Month: September 2013

TOASTERS! It’s The Little Things…


**I think I was once a woman who lived in the pioneer days. I say this because I find myself thankful for modern conveniences, but in a weird way, like I know what it was like without them, even though, of course, I do not. So in honor of her, I’m also going to throw in there dishwasher, car, electric stove, wash machine/dryer, dentistry, trash pick-up, and plane transportation. I’m sure there are more, but my past-life pioneer lady is busy scrubbing pantaloons in the river. I’ll ask her later.

Without further ado, and in no particular order, TEN THINGS I’M THANKFUL FOR:

1. This week some people in my life have given me completely unexpected little gifts that swelled my heart. These were not gifts in a literal sense, but intangible ones. A spontaneous act of kindness. Something genuine and sweet. Something that made my day. I appreciate those gestures more than they could ever know.

2. Rainy days. They’re the absolute best. For some reason, rainy days give permission to be curled on the couch at 2:00PM. In sweats. Eating ice cream. LIKE A BOSS.

3. My In-Laws. Yes, you read that right. I have the best in-laws in the world. Not only do I suspect they’re actually Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, but they also find time in their busy schedules to give me and the hubs some date nights, and that’s just the shizzle dizzle.

4. Pinterest. (<press it!) Because I get to spend time making boards about things that interest me. How self-indulgent is that? It’s so fun! BTW, is it wrong to have a board dedicated to hotties? I’m asking for a friend.

5. Time. I’m so grateful for the place my life is in right now, and the time it allows me to spend oodles of time doing what I love: writing. I will never take it for granted. Ever.

6. Take out. Because I suck at wifery (some aspects, anyway) and never seem to be able to manage an entire week of dinners. Hell, sometimes two days of dinners is a big week for me. If it weren’t for take out, we would exist on soup and frozen pizza.

7. The Universe. For putting me in touch with just the right people…at just the right time. And always leading me in the right direction. Thank you. You rock.

8. Halloween! Not just because it’s the most fun, coolest day of the year where we get to dress up, and decorate, and eat candy corn…but it’s also the night I met my husband. 🙂

9. Milo. My dog. For running in the field with me every morning. For not requiring a leash even if I’m on a bike. For being the best trail running dog EVAH. For being patient with me. For not being a barker. For allowing the kids to pester the shit outta you. And for being the best rescue dog success story one could hope for.

10. Funny. This week I noticed how funny, how really witty, my boys are. They crack me up. I realized this comes from being around people who look at life with a sense of humor. It started with my family when I was young. They were the first people to make me laugh, and to teach me to look at life through silly, googly eyed glasses. It’s a gift, really, and it’s so damn cool to see it continue to my children.

Thank you to the hosts for letting me play and be a part of TToT. This was a pleasure!

Ten Things of Thankful

Oh, Look…A Squirrel…

That title pretty much sums up how my brain works when I blog. I start off with one simple task, and before I know it, it’s been nine hours. I realized the other day I’ve gotten way off course from what should be my main job right now, but in the process, you know what I’ve discovered?

I Freaking Love Blogging!

I started blogging a few months ago, and to be honest, I thought it was going to be a writer’s blog about the process of editing/publishing my novel with some other random stuff thrown in to mix it up. But I guess that’s not what organically birthed out my blog hole. (That was hands-down the grossest metaphor I’ve ever used. It’s so bad I feel compelled to leave it.) The blog has ended up the other way around, really. I like to write like I talk. I like to laugh. That’s what feels honest.

This is my voice.

The problem is I have a manuscript here. It’s waiting patiently to have its revising finished, or better yet, to be effing published. I have editors that don’t even know they’re on my list to be called upon for pricing and samples. This novel is my everything.

So why am I spending all my time blogging? Because I’m in overload. I’ve read so much information about editing, blurbs, the first 5 pages, what you should do, what you should never do, genres and sub-genres, do a prologue, never do a prologue, AHHHHHH!

I’m kind of a study-junkie. A perfectionist. I take advice very literal and to heart. I’m thirsty to learn from the people who’ve done it before me. But it’s all been too much, and has literally paralyzed me from moving forward.

So I’ve been falling back on my new love, blogging, which conveniently takes up all my time, and has become a great excuse to avoid something else, something far too overwhelming.

 Enter the *Writer Whisperer*

This is what I’ve dubbed a friend of mine, unbeknownst to her (until now), who I had lunch with her the other day. She basically said, what the fuck have you been doing and why isn’t this brilliant book published yet? (She actually used the word brilliant, just so you know. Ironically, this is the same woman who told me to start a blog.) But you know what? She was right. After talking to her, the weight lifted off my shoulders.

I have 5 beta readers who already told me any integral changes I needed to make. I have to STOP obsessing over it. My novel is written. And it’s good. I just need to clean it up and get it to a pro editor. Let them figure out the rest.

That’s precisely what I’ll be spending more time doing for the next couple of weeks. Wish me luck. I’ll need it.

*Oh, and the last post I wrote about the Fall premiers? Come talk to me in comments as you watch during the week. Let me know what you’re liking/not liking!  (On The Voice…did you see my ex-almost-fiancé’s sexy beard? Me Likey! #TeamAdam)* —that “Oh, Look…A Squirrel…” moment was brought to you by Beth Teliho, the most easily distracted writer on Earth. Maybe don’t write her about TV. Yes, do!

Did you always know your blog’s voice? Does blogging take up more time than you expected? Is it your first love or do you write other things, too? I love hearing from you!

Fangs, Tattoos, And A Secret? Come To Momma.

Okay, I get this a lot, where I have so much going on in my head at once that I don’t know where to start. THANK GOD it’s too early for any of my friends to call, they wouldn’t get a word in edgewise.

My friends are reading this right now and wincing nodding cuz they know it’s true. You never know what you get when you call me. A normal conversation – OR – you say hi and then there is this pop like when you open a tube of biscuit dough and that’s it: I don’t stop for a solid twenty.

Consider the biscuit dough popped.

This post is interactive! A lot of the info I am putting forth is so much more fun if it’s conversational! Respond and it’ll be like we’re talking about this stuff over the phone with coffee…but not.

And to my FRIENDS (you know who you are!) who say, “I’m scared to comment cuz I don’t know how to say stuff all eloquent like your writer friends.” First of all, have you read the comments before? No one is trying to be eloquent. (BTW, the comment section is hysterical, so do yourself a favor, seriously) Secondly, I’m talking about fun stuff. Fucking comment. See the bubble, up by the title, near the date that has a number and the word comment? Press it. Then say stuff. I’ll give you a sucker.

Anyway, for your part, I will put the text in this color. Pay attention and play along! This will be fun. DO IT. (I do not under any circumstance have a shiv in my hand right now)

I’M FREAKING EXCITED! The premiers start this week and I’m coming unglued about it! I know I shouldn’t be this excited about TV, but damnit I am and I’m not going to hide it! Here’s what I plan to watch:

Monday: The Voice. Of course I’m Team Adam! (It’s a link. Hit it. You back yet? You’re welcome.) As you know from This Post (click that link to read it later), Adam and I were almost engaged once. Fer reals. He was very hurt when I chose my hubs over him. He wrote songs about it. And got a tattoo. Probably.

Do you watch the voice? If so, are you going to miss Shakira and Usher? I am. Very much. I liked them better. I don’t hate the original cast-o-judges, I just preferred S. & U. Also, if you were on the voice and had a 4 chair turn-a-round, who would you pick? Off the subject: Sleepy Hollow. Never seen it. Should I?

I’m also very curious about the premier of a new show that night, Hostages. I’m intrigued, but it has the potential to not deliver. We’ll see. Love Toni Collette, and Dylan McDermott is nothing to sneeze at either.

Tuesday: The Voice is on again, but other than that I don’t know what to be watching Tuesdays. What’s The Originals about? Should I watch it?

Wednesday: Survivor. I know, you might be thinking, Survivor? You still watch that? YES. Yes I do. It’s still awesome. And wanna know a little secret? There’s always a little eye candy. Always at least one cute guy, and then he gets even cuter when he turns all scruffy, skinny, and strung out looking by day 20. HOT. Watch it. Do you watch Survivor? If so, what do you think of the line-up this season? Are you rooting for anyone yet? Who annoys you already? If you don’t watch it, what do you watch Wednesdays? Anything I should be taping?

 Thursday: NBC’s entire line-up, of course. What else? I’ll tape The Crazy Ones over on CBS that night, too. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a new show with Sarah Michelle Gellar and ROBIN WILLIAMS, that looks freaking hysterical. Keep your eye on it – this could be a good one. What are your Thursday night faves? BTW, what’s going on over at Bravo? What do I need to be watching/taping? OMG – how am I going to have time for all this??

Friday: And what could possible be on Friday night, Beth? I’LL TELL YOU. Friday’s are special cuz I get to hang with my favorite things in the world, paranormals! GRIMM is replaying last season so everyone can get caught up and refreshed for their season 3 premier 10/25 – YAY! I might have a huge, unhealthy little crush on the lead character, Nick Burkhart (click and see how cute he is. I mean…right?).

Are you seeing a theme with my “boyfriends”? They’re either bad boys, or are good guys tormented by dark secrets (like, oops, I turn into a monster sometimes). YUM. And if he has fangs, tattoos, looks all tortured, AND has a secret….I just slid outta my chair. It’s okay, the hubs tolerates gets me and has no choice lets me have my little crushes. Hell, I still sleep in a Cullen #17 baseball T-shirt. (that was a Twilight reference for those of you that didn’t read the series) I might have a problem am totally stable.

ANYway, If you’ve never watched this show, do yourself a favor. It’s so well done and just good fun. Immediately following GRIMM is a new show, Dracula. Don’t know much about it, but it had me at Dracula. I hope it’s good, and I hope the vampires are sexy compelling. Do you watch GRIMM? If you were a wesen, what kind would you be? A werewolf like Monroe? An entirely new type of creature? A recognizable creature from a fable?

I’m sure there are other great shows I’m forgetting, but these are the ones premiering right now on local channels that I’m most excited about. Soon, DOWNTOWN ABBEY will be starting back with their season 4  – YAY! And VEEP on HBO is pee in your pants funny!

Tell me your favorite shows! Are there any I absolutely MUST be watching? Thank you for tolerating my thought vomit today!

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

Fly’s In The Buttermilk, Do Not Shoo! Fly On The Wall!

WELCOME to a Fly on the Wall group post! Today 14 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes.

Fly on the Wall

Come on in and buzz around my house (SCROLL DOWN), see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:

Baking In A Tornado
Just a Little Nutty
Follow me home . . .
Stacy Sews and Schools
The Sadder But Wiser Girl
Menopausal Mother
Moore Organized Mayhem
The Insomniac’s Dream
The Momisodes
Spatulas on Parade
Searching for Sanity
The Rowdy Baker
Writer B is Me
Sorry kid, Your Mom Doesn’t Play Well With Others



The actual conversation (if it indeed qualifies as such) that occurred this morning on the way to school. Myself and my two boys. To makes things easier (and protect the obnoxious), I’ll use their nicknames, D-man (9yo) and Cheesy (6yo):

D-Man: I HATE school. I can’t believe I have to go back to that awful place. I HATE third grade.

ME: I know it’s tough, buddy, but you can do it. Just hang in there. Things will seem bet–

D-Man: –I talked to this older kid and he said he hated third grade the most. He said it sucked out of all the grades.

ME: What older kid?

Cheesy: Do rabbits have penises?

ME: What? Wait, D, what older kid did you talk to? How old?

D-Man: Thirteen.

ME: Where on Earth are you talking to thirteen year olds?

Cheesy: MOM! Do rabbits have penises?

D-man:  On Xbox. Hey, did I tell you my dream about the robot?

ME: Yes!

D-man: I already told you about my dream?

ME: No. Rabbits have penises.

Cheesy: And balls? *lots of giggles from the back seat*

ME: *sigh* Yes, if they are boys.

D-Man: So this giant robot made of Minecraft brick comes crashing out of the ocean….

Cheesy: Does Milo have balls? (our dog)

ME: Well, uh, he did. I mean, yeah. But he’s neutered. *immediate regret* rewind rewind rewind

D-Man: ….and then he twirls this snowman monster thing over his head….

Cheesy: He’s noonered! What does THAT mean?!

ME: It’s an operation dogs have so they can’t make puppies. please Lord get me out of this

D-Man: …..smashes this grey pile of ash that sprays up and blows the robot’s head off……

Cheesy: I thought only girls made babies?

ME: Cheesy, I can’t do the birds and the bees right now. Let’s tal—



I’m home alone about 10AM. Kids are in school. Hubs calls.

ME: Yes? How may I help you?

HIM: Whatareyoudoing?

ME: On the computer. Whatareyoudoing?

HIM: I called to give you a couple reminders.

ME: Great. You know how much I like that.

HIM: I thought you might. I need you to be sure and take the ipad mini back today and see if they can replace it. The boys can’t be playing on it with that crack in the screen.

ME: Uh-huh.

HIM: And it would be great if you returned that hat to the party store before someone ruins it.

ME: Yep. That would be great.

HIM: And while you’re out, you should take your car to that place I told you about and get the oil changed because they’ll also wash it for you and your car is disgusting.

ME: My car is fine.

HIM: Your car is awful, Beth. Are you going to do any of those things?

ME: I will only commit to putting them on my list.

HIM: Your list.

ME: Yup.

HIM: And you’re going to put oil change on your list?

ME: Probably not.

HIM: Why? I don’t understand what the problem is…

ME: You know I hate going to the oil change place. I designated that a man job long ago.


ME: I find it very sexy when you do man jobs.

HIM: Reeeealllly. Well, now we’re talkin’. (I can actually hear him smiling)

ME: *eye roll* it’s so damn easy


It’s past bedtime. The 6yo comes downstairs with what appears to be glitter and a piece of paper and approaches me at the couch. I’m limp with fatigue,  and no longer care if anyone is in jammies or has brushed their teeth. I have deferred to daddy and am attempting to escape reality by engrossing myself in Twitter and Facebook a book on orbital mechanics. Yet here is a child in my face with craft supplies.

6yo: Mommy. Mommy. You know that thing where you put glitter on the paper and shake it off and it makes dots?

ME: Uh-huh.

6yo: Can we do that?

ME: Absolutely not.

6yo: Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy?????

ME: What do you mean why? You’re supposed to be in bed, young man. It’s late. And we don’t even have glue.

6yo: Yes we do. *disappears around corner*

He’s out of sight, therefore, officially out of my mind. This is a bad thing, because approximately 11 minutes later, Dad calls from upstairs wondering where the 6yo is. It’s about this time that I realize glitter boy is sweeping the kitchen.

You’re smart people. You know my child spilled glitter everywhere. But what I need to explain to you is this was not ordinary glitter. This was *special* fine-as-powder-fairy-dust glitter that I bought for a specific teacher craft last year, WHICH IS WHY IT WAS HIDDEN UPSTAIRS IN MY OFFICE WHERE HE GOT IT, THE LITTLE BURGLAR. You can’t even tell any is missing from the vial, yet it is every-fricken-where. No, really. You don’t understand. I can’t envision a scenario where this glitter will not be a part of our house for the rest of our lives.

But, let me tell you something. His glitter picture? AWESOME.

Sticks and Stones aren’t Shit Compared to Words.

A lovely, insightful comment on my last post got the ole noodle crankin’, and you know what happens next: I have to write it or it won’t leave my head.

Growing up, my room was right across from my mom’s and I could hear everything she said. Under the same societal pressures to be “perfect” we all are, she was always frustrated with her weight, a perpetual dieter. She never met an exercise craze she didn’t try, but I do remember the emphasis being more on weight than fitness. When she was getting ready I would hear her mumble (or sometimes yell) things like:

“I’m too fat and ugly to wear this in public.”

“I’m such a fat cow.”

“My ass looks like a bull-dozer in these pants.”

We’ve all done it. It’s just crap you say when you’re frustrated, tossing that third pair of *shrunken* jeans across the room.

Of course, when a young girl hears her mother say things like that, her mother who she thinks is beautiful and perfect, she does one thing:

She adopts that same self-criticism.

Her words became my inner dialogue, and my weight became my measurement of self-worth. It’s vicious and ugly to hear those things in your head. It stops you in your tracks. I had zero awareness of body issues and – in an instant – became so hyper sensitive to them I remember skipping school because I thought my body was unacceptable. I was a size 8. But I was curvy. I hated my curves and saw them as fat. I wanted to look like those no-booby-stick girls that walk the runway, because yeah, on top of everything else, this was the 80’s and I had media pressure to be a waif.

I remember once my mom joking and saying it looked like I had gained 10 pounds over the summer.


That stung. I was twelve, so my zoom lens on a comment like that was about 1,000X. That began the era of giant shirts to hide my body. The takeaway: never make an inference IN ANY WAY to a young girl’s weight.

Between girls being nasty to me in school, and the pressure to find a place, any-freakin-place, to fit in, I didn’t have a chance in hell. Not when I started out-of-the-gate with such negative inner dialogue and a horrible self-image.

*I just wish someone had warned her*

That’s why I wrote this. Because my mom had no idea her words were doing damage. She would never want that.

All of us make mistakes. Hell, I’ll probably make four today. But if this post reaches even one person who might be saying these types of things within earshot of a youngin’, whether it be about their nose, their value on this earth, or their weight….well, that would be everything.

**Happy ending. It took  thirty twenty a handful of years and the Frankenstein of patch jobs, but my self-image is intact and healthy. Oh, I still hear the negative voices. The difference is now, I don’t believe them. I have perspective on what true beauty is. And my diet and exercise goals are based on fitness and feeling comfortable more than a size on a tag. My therapist probably drives a Range Rover to her lake house, but who cares, right? Thank God for therapy.

What about you? Do you remember hearing anyone talk like that when you were little? How did it make you feel? Was weight, beauty, or perfection over-emphasized in your house? Please share. I value and look forward to your comments!

Night Of The Menage Attack

So I went to a party over the weekend at a neighbor’s house down the street. I sat in the backyard for the first half of the evening with a friend, sipping drinks and enjoying the cool breeze. The hubs was with me for the first hour or so, but for the part of the story in question he was at home getting beauty sleep since he’s ambitious and does things on weekends like triathlons. Weirdo.

Anyway, at some point I wandered inside to the host’s dining room – I honestly can’t recall why – and walked up on two women sitting there. One was a little slumped over, clearly had had too much to drink. The other woman seemed totally fine.

The first thing I noticed about the sober one was she was pretty. Not the giant, silicone cans – too much makeup – Beverly Hills type, but the tall – thin – naturally beautiful type. The kind of woman I expect to a) be uppity and b) ignore my presence. But, she surprised me by immediately reaching out a hand to introduce herself. She had a firm handshake, in case you’re wondering, which is a huge deal to me. I hate limp willie handshakes. Anyway, she was chatty and warm, asked about my kids, how I knew the host, etc. etc.  As I was leaving the room, I heard her murmur, “She’s so sweet,” referring to me. Hmm. I like this gal.

Later in the evening I ran into her again in the kitchen. She was excited to see me and greeted me with an enthusiastic, “Hiii!” We yammered about this-and-that, about how her dress was from Target, (she’s frugal and down-to-earth. love her!) when she began interjecting things like, “you’re so beautiful,” and “you’re so pretty.” I’m not one to take compliments well, so I blushed and stammered, but at the same time I’m thinking, this chic is my new BFF! I’m already envisioning how great it would be to take her shopping:

ME: How does this outfit look?

BFF: It’s perfect. You’re beautiful. You look like Kate-Frickin-Moss in everything.

ME: Should I get bangs?

BFF: No, you’re perfect the way your are. But if you do you would rock them cuz you’re stunning no matter what.

ME: You’re the bestest bestie evah!

BFF: No YOU are!

ME: No YOU are!

(ahem) That wasn’t pretty. Look away.

She then introduced me to her husband who was planted on a barstool. He was very nice and also had a firm handshake. He reached over saying I had something on my face only to gently swipe the side of my nose. We laughed. I got the joke. He was poking fun at the stud in my nose. It was a little chummy that he TOUCHED MY FACE and I’d known him all of 7 seconds, but his wife was showering me with flattery so I let it slide. I’m shallow cool like that.

She complimented my top, she oozed over my children, saying how handsome they were and they must get their looks from mommy…..

and then IT happened.

New BFF to her husband: “Honey, isn’t she beautiful?”  “Isn’t she cute?”  “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Whoa. *takes new BFF off speed dial* Why is she saying this stuff to her husband? Why is she asking HIM?

This. Just. Got. Awkward.

I mean, what’s he supposed to say? You don’t ask your husband if another woman is pretty in front of said woman……unless….unless….

No. It couldn’t be. That’s preposterous. But what if it’s not? Holy Shit Balls. Are they into Menages? My mind instantly went to the Seinfeld episode where Jerry’s girlfriend calls his bluff and wants to have a 3-way with him and her friend, but he can’t bring him self to do it. It’s hilarious, but now I’m starting to relate to it on a whole new level. One I do not appreciate. I glanced at the husband. He was smiling at me all, cat-that-ate-the-girl-from-the-party.

So this morning when we woke up in bed, they were all, that was HOT.

KIDDING. But if you’re into that sort of thing and you just got a visual, you’re welcome.

I understand I could be way off base. She could be totally secure with herself, and obviously her marriage, and was being genuinely sweet. Maybe I’m just not used to that behavior so I read it wrong. Perhaps she had had more to drink that I thought. Maybe she just found me irresistibly adorable. I mean, who doesn’t? Probably.

Or….what if my gut was right? What if they sought me out like some sort of prey, and I was on the menu? Sweat beaded my forehead as I began to panic. What if they corner me in the bathroom? What do I do? I mean, I can’t go through with it, but I did really want to go shopping with her….holy orgy, Batman….

….what do I do?…..

….how do I get out of this?…..


in the form of a tired 9yo who was ready to go home. YES, SWEET BABY JESUS, MOMMY WILL TAKE YOU HOME RIGHT NOW. And thank you, precious child, for ending my night and thus a very uncomfortable situation to explain to your father.

I waved bye to my EX-BFF, thanked the hosts for their lovely party-con-love-triangle, and went home.

So now I ask YOU: Was that strange behavior or am I being a total nut-case? I’m soooo looking forward to your comments!

Editors note: I was going to title this post, I Think She Wants My Boobies, because the last few days a lot of attention has gone to balls via my last post, and I’m nothing if not fair. But then I was like, what if that looks like I’m trying too hard to put stuff like boobs and balls in my titles? And if I were, is that so bad? Anyway, I obviously ended up going with another title, but I want the record to show that I was even steven in my representation of all things round and hangy. Thank you.

Blogging Takes Big Hairy Balls

I know what you’re thinking. Why does blogging take balls? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re putting yourself out there. Big time. You’re holding a neon sign and saying, “Hey world, here I am and all the crazy shit that goes on in my head! Do you like me? Press that thumbs-up button!”

Some days your post may be funny, other days it may be more thought provoking. You never know which your followers will respond to. It’s all a big risk, but you can’t write for some supposed, abstract expectation. So you write what’s in your head and in your heart. You squeeze your eyes and say a little prayer that someone out there in the blogosphere gets you, and you hit that publish button.

To some people this may be a risk free endeavor. People who are comfortable being in the spot light. “Here I am, take it or leave it” type people. They put it all out there, lay it all on the line to be judged or loved. Easy peasy. I admire the shit out of those people.

But that’s not me. Not by a long shot.

I’m more of a “waves from afar, hope you like me but if you don’t then I probably need to apologize at this point” type. Have you ever played that game – that what Friends character are you most like game? You probably have. So keep in mind who you think you’re most like, but then ask someone else who knows you well which character they think you’re most like. The answers won’t always match. My friends all said I was definitely Phoebe. I’m assuming because we’re both blonde and dingy; good natured and a little eccentric. Know who I always related to? Chandler. I never related to any of the girls – they were way too together for me. I related to the shy guy who never knew where he fit in. The sometimes awkward one who used humor to get himself through life, or to cover up when things got too real.

I’m fiercely private by nature, but trying very hard to learn to be more open. It takes tremendous effort to quiet the negative voices in my head and gather the cajones to write. I’ve found this is infinitely easier to do with strangers, however, so blogging is good practice for me. There is a comfortable buffer in sending your words to people you never (or rarely) see. Conversely, handing my novel over to beta readers, whom I know personally, almost made me physically ill. I would have rather paraded naked in front of them. I did it, though. I gave them my novel because I want it to succeed that bad. I’ll do whatever it takes.

So why the hell bother with a blog, Beth? Because I need to, desperately. It’s strangely cathartic. It fulfills some sort of innate writer’s need to share what’s in my head. If I don’t satisfy this call to action, I’m going to end up that crazy lady under the highway that talks to invisible people and shows her boobs to strangers eats paper. And you know, you know, I’ll have like a hundred cats. So I’ll continue to use this awesome, crazy, strange venue to purge what my muse wants to create, and with shaky, tentative hands I’ll offer it to you.

This is what was in my head today. I’m scooping my big, hairy balls over to the side so I can reach the publish button. If you enjoyed it, hit that damn like button and let me feel the love. Even better, comment and tell me which Friends character you think you’re most like. Did it match what others thought? Are you a blogger? Let me know if it takes big hairy balls for you to blog too. You can use a different analogy if you want. Jes sayin’. If you’re not appreciating the testes visual. If you are, you’re welcome.

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award


*WRITER B IS ME* HAS BEEN NOMINATED FOR AN AWARD!!! The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award is passed from Sister-Blogger to Sister-Blogger to recognize blogs whose writing inspires you, and being nominated is a huge honor!

As a very young blog, I can’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude for this lovely gesture. On my recent post, Hold My Hand Until I Can Fake It, Please, this is exactly the kind of fellow comrade support I was referring to.

There are a few rules that go along with receiving this award. I’ve seen different versions, but I’ve chosen to follow those my nominator used:

1. You have to thank the person that nominated you. (no problem there!)

2. You have to include the award logo on your site. (done and done)

3. You have to name 7 things no one knows about you. (ruh roh)

4. You have to nominate 7 other blogs who inspire you and let them know they’ve been nominated. (Only seven? Okay! Can’t wait!)


I don’t think I could say enough about the Sisters-O-Mine that nominated me for this award! They are the Dynamic Duo, Inion N. Mathair, the mother and daughter team like no other. Our blogs united one foggy night and it was kismet! They adopted me as a Sis and have been cheerleaders for my writing and blog ever since. Who does that? Inion N. Mathair do, that’s who. They are givers. And not only that, they are brilliant writers. I happen to know that for a fact because I’m reading their book, The Perfect 7, right now and I can’t put it down! If you haven’t been to their beautiful blog, check it out ASAP!

Now for 7 things about me you probably don’t know unless you’re a stalker:

1. I once took it upon myself to taste and review every Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavor in my quest for a favorite. The hubs and I would each get a new pint every Saturday night and try each other’s. This spanned several months. The result? Five pounds and chin acne. No, that’s not my favorite flavor. That would be disgusting (what would be in it?) That’s what happens when you consume a pint/week for months. The winner? I don’t even remember. Something with the word Marzipan in it maybe? I probably ate the container.

2. For a very large chunk of my life, I was that crazy cat lady. No, really. In my early twenties I had eight cats. Now, you might be thinking….ew, but please know I was young, and naïve, and just trying to save the world one stray kitty at a time. And I took care of those eight cats (without acquiring any more, might I add, cuz I got a clue) for close to twenty years, until the last one passed away. I miss their purrs and little wet noses, but I don’t miss the litter boxes.

3. I can make the veins in my right hand wiggle like snakes. If this writing thing doesn’t pan out, I’m going to the circus with that little nugget.

4. If I could travel to any destination in the world, I’d go to Greece. I want to visit the ruins, the beaches, the islands…all of it.

5. My death row last meal would be Ethiopian food. If you haven’t tried it, do so immediately. My favorite dishes are the vegetarian ones, but everything is good. And, you don’t use silverware! Bonus! My death row music (do they let you do that? they totally should) would be Blues. Probably John Lee Hooker. Or Buddy Guy. Or maybe I would just rock it out to some Florence and the Machine. I mean, it’s my LAST DAY ON EARTH! I WANNA YELL AND STUFF! I love her.

6. I have a terrible habit of falling asleep at the park. While my kids are there. It’s just so hot….and I’m so tired….if I just lay my head on this picnic table for a second….YAWN.  “Mommy?!”  *jerks head up*  *wipes drool from chin*

7. The kiddos and I listen to music in the car all the time. Once, on a whim, while listening to Maroon 5, I told them Adam Levine was once my boyfriend and had asked me to marry him. Their reactions were so awesome, I couldn’t resist but continue: I went on to say that I had to choose between Adam and their daddy, and chose their daddy cuz, when it came right down to it, I knew he’d tolerate cellulite be a better husband and father. They totally bought it. I tried to kinda smile so they’d know I was kidding – but it flew right over their radars. There are currently 7,109,441,475 people on planet Earth and two of them believe with all their sweet little hearts that Adam Levine would actually take me for his wife. THAT’S GOLD PEOPLE. I’m not sayin’ a word.

Now on to the nominees for the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award! My criteria for choosing was simple:  BLOGS I LOVE! I love to laugh, HARD, at stripped-to-the-bone honesty, and I’m also totally inspired by creative, unique  blogs that support other bloggers. So without further ado, and in no particular order:

1. Shitastrophy. Her name is Alyson and she is the funny lady behind this hysterical blog. I watch for her tweets, FB updates, and new posts like a crack addict. There are few people that make me laugh like her, in fact, I can count them on one hand! Her category titles alone will make you spew Diet Coke out your nose! She often guest hosts other bloggers so she’s an awesome Sister-blogger too. Her shit is SO funny, a compilation book is even in the works! I would buy that in a NY minute, Alyson!

2. Baking in a tornado. Karen has done an incredible thing: not only has she created an amazing blog for blogs like mine to aspire to, but she incorporates recipes at the end of each post! She’s also is a MAJOR Sister-blogger, guest hosting other bloggers, yes, but also with her FLY ON THE WALL, and SECRET SUBJECT SWAP writing prompts that engage and encourage bloggers to write, share, and network. THAT’S AWESOME! And a ton of fun! She is sweet, and supportive, and I truly admire her!

3. When Crazy Meets Exhaustion. Stephanie is the zany, hilarious gal behind this hugely successful blog that makes me genuinely LOL all the time. I adore that her “Hiya” is in honor of her Grandmother, and I instantly respect anyone who idolizes the genius Tina Fey! You can just tell this chic would be a blast to hang out with and I can’t get enough of her! Another honest, funny, smart woman. I love it! Must check out her Oversharing page!

4.  Leigh Bones: you can’t hide crazy. Remember how I said I can count on one hand people that make me laugh REAL hard? Leigh is one of them! You want honest? Leigh is h-o-n-e-s-t! And, oh God, she’s so funny and I can’t stand it. If you haven’t visited her site, do yourself a favor, and while you’re there look for her recent post, Labia Lipstick. Not only will you laugh your ass off, you’ll also obsess over what your shade is! Don’t act like you won’t. You will. Did I mention she’s training for a MARATHON? She is. For real. And she’s posting about the whole journey.

5. elleroy was here: funny with a soundtrack.  Linda’s blog is a blast to follow! Not only is she a no-holds-barred writer, but also a photographer, a talented musician, a mom of two boys, and funny as hell! This woman oozes creativity, right down to her Saturday cocktails! I think she might win for coolest looking blog too – LOVE the guitar header! She is definitely a blog I look up to. If you haven’t checked her out, RUN, do not walk. Oh, and if you hate Mondays…you just found your tribe.

6. Is your Father home yet? Oh Mandi, you gave with out taking….I bet you’ve heard that a million times. Sorry for the Manilow reference.  Mandi’s blog is pure greatness. I instantly loved her because of how much I related to her posts, and of course, how much she made me laugh. Check her out. Right now. And when you go, don’t miss her post, Attack of the Asshole Monkey. (and I thought it was funny that my dad had a giant iguana living in his kitchen that hissed at us. It is, but her monkey story is WAY funnier!)

7. The Redneck Princess. I’m truly inspired by Donna’s blog. Just her page categories are impressive: My Photography, Recipes, Beauty, Crafts, The Poet in Me, Tutorials, Give-a-ways, Gardening, and Do it Yourself! WHAT. It’s true. And her posts are honest, sometimes tender, and always funny. AND, she was one of the first people to hop over to my baby blog and like several of my posts. THAT’S A SISTER BLOGGER. So, of course, she owns me, heart and soul. 🙂

Now, I know that’s my 7, but I’m going to do a quick, honorary shout-out to three ladies whose blogs I’m obsessed with. It might be breaking the rules, but I’m blonde so I can just act confused. Had I been able to include these gals on my list I would have, but they were just honored with the award, like, last freaking week so I can’t! But I want them to know how in awe I am of their blogs and writing, and how grateful I am for their *SUPPORT*! 1. Jennifer M. Zeiger 2. Jay C. Wolfe 3. Lafemmeroar

Okay, Sister Bloggers-O-Mine, CONGRATULATIONS on your award! You all deserve it! High Five each other and celebrate! In other words, BREAK OUT THE WINE! And thank you all for inspiring me and making me laugh every day! 🙂

We Interrupt This Broadcast — Leroy, WTF?

If you’re a follower to my blog, you might be asking yourself right now, WTF? Am I on the right site? Rest easy. I just changed themes. I got blog envy and decided to spruce things up a bit. I know, risky move, but I’m a young blog so I figured better now than later, right? This is THE ONE though. I won’t switch things up on ya again. Welcome to my new home. Settle in. Take your shoes off. Of course you can put your feet on the coffee table. Here’s a cheese plate. Wine? Certainly. Red okay?

Now back to our regularly scheduled program…

I was thinking the other day how cars fit our personalities. Not everyone’s I guess, but most people’s. Some choices are purely practical and based on needs. Others pick cars based on how they picture themselves, e.g. rugged and outdoorsy, or efficient, or sporty. Some are chosen based on how you want to be perceived. You pick your color, interior, engine size, 2wd/4wd, SUV, Sedan, hybrid, foreign, domestic, new, used…we all have our fit. And more importantly, they almost all have names.

The first car I ever drove was a purple VW Bug. It had sparkles in the paint and a moon roof. It was FREAKIN’ AWESOME. It was technically my dad’s car – on loan to him through the dealership he worked at or something like that, so I only drove it for about four months during my senior year of HS, but DANG it was cool. I named it Beethoven because I was a nerd and loved classical music it deserved a bad-ass name.

After HS, I borrowed $1,000 from my Grandma and bought a used, yellow VW rabbit named Wolfgang. I drove that car into the ground – until it had to be towed away about three years later. There were a handful of junkers in my twenties that got me from class to class, and waitress job to waitress job, but they’re hardly worth mentioning. A mirror of the state of my life at the time. Then I met this cute guy who liked to take me to hockey games and tolerated my eight three cats. Not long into our relationship I acquired a red Jeep Cherokee named, aptly, Redman – this name chosen for the Redman tobacco my Grandpa used to chew.

Then I graduated college and married that cute guy. The first car I got to buy NEW and pick out all on my own was a silver 4-runner. I liked it because it reminded me of an elephant. Even the side view mirrors were huge like ears. I named it Modoc after, well, Modoc: The true story of the greatest elephant that ever lived, by Ralph Helfer. Over the years (and two kids) Modoc got handed down to my hubs and now I’m driving a black Sequoya that he picked out. Even though I didn’t choose it, I knew the Universe assigned it to me when I saw the license plate. Hand to God, the last three letters are WTF. What are the odds? How perfect is that? This SUV is big, mean, and named Leroy Brown, after the Jim Croce song of the same name. Why? Because he’s the baddest man in the whole damn town; badder than old King Kong, meaner than a junkyard dog.

What is your car? What was your thought process buying it? How is it like you, or not like you? Most important: what is its name?? I LOVE hearing from you!

You see tomato, I see dead guy telling girl to dig up tomato


Ah writers. We’re an odd breed. Quirky. Eccentric, yes perhaps. I was reminded of this recently when shopping with a friend. We perused the aisles of a local antique mercantile when my eyes landed on a lavishly embellished elephant. I stopped, mesmerized. His colors and design suggested an origin of India or maybe even Nepal. I’m a sucker for that. In a *that must be mine* hypnotic trance, I walked over to it.

It got even better.

The body of the elephant was actually a box that opened to reveal another, smaller, silver elephant. WHAT.

My friend was tickled with how enamored I was with it. She encouraged me to purchase it. My initial hesitation was its price ($40), and oh, WTF did I actually intend to do with yet another knickknack? I LOVE elephants, but did I need another one, really?

I went back-and-forth, but of course I bought it. I would have paid $100 because what I didn’t tell my friend is that as soon as held it in my hands and opened its secret box…a scene began to unfold in my mind. A scene where a young woman is digging in the dirt near the Indian reservation where she lives. She’s been digging for hours, fingers bleeding, sweat dripping from her nose, arms aching with exhaustion as she tosses handful after handful of dirt over her shoulder, desperate to find the wooden elephant she knows is there. Why? Because it is time. Her Grandfather told her so. Her Grandfather who’s been dead since she was six.

This is the part of being a writer that’s hard to explain to *others*. My friend saw a unique elephant. I saw a girl digging in the dirt cuz her Grandfather’s spirit told her to. Kinda the same not the same at all. How do you tell that to someone without sounding like a loon bird? You don’t. You just say what I did: “I dunno. There’s just something special about this elephant. I think I have to have it.”

I once was inspired by a peridot necklace that came as a freebie in an ebay order. I don’t know why. I can’t explain these things. I put it on and happened to write great that day. No, I WROTE LIKE A FUCKING ROCKSTAR THAT DAY, and for days and weeks to follow. I became convinced the peridot’s energy had something to do with it.

I wore it for close to a year.

It wasn’t even on a real chain, it hung from a red thread. It’s a miracle it didn’t break, but I was genuinely afraid to take it off for fear the magic spell would end. But wait my lovely friends, it doesn’t end there. I shared the crazy love: it’s in my novel. My main character wears it, because she’s awesome, but also because I wanted the mojo to spill over into my book. (It’s not weird. Don’t make it weird.)

I also have a collection of small, vintage suitcases. Everyone thinks I just like them. That’s true, but it’s not the whole story. I also buy them because they belong to someone else. A character, one that has been sitting in my *character waiting room* (where there’s always killer music and awesome magazines) while she fully forms. She needs these little suitcases, because her trips are brief and she only travels by train. But don’t bother asking her name…she will just lie to you.


Sometimes I feel like that little girl in the movie Signs who keeps filling the glasses of water. No one knows why, not even her, until they do.

If you are a writer reading this, you are nodding your head. You are thinking of your own amulets, totems, and fetishes…and I know you have them. They drive us, inspire us, and maybe, just maybe, even sprinkle magic fairy dust on our muses. So now it’s your turn, writer friend-o-mine. I showed you mine. Quid pro quo. What are some of your good luck charms, inspirations, or things you think are too weird to tell you non-writer friends?

My writing totem can’t wait to hear from you…