Why I Haven't Been Posting; Also, Peter's Talisman

As you know, my posts have been far and few these last few weeks. Why, you may ask?

Because our stupid computers got amnesia.

1. My mom's laptop. Her story, her Sims games, gone. Very sad for all parties involved. Now it is fixed, though, and she has new Sims families.
   
2. Upstairs computer. We did get it fixed, but I have no bookmarks or favorites or ANYTHING. It. Was. Appalling. Also, Sims 3 only works for half an hour. Since Laura and I made a family with a musical teenager, three British-schoolgirl-esque triplet daughters, and crazy Cousin Arnold, who owns two cars and a motorcycle and has a huge mohawk, this SIMPLY DOES NOT SUFFICE. I mean, one can spend half an hour making Cousin Arnold live underground in a garage, and it WILL NOT SAVE.
3. This computer--downstairs. Last night, after lots of restarting, we clicked on my mom's name only to find that Everything was Lost. It is VERY maddening.

When I woke up this morning, figuring that I should explain this, I walked into the hallway to see Peter holding his "talisman"--a plastic squirt bottle to shoot Perry. In his other hand, he clutched a Playmobil Roman soldier-prince. The talisman in question was to protect him and make him feel safe from Jason, a hockey-mask-wearing, chainsaw-carrying character on a Halloween special for Roblox.

I have a coupon for Sims 3 Late Night--but we need to fix the computer first.

Periwinkle is an adult! On October the 19th, he finally switched to adult cat food.

Party. . . :-/. . . or not.

My neighbors are having their reception for their daughter's wedding in their yard. We are invited. Unfortunately, we have lost the invitation. Thus, we must resort to peering out the window to determine the formalness of the outfits and the time people are arriving. At least we don't have to worry about parking, because that might be a bit much.

Due to our ineptitude for finding and keeping things, we debated about the possibility of recycling the invitation. Of course, since everyone slept until eight, the recyclables were not recycled. Unfortunately, no one wanted to look through the recycling, and fourteen hours did not hail any significant help.

I'm off to look through the window, the wonderful window by the door.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Step one: Copy and paste the blog address. (http://onsconesandstardust.blogspot.com/)
Step two: Open a new tab: http://www.wordle.net/create
Step 3: Paste blog address into "blog feed" spot.
Step 4: Enjoy my apparently random big words.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Wednesdays

I know that today isn't a Wednesday, but this was a while ago. A long, long, while ago. I was getting my braces tightened, which is not the most entertaining activity in the world. Even if your dental hygienist is talking about math and how irritating she found geometry, cleansing your bones isn't exactly a fun-park ride. That is something I would like to see.

After losing to a machine while playing 20 Questions (very embarrassing), I decided to analyze my dear companions. To my left was a tall blond side-parted girl reading Seventeen and looking at pictures of Taylor Laughtner and wearing a pink shirt, minishorts (the horror), and glitter gladiator sandals who also had perfectly straight white teeth. To my right was an Asian girl wearing a blouse, tie, a plaid skirt, and loafers with a hovering mother, who would periodically exclaim about how her daughter was going to become a doctor/lawyer/president/Olympic swimmer and how important white teeth would be.

I felt so good about myself. :-o

The answer was duck-billed platypus.

Blog-o-sphere and French R's

Bored, I began clicking "Next, blog", hoping that I would find something amusing. (I accidentally made a typo. . . abusing. . . oops. . . .) I was very discouraged and had vowed never again to click said button, because all I found was twenty blogs about motherhood, twelve marketing art, and five posting random articles of writing.

I was appalled. I know that each child is individually special and unique, etc., but twenty whole blogs out of thirty-seven? I feel that, if your child really is special, you will not NEED to have a blog with 15,000 followers (seriously, not kidding) proclaiming his uniqueness. What they NEED is a superblog! on which they can all post about how darling little Susie is excited for the new baby/dear little Todd drew a picture/charming little Dahlia broke all her toys. I suppose being famous for motherhood is better than being famous for other things, but I personally would rather be viewed as a good mother and not a good blogger--but if that makes you happy, I shall send Susie a photo album, Todd a paint set, and Dahlia a toy store.

As the title proclaims, Peter has been saying all his R's Frenchily. I have had serious trouble comprehending him, because he has a small lisp, but once I realized that he was imitating a Japanese Nutty Ninja! I, um, went to brush my teeth.

DUN DUN DUN DUN! *trumpets*

As you can see, I am in a regal mood. La! La! Laaaaaaa!

(Warning:Sideeffectsmayincluderandomtypingofmusicalsounds.
ThankyouandrememberEmmaisnotresponsible
inanywayshapeorformfordamagedonetoyourearsandoreyes.)

In Emmaland, where everyone wears Victorian frocks and opens doors for Emmas and holds her parasol while she cleanses her gloves, her entrance to school is regarded as a national holiday. Mind you, that is not to imply that she seldom graces her educational building with her lovely presence, but that her very being there is special.

Holders-of-doors: *open double doors*
Trumpeters: *trumpet*
Roller-outers-of-red-carpet: *roll out red carpet*
Announcer: *announces Emma*
Me: *enters hallway complete in Victorian garb*
Random people in hallway: *laugh*
Me: *walks down carpet to grace them with the presence of my lovely and pointy parasol*
Random people in hallway: *bow/curtsy* *back away looking scared*
Me: *smiles*
Other and now wiser people in hallway: *throw flowers*
Me: *wakes up and sighs*
Random people in hallway: *gasp and run away from me*
Me: *looks appalled*

And yes, I switched narrative styles. My deepest condolences.

(***Thanks to Madeleine for the new sites!***)

3!

Ah, the number three. I recall a PE class in which, after surviving torture, you had to write something that fit into a subject--the subject being "multiples of 3". I was very pleased. While the other team stubbornly put "3, 9, 12, 15, 18, etc.", I put "0.03, 0.003, 0.0003, etc." It was almost as fun as the logical hula-hoop game.

Or 3 as in: "3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993. . . ", that is to say, pi. March 14, 2015, 9:26:53!

3 as in the amount of murders in my most recent novel--the passengers being, respectively, a jewel thief, an alcoholic, an illegal weapons smuggler, and the murderers and murderees.

3 as in "The Sims 3", which I got the newest addition of and appalled the dude at the counter by knowing which day the next add-on comes out. (October 26!)

3 as in the number of muffins Perry has stalked, perhaps because he finds them "easy prey". He will pick one up in his teeth and carry it to the living room to devour and play with.

3 as in the amount of tall onions that Daisy has munched the leaves/stems/whatevers of. She has SO much better breath than Perry.

3 as in the amount of Trident Fruit Stripe Gum pieces that I have given to my siblings. It is 6 months old. (Ssh!)

Most importantly, though, it is the number of months I have posted on my blog! Yay! *throws confetti into air*