March 12x12

The day started ridiculously early.  When I took this picture, I was up and dressed, packed and almost ready to walk out the door.  Coffee in hand. 

It was all worth it, though.  What a fabulous day.

Sitting in the airport, one my fellow travelers- after taking a Zantax for her fear of flying – noticed we were flying on a small, commuter jet and texted her last wishes to her mother from gate A7. 

“Take a nice trip with my money and donate the rest to the ASPCA.” 

Her mother’s reply: What’s the ASPCA?

After a cab ride of endless traffic, we hit the streets for some shopping.  The cold and rain, along with an intense desire to find deals, steals, and irresistible finds, drove us into H&M for a thorough visit.  We canvassed their three floors and emerged victorious.

At tiny tables wedged between the kitchen and the wall, we devoured a warm pizza lunch.  We entertained ourselves watching the hopelessly unorganized supervisor try to communicate with his non-English speaking crew and observing the constant stream of locals pouring into the little pizza joint – ironically called Firehouse Pizza.  It was a welcome break from the cold and wet.

Heading onto MoMA, I ooooohed and aaaaaaaahed at Monet’s Water Lilies.  We laughed and marveled at Burton’s quirky perversions, questioned and stared at the performance art and all agreed that some art just isn’t for us…namely the scary stuff. 

Afterwards, we ducked into the Magnolia Bakery for a sweet treat on the go, paired it with a glass of wine at a warm, dry pub before making our way back to the hotel to check in and freshen up.  We were checking out our view of the Empire State Building and gray skies when room service surprised us with a gift from my brother Jethro – a yummy bottle of champagne to celebrate our retreat. 

An old friend of mine (whom I hadn’t seen in too many years to count) met us at our hotel, guided this group of lovely bumbling tourists through town to a little dive for a drink and hailed us a taxi like a true gentleman.  He sent us to the Coffee Shop for the most delicious fries and chive dressing….on the side of our burgers, of course.  Girl talk poured all over the table like the little bottle of Heinz 57 and our energy finally began to wane.

Back in the room, Steph and I giggled like girlies playing with our cameras and smiling at  faces and moments frozen in time on the digital display of our DSLRs.  While our roommates slept, we shared one set of earbuds, Zuned some tunes and Googled craziness on my Blackberry.  It was the adult version of hiding beneath the sheets with a flashlight past lights-out. 

What a fabulous day. 

Dancing In the Kitchen

I grew up watching My Mama dance.

Daddy still has the same turntable stereo on which we listened to records.  Sometimes Mama and Daddy would dance together.  Sometimes Mama would dance with us.  And sometimes, Mama would dance alone while we watched, smiling and laughing.

Now, my girlies and I dance.  We’ve done so for years.  We’ll turn up the stereo till the neighbors can hear and dance till we sweat and our muscles are sore.  We dance to anything – classical, rock, pop, Latino, you name it.  We just dance. 

We dance ballet, ballroom, interpretive, and group (think: Ring Around the Rosie).  Sometimes I hold them in my arms with their cheek to mine and we spin in circles and dip deeply, smiles pressing into our cheeks.  Sometimes we sautée and arabesque and practice graceful arms and fingers as we tendu or relevé.

Other times, I dance alone.  I dance while I cook dinner, set the table, wash dishes.  I dance while they bathe.  I dance and I sing and I am happy.

I know one day my girlies will look at me and laugh, just like we laughed with My Mama.  Then one day, I will dance alone, with no one there to see.  And finally, there will come a day when they, too, will dance with their babies.  Then, at last, they will know just how happy I was when I danced with them.

Sisters

I always wanted a sister.  I still wish I had one.  One that was really mine – not just obligated by marriage or some sort of Uber-Friend.  I dreamt of a sister on whom I could stake my claim, in whom I could expect undying loyalty.  A bond of blood, chromosomes, life and heart.  A history filled with pinky-promises, tearful fights, side-splitting laughter, and whispers in the dark.

I love watching my girlies cuddle like kittens – in front of the TV, eating snacks, beneath quilts and sheets, even at the kitchen table.  Everyday their closeness – or, rather, their absence of personal space and boundaries – amazes me.  It is not the same with brothers.

Yet, I am surprised at how rough and tumble they can be.  More and more, lately, I find them man-handling each other – wrestling around like hyper little puppies in a pen, knowing full well that Mama will snatch them up by the scruff of their neck any  second.  I’ll walk through the den and find them behind the couch, halfway beneath an end table – one sister pinned flat on her back as the other straddles her chest.  Their giggles escalating uncontrollably like wild fires.

BabyGirl was less than a year old when we moved them into the same bedroom.  At a routine well check-up, I hashed out  some baby sleep questions with the pediatrician.  At the time, he asked me if I wanted BabyGirl to be more reliant on me or her sister.  Did I want her to learn to be comforted by BigGirl in the night, or me?  I knew then that, while I did not wish to place a burden on BigGirl, I wanted them to share a close bond that would comfort them both throughout their nights – and days – forever.

A long time ago, My Daddy told my brothers and me that we were the closest thing in the world to each other.  He spoke these words in a fit of frustration and heartbreak; we fought like cats and dogs.  I’ve never forgotten that lecture.  In fact, I’ve preached my own version of it a few times to my girlies.

On the last occasion I tried to impart that pearl of wisdom to my girls, I watched BigGirl’s eyes tearfully soak up my message.  I explained to her that, one day, a long time away from today, Mommy and Daddy would be gone.  We would be in heaven.  But, they wouldn’t be alone because they would have each other.  That is the best, most important gift Mommy and Daddy has ever given them – each other.  They will be best friends, worst enemies, soul mates, teacher and student, companions, playmates, competition, and – one day – parents to each other.  Over time, they will be everything to each other.

To each other, they will scream obscenities, hurl prized possessions, confide deepest secrets, and confess dreams and fears.  Between them, they will protect each others’ stories.  They will know each other better than FireDaddy and I will ever know either of them.  A bittersweet thought.

I love my girlies.  I love BigGirl and I love BabyGirl.  I love them more than I know how to describe.  But, what I love even more than either of them is their sisterhood.  My love for them as a pair is exponentially larger and grander and more amazingly overwhelming than my love for either of them independently.

When I was pregnant with BabyGirl, I feared that this wonderful new addition would jeopardize my relationship with BigGirl.  I worried that I could not possibly love another baby as much as I so obviously loved her.  I worried about jealousy, sibling rivalry, perceived favoritism, and all sorts of potential threats.  I sought the council of friends, my mother, and every mother of multiple children I knew.

One mother, I don’t remember who, finally spoke the words that settled the worry in my heart.  “Don’t think of it as taking something away from her…you are giving her a gift no one else can, a gift like no other.  You are giving her the best gift of all – a sister.”

I lied.

I guess I lied. 

I am making one New Year’s resolution.  In 2010, I want to wear more lipstick.

You see, here’s the deal…

I like feeling girlie.

 

I like wearing boots with my dresses.  I like wearing necklaces, especially long ones.  I like my hair long and my mascara blackest black. 

I have this dress that comes off the shoulder just a little bit and I love, love, love it. 

I love hats, even if my brother says I look like Blossom. 

I like dangly earrings, especially when my hair is pulled up so you can really see them. 

I love a great pair of heels, especially strappy or open-toed ones.  (Even though I can hardly last a whole day in them anymore.)

I love pearls.  And recently, I’ve decided, the more the merrier.  You only live once.

I love pretty red toenails and pink purses.

 

And, you know what?  As much as men can annoy me, I really like men.  More specifically, I like being a woman in the company of men.  Especially well-behaved men – the ones who still have a shred of gentility. 

I remember one day being in a meeting with my assistant principal (a man) and a deputy superintendent (a man).  It was just the three of us.  (Yeah, um, I was NOT the one in trouble, and we’ll leave it at that…because that’s another post entirely.)  Both of them were probably old enough to be my father…at the very least, an uncle.  The DeputySup was so kind and respectful.  I remember him apologizing to me for mentioning something “in mixed company” – regardless of the fact he handled it extremely professionally and it was completely necessary to the business at hand. 

Both of my brothers tower over me.  And I love it.  I stand about 5’6’’, so I’d hardly consider myself “petite”…but in the company of men, I feel like I am.  I love that.

I love that there are still some men who hold doors open, insist you go before them, smile, call you by name, and ask you how your day is when you pick up your to go meal, and nickname you “Bautiful”, “Gorgeous”, or “Princess” – when they are truly, 100%, just being sweet – no ulterior motives at all.  That is priceless.

And, you know what? I just eat that up. 

 

Let them hold the door.  Let them innocently flirt while I wait for my fries.  Let them call me Gorgeous when they say hello each day.  I just eat it right up.

I smile and make pleasantries and walk a little closer to 5’6 1/2’’. 

Because I like feeling pretty.  I like feeling girlie.

And tomorrow, I’m going to wear my pearls with my boots, paint on some smoky eyes and try a new shade of lipstick.

Maybe next year I’ll try out false eyelashes.

 

**To clarify – my assistant principal was not in trouble either. I don’t want to wrongly imply anything.

***Neither was the Deputy Superintendent.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

We made it home safely last night from our Hillbilly Holiday.  Today, the girlies and I have done virtually nothing other than bask in the comfort of home, only venturing out to retrieve our loving and faithful pets from their “camp” and make a quick stop for Christmas card photos. 

I promised my girlies an afternoon treat of cocoa and cookies.  Today’s snack was made better by a special holiday serenade from Michael Buble.   Later, we spent more than an hour gathered around the kitchen table, catching up on our advent coloring pages.  (My hand has yet to fully recover from The Crayola Grip.) 

My suitcase still lies in the floor of my office, waiting for me to properly unpack the clean shirts, socks, pants, and sweaters.  Laundry from our journey, now washed, dried, and folded neatly, patiently awaits my attention.  My guest bedroom remains a pile of projects to complete and gifts to prepare.  My refrigerator and cupboards are nearly bare and I’ve no specific plans yet for holiday baking or special eats. 

Today, the girlies focused their energy today on reuniting with their toys and various belongings.  BabyGirl slept for hours this evening curled up in a chair like a kitten.  I chatted with My Mama, FireDaddy’s Mama, and my girlies.  I cuddled my puppies and kissed my babies.  I talked with friends and gave thanks for our safe return. 

My Blackberry is filled with notes on thoughts from my journey I’d like to share with you….but today is not the day, friends. 

I am so glad to be home again.

Christmas for My Girlies

Christmas, if you ask me, is best seen through the eyes of a child.  I love watching my little girlies experience the magic.  So, naturally, some of my most favorite Christmas decorations are the ones centered around my babies.

One of the earliest traditions began as a gift from a secret Santa [My brother and sister-in-law].  Before BabyGirl was with us, a box containing this advent house appeared unexpectedly on our front porch.  This beautiful house brings so much excitement to our family throughout the entire month of December.  Every night, we open a door and discover the treasure is hiding inside.  Hair bows, bath fizzies, candies, “grow me” pets, coin purses, stamps, stickers, play dough and more.  As BabyGirl has grown and taken a more active role in holidays, they take turns opening doors each night.  BigGirl opens all the odds, BabyGirl opens the evens.  Some doors contain items to be shared, while others hold something for each of them.  In years past, some treats have been a little larger than these little doors can handle.  In those cases, our little elf has been known to leave clues guiding the way to their daily dose of Christmas cheer.

 

Last year, we welcomed a brand new tradition to our home:  Elway, the Elf on the Shelf.  Elway and his friends have become quite the rage all over the land of Christmas, it seems…but that doesn’t make him any less special to us.  I laughed this year as BabyGirl said to me, “Mommy. He watching me.  I don’t want him watching me.”  (Guilty conscience, my dear??) This year, it was apparent that Elway brought the house with him on his long trek from the North Pole.  And…he brought with him another mysterious box…with no return address.

 

 

Elway also brought with him this adorable pink tree.   We found the perfect home for it on the tea table in the girlies’ room.  We’ve begun slowly decorating it with knick-knacks and homemade ornaments.  And (more evidence that the Big Man from the North had something to do with all this Christmas goodness), two consecutive doors in the advent house revealed supplies to make angel ornaments!  Who else would have known but the Big Man himself? 

 

There are also child-sized, unbreakable versions of Christmas favorites throughout my house.  I fell in love with this children’s nativity set (seen here as arranged by BigGirl) from Bombay Kids, (R.I.P. Bombay Company & Bombay Kids. You are missed...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

… and this stuffed Hallmark Christmas tree with buttons for hanging felt ornament sets.  (The ornament sets came with little board books telling holiday stories, too!  Even better!) 

 

  And, this year, our traditions have even been enhanced by the blogosphere!  Thanks to Elsie Marley, the girlies and I are making advent coloring books, one day at a time.  Well, BigGirl wants to compile her art into a collection.  BabyGirl wants to hang hers on the wall over her bed.  (I think I’m going to hang a string and clip them, a la clothesline, as we go.)  It’s amazing how much fun it has been…just simple paper and crayons!  And, it’s free!

 

In the words of Maria from The Sound of Music, “These are a few of my favorite things.”

What are some of your favorite children’s Christmas traditions?

A Season of Giving

 

 

That is my all time favorite church song.  As an adult, I attended a particular church for a while mostly because they sang this song every Sunday at the end of the service.  And, I loved the pastor.  He was like a loving grandfather, welcoming everyone into his humble home.  Even heathens like me. :)

December first marks, for many, the beginning of the holiday season.  The season of giving.  But, sadly, I truly believe that this “season of giving” has become much more of a “season of shopping, stressing, and spending”.  I’m trying so hard this year, as I watch my daughters grow, and pray they don’t get jaded to that “giving” part, to focus on the spirit and heart of the season. 

Hell.  When I think of it that way, who needs a season? 

I want my girls to be givers.  I want them to be filled with hearts overflowing with love for their family, friends, and fellow humans.  I want them to care about the world and the people and the air, the water, the trees, the wind, the clouds in the sky, and butterflies and puppies and apples.  I do not want them to wander lonely through this world with clear vision only as far as the end of their own nose.  I do not want them to view their beliefs, their thoughts, their needs as supreme and righteous, but rather, as one of many valid perspectives. 

Not only do I want them to love and care for others, but I want them to love and care for themselves.  I want more for them than I have been able to give to myself.  I see them through mother’s eyes: eyes that see clearly every fault and every virtue – and love them just the way that they are.  They’re perfect, even their imperfections. 

Over and over and over again I’ve preached to BigGirl, “All I expect is that you do the best you can do,” so much that she now cuts me off and finishes the sentence with that annoyed tone we’ve all used with our mothers.  The one that sounds like the teachers and parents on Charlie Brown.  The one that says, “Would you stop saying that already?”  But it’s true.  I expect her to do her best at everything.  Everything.  Not just school work and dance, but friendship.  Sisterhood. Being a daughter and a dog owner.  Being a citizen of the Earth. 

I have a friend who told me once that when her daughters were young she told them, “When you lie to me, I can see crosses in the back of your eyes.”  She also said, “Even when Mommy and Daddy can’t see you, God is always watching.”  (No offense, folks…but see what I mean about being Catholic?) 

I want them to carry God, Buddha, the Golden Rule, karma, whatever it is they decide to believe in one day, in their hearts always.  I want them to be proud of their every decision – or at least 99% of them.  I want them to sleep well at night knowing they gave to the world.  They made a difference in someone’s life each day.

I read this article today that discussed the importance of giving.  It’s important in ways you may not have suspected.  I’d like to try this project, and I would love it if you would join me. 

Give a “gift” everyday for a month.

Mind you, “gifts” aren’t always tied in pretty paper and ribbons.  A gift, says the article, could be simply saving the last piece of cake for your husband.  Or, perhaps you go out of your way to make your children their favorite meal one night.  Perhaps you give your change to a neighbor’s or friend’s child.  Perhaps you volunteer your time in a classroom – helping someone other than your own child.  Maybe you bring your co-worker coffee unexpectedly one day.  The bottom line is – do something thoughtful and nice for someone without expecting anything in return, other than perhaps a smile and a “thank you”.

I’m going to try it.  I hope you will too.

Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me.

Things that make me happy

I started a Thanksgiving Day post yesterday. It was filled with sarcasm, but it made me laugh.

Today, I went around my house snapping photos of things that make me happy. My new decorating rule: Surround yourself with things that make you happy. Happiness is completely irrational sometimes. Often, I can’t explain why something makes me happy, but I also can’t deny it. Like this summer when I found a pair of hotpads I just couldn’t resist. They made me happy.


This handmade bundle of flowers makes me happy. It sits on my desk, always in my line of sight as I look towards my monitor. It’s actually a combination of two Mother’s Day projects from BigGirl’s preschool days…and it’s a little worse for the wear (to say the least). But, when I look at it, I remember the day she presented these little gifts and I smile. She was so little.


Diet Dr. Pepper makes me happy. It’s sweet, cool, refreshing. I love it. Drinking it in my favorite cup (not seen here) on ice is a special treat I enjoy on “stay at home days”. Yummy. I know this isn’t exactly decorating, but it often graces an end table, bedside table, or counter in my home.



I love these blue and white canisters and pots. I’ve collected a lot of blue and white over the years. Why? Because it makes me happy. The two larger ones shown here came from my grandmother’s house. I love the combination of the three together, even though they are not intended to be displayed this way.






I love this little ceramic dog. One of my students gave it to me a few years ago for Christmas. She gave it to me because she and I both had a dog by the same name…a detail I had forgotten. Apparently, that was pretty special to her. The dog makes me smile. I look at it and think of her smiling up at me. This little doggie lives on my breakfast bar where I can see it everyday.






I love this little corner of my dresser. The lamp is nothing special, just an old Target purchase. But, the flowers are cheery and were a gift from My Mama. The crystal figure belonged to My Daddy’s Mama. You can’t really tell what it is, other than a person. It is a flower frog, intended to be used in the center of a crystal platter. However, I like looking at it on my dresser each morning as I dig for that favorite pair of underwear or bra.





I love this man. He’s a Greek fisherman. A few summers ago, I rescued him from a broken frame, buried deep within a closet at my grandmother’s house. (She’s very generous.) When I look at him, I wonder about his story. I would love to sit with him and hear his tales of the ocean and how he met his wife. I’d love to visit his home and enjoy a meal of fresh seafood that was prepared in his kitchen. I would take lots of pictures and they would be lovely. Like something from a movie.





Books make me happy. As “tech savvy” as I’d like to think I am, I cannot get into the thought of a Kindle. I love books. I love pages. I love book covers. I love books in stacks, in baskets, on shelves, in corners, on tables, everywhere. I love books. They make me happy.






I love this birdie. Pier 1. Love it. Wish I had bought more.








I love handing things down to my girlies. This little music box used to be mine. It was a gift from FireDaddy. He gave it to me as part of a birthday present the first year we were dating. It’s sweet, but it’s sweeter knowing it’s theirs now.







I love making things for my girlies. This is a Kitty Bank I made for BabyGirl. She wanted a Bunny Bank like the one her uncle gifted to her big sister, but I had no plans to return to Boston anytime soon to hunt down that cutie-patootie little toy shop in Harvard Square. So, I improvised…and spent an afternoon with BigGirl at the paint your own pottery place. It turned out OK, and BabyGirl absolutely adores it. She’s just like Sissy.








I love walking into a quiet room of the house and finding this. Having girls who love reading – and writing - is like a dream come true.



These are the little things that slowly, with time and love, turn a house into a home.

What makes your house a place you love to be?


UPDATED 12/1/09: Woo-hoo! Barking Mad is giving away a $300 Target Gift Card! (You know I need it!) Go see for yourself and get your bloggy all linked up, too!

Friendship Plan

As BigGirl and I spilled ourselves and all of our miscellaneous carry-ons into the school parking lot this morning, she was positively in a tizzy.

"Mommy, I really need your help! I just don't know what I'll do about this!"

I, completely confused as to what was her problem - except for the fact that it was taking her a solid 5 minutes to get her skinny little bootie out of the backseat, with or without her backpack - hurriedly asked for clarification. (As my arms motioned like a flight attendant for her to move to the nearest exit - PRONTO.)

"I need a plan! Today is my day to play with Bestest BFF, but Friend B will want to play too...I just don't know what to do!"

Dumbfounded (though I'm not sure why I was surprised), I quickly preached the "more the merrier" schpeal. "You know, that's why a party is more fun than just a playdate. It's more fun with more friends."

"I guess I'll just have to tell her that it's my day to play with Bestest BFF...but, HOW WILL I DO THAT? HOW CAN I DO THAT? I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW I CAN DO THAT!"

At this point, resolved that she was NOT going to go for the merry threesome idea, and feeling my stress level frizz as fast as my hair in the morning air, I gave up. "Here's an idea: SAY IT. Use your words. That's why God GAVE us words!"

As we, at long last, began moving toward the building, BigGirl hauling her worries on her back and I hauling my entire office in a cart behind me with one hand and the all important venti skinny vanilla latte in the other, she laid it on the table.

"Mommy, I just need a Friendship Plan. That's all there is to it."

This is just the latest in a long line of heart-breaking girl tiffs that she has suffered through this year. While BabyGirl is busy planning her white wedding to Don Juan Jr. (scheduled to be held in her preschool classroom sometime this year... and we're all invited), BigGirl is crying in the hallway.

On the morn of her "Friendship Anniversary" with the all important Bestest BFF, she arrived at school all decked out in her finest diamond drop earrings, diamond encrusted arm cuffs, and a diamond (blinky-light) necklace. Apparently, not all first grade girlies are confident enough to pull off this level of adornment and SOMEONE felt the need to point out the fact that she does NOT have pierced ears. (Gasp!!! The horror!) Instead, she was wearing (scandalous, I know) CLIP ON EARRINGS!!!

Girls, girls, girls.

My BigGirl, not the type to brush something off without hurt feelings, nor the type to say to her classmate, "I know. These are clip-on. Not everyone has pierced ears." and let that be the end of it, was crushed. She refused to go to school. She came down with a headache and possibly a fever. She needed FireDaddy to come A.S.A.P. to pick her up.

Unfortunately for her...and my officemate who had to listen to the wailing...AND BigGirl's crying, I threatened an embargo on all television privileges if she did not hightail her hiny out of my office chair and march that bootie downstairs to her class. She went reluctantly (and still in tears). Funny, the Motrin didn't seem to help the headache and "fever"...but, with an apology, she was cured.

Why am I rambling about this, you ask? What is it I'm REALLY trying to say?

I am SO not looking forward to the day the hormones start to kick in. Dear God, someone may need to take me out back and put me out of my misery before then.

Scratch that.

I can't leave them alone with FireDaddy.

Dear God, someone is REALLY going to need to get me some stronger pills before then.

Just Sittin' Around, Talkin' About Boys

In some ways, I'll never grow up.

I was "tagged" in a Facebook note-meme this week called "Finish the Sentence". One sentence was particularly interesting.

I'll always.... and I completed it with ...be a daydreamer.

This is not to say that I am a "faraway" girl (i.e. can't focus on something smack dab in front of me because I'm hyper-focused on the clouds out the window or the hangnail on my thumb or something equally obscure). But, I am still the girl who looks in the mirror and wonders what I'm going to be when I grow up. I am still the same girl who imagines one day gracing the stage with my presence once again. I am still the same girl who believes in true love and fairy tales and dreams come true. I am still the same girl who dreams.
That sounds so sweet, doesn't it?

I will never grow up in other ways, too, though.

For instance, I will NEVER quit having girly crushes on handsome men. ...And something tells me I'm not alone in this.

I found myself tonight, as I was in a dreadfully boring inservice working late with some coworkers, talking about stars on whom we have had/currently have crushes. It started innocently enough. Someone had tickets to a concert coming up, this led to discussing othermusicians coming to town, and before I know it - my latest "musical crush" was revealed - Jack Johnson.

I know he's not the ABSOLUTELY MOST handsome man in the world -- but OH. MY. GOSH. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE his music and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE his voice. And, from what I make out (Hee! Hee! I said "make out" about Jack Johnson!) he is definitely cute. AND, he used to be a professional surfer! THAT'S HOT!!!

(Um, HELLO? I used to have pictures of Kelly Slater snipped from Teen magazine pinned to my bedroom wall. Don't get me started about surfers...)

After all, isn't that what a crush is? A silly infatuation for someone based on fluff? Often times, overrated fluff, at that...

Another crush of mine, as mentioned before in my photo mosaic meme, John Cusack. I have "loved" him since Say Anything. Come stand outside my window holding a ridiculously large (I mean, really? Where were iPods then?), antiquated, Peter-Gabriel-cassette-tape-playing boom box ANYDAY, baby.

Why? What is it about him?

I don't know. He's cute.

I could go on and say other, more mature, reasons. He's a talented actor. If you have seen Grace is Gone you would never argue against this point. He's intelligent. Have you seen him speak? He and I are politically like-minded. War, Inc. Yadda yadda yadda... He's cute. All that other stuff is icing on the cake. I also realized, while writing this, I like his voice, too. Perhaps there's something about a man's voice that makes him more attractive to me.

I could go on to name at least half a dozen other adorable men on whom I have crushes. And, yes, Fire Daddy is well aware of them. And, if, for some reason, he isn't, it's not because I have been hiding them from him. I mean, I know he LOVES Alyssa Milano and a few other "hot chicks". But that's not the point.


The point is...I guess I'll never really be too old for crushes and sitting around with girlfriends, giggling and making googly eyes as we drool over "boys" from afar.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Gratitude is Great

Recently, I came to the realization that I need a little more gratitude in my life. Perhaps it was when I noticed my old friend Cheryl over at Second Glantz has started a gratitude journal on her iPhone. (I poked around and, unfortunately, no such application exists for my darling Pink Lady II.) I hadn't forgotten this inspiration when I read a post by another gal I like, The Roaming Southerner. She's working on keeping up with some motherly advice and balancing her freaking funny sarcasm with some positive thinking.

Then, lucky for you, serendipity struck. Last week a "newbie" reader was kind enough to pop her head in and (I know you're going to be shocked at this) actually leave a comment! I, being the good and curious Blogger Babe that I am, had to check out her blog. She's quite funny and, apparently, has a very unique digestive system. Anyhow, I added her to my Reader and her gift showed up on my iGoogle today: Happy Friday.

Yes, I am completely aware that it is now Saturday morning as I write this. How could I miss that? I'm sitting here, glamorously dressed in my knit pjs, long robe, sexy penguin slippers with unbrushed hair and no make-up as my girls proceed to chow down on the morning biscuits and strew fake food all over the den while changing from one sparkly skirt, lacy dress, princess tiara, tap shoes, hats and jewelry to another. But isn't tardiness in keeping with the rest of my life? I hope, in the spirit of gratitude, you will find it in your heart to overlook this small, minor detail.

Regardless, I shall now find some small events from my week to recognize and share with you.

1. Last night, after a very long week, I found a burst of energy after I caught Bo ripping up a dry pull-up all over the den floor to vacuum my den. This, in turn, spread to the guest room and hallway. Just typing these words is inspiring me to dash to the linen closet, retrieve my beast of a vacuum cleaner and continue my vacuuming spree to complete the remaining rooms. I reveled in the joy that only vacuum cleaner tracks can bring to me. It was fabulous.

2. Each night this week I found the time and energy to be productive. So productive, in fact, that I actually feel like I'm (Darn it. I'm about to jinx myself.) within a stone's throw of actually being NEAR caught up. Whew. I mean, give me three more weeks like that and I'm there, baby! It's a great feeling.

3. I need to celebrate the excellence in customer service that Verizon demonstrated this past week. "The Pink Lady I" had to be put down. (Loyal readers may have noticed my above reference to the "Pink Lady II".) It all started with my overzealous desire to increase the size of my micro-SD card. This bad case of Micro-Memory Envy quickly spiraled out of control until even the most drastic of procedures could not save her. I will miss her, but her successor is doing a fine job and shows no signs of illness. The experts at Verizon did their best to save the original Pink Lady. They showed great compassion for my needs and even shipped the new Pink Lady to me courtesy overnight to minimize the emotional suffering caused by such a loss. I would like to thank them for their kindness in such a difficult time for me.

4. I wore a tiara all day Friday without anyone looking at me like I was crazy. I love my job.



With that, I shall conclude this tiny look into my gratitude for the week. Perhaps I will be good and show this gratitude again next week, perhaps not. I'm not very good at routine lately.

I hope, perhaps, I've spread the spirit of gratitude to you, dear readers. If so, please feel free to leave a comment here. Enlighten us with a sampling of your own personal gratitude, won't you?

As for me? I'm off to vacuum.

The Girl Effect

I wasn't planning on posting again, but you must watch this. I knew there was a reason I had two girls.

While this video is aimed mostly at the "developing world", my mind is racing thinking of the implications this theory has on our own "developed" world, too.

Little girls are diamonds in the rough. They have so much to offer the world in their futures.