Well, I asked for it. Actually, I guess you did. Ok, it was a group effort. Here are the answers.
(And no, this is not a test, but you will lose points for spelling mistakes.)
Emma asked: Mamatulip said she had a night out on the town with you and a bunch of other bloggers - how did you all manage to hook up? How did you even know you wanted too? Okay, I have another one - what is the blog etiquette for comments? I have a friend who likes to "set the record straight" if she doesn’t agree with what I'm saying on my blog and it drives me crazy. And advice?
Way to get the ball rolling, Emma. Not only did you ask more than one question, but also it hardly had anything to do with ME. Nice job, newbie.
Just kidding! This is a great question because it spotlights one of the greatest things about blogging – the bloggers. Especially the T.O. gang. So, to finally answer your question, we all managed to hook up because Sandra put out the call and we always do what Sandra says. And we like to drink.
Many of us knew each other before blogging, and others had worked together on Mommy Blogs Toronto, and the rest we can simply, wonderfully just call neighbours. We like to take advantage of the fact that there are SO many of us in one city, so we get together on a fairly regular basis. A few however, remain elusive. We’re coming for them next time.
Second part of the question: I think that if you enable comments, you are opening yourself up to other people’s opinions, and must be ready for that. However, while I do not expect every comment to be sugar-coated (mine certainly aren’t always), they should be respectful. So, to answer your question - delete the bitch. Ok, fine, just leave it alone and let the other commenters eat her alive.
Ewe asked how I picked out the names for my girls.
Ewe, it’s simple: they are both (first) named after dead childhood cats. Bee is named after Chris’ dead childhood cat, and Dove is named after mine.
I’m not joking.
Ahem, but just so you do not think that we are crackpots, Bee’s first name also happens to be the anglicized version of my Grandfather’s (Yiddish) name, and her middle name is Faye, which was my Grandmother’s name.
Dove’s first name is the name of my dead childhood cat, which is also the name of my favourite Merry Prankster and my favourite Grateful Dead song. Her middle name is Lynne, which is Chris’ mother’s name and a traditional one in his family. Take that, friend and co-worker who insists I bit her still gestating daughter's name. You stole it from me.
Kittenpie queried: how much crunchy, how much rock 'n' roll?
There are so many good answers to this one. In a way, rock n’ roll is my past, crunchy is my present.
I could also say that I come from a family of crunchy rockstars, in whose midst I am downright traditional.
I could also say that the crunchy part of me gets hot at the thought of organic farmer’s markets and free trees from the city, and the rock n’ roll part of me says things like: I get hot at the thought of organic farmer’s markets.
Ali wondered: if you could go back and change an event or moment from your past, what would it be??
Ali, I truly regret kicking my LIT in the balls at summer camp when I was eight. I wish I hadn’t done that.
Jen asked: what's your secret supergirl power?
I make milk. Mother nature chose that one for me. If I could choose, it would be the ability to perform super-flippy gymnastic moves whenever needed.
Hannah wants to know: How much do you censor yourself when you're posting? How many people that you know in "real life" read your blog? Do you ever wish you could go completely incognito, and if not, why?
How much do I censor? Good grief, not nearly enough. (see “I get hot…” comment, above.)
Only certain people that I love and trust in real life know about this blog, though I don’t work too hard to keep it a secret. I had a particularly exhausting experience when a loved one found P & B , and I don’t feel like going through that again, so I’m a bit more careful now.
And no, I wouldn’t ever go completely incognito because, let’s face it, we write, at least partly, to satisfy our own egos, and it’s too hard to get pats on the back when you’re a ghost-writer.
Ok, kids are up so that’s it for now. Next time they nap – Part II.
*please be patient if my links are not linking. i'm working on it. f*#^ing blogger.*