the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Rumbling volcano

I have many things that I want to say, things I want to talk about, have wanted to talk about for months, and I’m trying to figure out where to begin. A part of me is afraid that if I start talking I will not stop, because I have been bottling it up for so long and the pressure is strong enough to blow my ears off my head. When that happens I will be sure to catch it all on video so you can watch the gore unfold in slow motion.

Today I’m just going to say thank you for the kind email and the words of encouragement. I have read all of it, and I’m not sure there is any possible way to respond to all of it.

Sometimes the Internet can be so dumb that it makes you want to carve your brain out with a ladle:

“found you blog today and its total shit!!!! loser!!!!”

Such things make me grieve for America.

Other times you realize that your life is made so much better and brighter by the Internet:

“Why is it so (strangely) interesting to read someone else’s grocery receipt? And is it a Utah thing to call them ‘sunflower nuts’? They are SEEDS, dammit. An assumption on my part: perhaps Mormons can’t call them seeds because that is the germinating SEX part of a plant and what a scorching sin to put SEX parts in your mouth.”

The latter, fortunately, far outweighs the former, and the support I’ve read in my inbox over the last few days is a perfect example of one of those instances. Thank you for sending me your optimism. And also for sharing your well-founded assumptions about the Mormons. The one about how they sacrifice puppies in the temple? Totally true.

To show my gratitude I’ve put together a short video of that which keeps me from jumping off the roof of the house, although there are times when the argument could be made that it is she who would drive me to climb up there in the first place. Yesterday Leta and Jon were playing hide and seek and I was able to catch a small sequence in which she ran toward me with her funny toddler waddle, and as gross as this sounds, and as mad as I will be at myself later for writing this, I watch this and I know everything is going to be okay.

Or at least it will be after I smack a few pedestrians with my car. That would feel better than Prozac.

Launch video (4 MB Quicktime file)

Soundtrack is “Emotion 98.6” by Mylo.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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