Month: November 2013

Screw You, Tommy. Screw. You.

Most of you are probably familiar with the Christmas Elf. You’ve seen him in all the stores as soon as the holidays officially arrived. You know, a week before Halloween. I admit, I didn’t know much about him until last year when my boys started reporting other kids in our neighborhood had elves and I began hearing, “Why don’t we have one, Mom?”

So I told them to wish for one, real hard, and wouldn’t ya know it, the tiny little guy showed up in our house. And by showed up, I mean I went to Target and paid $30 for the “kit” so my boys could have even more joy and wonder over the holidays.

Each child names his own elf. The boys named ours Tommy.

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Did his eyes just follow me?

There’s definitely parent benefit to this deal. The elf’s job is to watch kids and report back to Santa. Talk about bribery. I can’t count how many times I’ve said, “You’d better watch your behavior, the elf is watching!” And it works. It really works. But at the same time, it sort of pisses me off that they’re being good for the damn elf and not just cuz they’re supposed to be…but oh well, tis the season of trying to get on that coveted nice list.

It was kind of sweet, too. In case you’re not familiar, the elf moves every night. Each morning when the boys awoke, their first thought was to find the elf, and to hear their squeals of delight did provide me with a smile. At first. But thirty days of remembering to do this (and I didn’t always remember) can beat even the most enthusiastic parent down.

The boys would report to me what their friend’s elves were doing: “Tyler’s elf brings him presents”; “Olivia’s elf writes her notes”; “Caden’s elf has special clothes.”

Oh, so we’re upping the ante are we? I hear you loud and clear, Tommy.

Loud. And. Clear.

I not only had to remember to move him each night, but had to answer endless questions in tiny, swirly elf writing about his age, his life back “home”, and Santa, with little candies and gifts accompanying the return notes. Worse, the marketing dynamos behind this ruse had come up with little outfits you could buy to dress the elves in scarves and booties. Cuz why wouldn’t a stuffed doll be cold?

Tommy was starting to cause me some serious anxiety. In affect, this little elf had me by the round ‘n fuzzies.

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I was being tugged in two directions: the innocent exuberance in which the boys loved and interacted with the elf was truly precious. On the other hand, I felt resentful towards the whole expectation behind it, and I was getting competitive with other elves.

At war with an elf. Who wasn’t alive. In fact, I’m the friggin’ elf. My god….I gave him the finger when I walked by…..something’s so wrong with me…..

I made it through last year, but I have to say I was thrilled when it was time to pack that little effer away.

This past Sunday we were unpacking all the Christmas décor, and my 6yo found Tommy inside a Santa hat. I could’ve sworn I deliberately put him in a box in our closet to avoid this very scenario.

I was immediately hit with a barrage of questions:
“How could Tommy be in our Christmas stuff?”
“I thought he was supposed to come from the North Pole?”
“Why didn’t he bring us presents?”
“Is this a different one?”
“Is Tommy dead?”

Well played, Tommy. Well played. I have two words for your tiny elf ears:

GAME. ON.

Have you ever waged war with an inanimate object? Is there a holiday tradition you’re not crazy about? Do you have one of these elves? If so, how do you feel about it? I heart your comments BIG!

That’s What She Said Last Night

HAPPY 25th ANNIVERSARY TToT!

I’m pretty sure Lizzi hinted something to the effect of naked people and a cake?! Well, that’s what I heard so that’s what I’m goin’ with. I had better see some nudity, preferably in the form of a hot man. I call licking the spoon!

Ten Things of Thankful

Uhhh, I see cupcakes, but no hottie. WTF? I guess I have to take matters into my own hands, AS USUAL. Please take the time to peruse the at least 15 extra special cakey new additions to my *special* Pinterest board. It was tough research, but I think you’ll appreciate the outcome. Enjoy. I know Lizzi will.

ANYway, I have plenty to be thankful for, but am also a bit panicked because as I’m typing it’ll be just *looks at watch* four hours before my two boys will be home from school for the next nine days. NINE DAYS. This is something to be grateful for. Probably. And I am. A little. But part of me is also squinching (that’s a word, autocorrect!) because of all the writing still on my plate that I’m clearly not going to finish this month as I’d hoped. I sort of forgot about that whole nine days I’m home with the kids right after five days with my family. So I’m taking the pressure off myself *lifts off and throws*. I’ll finish when I finish. *sticks tongue out at no one in particular*

Now on to some fun stuff, you know, since I have no more pressure on me. Yippeeee!

I’m thankful the pressure to finish all my editing this month is gone. Thank you, Beth! Oh, no problem! You’re so welcome! You’re the best! No, you are. No YOU are. Stop! You stop!

I’m thankful for birthdays, namely my good friend, Kathy’s, because she always chooses our favorite Ethiopian restaurant, Queen of Sheba, to have her birthday meal, and it’s always the best day ever. The aromas…the tastes….the whole experience is transcendent. Happy Birthday, Kathy! I had SO much fun. See you in a few weeks for mine. Guess where we’re goin? My mouth is watering already. yebeg

I’m thankful that my almost-fiancé-sextape-partner Adam Levine was chosen sexiest man alive by People magazine! Wooop! Good job, sugar-buns! Way to work it!

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….and thankful/tickled that people went out of their way to text and call me, alerting me of the above news. The fact that others associate me with him is the most fun thing EVAH. My work is done. Now if I can just get him to do it….*taps finger on chin deviously*

I’m am infinitely thankful for maid services. I don’t use them on a regular basis, but every so often I have a full cleaning done…and ermergahrd…I have two boys who keep me picking up after them constantly….to come home to this e-n-t-I-r-e house immaculate….all at once…I have three words for you: better than sex.

I’m so very grateful for Movember, because beards. BEARDS. Facial hair is sexy as hell. Doesn’t have to be full beards, in fact, I prefer goatees, scruff, shadows…ohemgee…hot. This is my favorite time of year. The hubs is looking scrumptious.

I’m grateful for the weather, and this will count for two thankfuls:

a) for bringing cold weather so I can live in beanie hats for the next three months.

b) for bringing “fronts” and “pressure systems” and “drama weather” so I can finally win the weatherman argument with my husband! Our one biggest, never ending disagreement is over meteorology. He thinks weatherman are as full of shit as palm readers (hey – I love me a palm reader!) and I happen to respect the profession. I mean, it’s based on science, people. SCIENCE. I digress…

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Watching the weather at our house is down right comical because I staunchly defend them while he’s busting out an exaggerated forecaster impersonation, which is actually funny so I try desperately not to laugh. Jim knows, he KNOWS, they are right more often than not, he just won’t admit it. This Winter I’m making a graph…I’ll show him….muwahahah. Last night they predicted a strong front bringing cold and rain. IT HAPPENED.

Weatherman – 1, Jim – bigfatzero.   SUCKIT

I’m thankful for last minute babysitters! We’re going to the movies – WOOP! I think we’re seeing…..oh, who am I kidding. I don’t even know. I’m in it for the popcorn….

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Yes. That’s a stein of wine.

(We saw “The Armstrong Lie”. It was pretty interesting. But I drank a freakin’ gallon of wine. The Smurfs would’ve been interesting.)

And that’s ten! No no no, don’t go back and count….it’s ten. Shhh. shhhh *pets your hair* Now go on to comments and tell me what you’re thankful for, or join up with the TToT group yourself! Do you trust weatherman? Come on, pick a side! Are you on Team Beth or Team Loser Jim? I heart your comments BIG!

Katie, Bar The Door!

I’ve been off the grid for four days with NO Wifi or TV!

DA FUH? Who does that? Thank Jesus and all things holy for 4g or I would have gone rat shit crazy on some people. I was able to do some things with my iphone, but was way more disconnected than I’m comfortable with – in other words – I missed you!

Now I’m back and BUSTING. I’m about to unleash everything that’s been pent up in my head for the past five days, hence the title of this post. Enjoy.

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Literally while on the road I find out via twitter that Inion N. Mathair are spotlighting me on their blog this week! I was gobsmacked (been waiting to use that word)! They are an infinitely talented mother/daughter writing duo who’ve been a HUGE support to me since the very beginning, and who’ve taught me what it means to be a supportive blogger. Please do yourself a favor and explore their wonderful blog, and even better, their books! Nightwalkers: The Secret of Jessup.
From the Dark and Twisted Mind of Inion N. Mathair.
The Perfect 7.

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Both boys were late to school a week or so ago because my 6yo had a last minute outfit dilemma (HAD to wear his red converse which had no laces). Each day when they get home I have to sign their binders which have detailed entries from their school day. That afternoon, this is what I found in my 9yo’s binder when I went to sign it:

tarty dangit

makin’ the family proud

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Remember two weeks ago when I went to the art reception and the hubs got me the awesome necklace, but it had to be shipped to me? Here it is. I love its simplicity. It’s a greyish green. Falls just under my collarbone.

birthday necklace

*******

MY TRIP!

Okay, so this was the annual girls trip I do with my mom and three aunts. Last year was in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. This year we stayed somewhat local and visited Ingram, Texas (just outside of Fredericksburg for those of you familiar with the area). The leaves are just starting to change here so it was beautiful. I always forget how pretty the Hill Country is with all the picturesque small towns, dreamy rivers, and enormous trees that stop me in my tracks and take my breath away. And you know, you KNOW, there were so many laughs. It got down-right crazy more than a few times. There are only three of us who drink, and managed to cash five bottles of wine over the weekend.

*A selection of photos for your viewing pleasure*

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Replica of Stonehenge

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My climbing tree

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In the branches

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view from up here

SO, I got talked into (bullied) being the test kayak to go down a very narrow (choked with roots and branches) neck of the lake (stagnant water shit hole) to see if it connected to an adjacent fishing pond. It didn’t. On the way to discovering the dead end, I managed to knock the low lying, dead branches onto myself and my kayak, along with about five hundred (okay a dozen) spiders. The area was so narrow I couldn’t turn my kayak around so I had to stand up and turn around to row the other way back out, subsequently knocking more branches – and spiders – onto my kayak, my shirt, and my hair. During this, two of my aunts were hanging back in another boat saying things like, “You’re doing great!” and “You’re so good at this!”

Whatever.

I wasn’t freaking out about the spiders. Much. I mean, I was squealing and stuff, but that’s all. UNTIL….I glanced over and there’s this freakin’ huge one right next to me coming straight for my shirt – then I just knew they were all over me and I did some sort of Bugs Bunny – Cirque de Solei freak out that I’ll never be able to repeat or explain, and like a cat I flew straight outta my seat and ended up on the end of the kayak balancing on my fingers and toes, but somehow, someway, stayed in the boat. My aunts rowed over and started killing spiders until I felt sure there were none left. I then collected my oar that I’d hurled into the water during my  acrobatic maneuver, brushed myself off, and gracefully rowed back to shore as if nothing happened. I’m resilient like that, however, I’ve officially retired as guinea pig.

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pre-spider invasion

MY amazing family managed to organize and cook the most incredible Thanksgiving meal in our condo. We celebrated early so we wouldn’t have to all travel twice this month to be together. As usual, they give me jobs like: bring wine. This is wise because I clearly don’t have the skills to pull off what they did. In case you’re wondering, the effins were perfect.

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WE went to Fredericksburg’s trade days on Saturday, and while very eclectic and fun, my favorite find was a particular booth that gave me an endless source of amusement while terrorizing friends via text and twitter:

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Does my hair look okay?

IF you’ve ever read my comment section after a post about my family, you’ve seen what’s lacking (comments from them!) and put it together that they don’t read my blog. That’s because they don’t know about it. I’ve often been tempted to tell them. I think they’d be mildly horrified, but mostly tickled and proud. I’ll share an enormous secret with you: They don’t even know I write.

Oh, they know I do Nanowrimo, but that’s because it was introduced to me by one of my cousins, so we talk about it amongst family. But they don’t know I belong to writing groups, or have a blog, or have written a novel for Pete’s sake! I’m one of those people who’s pretty private (I know, seems ironic given the blog) and am more comfortable doing something behind the scenes (in case I fail) and then announcing it when I’ve succeeded.

I need autonomy first.

I’m the only granddaughter/niece in the family, so I look to them, study them as women, and often wonder who I take after most. Each of them artistic, strong, giving, talented, smart, organized, unorganized, funny as shit, dynamic, amazing women. This weekend I realized for the first time something that made me very proud. I’m not like one of them. I’m like all of them.

But there’s this one facet of my being that’s unique to me. This enormous, yet fragile writer part. I envision publishing one day and surprising them, letting them into this sliver of my world. Someday it will make sense to them why I’m always staring off into space. Or why I’m so busy doing….what? What the hell does she do in her free time?

Someday they’ll know I’m a writer.

And then I’ll know it too.

Do you keep your blog secret from anyone? Do you think you’re most like one person in particular in your family, or a mixture? I love your comments!

Well Smack My Ass And Call Me Wanda!

I’ve been awarded not one

– but two –

Liebster Awards!

Liebster_Award

A few weeks ago, my infinitely talented writer friend, J.C. Wolfe of The Wolfe’s Den, nominated me for this award. I’ve been quietly behind the scenes, working on the questions, compiling a list of nominees, when out of the clear blue sky, the amazingly talented wonder-blogger/runner Lizzi of Considerings was drunk generous enough to bestow me another! I’m genuinely blown away with gratitude and excitement! Thank you, ladies!

If you don’t know, Liebster is a German word meaning “sweetie” or “darling”, and this award is generally passed to younger blogs to let them know they’re doing a great job and encourage them to keep going.

I could accept these awards with two different posts, but that would be a shit ton of  arbitrary Beth facts which would probably bore everyone to death – so in the interest of efficiency, I’ll combine them into one….

SUPERNOVA AWESOME ACCEPTANCE POST LIKE A MOFO!!

Random shizzle about moi:

*One of the jobs my mom had during my youth was interpreting for the deaf for a local theater center for several years. Consequently, I knew sign language by the age of 11, and had two best friends who were completely deaf. I don’t remember all of it now, but could tell you you’re cute, and I’d like a hot dog, please.
*I worked for two Dallas area Improvs for over six years. It was an amazing experience…and I have a lot of stories.
*I’m lactose intolerant. But I eat ice cream anyway. The consequences are worth it. For me. Others might disagree.
*My favorite music genre is the Blues.
*My favorite show right now is The Voice, and not just because my almost-fiancé-sextape-partner is a judge. #teamadam
*I didn’t have a wedding. Never wanted one. We eloped in total secret. Our parents didn’t even know. Got hitched in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It. Was. Perfection.
* The TV has to be on for me to fall asleep. 
*I’ve had a running fish tank in my house since July with exactly zero fish in it because that’s how we get stuff done around here. Wanna put money on how long it stays empty?
*I’m a painter.
*I grind my teeth in my sleep so bad I have to wear a night guard. Yeah. Sexy.
*Growing up, I was a total tom-boy. I climbed trees, explored, made forts, got into mischief, played sports with my brother, cared for imaginary animals, snuck on the roof, read every book I could get my hands on, but never, ever played with dolls.

Okay, question answering time! Since J.C. and Lizzi had several in common, I condensed this list to 8 total. Still with me? Here’s a reward for your patience.

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1. Which book do you keep coming back to? Diana Gabaldon’s The Outlander series. It’s never ending, so I can come back to it the rest of my life. But it’s SO DAMN GOOD.

2. What are your favorite genres to read and write in? I love mystery, paranormal, and fantasy. I seek those in particular because I love to have my breath taken away, and I adore being taken to the brink of what I think could be possible, and then yanked right over.

3. Did you ever have a crazy dream job as a kid? From probably the age of 8 or 9 until…hmmm…I dunno, until I was told it was a silly and nobody makes it (combined with my seething insecurity), I wanted to be an actress. I was in drama in high school and did plays. It. Was. Awesome.

4. With which character(s) in all the books you’ve read can you most identify? The one that gets bitten/scratched/taken by a vampire/werewolf/monster and finds she prefers the alternate world and loves the “monster”.

5. What animal would you consider your animal spirit and why? Elephant. Elephant. Elephant. I don’t know why. I’ve known forever. They just are.

6. What was your favorite subject in school? Science. Hands down. My degree is in Environmental Science with an emphasis in Global Climate Change. I loved every single class, even physics. I miss it, but I will say I use science a lot in my writing. It echoes in everything I do.

7. What advice would you like to give the ‘you’ of ten years ago? a) I would tell that decade younger Beth to lower her expectations on herself about 1,000 notches and take a chill pill. b) start therapy now, don’t wait another eight years. c) the second they tell you your infant son has a “sucking problem” and you need to pump all your milk – switch to formula. Don’t put yourself through hell because of pressure to breast feed. F#ck everybody else.

8. What was your last ‘kairos moment’? <<That was a powerful post, first of all. I love Momastery. My last Kairos moment would have to be this past Veterans Day. Jim had off and we took the boys to Top Golf (which is the coolest place ever, btw). The four of us had such a b-l-a-s-t! I mean, you sit on couches, and take turns hitting golf balls while they bring you beer and queso. What’s not to love? Anyway, I adored watching the boys have so much fun. I was totally present, and overwhelmingly happy and grateful at that moment.

And now the sparkly beautiful part! I get to nominate other bloggers! Yipee!

**I don’t know a ton of blogs who are young, have under 200 followers, and have not received this award already, so 5 or so follow that rule, but otherwise it’s a Liebster orgy of blogs I LOVE and just want to put on this list. Nominees, if you want to ignore this award, go right ahead.

1. Mike of Past my curfew. *Go to his blog right away! He’s having a giveaway contest right now through the 21st! Enter for your chance to win one of two $100 Amazon gift cards!  You’ll love his blog, especially his golden retriever, Phoenix.

2. Katie of KCross Writing I love this girl. She’s also working on a novel, so we have a lot in common. She’s awesomesauce.

3. Damnit Lizzi I was totally going to nominate Mike, too! GRRRR. You know what? Screw it. I’m doing it anyway. If I can handle two at once, so can he. Mike of Joe Floggers. You know what I love about Mike? He’s a tiny bit of a genius. He came up with “Ask Joe”, where women can ask him ANY question they’d like to have answered from a man’s perspective and he’ll answer it in his Friday post. Go to his blog and submit a question! I did!

3. Audrey of Falling for me. Brand new blog and she’s rockin’ it with honest stories that leave you wanting more. Check her out!

4. Aussa of Hacker, Ninja, Hooker, Spy. I know she’s been nominated for a lot of awards lately, but I don’t give a rat’s patooka. I love reading her crazy-ass stories and everyone needs to know about her.

5. Jennifer Zeiger. I dig her choose-your-ending adventure stories. I’ve yet to see another blog like hers! So fun.

6. Karen of Baking in a Tornado. Cuz she’s freakin’ brilliant, and supportive, and awesome. I heart her big time.

7. Kelly of What now? Adore her to pieces. She has the best stories ever.

8. Christine of A Fly on our (Chicken Coop) Wall. Oh, Christine. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways….

9. Joy of Comfy Town Chronicles. Cuz her blog tagline is “weird kids, day drinking, cussing, binge eating, and other things I won’t go to meetings for.” I mean, are we twins separated at birth or what?

10.Dyanne of I want backsies. She has kittttieeeees. I like kitties. But aside from that, she’s the BOMB, and funny, and a great blogger.

11. Sandy of Mother of Imperfection. I know you might have to blow me off since Lizzi snagged you, too, but I love you so much I had to write your name down!

If you choose to participate, here are your questions, lovelies:

1. Have you ever seen a ghost?

2. If you had to be one, would you be a vampire or a werewolf? Why?

3. If you could play a professional sport, which would it be?

4. Switch lives with an actor/ess for a week. Who do you choose?

5. Do you have any tattoos?

6. Tell me something embarrassing.

7. What’s the craziest thing (in your opinion) you’ve ever done?

8. Have you ever met a celebrity? Who?

last 3 combined: you go to the movies – do you get a) coke, or b) pepsi, a) popcorn, or b) no popcorn, to see a) chic flic b) action/adventure c) horror movie?

Award Liebster

Pass The Effins, Please.

Abundance

Thanksgiving is the perfect occasion for ushering in the holiday season; it’s a time for stories, projects, cooking and sharing. That’s exactly what this post is about. I’ve linked up with 5 other bloggers, each sharing a piece of what the season has to offer. We have humor, thought, family projects and food.

I hope you’ll click on all the links below to see what we’ve put together for you:

Home on Deranged has a family post about the first and last Thanksgiving spent with mom.
Kiss My List is sharing a simple but meaningful family craft project that does double duty as Thanksgiving decor.
The Rowdy Baker  has posted a recipe for an Iced Pumpkin Roll with Butterscotch Cream Filling.
PinkWhen  shares a project you can display for Thanksgiving dinner and guests.
Baking In A Tornado will share a recipe for that leftover turkey.

Me? Well, I have a humorous story (surprised?) about what happens when someone is pushed just one step too far.

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Living several hours away from the majority of my extended family, often the only time I see them is on the holidays. So it’s odd that when I think of Thanksgiving, my first thought isn’t so much warm/fuzzy family nostalgia, or the amazing food, but more like when you reminisce episodes of your favorite comedy series, because the laughter is what I remember and what I look forward to most. As I’ve posted about them in the past, they are a lively crew with, shall we say, eclectic personalities.

There are too many stories to recount in just one post…like the time my one cousin walked into the glass patio door holding a full plate of food…or how Aunt Jane will inevitably show up behind you with a vegetable hanging out of her nose….or how my brother, who’s notoriously either late or a no-show for every event, will make my mother a nervous wreck until the very last minute, but then stroll in, sometimes even mid-meal, and my mom will be so happy he showed she’ll practically throw a parade for him – and I’m all, hey, where’s my frickin’ confetti? I drove 5 hours to get here with two kids and I was on time….ahem, I digress…

But there is one story that stands out above ’em all and continues to sort of define the holidays with our crew. The story of how mashed potatoes became known as the “effins”.

Approximately fifteen years ago, “the hens” – as I refer to the ladies who plan everything – were divvying up cooking duties, making lists, and getting organized for the upcoming holiday. I’m constantly blown away with the amount of preparation a Thanksgiving meal requires. Thankfully, I’m still given jobs like: bring wine and canned cranberries. Sometimes it pays to suck in the kitchen.

Anyway, as usual, Aunt Anne (of Superhero Otter fame) was given the job of making mashed potatoes, because, well, that’s her thing. She rocks mashed potatoes. What nobody realized was, she didn’t really plan on it being her thing. In fact, she aspired to contribute casseroles and desserts, yet was always assigned mashed potatoes. That particular year, she’d had enough and protested. After a few go ’rounds between the four sisters, where they continued to insist she make them because she did it best, this happened:

Aunt Anne: Fine! I’ll make the fucking mashed potatoes!

Initial stunned silence was quickly replaced with hysterical laughter. Although her outburst didn’t result in alternate meal assignments, it did birth a new family joke: mashed potatoes have never been referred to as such again. Instead, they became the f#*%ing mashed potatoes. Of course, to negate the necessity of repeating the F-word, they altered it to “effing mashed potatoes”…and now simply, the effins. For years since, Aunt Anne has received antique potato mashers for Christmas, lest she forget her special kitchen calling. I’m sure she burns treasures every one of them.

See you in a few weeks, my crazy-wonderful tribe. Aunt Anne, make plenty of effins. I’ll be having two helpings, as usual, because you know yours are the best.

tday

I Get What Your Throwin’ Down, Kindle. Loud And Clear.

A sizzling romance is unfolding right before our eyes.

Perhaps the most evocotive app of all time was recently introduced by Kindle, but they’re not touting it as anything other than helpful. No-o-o. The makers of Kindle are being giant teases. They’re baiting us. Flirting. Easing us in with a sweet little story. Before you even know what’s hit you, the new Kindle will be on your wish list, and you won’t even really know why.

MAYDAY IS WHY

Have you seen their new ad campaign? See for yourself and we’ll discuss:

Okay, so let’s talk. The guy is adorable and dresses nice. His house is bad-ass and unbelievably impeccable. The cleanliness suggests a wife (you know I’m right), yet there’s not a single sign he’s married in sight. Go back and watch it. No sign of family. No toys on the floor, no family portraits, no bra hanging on the doorknob purse on the counter. There’s a guitar mounted in the family room – he plays guitar – hot. A big-ole-doggie sits on the other side of the coffee table. Nice. A dog guy. And did you notice the sexual tension between him and “Amy”? Yeah. Guess how many times he’s gonna need the Mayday button later that night…..

If you had any doubt whether he’s single or if they were really flirting….they’ve come out with a second and third commercial (FF through the first one):

Still no kids or wifey! He does, however, have a niece, and shows Amy her photo….total chic bait! Between the dog, the guitar, and the cute niece, Amy doesn’t stand a chance. Did you see her get all giggly?! Hell, she would have done the hair flip if it wasn’t plastered to her head. Oh, and I don’t buy for a second that she can’t see him. They are soooo gonna DO IT.

I went on a couple of websites to research the new Kindle and I was tantalized by the descriptions. It’s described as coming in either 7″ or 8.9″  depending which model you choose, sheathed in sleek magnesium alloy. Powerful operation system (are they selling a Kindle or the Rabbit?). The Mayday app allows users to seek advice about their device, and operators can even take control of your device from afar (me likey).

I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering two things: 1) what happens when I press the Mayday button? Will I get a hot guy? Because if I don’t, the disappointment will be palpable, and 2) I can’t wait for the next installment of “50 Shades of Kindle” because it’s all sweet and innocent now, but I feel like that cutie with the guitar has a naughty side…

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Do you currently own a Kindle of any model? Have you ever felt the need for live help? Would you use a live help if you had it? Let’s get a conversation going –  I’m dying to hear from you!

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

And Then Dracula Tweeted Me. The End.

*TToT LIKE A MOFO*

*WELCOME*

I’m thankful Dracula sees the value in social media. I’ve mentioned before I love monsters, bloodsuckers, and things that go bump in the night. That’s why when the shows Grimm and Dracula started a few weeks ago, I went a little ape-shit. I followed them on twitter. I retweeted some of their tweets. And then this happened. That’s right. Momma got a tweet from Dracula. (sorry so blurry, translation below)

dracula

In case you can’t see it, my nerd ass tweeted, “@NBCGrimm @NBCDracula My two dates for Friday night! #biteme”

(Shut up. I told you I’m a nerd)

And then DRACULA retweeted me and said, “It would be our pleasure.” (to my #biteme)

 *SQUEEEE*

Dracula won tweets. Forever. *sigh*

I’m grateful for trying new things. Last night the hubs and I were out to dinner with good friends at an amazing restaurant (Meddlesome Moth), and Vanessa mentioned she’d had their mussels and we should get them cuz they were SO GOOD. I said I’d never had mussels before in my life. WHAT?! She couldn’t believe it and said I must try them. So I did.

SWEET BABY JESUS. Next thing I knew, I look up and half the mussel shells are on my plate, empty, and I’m .02 seconds from lifting the bowl to my mouth to slurp the last of the juice.

I woke up wanting mussels for breakfast. This is a problem.

I’m grateful for creatives. Last night we were fortunate enough to be invited by friends (same ones from dinner) to an art reception showcasing the works of around 40 artists. As we walked around I was blown away by the amazing art in that building. I loved hearing artists talk about what inspired them to paint certain pieces, or take particular photos, because there’s a history behind every work…a soul behind the canvas, if you will. I adored seeing their eyes light up, and hearing the enthusiasm in their voices as they talked about their passion.

I get them. I understand that feeling of being compelled to create, but at the same time, not really understanding this crazy-imperative urge. And that need for others to love what you do, but more than that…to understand what you do. It was nice to be around my people is what I’m sayin’.

Plus my husband bought me a kick-ass necklace. You know, to support the arts…

I’m grateful for my hysterical children. Okay, maybe they’re more weird than hysterical, but right now, this very second as I type, my youngest is upstairs singing at the top of his lungs, “My penis is beautiful!”

You can’t make this stuff up, people. (what is it with boys and their thingies??? GAH)

Aside from that, they are so witty and crack me up constantly. The other day we’re all four in the car, and the hubs and I are discussing something about the boys when our 9yo interrupts from the backseat, “Uh…you know we can hear you. This is just offensive.”

I’m grateful for the blogging community. I’m seeing a trend that’s enlightened me to some commonalities among bloggers. Most of them are introverts, or at least were as children; have suffered from anxiety, at some form, at some point in their lives; because of an introverted nature, a yearn to connect or have a feeling of solidarity exists; are extremely empathetic; are incredibly supportive and generous; are smart, creative people who, at the very least, love to write; and who are some of the strongest, funniest people I’m honored to call my friends. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pleasantly surprised by anything as I’ve been by bloggers. I learn from and am inspired by them each day, and couldn’t be more proud to be a part of this crazy-wonderful tribe.

I’m grateful I have access for my friend’s memories My memory is fried. Between motherhood and anti-seizure medicine (a.k.a. migraine meds) I’m a zombie –  so when I don’t remember…oh, say…yesterday, I rely on others. This came in handy yesterday when I had no idea what to wear for the aforementioned art reception, and was on the phone with bestie, Robyn, warning her of my impending outfit dilemma and the downward spiral that was sure to follow. The following was our conversation, to the best of my memory:

Robyn: How ’bout a dress? Why don’t you wear a pretty dress?
Me: I don’t own a dress
Robyn: Yes you do. What about that pretty silver one, don’t you have a silvery/grey one?
Me: I’ve never had a silver dress in my life
Robyn: Yes you did. You wore a pretty silvery dress on a date with Jim like a year ago…with red flats.
Me: Red slacks? What are you talking about?
Robyn: Yes, I remember it. Go look in your closet. You wore it with cute little red flats. You sent me a picture of your outfit that night.
Me: Are you saying slacks? Like tights? *walks to closet*
Robyn: No, you idiot. Flats, like shoes. (she’s sweet)
Me: *Lightbulb* OH MY GREY BANANA REPUBLIC DRESS!
Robyn: There she is….

Thank you, Beanie, for your steel trap of a memory, and for staying on the phone with me for 45 minutes while I tried on that dress with two different pair of tights, two different pair of shoes, and choosing the accompanying cardigan, and waiting while I texted you photos of all of them for your approval. Once again, you saved my ass.

I’m grateful for rule breaking. Cuz this is TEN things of thankful, and although I’m thankful for a million things, this post is getting too long so I’m stopping here. LIKE A BOSS. BOOM. EPIC AND SHIT. HOLY SHIT BALLS (<that one was for you, Amanda) and all those other sayings I like.

Ten Things of Thankful

How Hubba Bubba Saved Me From Lukey Dukey.

This is a post for the fabulous Finish The Sentence Friday, in which this week’s prompt is…

When I was a kid I thought…

HUBBA BUBBA bubble gum (GRAPE to be exact) gave me super powers

super-hero-girl-14418762

SUPER BETH!

Specifically the ability to be outrageously fast. This was important because at my daycare all the girls were constantly chased by a dastardly villain named Lukey Dukey, a moniker he earned by being such a royal shit. He mercilessly chased us during recess, driving some girls to tears. But not I. Because if I reached in my pocket and got my grape Hubba Bubba,

Hubba Bubba Gum photo: hubba bubba 2006090354hubba-bubba-mix-pack.jpg

Unleash The Power

and even just smelled the wrapper….I was g-o-n-e like a flash of lightning!!

lightning-bolt-430640

Lukey Dukey never caught me, much to his chagrin.

*P.S. This is a story my husband has requested I not share at his work functions any more. In my defense, it was an office baby shower and there happened to be frickin’ Grape Hubba Bubba for a party game. WHAT ARE THE ODDS?!

*P.P.S. My husband would like me to add that he’s not a douche nozzle. It’s just that this particular function was the first time his work people met me, so he thought I should save such stories for when they knew my “unique” personality better. *eye roll*

Hubba Bubba Gum photo: Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum 17ffdf32.jpg

Finish the Sentence Friday

Come See My Rock Hard…Muse, What Did You Think I Was Gonna Say?

I was lost, but now I’m found, baby!

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for a few days. But there’s a reason. I was dangerously close to the abyss. The ‘D’ word. (not that one. the other one). It got really bad. No. Really bad. The doubt trolls were eating my brain. Wanna see what one looks like? Are you sure? Mmmmkay….

evil-scary-sinister-woman-tongue-out-11030656

I eat confidence and creativity!

Turns out, regardless how prepared you think you are to have your novel handed back to you chopped to bits, it bruises your ego and wilts your muse like a flaccid p….

petunia (what’s wrong with you?)

So there I was, trying to do the revisions as suggested by my editor, but finding myself unable to do so without hyper-analyzing every word to the umpth degree. It got so bad, come Monday morning I found myself paralyzed beyond the ability to blog – bleh! Yesterday, I deleted four – yes four – attempted posts and ended on the couch in tears convinced it was over – I was going to disappoint everyone who believed in me. I began to fantasize my escape route:  I would shut down my blog and disappear somewhere far, far away, where no one could ask me, “how’s the book comin’ along?”

I hear Borneo’s nice this time of year. I bet they have tree houses! Yipppeee!

tree-house-5264768

I could get those tattoos I’ve always wanted! Maybe this won’t be so bad?

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I wanted to shout out to other writers, “I know this has to be normal…but how the hell do I get out of it?!?” But how could I do that when I couldn’t even pull myself together enough to write a post about it? Last night I was going through emails when I saw I had one from Chuck Wendig’s blog. The title caught my attention: I think I suck and I’m not a real writer. Hmm. That’s similar exactly what’s in my head. So I read it.

***CUE THUNDERBOLT***

 Had I been able to reblog it, I would have. Since I can’t, here’s the link:

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/05/nanowrimo-dialogues-i-think-i-suck-and-im-not-a-real-writer/

Let’s just say, THE M#THER F#CKING TROLLS ARE DEAD.

I can’t possibly do it justice, so you must read it for yourself (it’s hysterical, btw, as is the post prior to it), but my takeaway was (or what I needed to hear):

(1) every novel takes just as long as it needs to be written (2) it’s in the rewrites that you learn how to write well; you must write shit, to learn how to not write shit, and to find gold (3) a real writer writes (4) it took him five years to write Blackbirds. (That last fact took monstrous weight off my shoulders. Oh, and don’t panic. I’m already closing in on year three.)

Proof, you ask? Well, *wipes troll poop off shoulders*

I wrote the new first chapter today! AN ENTIRE CHAPTER, REWRITTEN. EVERY WORD. WOOP!! That’s the most productive I’ve been with revisions since…well, since EVER. My muse is no longer a flaccid p…

pentunia! (really, you’re awful) Now, my beautiful muse is once again a raging, hard, throbbing c…

cattle prod of power, ready to stamp my writer-freak-flag all over those revisions!

*BRING IT ON*

In celebration of getting my mojo back, and actually writing words today (oh, beautiful words! I love you!) I leave you with this:

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It’s that vein, right by his briefs. That’s what kills me. Also, if you don’t follow my Pinterest board “who put this board here?”…uh…you should. Link on sidebar. You’re welcome in advance.

And for the guys who follow my blog (or the girls who play for the other team. Btw, congrats on getting Illinois – woop!)

sexy women photo: Sexy women cowgrl.jpg

Thanks to everyone who cheers me on, has my back, and picks me up when I fall down. I appreciate you more than you could ever know. OH, and thank you Chuck Wendig. If I wasn’t already married and done having babies, I’d offer to have yours. But that won’t stop me from dry humping your leg should we meet someday. I owe you. BIG.

Lucy! You’ve Got Some ‘Splaining To Do!

I think every relationship has a Lucy and a Ricky. The Lucy obviously being the one who’s always getting into trouble, having to be reminded of everything, can be expected to screw up, etc. In our marriage, that’s yours truly. Or it was. Until this past Spring….

My husband and his buddy decided they could build a patio cover for our existing arbor by themselves. Who needs professionals, right? They had “built stuff” before and owned lots of tools, that’s all it requires, right? With an almost cocky confidence and a case of beer, they set off to make a patio cover. I begged Jim to call someone qualified was slightly doubtful, but tried to be optimistic. After all, this DIY project had the potential to save us thousands of dollars.

My Bob Vilas

My Bob Vilas working hard

For two solid weekends they toiled on our arbor until announcing it was finished. They couldn’t wait for the first rain to test their labor of love. We all stood underneath the patio, anxiously looking up. Hey, no leaks! It actually worked! They patted themselves on the back and strutted like peakcocks for days.

About a month later we had torrential rain for a solid week. One morning I stepped on the tile at the backdoor to let the dog out, and it squished under my feet! Water was bubbling through the grout! As I inspected the area (in a panic at this point) I noticed a giant bulge in the drywall over the door.

Uh...dear...I think there's a problem

Uh…dear…I think there’s a problem

Turns out there wasn’t enough of an incline for rainwater run-off because my Bob-the-Blunders didn’t think the type of shingles they used would need it. Also, in their infinite wisdom, they hadn’t put up splash guard, so now gallons of rainwater was being absorbed by porous grout and sucked into our house….along the entire length of the family room. I suddenly could relate with Walter from Money Pit, in that delirious moment when the bathtub falls through the floor and he comes completely unglued in hysterical fits of laughter.

we didn't need that money anyway

we didn’t need that money anyway

What I didn’t realize until months of tile replacement, cussing, caulking, check writing, ranting quiet meditation was the gift this colossal F#@* UP truly was. In that moment, every idiotic thing I’d done up to that point was erased. I was a clean slate, and frankly, would never have to worry about doing stupid shit again, because nothing ever, ever, never, ever is going to trump the time Jim rotted the back of the house off.

I’m the new Ricky, and damn if these pants aren’t comfortable!

Does your relationship have a Ricky/Lucy dynamic? If so, which are you? Have you or your other half ever done anything SO bad the tables turned? DO TELL!