I'll be the one in heels

Six by Six

2010-09-02T07:31:00.002-05:00

In my defense, I haven't done a meme in a long, long time. Maybe all year. Since the Sundry End-of-the-Year meme. And I'm sick. I have a cold, which has left me weak and tired and maybe a little bit on the cranky side. And Dad is back home and there's not a lot I can do to help but I can do meal plans and grocery shopping and this has made my life infinitely more complicated. Not to complain. Just to explain. So I'm following Carmen's lead because the girl knows complicated.

Six Things I Could Live Without, but It Wouldn't be Pretty:

1. Non-fat lattes
2. Concealer
3. Pony-tail holders
4. Contact lens
5. My Blackberry
6. Access to New Orleans Saints games

Six Movies I’ve Never Seen Before

1. The Princess Bride

2. The Wizard of Oz

3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind

4. Avatar
5. Silence of the Lambs
6. Deep Throat

Six of My Pet Peeves

1. When the doorbell rings and Chip says, "Who is that?" as if I have Xray vision or something.
2. When construction takes the road down to one lane with barrels blocking it off and drivers go like 20 mph. Why does one lane scare you? How many lanes were you driving in before???
3. Repetitive noises like when someone rattles their keys.
4. People who talk in paragraphs when all I really need is bullet points.
5. When I'm trying to get dinner on the table and members of my family decide that now would be the perfect time to bring all their dirty cups and glasses to the sink and maybe I'll just wash my hands while I'm here and OMG what are you doing now?? What? Me? I just wanted to get a drink of water. OMG GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY I'M TRYING TO GET DINNER ON THE TABLE.
6. Flies.

Six Things I Really Love Doing

1. Reading

2. Writing

3. Baking
4. Napping
5. Eating ice cream
6. Crossword puzzles

Six TV Shows I Enjoy

1. House
2. The West Wing
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4. Project Runway
5. Friday Night Lights
6. The Amazing Race

Six Jobs I Have Held

1. Senor Taco
2. Data Entry at Terry Bradshaw's country club
3. Daycare teacher
4. Communications & PR for St. Jude
5. Waitress at Chili's
6. Waitress at The Bottom Line which sounds like a strip club but it totally was not. It was a corner bar-slash-sports bar kind of place.

Six Books I've Never Read

1. One Hundred Years of Solitude
2. Any of those sparkly vampire books
3. Moby Dick
4. Lord of the Rings
5. Million Little Pieces
6. Catcher in the Rye

Six Movies I will ALWAYS Watch That Prove I'm Totally Shallow

1. Urban Cowboy
2. Selena
3. The Breakfast Club (Does that say "shallow?" Or just "young?" "Young at heart" maybe?)
4. Wolverine (And here's why: because I only watch it for the Tim Riggins scenes.)
5. The Outsiders (Come ON. Every cute boy from my teen years is in that movie.)
6. Evita (When the crowds are standing below her window, singing out to her, in kinda sounds like they could be singing, "Ka-leeeeee-sa, Ka-leeeeee-sa" doesn't it? Yeah, it doesn't get much more shallow than that.)

If you pick this up for your blog or facebook page, leave the link in the comments section. x

Happy Birth Day

2010-08-30T08:13:00.001-05:00

Seventeen years ago today, I was at the hospital, determined to get through this thing without drugs. When the contractions came, I screamed. I squeezed Chip's hand. I cursed.

But Elijah was a good baby from the beginning — even the labor went quickly. And by dinner time, I had a tiny little very perfect baby boy in my arms. He ate well. He slept well. He was easy to potty train. I often said that your first baby is always the easy one; that's how God tricks you into having more. You're all, "Oh hell, this is easy! I can do this!" and then He slams you with the child from hell. But the joke was on God. I stopped after the first.

Elijah was a deeply spiritual and compassionate child. He was wonderful with kids younger than him and would've made a fabulous big brother. He's played basketball since he was about 5, I think. It was a good choice since he eventually grew to over 6 feet tall. In high school, he joined the rugby team as well. I still don't know all the rules but I sure do enjoy watching him play. Who knew had had such toughness in him?

I'm a right-brained girl who gave birth to a left-brained boy. By middle school, Elijah could do math in his head that I had to scratch out on paper. In high school, he was acing chemistry and physics. His favorite show on TV is Myth Busters.

This is his last year of high school. He's closer to the grown man that he will be than the little boy that he was. Raising him has been such a wonderful blessing for me that I would give anything to be able to do it all over again. Not because I would change anything. Not because I can't let him go. Simply because I enjoyed it that much.

Elijah, you are a delight, and you always have been. I love you, my son. Happy, happy birthday to you. It certainly was a happy birth day for me.

What a week.

2010-08-27T11:47:00.001-05:00

Someone said to me that they couldn't believe how much I had posted this week, given all that's been going on. I responded, "How could I *not* write?" I mean, given all that's been going on.

I started out Monday feeling overwhelmed by your outpouring of Kindness. To be honest, I'm still kind of basking in it. And the great thing about the internet, I can go back and read the kind notes and comments again and again and again.

Tuesday I started talking about the Healing. And writing about the healing has helped to actuate the healing.

I also wrote a guest post at Whatever Nation about the biological reason why your teenager acts like a moron. (Spoiler: He can't help it.)

And in fashion, there was the rumor that Marc Jacobs is branching out into plus-sized clothing that got me thinking about where to find stylish clothes in those sizes. And don't forget, while you're over there, there's just a couple days left to enter to win a beautiful piece of Shining Stones jewelry.

Wednesday, my life turned into a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. (Another spoiler: It had a happy ending.) And over at No Excuses, I advised on Funeral Fashion. Oh yes, I did just go there.

Yesterday I slacked off. And today, I have a post at No Excuses about my new ring! With a bonus discount code for you to get some jewelry too. So make sure you check that out.

Tonight there is dinner with one of my favorite families followed by the GHS vs. CBHS game: The Battle of the Alma Maters. (I'll be cheering for Elijah's Red Devils!). Kiss your babies and have a lovely weekend, my friends.
x

I'm thinking Rachael McAdams...as Me.

2010-08-25T07:30:00.020-05:00

I swear to God, Nicholas Sparks could not make this shit up if he tried.

So let's review where we finished reading yesterday, shall we? The 89-year-old father has fallen and broken some ribs. He was in the hospital for about 10 days and now he's been in the Jewish Home rehab area for about two weeks. While he's in the home, his wife of 68 years has passed away. The family went to St. Louis for the funeral, so she could be laid to rest next to her daughter, who died of cancer 14 years ago. Dad is unable to attend Mom's funeral because he can't make the trip to St. Louis.

I agree, children, it is a very sad story. So let's see what tonight's chapter holds...

********
The Jewish Home has decided they must send Dad home. He is thrilled by this news, as all he's done since he's been there is to say, "I want to go home. I want to go home." Sadly, they are not sending him home because he is rehab'ed and ready. Rather, he's been ornery and uncooperative and has refused to do his physical therapy, so it is necessary for him to give up the bed. The home is full, with a waiting list, and can not allow him to stay if he is not working to improve.

Chip and his two brothers went to tell Dad he is going home. "Mom will not be there," they reminded him. "But Rocco is there! He misses you and can't wait for you to come home."

Rocco is Dad's dog. The two are inseparable. The dog follows Dad wherever he goes and even sleeps next to his bed. With Dad gone, Rocco has continued to sleep by the bed, awaiting his return. With Mom gone, Rocco seems very confused. Chip's brothers from out of town — David and Robert — are staying at Mom and Dad's and I think that's helped, but the poor dog desperately misses his family.

Yesterday the yard guy came and cut the grass. "Be sure you close the gate after you mow in the back," Chip told them. "Mom and Dad's dog is still here." Later that evening, Rob and David went with Chip to visit Dad at the home. When they returned, David let Rocco out in the back yard. The brothers sat down to eat. After dinner, David opened the back door and called Rocco back into the house.

Only Rocco did not come.

David stepped into the yard. "Rocco? Rocco!" The dog is old and hard-of-hearing. Dave wasn't sure he would hear him calling. As he walked around the yard, he saw the sight that further shattered his already broken heart.

The gate was open.

Rocco was gone.

The only companion left for Dad to return home to. Now also gone.

The family sprang into action. The brothers spent most of the night combing the area. In the morning, the smart and clever PR girl in the family — who also happened to be stylish and quite fashionable — called a television station. She pitched the story as a "human interest story" and the afternoon newscaster came out with a cameraman to cover it. She found photos of Mom and Dad and Rocco to send to the news station. She even made a flier to post around the area. Thank goodness for her quick and decisive actions...

Oh wait. Sorry. I lost the storyline thread for a minute there. The true story is, PR girl was in such a rush, she ran to her in-laws' house without so much as brushing her hair or putting on makeup. Naturally the newscaster decided she needed to interview BOTH David and the talented PR girl on camera. Nice.

The story ran at 4 and 6 p.m. and the station posted it to their web site. (WREG-TV News Channel 3 Memphis. Shout-out!!). A family friend offered to laminate the fliers and they went up that evening. Everyone waited on edge, praying for the phone to ring...

********
No no, I'm sorry, children. Just one chapter tonight. We'll all have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens to Rocco and the rest of the family. Good night, now. Sweet dreams. x

PS — After the kids went to bed I read ahead. The dog makes it home safely!! As soon as the story airs, all these people start calling to help — one guy offers to put up a $500 reward to find the dog, one lady offers to activate her pet network across the city, one lady calls and says she and her husband are driving around the area searching for Rocco. And one lady calls: she has Rocco in her backyard. Well thank god! Finally, a happy ending in this stupid book!

A Family Heals.

2010-08-24T08:14:00.005-05:00

Mom's services were held this weekend in St. Louis. It was her wish to be buried next to her beloved daughter, Ellen, who we lost to cancer 14 years ago. Being with family for two days was hugely cathartic for me. So much love and support and grace.

I'm not even sure how much of it I'm ready to talk about yet. So many tears were shed. I will say this, though: the time I spent with the family — mourning, remembering, crying, laughing, hugging, holding — was far more healing for me than the actual service was. The service was beautiful, and I felt much more at peace after it was over. But I believe the real healing took place in communion with loved ones. Which is another reason why your kind words and messages have been so helpful to me.

This is my SIL Sharon. She is married to Chip's oldest brother, David, and they live out in Southern California. I love Sharon so much. Despite our age difference and our geographical distance, she feels every bit as much a true sister as my own does. And we are. Born not of the same mother's womb, but from the same mother's heart.

This is Sharon and David's daughters, Lisa and Lori. Lisa was Mom and Dad's first grandchild. They are Chip's nieces but they are older than he is! They are Orange County girls, as you can tell. Everyone in SoCal looks like a movie star. Lisa and Lori are passionate and beautiful women, inside and out. I love how close they are as sisters. It's such an inspiring thing.

This is Chip's oldest brother, David. Dave has the famous Hyman Hairline, which Chip, too, will be sporting very soon. He has been a tremendous help to Chip in making decisions about his parents. He and Sharon very unselfishly drove across the country to stay at our house while we were at the beach this summer, to help look after Mom & Dad while we were gone. Smokey kinda loves Dave now.

This is Rob and Nancy, the youngest of Chip's siblings and his wife. They live in New Jersey outside NYC. They have three great sons who were not able to come to St. Louis. The oldest is a very talented guitar teacher in New York who argues with me on facebook about my musical tastes; the middle son is married and lives in Israel; the youngest is Elijah's age and will leave for Israel in a week where he will complete his Senior year of high school. Nancy is always so patient with my unending questions and willing to explain to me the traditions carried out during an occasion such as this.

This is Claudia. She is the first born to Chip sister, Ellen. Claudia is a social worker, just like her mom. She lives in Chicago with her husband and two beautiful children. Claudia is so smart and she always makes everyone feel so at ease, which I understand is a trait that Ellie had. Remember when you were in college and there was that one really smart, cool girl that you kinda had a girl crush on because you secretly wished you could be just like her? Yeah, that's Claudia.

This is Claudia's younger brother, Micah. When their mom died, Elijah was just 2 1/2 years old. I remember thinking to myself that I would be so grateful to be able to do as good a job raising E as Ellie did with Micah. He's smart and generous and kind and I just adore his wife and little boy. Micah is a lawyer in St. Louis, but he's one of those principled lawyers who, like, helps old people or something. He's really quite amazing.

This is Rabbi Susan Talve. She was Ellen's Rabbi and conducted her services as well as Mom's. Rabbi Talve is an amazingly spiritual woman. Every time I am in her presence I feel the presence of God all the way to the core of my being. She is so inspirational and I am grateful for her contribution to our family's healing this weekend.

And this is my son, Elijah. His Nana was the first loss Elijah has had to face in his young life. He wrote a beautiful tribute to her on his facebook page. Since his dad chose to remain in Memphis with his father, Elijah stood in for Chip in all of the memorial traditions assumed by the departed's son — serving as pallbearer, participating in the Kria (tearing of the shirt), and, as the final gift one can give their deceased loved one, completely filling the grave with hand shovels following the services. I think that Elijah grew up this weekend in a way that you only can when you are faced with grief and heartache. I was exceedingly proud of him.

Kindness.

2010-08-23T07:37:00.001-05:00

Remember when that blogger tweeted for prayers because her baby had fallen in the pool? And then that horrible sucky lady was all, "I don't think this is even true. I think she just did this to increase her stats. Who would twitter at a time like that anyway?"

I'm here to answer that question: ME. I would twitter at a time like that.

Last week, I twittered and facebooked and blogged the loss of my mother-in-law. And I didn't do it to increase my stats and I didn't do it to impress you all with my fabulous prose. I did it because, from the very first 140-character update at 10 o'clock on Wednesday night from the ICU, I received an incredible outpouring of love and support from the online community. The kind words and notes of good thoughts and prayers became the one thing I could rely upon to get me through the heartbreaking events that unfolded.

And the thing was, I never expected it.

I mean, I expected a little bit of it. I expected maybe a tenth of the @ replies and DMs and text messages and wall posts and comments and emails that I received. I never expected to be so completely overwhelmed with such heartfelt messages. I thought that things like that only happened to the online A-listers but what I've learned is that this community doesn't really care who you are when you're hurting. It reaches out and gathers you up in its virtual arms and says, "Don't worry...we got you."

And it made me cry. A lot. Like every time I'd check my messages. Because I just felt so loved.

I wish I could personally thank each and every one of you who reached out to me last week. But I wouldn't even know where to begin. So thank you. And you and you and you and all of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I do not have the words to express how very, very much it has meant to me.

Life. And Death.

2010-08-20T07:58:00.028-05:00

August 19, 1:06 p.m.
I am less than five minutes from the hospital when I get a call from Chip. I answer it but he doesn't say anything. Then just howling sobs. "Oh honey, hold on," I say. "I'll be there in a minute."

Life. And Death.
She married Jerry in 1942, when she was just 17 years old. She was a humble hat shop girl, he, a navy instructor headed for war. It's what they did in those days. Their first home was a "one bedroom with kitchen privileges," a fact she liked to share with her children as they each moved into their first wedded home. They were married a little over 68 years. She had eight babies, four living children, eight grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. And no divorce. For all those generations of off-spring, Jerry and Estelle have set the example for loving, dedicated commitment.

Chip was with her when she passed. He sat next to the bed and took her hand. "I love you, Mommy. I'm here." and just like that, the monitor flat-lined. And she was gone. How does the soul know to leave the body at the exact moment when the heart stops beating, the lungs cease taking in breath? Where does it go? Did she float up by the ceiling, looking down on the scene? I wish I had thought to look, to see if she was there. How does the soul know where to go? Is there a light to follow? Jennifer Love Hewitt to guide her? Is Ellie calling her from the other side, anxious, finally, after 14 years, to reunite with her beloved mother?

Grief is an evil bastard. It slices you open and lets your heart bleed and it doesn't even have the decency to make a clean cut with a smooth knife. It chooses instead the serrated blade, leaving a jagged, raw wound. Oh, that will never heal without a scar, you realize. That there, that's gonna leave a mark.

After 68 years together, you would hope they could exit this world together, lying in one another's arms, simultaneously shedding this mortal coil. But that only happens in Nicholas Sparks novels. You'd think at least that the first one to go would have her life's love there with her. But Mom was here, in the ICU of Baptist Hospital, and Dad was across town in the Jewish Home, unaware that the love of his life was taking her last, labored breaths. Such a cruel twist of fate from a world that aches for love such as theirs. Their devoted youngest son, the only family member able to make it to her bedside in time to hold her hand as she left. "I love you, Mommy. I'm here."

On the pinky finger of her right hand, Mom wore a tiny silver band. No thicker than a paperclip. I never asked her what it was. I liked to think it was her original wedding band. Sparse and slight from a time when the country, the world, was at war. The kind nurse who cleaned Mom's body used some ointment to get it off. She wiped it clean on a cloth, handed it to Chip. "Would you like this?" she asked. Chip took the ring and, knowing it was too tiny to fit on any of his fingers, handed it to me. I'm wearing it now. On the pinky finger of my right hand, just as she did. A reminder of a life. And a death. And a love.

Last Night

2010-08-19T07:20:00.001-05:00

Aug. 18, 10:12 p.m.
I'm at the hospital with Chip. His mom has been moved to ICU. Her bp is so low they "couldn't get it." Now we wait. I don't know if they'll even let us see her tonight. Chip is doing remarkably well, given how thinly he's stretched these days. His mom at one hospital, his dad inpatient at another location. I don't know how much more he can take. I wish I knew how to help him more. There's so little I can do to help. We've never actually said to one another, "They may never come home," but I think we both know that's the case.

When Chip's dad went into the hospital, his mom become symptomatic herself. It felt like just another issue for chip to have to deal with. It's what she does. She did the same thing when her daughter was dying and she suddenly thought she had cancer. I call her it co-dependent hypochondria. But then Chip talked to her on the phone and she sounded like she'd had a stroke. So he went to check on her, and ended up taking her to the ER. They said that her blood sugar was all out of whack (she's diabetic) and that she had pneumonia. So they admitted her. Turns out she's been giving herself insulin shots twice a day without checking her blood sugar first.

And it occurred to me then what might be happening.

Jerry and Estelle have been married almost 70 years. That's practically unheard of. She was 17 when she married him. Everyone always warned me, "When one goes, the other will go very soon thereafter." Which makes sense really. She absolutely does not know how to live without him. How could she? So when he went in the hospital and then was moved into the home, I guess everyone was fearing the same thing: That he would never be back in the house they've shared for some 50 years. I think her system started shutting down.

Jerry only wants to be home. He's only semi-coherent when we're there. He says, "Chip. I'm very sad. I want to go home." Today Chip told him that Mom is in the hospital. He hadn't wanted to further upset his dad, but I think he (Chip) was afraid that if he mom passes, it will come as too much of a shock without some advance warning. he said his dad laid there, like he was registering it, then he said, "I want to go home." I'm not sure he totally gets it.

So we're here, in the ICU waiting room. Waiting.

10:45 p.m.
Chip went back to see her. He said he had to get her to sign some papers — the living will and such — and told me to stay in the waiting room. No one really needs to say the words out loud. Everyone knows the severity of the situation.

11:25 p.m.
Chip came back out. He looked a bit relieved but also somewhat emotional. He talked to his mom about the DNR, then signed that. She signed the living will and other paperwork.

The doctors said she's had heart failure from acidosis (IDK what that means.) and has very low O2 levels. Also, there's some sort of bulge in her abdomen which I'm wondering may be an abdominal aortic anuerism?

I went back with Chip to see her. Her eyes were open but she didn't seem to know I was there. "Mom? Mommy?" I've noticed he's started calling them "Mommy" and "Daddy" and it makes me sad. She moaned slightly but didn't seem to register our presence. I rubbed her arm — the entire back of her hand is black and blue, from IVs, I guess. Then I started to tear up. I wanted to get out before I started to cry because I just did not want to upset Chip. I said, "I should go," hugged him and turned to leave. "Hey," he said. I turned around. There were tears in his eyes. I hugged him again. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you." I kissed him, told him I loved him, and I left. I sobbed.

I never imagined it would be like this. I thought they'd go in their sleep. I thought we'd get a call. I didn't expect we'd have to see them suffer, lying in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe. It's heartbreaking and I just want to make it less painful for Chip.

12:10 a.m.
I tried to buy a bottled water but all the vending machines were sold out of everything but soda. Hello? Baptist Hospital? We have an obesity epidemic in this country. How about some freaking water in the soda machines? Or are you just trying to drum up future business?

12:30 a.m.
Chip will spend the night in the ICU room with his mom. I'm in the ICU waiting area (Recliners! Pillows! Blankets! Lots of strangers snoring!), reading Laura Munson's book, highlighting passages that speak to me.

12:50 a.m.
They're taking his mom to X-Ray her stomach. There is some sort of mass? They've put contrast in through a tube in her nose. I was kind of surprised they run tests in the middle of the night like this but Chip said they may have to do surgery. he went to go get something to eat. I opted to stay here. I asked him to bring me some bottled water from McDonald's.

1:55 a.m.
I'm sitting under the lighted side of the ICU waiting room so I can read. And write. I consider dozing off for a bit but know I won't really be able to sleep. Maybe I'll be up all night.

Chip left only shortly to get a bite to eat. when he returned, he went back to Mom's room to wait for her return. Maybe I'll walk up there and check on him, and on her progress.

The pen I brought is leaky and I have blue ink on several of my fingers. Old school.

2:25 a.m.
Every couple of hours I make the long trek through bright, empty hospital corridors to the ER entrance, where I can get a phone signal, check twitter. I find Chip's twitter stream to me — a loving son's heartbreak as he attends his dying mother. Like Sally Field at the end of Steel Magnolias, he refuses to leave her bedside. "What if she wakes up for a minute and I'm not here?" Malynn asked. Only for Chip, it's simply because he does not want her to die alone. And that is infinitely more sad.

3:05 a.m.
The ICU nurses tell Chip that she's as stable as she's going to be. The X-Ray didn't show any sort of blockage or obstruction. They said she's got infection throughout her body and she's retaining a lot of fluid, which is putting pressure on all her organs — lungs, heart, kidneys. They suggested Chip should go home and sleep for a while. They insinuated that she probably wouldn't die tonight and that they would call if she takes a turn for the worse. We come home. He takes a sleeping pill and sleeps with his phone beside his head. I do not take a sleeping pill and end up awake three hours later, desperately searching for some benadryl or something to give me a little bit of relief.

Thank you to everyone on facebook and twitter for your kind and supportive words and prayers. It really does help to not feel so alone.

IQ Smackdown: Boy vs. Dog

2010-08-17T07:22:00.005-05:00

Is testing your dog's IQ going to be the next big thing? If so, I definitely want to get in on it early. Cause I'm a trailblazer like that. Cutting edge. An early adopter.

Unlike Allie and Amy though, I don't think my dog belongs on the short bus. I think my dog is really, really smart. In fact, I think my dog is probably smarter than my teenager. And I set out to prove it.

This is my dog, Smokey.

This is my teenager, Elijah.

Test One
Hide a treat under a can. Time how long it takes your dog to knock the can over and get the treat.

Smokey: Sniffed around for the cheese but never would knock the cup over to get it. The test awards 1 point for knowing it was under there but not being smart enough to get to it.

Elijah: For Elijah I used an Oreo cookie. I waved the cookie in front of his nose so he could smell it. Then I put it under a plastic cup on the kitchen counter. He just rolled his eyes at me and walked away. He didn't even sniff around the cup. So he gets 0 points.

Round one goes to SMOKEY.

Test Two
Throw a blanket over your dog's head and shoulders. Time how long it takes him to work himself free.

Smokey: Simply backed out of the blanket in under two seconds. I didn't even have time to snap a photo. 5 points
Elijah: I kind of tricked him. I threw the blanket over his head and he thought I was testing Smokey's IQ, so he just left it there. 0 points.

Round two goes to SMOKEY.

Test Three
Test three was a stupid test so we didn't do test three.

Test Four
Hide a treat under a towel. See how long it takes your dog to move the towel and get the treat.

Smokey: Licked the towel for a while but eventually pulled it off and ate the cheese. It took him 1 minute, 36 seconds, which rates him 3 points.

Elijah: Did not try to retrieve the oreo at all. For some reason the test gives him 1 point for that.

Round Four goes to SMOKEY.

Test Five
Put a treat under a table that the dog can not fit his head under. See how long it takes him to use his paw to get the treat.

Smokey: Did not use his paws but did try to get it with his snout. The test awards 2 points for that.

Elijah: Lifted the board, but didn't eat the treat. Probably because it was a dog treat. And it was on the floor. Come to think of it, he should probably get bonus points for not eating it. 5 points.

Round five goes to ELIJAH.

Test Six
Call your dog by other words besides his name. See if he still comes to you.The dog gets some points if he shows interest in coming but more points if he waits for his name.

Smokey: The first time I performed the test, Smokey had already had four pieces of cheese. So he simply laid where he was, thumped his tail a few times, and looked at me like, "What do you want, woman? My stomach is full." Then I tried to repeat it with Elijah in the room and he was so excited he just ran back and forth between us. 3 points.
Elijah: "Refrigerator." He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Movie." "What are you doing?" He showed no interest to come. "Elijah." "WHAT?? Oh my gawd." Rolls eyes, walks away. 1 point.

Round six goes to SMOKEY.

And the totals:
SMOKEY — 14 points
ELIJAH — 7 points

And there you have it. My dog wasn't nearly as smart as I thought he was. But he's still twice as smart as my teenager.

My Blogging Beginning Comes Full Circle

2010-08-13T10:24:00.000-05:00

I wrote my first blog post on June 12, 2004.

I had been reading blogs for probably almost a year before that. I don't know what blogs I was reading back then and I'm honestly not even sure if those people are still blogging. There was this one girl from Houston — Heather? Heidi? Shoot. I really can't remember — who decided to sponsor a Win A Blog contest. The rules were you submitted three written pieces and a group of bloggers that she assembled would judge them. The winner would get a blog design and free hosting for a year. So I entered.

I was honored to come in third in her contest. Really, I've always loved any sort of validation of my writing. Heather/Heidi posted the winners on her site. The girl who won was from South Africa. Her new blog went live and I read her entries there. I didn't really connect with her writing and never read her regularly. The girl who came in second already had a blog (I guess she was hoping to upgrade?) and I went and read her entries. They were good. Really good. Really funny. I didn't mind coming in behind her. I told my husband that I thought she should've won.

That girl? Was Carmen. Her blog? Mom to the Screaming Masses.

Some of the judges left comments to me on Heather/Heidi's post. They said, "Your writing is really good! You should be blogging! Go get yourself a free blog on blogspot!" So I did.

I wrote my first post on June 12, 2004.

Some six years later, I'm still blogging and I'm still reading Carmen. I'm pretty sure she's the only blog I've stuck with over all these years. People's writing changes, their lives change, I change. I don't always relate to the bloggers I once enjoyed. But I've never stopped enjoying Carmen.

Over the years we've talked online, emailed, sent Christmas cards and post cards. We've shared Steel Magnolia jokes, passed down kid's clothes and made plans to one day meet in real life. The closest we came was in January. I was going back to Blissdom in Nashville and Carmen was to be one of the speakers! Then a work conflict prevented me from attending. I could hardly believe that after all these years, Carmen was just three hours from my house and I could not get there to see her.

That's when I became more determined than ever to attend BlogHer10. And when the deal was signed and sealed, I arranged to room with Carmen. I simply was not going to miss out on meeting her. After a shuttle trip that took two and a half hours to get me from LGA to the Hilton and several texts back and forth, I was on my way up to the room. Carmen (without a key yet) was sitting in the hallway outside the door, sifting through her swag bag.

As I walked the long hotel hallway toward her, I had to resist the urge to run at her and jump into her arms and wrap my legs around her waist. I really wanted to. And god knows she's probably strong enough to lift me. But I restrained myself to a simple tight hug.

As I said before, there are a lot of things about us that are very different. We have very different political and religious views. Our families could not be more dissimilar. But we both are devoted to our families. We want what's best for our children. We have teen boys about the same age and face similar situations with them. Being with Carmen was just exactly as I'd expected it to be. I know that if we lived in the same town we would totally be besties. And not because of some unnatural high I got from finally meeting her or because we have so much in common. But because being with her is just so damn comfortable. That's true friendship right there.

And I found it on the internet.

Oh, there goes gravity

2010-08-11T12:51:00.000-05:00

Just so we're clear, BlogHer was an excellent experience for me. I had a blast dancing with Carmen at the Sparklecorn & CheeseburgHer parties Saturday night. I met adorable people like Lindsay who I just wanted to put in my pocket and take home with me. I attended a spontaneous 12-step meeting in the Serenity Suite that made me feel so connected and anything but alone. The PR girl for White House Black Market said she knew my blog which maybe she says that to all the fashion bloggers. But I do link to them a lot from my fashion posts so if she monitors that online she may indeed know who I am. Enough feeling sorry for myself. I have too much to be grateful for.

I think my biggest take-away from the conference was this: Introduce yourself to everyone you come in contact with; you never know who they might be. For instance, I kept running into this one lady at panels and in the expo. Imagine my surprise when she turned up onstage Friday night to read her award-winning Voices of the Year post. Her popularity fairly surged after that, and I doubt she remembers in the chaos that followed talking to me by the elevators. In another example, the one person I was really disappointed not to meet was Ann. Turns out she was there all along. In the photo I took of Alex.

^---- Ann Alex----^

So. Back to reality. Chip's dad, who is 89 years old and suffered a fall at home about two weeks before I left, has been moved from the hospital to a skilled nursing facility. They're supposed to rehab him back to being able to return home but it's going to be a struggle.

He does not want to be there. He's lonely and sad and depressed and he understands that he has to do his physical therapy to be able to return home and yet he's ornery and pissed off that he's there and refusing to eat. The home is just around the corner from our house and Chip goes up there every evening but it has been so hard on him.

I wish I were more helpful and supportive but I visited with Chip last night and naturally seeing my FIL in bed like that brings back a lot of old hurts and issues for me with my own dad. My dad died in a nursing home after living there about a year or so when I was in my early 20s. I was young and ready to live my life and had moved away from my hometown, so I rarely saw him. I visited home occasionally — maybe two or three times a year — but I have a lot of guilt and regret about leaving Dad to die there alone. I told Chip that just being there for his dad is the best that he can do. That way, when he's gone, the regret won't hang over him for years like a poltergeist.

People who joke "It's hell getting old" have no idea just how hellacious really old really is.

Overwhelmed.

2010-08-10T09:23:00.001-05:00

Regrets. I've had a few.

(Why, yes, I am still talking about BlogHer.)

By late Friday afternoon I had the feeling that I wasn't making the most of BlogHer. The thing about this conference — the reason I described it as "complex" — is because there are so many, many events going on all at the same time. The items listed in the official BlogHer agenda are only a small piece of the pie. There were parties and dinners and all sorts of sponsored "events" that are a complete mystery to a anyone not on the guest list, like me. There are so many variables in play that BlogHer is a completely different experience for everyone who attends it.

My roommate Carmen and I, for example, hardly ever saw each other. She's been going to BlogHer since year one, and she's far more connected than I am. So she had lots of invitation-only events to attend. I didn't have anything outside of the printed agenda to show up for, and yet it still proved to be too much. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't doing enough. That I was barely scratching the surface. I cursed myself for being so old and tired. In the giant pool that is BlogHer, I barely got my feet wet. Not that it was even possible for me to have dived in. Yet I couldn't help feeling like I should have.

Now I am home, and, along with the BlogHer hangover — the exhaustion and dehydration and mental fatigue — I suffer from an even greater sense that I missed out on so much. I'm seeing all these I-miss-you-already tweets bookended with private jokes and lots of group photos. You can't help but feel left out when that was not your BlogHer experience. I met some really nice people. I made a few business contacts that may further my writing career. I had fun at the Saturday night parties. I got to know Carmen a lot better and really forged a strong bond with her. But I am not in any group photos. I didn't go out for any big dinners in New York. I did not laugh til I cried. Or cry with the feeling that I was not worthy. But I think I might now.

Maybe that's the "overwhelming" part of BlogHer that everyone kept talking about.

Oh, the People You'll Meet!

2010-08-10T07:58:00.003-05:00

Before I left for BlogHer, I made a list of people I hoped to meet at the conference. I was pleasantly surprised at how many of them I found. I got to spend more time with some than I did with others, but it's always fun to discover who you're going to really click with. Some of the best connections I made were people not even on the list. Isn't that how life always is? (Forgive me for talking about what they all looked like IRL. You know I'm just a superficial fashion blogger at heart.)

Carmen, of Mom to the Screaming Masses.
Carmen and I roomed together, but there was just so much going on that we hardly saw each other! I can tell you this, though: Carmen is beautiful and has the most perfectly fit, athletic figure ever which is a little intimidating for a sedentary blubber-butt like me. We had a couple of moments here and there where we got to sit and talk and we hit it off like two peas in a pod. It's so easy to look at how people are different: Carmen has six children, I have one; She's conservative, I'm liberal; She's Catholic, I don't do organized religion. And yet it was so rewarding how well we got along and to focus on how much we have in common. It's a wonderful reminder to us all. (I still owe you the story of how Carmen and I met. It's coming. I promise.)

Carmen is the dancing queen, y'all.

Linda, of All & Sundry.
God, Linda can't weigh a hundred pounds. She is so thin! And she has like perfect round perky boobs. It's like a centerfold body. Which I totally mean as a compliment. Still, the thing that struck me about Linda is that she is every bit as hilarious in person as she is on paper! That is so not how it's supposed to be. We're supposed to be introverts, hiding behind our words. Not Linda. Hilarious and vulgar and it turns out her blogging voice is her voice.

Deb, of Deb on the Rocks.
She rocks, for sure. And she throws a helluva party. I wish we'd had a little more time to spend together.

Maria, of Mommy Melee.
Melissa. I called her Melissa. I am such a dork. She is way cute, and so is her husband. Cutest Couple BlogHer10. Maria seems very quiet and shy but maybe she was just that way around me because she doesn't know me. She is tall and slender and I would really like to trade figures with her but I'm guessing she wouldn't be too interested in that deal.

Maggie, of Okay. Fine. Dammit.
This lady is so smart and gracious and I am completely enamored with her. She is my BlogHer10 crush. And not just because she looked smokin' hot at the Sparklecorn party Saturday night. Her panel on rallying the community around your cause was so inspiring. AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A CAUSE! I just went to support her and hear her speak because I think what she's done with Violence Unsilenced is nothing short of amazing.

Maggie Dammit makes my heart flutter.

Stefanie of Ooph.
You know how everyone in Southern California looks like a movie star? Yeah, you can totally add Stefanie to that list. She is thin and gorgeous and frankly I don't have any desire to stand next to her. Especially in a picture. Gawd.

Ooph. Because sometimes gorgeous people take your breath away.

Mishelle of Secret Agent Mama
I didn't get to meet Mishi until the very last night, but it was worth the wait. She is so kind and just effervescent and she has a kick-ass fleur-de-lis camera strap.

Mishi taking a picture of me taking a picture of her.

Cecily of Uppercase Woman
And man, what a woman she is. I just don't think I have words big enough to describe the generosity and goodness of Cecily. She is a powerhouse of personality and she is so grounded even now in her explosive popularity. I bow down to her. I do. I feel so honored that she even spoke with me and not because she's a blogging rock star but because she's just so damn awesome.

Cecily and Carmen get the party started at

CheeseburgHer Saturday night.

Alex of Late Enough
I did not know Alex prior to BlogHer. After meeting once earlier in the conference, we ran into each other in the hall and stood and talked for a while. I felt such a connection with her and look forward to getting to know her online better this year. Also, the one person I really wanted to meet but never did was Ann's Rants. If I find out this is HER in this picture, I'm gonna be so pissed at myself. Lesson learned: Introduce yourself to EVERYONE you come in contact with at BlogHer; you never know who she might be.

She's adorable, no?

Ellie of One Crafty Mother and Corinne of Tutus, Trains and Teatime
My sisters in sobriety. I didn't get to spend much time with them but the small time we did have was invaluable to me and I want them to know that. I am so, so very grateful just to have been given the chance to meet them, and I look forward to growing closer as we walk this journey together. X Love you both!

I met two A-Listers at BlogHer who had absolutely never heard of me and had no idea who I was. Which is probably pretty good for my first visit. On Friday night, I was at the People's Party, talking to some folks (it was more of a "reception" than a "party), when Jenny The Bloggess twittered this:

"Alone in the bathroom outside the people's party. Please come find me."

Well I really didn't need any more of an invitation than that. So a couple of us went in the bathroom and there she was. I introduced myself. I gave her my card. She complimented my Heels picture. She sort of held court and we sort of...courted her and it was altogether pretty lovely.

Then I took a picture of her with my phone because I was way

too intimidated to actually ask for a picture WITH her.

I also ran into Amy of Amalah in the elevator one time. Now understand that this is a 44-story hotel in Midtown Manhattan and the 2,900 women bloggers weren't the only ones staying here. Every time I squeezed into an elevator I found myself singing that Police song ("Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes..."). So I get on this elevator and in the very back corner is a tall, thin redhead. Lah lah lah. Nothing happening here. And then it hit me who she was. Because I've been reading Amy for many years and I still think of her as a blond and also I had no idea she'd be so tall.

I used my brilliant strategy for introducing myself to bloggers that I recognized: I said to her, "You're Amy!" *Dork.* And I crushed on her so hard that I completely failed to notice her husband Jason standing behind me in the crowd. At least I didn't call her "Amalah."

Amy was one of the hostesses of the kick-ass

Sparklecorn party on Saturday night.

Here's thing about BlogHer and the politics and the social climbing and the comparisons to high school: It was my first time. I know I'm on the fringe. I'm okay with that. Did I get blown off by some people? Yes. Did that upset me? Not in the least. Because not everybody is going to like me. Just like I don't like everybody. And you never know who you'll click with and who you'll rub the wrong way. Not to mention that, at a conference with 2,900 women? It's just silly to get worked up over a snub by two or three. There are literally hundreds more for you to turn around and talk to. And the ones who did talk to me were such outstandingly amazing and powerful women that I just can't complain.

I'm grateful to have been a part of this. I feel so blessed with the new names in my "friends" column. I love that I got to participate fully and be present and be sober and not humiliate myself. Because had I been drunk? I totally would've motorboated Maggie Dammit at the Sparklecorn party.

Not that some people don't get away with that sort of thing at BlogHer. But I just really wanted her to respect me in the morning.

One Word: EXHAUSTING.

2010-08-09T07:33:00.005-05:00

Ohhh. Emmm. Geee. OH EM GEE. OMG OMG OMG. BlogHer 10 was...

Exhausting.
High-voltage.
Complex.

Did I mention exhausting?

The one word I'm not going to use that everyone seemed to use in the pre-BlogHer warning posts is "overwhelming." BlogHer10 did not overwhelm me. But it did utterly and completely EXHAUST ME.

Friday morning I woke up with some seriously bloodshot eyes. I always traveled with Visine when I used to drink. I'd wake up with eyes too red to put my contacts in and desperately in need of some treatment. But I haven't owned Visine in years. I wasn't even up that late Thursday night, though I had gotten up by 6 a.m. three days in a row and that's pretty out of character for me these days.

By Friday night I was so tired that I bailed on a party I had RSVP'ed for. I stayed in and washed my hair instead. Because I am a 1950s housewife, apparently. It turned out to be the wrong party to skip, because it seems everyone in attendance is being shipped an LG vacuum cleaner. That's some serious swag right there.

Saturday morning I woke up with the bloody red eyes again.

I hadn't been all that excited for the Saturday night parties to begin with. Carmen and I had gone out for dinner and were hanging out in the room, trying to decide if we wanted to party or just hibernate, but then someone twittered a photo of the unicorn cake at Sparklecorn. So we decided to go down and check it out. And eat some cake.

We walked into a huge room of disco lights, a kick-ass DJ and 1,000 women bloggers on the dance floor. We made our way over to the cake and took some photos of it. Then the DJ rolled out Empire State of Mind and it was on. We danced. We sweated. We took pictures of and with friends. The party rocked so hard. Look, you're talking about someone who can't even remember the last time I danced.

I burned out a lot earlier than most of the attendees, I think. I was in bed by 12:30 or so. I'd purposely booked a later flight so I was able to sleep in a bit without setting an alarm. Still, I woke up about 8:30. My legs and feet ached so badly. I was lucky my brunch date had had to cancel because I seriously don't think I could've walked a single block. I walked down to the Starbucks in the hotel and that was about all I could do.

I headed to the airport early because the Dominican Day Parade was starting at one on the same street as my hotel. The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in all that traffic and street closings. I tried to read at the airport to pass the time but oh my lord I was so tired and so sleepy and my eyes kept wanting to close. Remember in Hunt for Red October when Jack Ryan spent the entire film proclaiming how he could never sleep on planes but then after the exhaustion of hunting for the Red October, he was finally sleeping on a plane at the end? I thought that would be me on the flight home. Instead I am writing a BlogHer10 blog post.

BlogHer10 was:

Exhausting.
High-voltage.
Complex.
Not my Red October.

Sunrise, Sunset.

2010-08-04T07:37:00.002-05:00

Yesterday my son registered for his Senior year. I don't understand how this could have happened. I keep thinking about my little boy with the blond curls who called the living room furniture a "fosa." Who was infatuated with fire trucks and wouldn't leave the house without his yellow rain slicker and red plastic fire helmet. Even when it was 95 degrees outside. The little boy who quoted Space Jam ("You wanna piece a me? Come and get it!") and asked our next-door neighbor why she had tattoos of spiderwebs on her legs. He was an adorable child.

If a genie granted me one wish, I would rewind time back to age 2. When he still liked to sit on my lap and hold my hand in parking lots. When he was just developing the language skills to share how he saw the world. And the world was still full of miracles and unlimited possibilities.

Given the choice between going to the park or going to the fire station, he always chose the fire station. "Where are the stablizers on this truck?" he asked from his knees, peeking beneath the hook-and-ladder. The firefighters grinned. "He knows the equipment better than you," they teased the rookie.

Elijah was a child with an amazing heart. He told me he saw his recently deceased aunt when we were at her family home. "Don't you?" he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I never doubted that Aunt Ellen was with us when the family gathered. Elijah was still young and innocent enough that he wasn't blind to her presence.

We never had Terrible Two's or even Three's. Elijah was always such a happy child. An easy baby, a good eater, a good sleeper, a breeze to potty train. "That's how God tricks you into having another one," I told my friends. But the joke was on God. I stopped after that perfect first one.

I miss him. I miss my little boy. I want to do it over again. I want to embrace every moment and never forget a detail. I wouldn't change a thing about him, but I would erase some of my more glaring mistakes. I would just make new ones, I'm sure. But I want more time. I want my little boy back. I want to do it all again.

But time moves on. There are no genies and there is no stopping it. My adorable little boy is a young man now — tall and strong and handsome. A whiz at science and taking a college math course this year. He likes cars and hip-hop music and Taco Bell and hanging out with his friends. He's not my little boy anymore. But he's still pretty wonderful.

Delusions of Grandeur

2010-08-03T08:10:00.003-05:00

Most of the BlogHer tips posts I read aren't really all the helpful. You read one, you've read them all. Wear comfortable shoes. Don't over-schedule yourself. Take time out to talk to people. Bring an extra bag to send home the swag. Frankly, I figured out these things just from reading people's post-BlogHer posts over the last four years.

But one post I read — and I'm sorry the blog escapes me — had something original to say. It said to be prepared to realize just how vast is this sea, of which you are but a small fish.

Which I'm sure is true. But I refuse to believe it.

Because I've always had delusions of grandeur. I always believed that if a record producer stopped next to me at a traffic light and heard me singing with the car radio, I'd be bigger than Whitney Houston. Someday I would be interviewed on a Barbara Walters special. I was convinced I would walk a Hollywood red carpet — at the Oscars, most likely, but maybe the Emmys. Or at least the Globes. I have so much to offer. I just need a foot in the door.

Some of you may be surprised to learn that this is actually an alcoholic trait. A lot of us have this issue. It's not because we're so full of ourselves. The big ego is, in fact, most often accompanied by a low self esteem. That may be hard to grasp but trust me, it's true. When you think you're less than everyone else, it's easier to live under delusions of grandeur. No risk of failure that way. In my mind, the only reason I never bagged Brad Pitt was because I just hadn't met him yet.

Now I find myself but days away from a terrific foot-in-the-door chance. I've met more bloggers online in the last three weeks than I have in the last three years. Every morning I check my email to find that another big-name blogger is following me on twitter. OBVIOUSLY I am going to BlogHer to be crowned The Next Big Thing in Blogging. I suspect this site will be in inundated with readers and commenters upon my return. But you'll always be welcome here, my loyal early fans.

Anesthesia

2010-08-02T07:26:00.004-05:00

The last time I turned over my son to a nurse for surgery, she carried him away in her arms. He was 18 months old and he was having his tonsils taken out. There wasn't anything wrong with them exactly, except for the fact that they were just so darn big. They were close to meeting in the middle and closing off his throat. The ENT doctor said he was a one-year-old with tonsils the size of a 16-year-old. They had to come out.

We visited the children's hospital in advance, so he would know what to expect, and hopefully not be afraid. They didn't let me stay with him until he was under, though, like they advertised on TV. They came and took him from me. She carried him away in her arms.

We were waiting in his hospital room when they brought him back to me. I could hear him crying all the way up the hall. She wheeled him in on a gurney. He was sitting up in the middle of it in a backless yellow hospital gown. He was crying. He was probably crying because his throat hurt (not to mention waking up somewhere unusual, confused, without his mommy), but he was too young to understand that the crying was further irritating his painful throat.

When he woke up from the anesthesia yesterday in the oral surgeon's office, he was considerably less frightened. He was actually quite...jolly. Okay, he was loaded. High as a kite. Bang-your-forehead-with-a-Van's-I'm-sooo-waaaasted stoned. And his short term memory was considerably compromised.

"Whaaas in my mouf?"
"Gauze. To stop the bleeding. You need to bite down on it. To stop the bleeding. And stop talking."
"Waaas dissss?"
"Ice pack. To stop the swelling. Put it on your face."
"Scold."
"I know. It's ice. Put it on your face."
"Whaaa time zit?"
"2:15"
"Whenzz las time I saw you?"
"1:30"
"Whaaas in my mouf?"

On and on it went. In the car, he insisted on calling one of his friends. "It be funny." I made him put it on speaker so I could translate for him. It actually was kinda funny.

"Take me da taco bell."
"Honey, you can't eat. You can have a milkshake. Do you want a milkshake?"
"Yesh."
"Okay. Where do you want me to stop?"
"Taco Bell."

I didn't take him to Taco Bell. I went to the Chic-Fil-A drive-through and got him a vanilla milkshake. And a spoon. Then I took him to Blockbuster. I had promised him he could get a video game though I couldn't imagine how in the world he'd play it.

"Leave your milkshake in the car."
He looked down at his hands. "Whaas dis?"
"That's your milkshake. Put it in the cup holder."
"We went to Chick-Fil-A?"
"Yes, honey. Leave it here."
"Whaas dis?"
"That's where you had an IV."
"I dint have IV"
"Yes you did, honey. That's what put you to sleep."

I had wanted to watch the surgery, but they wouldn't even let me out of the waiting room. I'm just that kind of mom. When they sent us home from the children's hospital they told me, "Whatever you do, don't look in his throat. It will just scare you." Naturally, as soon as we got home I was all, "Open your mouth big and stick out your tongue for Mommy." It was gross, too, but it didn't scare me. I looked inside his mouth when we got home from the oral surgeon, but I couldn't really see anything. The stitches must be clear because I can't see them at all.

We spent the night in the hospital after they removed E's tonsils. It was a horrible night. They put us in a room with a crib, even though I'd asked for a full-size bed. My plan had been to lay next to him in the bed so that I could comfort him as needed throughout the night. With the crib, I couldn't even reach him. So I laid on a hard plastic couch with him on my chest all night. Why was there not a cot or a bed or somewhere decent for a parent to sleep in a children's hospital room? Did they think I would GO HOME to sleep? He cried for hours on end that night because they wouldn't break out any pain meds for him.

This time it was considerably easier. They prescribed him percocet. Done and done.

Grateful for What's Missing

2010-07-30T07:53:00.001-05:00

Whenever I go to sleep at someone else's house, I always get a weird feeling in my stomach.

I don't get it in hotels. They're like big temporary spaces that are set up to sleep in while you're temporarily away from home. For a set period of time.

I get this weird feeling in my stomach when I go to sleep in someone else's house. It feels sad and lonely and awkward and empty. Like something's missing.

It's not my house. Not my bed. Not my things.

At the same time, I feel so very, very grateful. I feel lucky. Blessed.

I lay in bed, and I feel like crying. But I'm not sure if it's because I'm sad at what's missing or if these are tears of gratitude.

Because what I'm grateful for, is the same thing as what's missing.

My home.

My family.

My things.

I recognize this feeling in my stomach. I've felt it before — when I was a child.

It feels sad and lonely and grateful.

I am homesick.

Goin' to Jackson. Like the Johnny Cash song.

2010-07-29T07:34:00.001-05:00

I went down to Jackson, Miss., to hang out with my friend Debbie and her daughter Natalie for a couple days. It was great fun seeing them. We had a very relaxing time, swimming in the day and chatting into the night. Natalie cooked sweet and sour chicken for me and it was deee-licious!

Her recipe will be featured on the Duluth~Superior magazine web site. I'll be sure to give you the link when it comes out because it was a very easy and very, very tasty dish.

This is Debbie's yard. God, I do love being in the Old South. Even though it feels like a sauna outside and it took forever for my lens not to be fogged up.

This is Bruzer. He's a long-haired chihuahua. I never thought I'd be a chihuahua person, but I swear, if my heart didn't already belong to another dog, I could love Bruzer. He had legs like little chicken wings.

Debbie has an MFA in painting. I asked Natalie, "Has your mom been painting much?" She said, "Yeah, the walls."

I complimented Debbie on this cool fleur-de-lis urn. Then I asked her if there were ashes in it. I'm a rude houseguest. I also broke her garage door opener and stopped up her bathroom sink. I'm so fun to have over.

Still, they sent me back to Memphis with Debbie's homemade banana bread and Natalie's homemade soap. Doesn't get much better than that.

BlogHer: What I'll be Wearing

2010-07-26T07:34:00.003-05:00

I have a wardrobe strategy for BlogHer. I may be a BlogHer virgin, but I've been to plenty of conferences. I know the drill here. It'll be sweltering outside, but freezing indoors. So my strategy is this: Summer dresses, leggings and cardigans. Warm indoors, removable out. It's perfect.

THURSDAY: TRAVEL DAY

A three-hour plane ride (will it be hot? will it be cold?) and then lunch in New York with a friend from high school. Who's a big shot in publishing. Conservative blue Tommy Hilfiger seersucker dress, with a navy cardigan sweater and brown leather thong sandals. I'll totally look like a tourist but I don't care. I love black but I rarely wear it in the summertime. Not in the daytime anyway.

(And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don't wear tiny stripes on TV. It photographs really badly.) And wow, that's really wrinkled. That's because I pulled it out of a laundry basket. I was all, "Hey! I totally forgot I had this dress!" — the universal sign for YOU HAVE TOO DAMN MANY CLOTHES.

THURSDAY NITE PARTIES

The BlogHer fun actually starts the night before the conference with two parties that I'm excited to be attending. One is the People's Party, which is being hosted by, among others, Mississippi Gulf Coast blogger Megan of Velveteen Mind. I met her last year at Blissdom and was all, "I'm from LONG BEACH!!" which wasn't as exciting for her as it was me, I'm sure. I'm also attending the Queerosphere party because I'm a straight against hate and love to support my gays. And I'm anxious to meet Host Deb on the Rocks. I gotta look good, yo. Here's what I'll be wearing:

Strapless flowered dress with raspberry cardigan sweater and black croco Jimmy Choos pumps. I selected this outfit because I suspect there will be a variety of attire at these parties, and this fits in equally well with cocktail dresses or jeans. The dress came from the Target Junior department and it's actually reversible. If you see me later in a black and white swiss dot strapless dress, you'll know my secret.

FRIDAY: CONFERENCE, DAY ONE

I'll be in sessions most of the day and meeting all my blogging heroes, so I'll want to make a good impression. Embroidered French Connection empire waist dress, with short leggings, black cotton cardigan. Thin black patent leather belt and black patent thong sandals by Steve Madden.

This is my go-to dress, y'all. I even wore it for our family portraits. I just love it. Cool, comfortable, cute, flattering, unique. And, I bought it on sale in Chicago last summer.

FRIDAY NITE PARTIES

I'm a little unsure where I'll be exactly on Friday night. I've RSVP'ed for a party but I'm not even sure if it's at the hotel or somewhere off site. Anyway, this is the beautiful Banana Republic dress I bought (ON SALE!) before I went to the beach, with the knowledge that I could also wear it to a BlogHer party. It's a little hard to tell in a photograph, but it's beautiful on.

Believe it or not, these are the only nude pumps I could find in Memphis. They're okay, but I'm more than a little ashamed to tell you that they're Jessica Simpson's. Perhaps I could find a bit of time for shoe shopping while in NYC. I'd love to stumble upon a pair of nude Loubou peep-toe pumps. On sale. In a size six.

SATURDAY: CONFERENCE, DAY TWO

Again, I will be in sessions. Learning all the secrets of successful blogging.

Blue and gray striped strapless dress with jean jacket, blue footless tights and brown leather thong sandals. Everything in this outfit came from Target except the shoes, which are American Eagle.

SATURDAY NITE PARTIES

Or whatever ends up on the agenda. I have RSVP'ed for two parties but the BlogHer tip posts I've read have all recommended, "Keep your options open. You may meet people that you just want to hang out with." Also, Maggie Dammit and some other really smart people are hosting the BlogHer Serenity Suite which, among other things is a place that sober people can hang out if they're feeling overwhelmed by the parties and the general drunkenness. And I am honored that they're allowing me to help out in hosting it for a bit. Probably because I'm so sober and serene and all. (Come by and see me there between 9 and 10 p.m. on Saturday evening!) I'll be wearing this:

Flowered tunic, Michael Kors leggings, Calvin Klein booties. This says "End-of-Event-Party" to me. I typically don't wear long pants during the summer — I just can't handle the heat anymore in my advanced age — but I figure by the evening, with a sleeveless top, I should be okay. The top is a brand I do not know because I cut the itchy tag out. It came from a boutique in Florida.

SUNDAY: TRAVEL DAY

My flight is in the late afternoon because I wanted to give myself a little time in NY before I left. My plans are to meet up with some friends from my hometown, although we haven't finalized anything yet. (Jen - call me!) They live with their two young children in a boat on the Hudson River and I told them I'd really like to see it. Because how cool is that? I'll be wearing this coral-colored yes-I'm-a-tourist dress.

White tank, white cotton cardi, brown leather thong sandals.

Seriously. People in Manhattan don't ever wear color? Even in the summertime?

Serenity Now.

2010-07-25T11:05:00.001-05:00

If you're sick and tired of hearing about BlogHer when it's still a week and a half away, I apologize. People are making jokes on twitter like, "Wow, that was an awesome BlogHer!" because there's been so much talk about it already. Anyway, I can't help that. All the BlogHer drama started about the same time that blogging went from being a creative outlet to a corporate-driven PR fest. I'm just excited. I've waited five years to go to BlogHer. It's hard not to talk about it.

And I'm even more excited now than I was yesterday because some very kind Powers That Be have allowed me to be a part of the BlogHer Serenity Suite. No doubt this is because I am so very, very sober and serene. Or probably just because they were short on help. Either way, I'm honored and excited to do this.

The BlogHer Serenity Suite is the brilliant brainchild of Maggie, dammit and Heather of the EO. It's a queit place where recovering alcoholics can go to get away from the drunken debauchery of the conference. Where bloggers who suffer from panic attacks and anxiety disorders can escape the high intensity of the weekend. Where anyone who is feeling overwhelmed by the hugeness of it all can sit quietly and catch her breath. It is a brilliant idea. I'm surprised it's taken this long for someone to come up with it.

I will be hostessing in the Serenity Suite (Room 4307) on Friday at 6:30 p.m. with the insanely talented Elie, of One Crafty Mother, and again on Saturday from 9-10 with the lovely Cecily, of Uppercase Woman and the fabulous Corinne from Trains, Tutus and Tea Time. Please make plans to come by and see me.

Not only do I get to meet a ton of new blogger friends, but I'll be getting to know lots of new sober friends, too. It's like BlogHer and ICYPAA all rolled up into one. A conference-palooza!

BlogHer To-Do List

2010-07-23T08:13:00.003-05:00

Just so you know, I'm not getting a pedicure for BlogHer.

I actually get manis every two weeks and pedis every 4 weeks. I just happened to time it so that I'd have them done before I leave. That's all.

Same with getting my roots done. What? My hair grows fast! It was time anyway.

Last night I started charting out what I would wear. I have to do that so that I know what to pack. You should know that I'm not buying any new clothes for BlogHer. The list is complete and the only thing I have to purchase is a pair of blue or gray leggings. More on that tomorrow.)

The one thing I did decide to buy was a backpack. Because usually when I travel, I carry my netbook in a tote bag. Actually, I carry it in a big padded envelope inside a tote bag. And it works okay, but it's not very practical for BlogHer. For one thing, the bag gets awfully heavy, and it's kind of hard on my back to carry it. For another, I spend half my time digging around for stuff in the one giant compartment. At BlogHer, I need to carry: my netbook, business cards, cell phone, a small notebook, a pen, my wallet, my room key and a lipstick. I think that's about it. Maybe a water bottle. What I need is a backpack.

My husband said, "Why don't you just use Elijah's?" And this is where the but-I-have-to-impress-people-at-BlogHer! gene kicked in. I most certainly will not be carrying around my teenage son's huge school backpack. Gawd. So I did buy a $30 backpack. But that's IT. I'm not buying anything else.

Except maybe a new eyeliner pencil. Since my Stubborn Brown is down to like two stubby inches.

But that's IT.

I still have to drop off a couple dresses at the cleaners. I hate to let go of the beach smell, but it appears that it's time. I'm thinking I might buy some bottled water to take with me since they're probably like $5 in New York. There's the issue of the shared phone charger, so I may need to buy another one of those...

It seems the planning is coming along swimmingly.

My Hopes for BlogHer

2010-07-22T07:49:00.000-05:00

So you know how every year I post some kind of "oh woe, poor me, everyone in the whole wide world is at BlogHer but me" lame-ass meme post?

NOT THIS YEAR, BITCHES.

Now that the conference has grown to such proportions that it no longer serves the purpose it once did — that of a place to meet other women bloggers, share ideas and learn about the latest technologies — I will finally, FINALLY be attending. So while drama abounds and private parties offend and mommybloggers mortally wound each other in epic battles for free swag, I will finally, FINALLY be meeting other bloggers, sharing ideas and learning about the latest technologies.

And there is much I hope to accomplish.

For starters, I hope to meet*:

Carmen, of Mom to the Screaming Masses. And when I do, I will tell you the story of how I began blogging and how she figures into that story. Because that's how long I've been waiting to meet her IRL.
Linda, of All & Sundry. Because I think she is my very favorite writer on the web.
Anna, of ABDPBT. Because I think she's really smart and fearless.
Badger, of Badger Meets World. Because I've been reading her a long time, and still find things we have in common.
Deb, of Deb on the Rocks. Because duh. She rocks. And she cares about the things I care about.
Jonna, of Jonniker. Who I only recently discovered and already kind of love.
Maria, of Mommy Melee. Because I'm hoping some of her youthful energy and adorableness and talent will rub off on me.
Maggie, of Okay. Fine. Dammit. Because she just seems like one helluva human being.
Stefanie of Ooph. Someone else I've recently discovered. And I want to see if her hair looks as good in person as it does in her photos. (It's gotta be a trick. No one's hair looks *that* good.)
Plus all the new ladies I'm only just now finding, who have already proven to be top-notch entertainment: Jen O., Marinka, Ann, Angelynn, Julie, Subourbon Wife and Mishelle.
And so many others that I'm sure I've unintentionally left off the list.

People who go to BlogHer every year look forward to seeing the friends that they meet there year after year. I don't have that to look forward to, but I did meet some pretty amazing bloggers at the Blissdom conference last year that I'm hoping to reconnect with, including Megan, Poppy, Liz and Anissa. I'm not sure they'll remember me, but it'll still be nice to see them.

In addition to all the bloggers I'm going to see, I'm also seeing two high school friends that live in NYC while I'm there. Thursday when I arrive, I'm having lunch with a guy I sang in concert choir with. He was always the best-read guy in school, and now he's some big-wig in publishing. (Not the kind who can get you published, so please don't ask me for a hook-up.)

Then Sunday, before I leave, I'm meeting another friend who's some kind of big-wig designer now. I was pretty good friends with him back in the day, because he dated my best friend through our freshmen and sophomore years. I reconnected with him last year at the reunion and his wife & I hit if off. (Also, their kids are unreasonably cute.) I'm as excited about those meet-ups as I am the conference itself.

Tomorrow: My list of things I need to do before I leave.
Still to Come: What I'll be wearing.

* And I'm not even sure all these people are even going to BlogHer. But whatevs. It's my wish list.

Meet my new best friend Jerry

2010-07-21T07:50:00.001-05:00

So look. We're not really the kind of people who go out and enjoy the quirky, cool parts of our city. I'll read about it, maybe find something that sounds really cool — like the Levitt Shell concert series — but still a year (or more) will pass before we actually get out and experience it. We're more the Starbucks kind of people. Sad, but true. That's just the generation from whence I come. People a decade or so younger than me do cool quirky local.

One place that's been popping up A LOT lately though is this Jerry's Sno Cones place. The kids drive out there all the time. Everyone keeps raving about it. And I'm all, "They're snow cones, yo. Ice and sugar water."

Sorta related: When I was a teenager on the coast we used to go to this snow cone place on the beach that for an extra 50 cents would put a dollop of sweetened condensed milk on the top. We would get the coconut ones, with the creamy sweet milk on top, and then add rum to it in the car. Best pina colada ever.

Oh wait...do you think that's why Elijah and his friends are always going to Jerry's?

Anyway. Everyone is always raving about this Jerry's thing. And besides the fact that THEY'RE JUST SNOW CONES PEOPLE, one of the other reasons I never ventured out to this place is because it's in a neighborhood that I've never been in. I've lived in and all around the Memphis area since 1986 and I can't think of any neighborhood that I've not at least driven through. Except this one. And one of the reasons for that is, when I looked it up on Google Maps, I don't even know what neighborhood this is! It's actually not that far off of main streets so it's easy enough to find but seriously. What neighborhood is this???

But yesterday I ran errands from noon til 6 p.m. I was tired and hot and I didn't want to cook dinner. I didn't even want to eat dinner. It was just so HOT. I just wanted something cold. And highly caloric because I'd run around all day without eating and I needed to boost the energy level. So I asked Daddy to take me to Jerry's Sno Cones. I know! I can't explain it either. I just wanted one.

We were lucky in that there wasn't a huge line when we arrived. I understand there's almost always a line. And quite a line formed while we were there, too. So people must not be kidding about this place.

On the advice of my friend Bob, I ordered the Blackberry Supreme. And I don't even have the proper interjections to swear to you how good it was.

First of all, the "supreme" means that they layer soft-serve ice cream in three layers throughout the snow cone. Any flavor can be made a "supreme." The soft-serve ice cream makes the snow cone all creamy and kind of smooth instead of just icy and crunchy. But there's something else. I know it's just sugar water but it doesn't taste like sugar water. The snow cone part was so...juicy. It was so juicy and delicious and mixed with the creamy ice cream. Man, you people did not steer me wrong.

Hair Update

2010-07-19T09:59:00.001-05:00

Some of y'all have been asking for an update on the hair — specifically how it held up at the beach.

First of all, I let one of the girls on the trip with us cut several inches off of it.

It's all right, she took cosmetology last year.

The truth is...OMG it was just so HOT. And all the blowdrying and then the hot rollers and I just couldn't do it. Anyway, I had all these unnecessary layers at the bottom of my hair, from when it was curly. And when I went through the keratin treatment the stylist told me I was going to want to cut it straight across the bottom once it was straight. And I said, "I think I'll do that when I get home from the beach." because really, I didn't want to pony up the money for a hair cut. But then it was so HOT at the beach. And I couldn't take it.

So there's that.

I had no trouble with frizz in the beach humidity. One day it rained, so I went with some of the kids to see that horrible vampire movie. (Buffy coulda kicked ALL their asses, yo.) Of course the ticket line was crazy long — what else are you going to do at the beach when it rains? — and we stood outside in the rain for about 20 minutes. I had an umbrella so my hair wasn't actually wet but the 100 percent humidity didn't faze it. I could not have been more pleased.

"I don't know how you're doing on the inside, honey,

but you're hair's just holding up beautifully."