So, I've been surfing around a bit lately (AB, go away!) and here are some posts I think you'd like to read, if you haven't read them already.
Evaluating your worth as a blogger by Mom 101. This one reminds me of Daniel taping over the Apple logo on his Mac. He's still as much of a fan as ever but like he said, they aren't paying him to advertise. Spot on. Which is why I don't walk around with flashy labels. In fact, if you can read the labels on my clothes/accessories, chances are that they were gifted. I don't like paying good money to work for people. This brings me to something that particularly pisses me off -- sportswear. Ever seen the number of logos and whathaveyous on them? Sportspeople are paid to wear those clothes. The fans pay to get the chance to wear them. Whatever. Now you can call me cheap or you can call me smart but I refuse to pay crazy amounts to carry free advertising. (If the clothes were cheap, we could talk.)
Bossy's take on the season's fashion trends. I've been known to do similar things, only I haven't ever taken photos to blog, silly Sue. I do love funny fashion posts. And thanks to a Mad Pal, now I'm hooked to www.highheel.confidential.com. *sigh*
Bloggess talking about a book she could write. Sounds a lot like conversations chez Sue except that, heck, except nothing much. Except that yes, Booberry has got to be a girl, dude. How would you like to be a dude walking through life being called Booberry? I admit it might help if you weren't walking, if you were, say, driving a Ferrari, but really, Booberry is just not a boys' name. Says the woman who called her son a Bhablet. Although, really, he ought to blame his Shejdadu for that one.
Dipali posts a timely quote. I am so very possessive over that son of mine and the only way I can deal with it is to cut him loose and obviously, that doesn't precisely fix the matter either. Since the day I decided I was probably pregnant -- keep in mind my teens were closer to this date than they were probably to yours, unless, of course, you're Boo or Mon the child brides -- so where was I? Oh yeah, since then I swore to myself to give my kids the freedom I fought my parents so hard for. And I thought I was doing a fine job until I figured I don't give my boy the right to choose his own clothes or where he wants to go play or what he gets to eat or when he gets to step out of the house or anything, really. On the other hand, he still ain't three. When he's about 15 I'll try to feel properly guilty. Till then, as Dipali said, the house rules apply. If they can apply to the nearly 33 year-old, they jolly well apply to the 3 year-old. The 27 year-old says so.
Speaking of which, Spud-boy turned three. I know this may not be a life-changing event for most of my readers, but you see, Charlie's birthday is an announcement of sorts to me each year that Bhabbles is most definitely turning yet another year older and there's nothing I can do about it. Of course, as Sparx points out, the kids are getting funnier by the year, but still. I try to be in denial.
Anyway, so that's my little list. Got any links you want me to check out?