I might march on down to the Farmer's Market and buy one, too.

I figured that instead of trying to explain myself ('I didn't mean it to sound like that!') and probably jamming the other foot in my mouth, I would just smile (also creepy in an un-intentional way) and walk away.

Hot Stuff watched this exchange, shook his head, and had the following to say, "What is wrong with you?"

I don't know what's wrong with me. "They" (the All-Knowing "They" from the Fake Institute) haven't picked a name for it yet because Foot In Mouth Disease was taken (*snicker*).