Sometimes I Have to Remind Myself...

• When I don't feel like a writer, I can just pretend to be a writer.
• There's an ebb and flow to everything, especially good times and bad.
• If I want to lose weight, I have to stop eating stuff.
• Taking my contacts out feels monumentally easier at 8:30 than at 10:30.
• Loving people doesn't require solving their problems.
• Making dinner is usually more fulfilling than going out. Except for when I'm really, really tired.
• Being a good person usually requires action.
• Cleaning the kitchen doesn't take nearly as long as I think it does.
• Everything is better with mushrooms.
• I'll thank myself for every time I record my kids on video.
• Trashy TV should only be enjoyed in small, delicious doses.
• Good ideas usually come after about 300 dumb ones.
• Putting myself out there almost always ends up paying off.
• Be thankful, appreciative, and gracious at every opportunity.
• Celebrate anything. Everything.
• I am not my job, my salary, my weight.
• Accept change. Welcome it, if possible.
• Dance in the kitchen.
• Sing in the car.
• Give funny greeting cards.
• Don't judge. Ever. Not even when you really, really want to.
• A root beer float is delicious when you haven't had one in a long time.
• Err on the side of compassion.
• Electricity is amazing. So is pasta. And guacamole.
• Never pass up the opportunity for a ridiculous self-portrait.

5 Unrelated Facts and 5 Haikus

• Max has been referring to his "Netherlands" as his "boing loings."
• My dog is getting fat.
• I love Man vs. Food. It's part of my watch-people-eating-instead-of-eating diet.
• Christian gives shockingly wise love advice to his compadres.
• Ryan likes apps on his Blackberry.

Here are five haikus dedicated to those 5 facts.

Boing Loings

Call them what you want

But make no mistake, my friend

No one wants them kicked.

Fat Doggy

It hurts my feelings

The way you look at my dog

And judge her. Stop that.

Weird Diet

I'll watch you eat that.

I'll imagine how it tastes

While you gain the weight

Dr. Love

He might be a kid

But don't ignore his advice

If you want the girl.

Apps

Fandango, TripIt,

Open Table, Weather Bug,

The man has got apps.

Shhhh!

Pssst! Over here. Yeah, down here, under the table. Hurry, before it sees you! I'll scoot over so you can fit.

Yes, we're hiding. But seriously, you've got to whisper before it finds us.

What do you mean, what are we hiding from? Isn't it obvious? The Story, the Book. It's lurking around here trying to find me, trying to make me make good on my plans to write it today. But I figured if I just crouch down here under the table until the kids get home from school, I'll be safe for another day. Good idea, huh?

Yeah, the Book is driving me nuts. It's like this big, fat obligation I have sitting on my head. I try to be nice to it, but it's so....I don't know, needy and oppressive and entitled.  And sloooow. I mean, it's really hard for me because I'm so different from that. It's a very one-sided relationship, you know?

Wait. What? You're leaving? But you just got here! I was looking forward to your company!

You expect me to sit all alone under the kitchen table all day by myself? I brought Oreos and nail polish and an iPod! You can play Angry Birds! You know, as long as you're really, really quiet.

No, I'm not crazy. This is very rational. You just don't know the Book like I do.

Stop being judgmental.

Yes, I want to write the Book. I do. I really do.

I just don't want to do it today. I'm not "feeling it," you know?

Well, probably tomorrow would be better. Maybe Thursday. Yeah, Thursday. Definitely.

You don't mean that. You don't really think I'm an idiot, do you?

Well, thanks a lot. Some friend you turned out to be. Give me back that Oreo.

Wait, stop shouting. Oh my gosh, please stop. The Book is going to hear you. Quit ratting me out!

I AM NOT HIDING UNDER THE TABLE, BOOK! I WAS...DUSTING. AND PICKING UP OREOS!

Oh. Well, there you are! Hey, Book! I see you've met my friend. You know, the overbearing, pretentious one I've told you about.  Yes, yes, it has been a while. Heh, heh.

What? You've been wandering around the house for an hour looking for me? That's crazy! I was here! I was right here just, you know, waiting for you to get here so that we could spend some quality time together. I thought you were late, or forgot or something, which is totally okay because that stuff happens all the time. That's just life, you know? I'm very forgiving and understanding of such things.

No, no, don't be silly. I would never try to avoid you!

Don't listen to her.

That's not true.

I never said that.

She's taking that completely out of context.

Well, yes, we do have our issues, Book. That's probably fair to say.

Alright. Fair point.

I can be that way, sure.

Wait a minute, now. A wussy? Me? I'm...I'm speechless. I don't even know what to say to that.

Very funny.

Yes. Yes, I do want to write the rest of you, Book.

No, I really do. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't.

Yes, I realize that.

Yes, I know.

That's true.

You're right.

Yep, one page at a time.

I know, I shouldn't care about that.

Or that.

You're right. We do need each other.

Sure, let's hug it out.

Oh, you mean all of us? Well. Okay.

Me too. I'm sorry too. To both of you.

Yes, let's get writing, Book. I'm ready. Let me just say goodbye to my friend.

Okay, you too. Thanks for coming by.

No, you can't have the Oreo back.

Just kidding. Thanks again.

Cool is a Temperature and an Attitude

• It's cool outside today.
• And I like it.
• I think I'm growing up because I can let go of summer now without throwing a tizzy fit.
• (I love the term "tizzy fit.")
• Maybe I'm only acting mature because autumn on the east coast is beautiful.
• Riveting.
• Stunning.
• Ridiculously flamboyant.
• And an actual season.
• Instead of two weeks wedged in between summer and winter.
• (No offense, Utah.)
• I'm going to a Phillies game tonight.
• I'm going to wear a jacket and a scarf.
• And I'm going to eat a pork sandwich and nachos.
• And possibly some crab fries.
• (Crab fries actually contain zero crabs.)
• If there's room left, I will enjoy some Graham Slam ice cream, the greatest ice cream flavor in the world.
• The food at the Phillies games is top notch.
• You heard it here first.
• The coolness actually set in last night.
• Ryan and I slept with the window open.
• The cool air brought our sleeping bodies back together in the middle of the bed for warmth.
• After a sweaty summer apart, clinging to the cooler borders of the mattress.
• Hello, stranger.
• Mind if I warm myself for a while?
• Fall is not so bad.
• (Don't get me wrong, summer is still the best.)
• But fall is not so bad.

Misson' Out

I headed to Target today to buy Comet for the sink, bread flour for my favorite cookies, and designer Missoni clothes and accessories for my blogging self-esteem. I wouldn't have known to fall in love with Missoni design if it hadn't been for countless bloggers dangling it in front of my face and making me want it. Much to my surprise, arriving at Target at 11:00 a.m. was plenty early for the Comet and bread flour inventory, but about four hours late for nearly all of the Missoni inventory. Apparently there was a line outside the Target doors at 7:00 a.m. while I was making toast and wiping crusty sleep boogers from the corners of my eyes. (What? That's what I call them. Quit giving me that look.)

Bloggers, why didn't you tell me I had to camp out at Target last night?

I didn't give up hope immediately. I was down, but certainly not out. In true Missoni fashion, I zig-zagged through the entire store, hoping to find someone's cast-off or sneakily hidden designer finds. I really wanted the beautiful blanket, and the dinner plates (and the beach bike, too, if you're wondering). But the only thing I found were empty shelves, lonely racks, and the unexpected embarrassment of having been left in the dust.

It reminded me of a trip to Wal-Mart a few weeks ago in preparation for Hurricane Irene. Ryan and I wandered the eerily empty aisles that only hours earlier held bottled water and emergency provisions like flashlights and m&m's. It was all gone, baby, gone. Could it be that my fellow east coasters stocked up this morning on Missoni in anticipation of an upcoming fashion emergency? Like the return of the mullett? Or really big shoulder pads?

Eventually my persistence paid off. The two Missoni votive candle holders I found on a lonely shelf are quite beautiful and among the most affordable items in the collection. (At least I think they're Missoni. Imagine my horror if I find out they are merely Mossimo or Merona! What will all the cool bloggers think?)

The brightly colored pretzel m&m's on sale for $2.66 were a nice consolation as well. I'm organizing them in a zig-zag pattern before stuffing them in my face. Kids, if you can't have Missoni, make Missoni yourself. That's our lesson for today.

Of Blogs and Burritos

I won't bore you with the details, but Wynonna Judd made me feel better about blogging again. I haven't felt the itch to blog the way I used to and I wondered (once again) if it was time to let it go. Lately I've been expressing my creativity through food instead of blogging, concocting meals that made me laugh and smile and occasionally cry the way my blog used to. I've discovered a latent knack for pastas, salads, sauces, and cookies. Something about the temporary nature of a good meal speaks to me right now. Because if I've learned anything of late, it's that you have to find joy in the moment. And sometimes the joy of that one little moment stands in stark juxtaposition to the greater background of the present time. As in, life might be a giant ball of prickly awful, but if you happen to have a good burrito in the midst of it? Well, that's a gift.

Back to Wynonna. She said something that stuck to my ribs like good southern soul food. (I can't tell you what it was because it's a special secret between Wynonna and me.) And the misgivings I had about putting my fingers to the keyboard flitted away. Gone. Oprah would call that an "Aha! Moment," but we've all forgotten who Oprah is by now. Let's call it an epiphany because it's more fun to say and it rhymes with my name.

So, I'm going to come back here with frequency. And I'm going to flex my creative muscles in word and dish. Because if I can do that, despite anything that's going on in the background? Well, that's a gift.

P.S. Want to see pictures of the day my face almost melted off in Chicago? Here's outside the jelly bean.

And here's inside the jelly bean. I loved the jelly bean.

P.P.S. I'm craving jelly beans.

You know what drives me nuts?

That the word buses doesn't have two Ss in the middle. It should be be busses, I say. That's been bothering me for years.

Things I've Grown to Like That I Swore I Never Could

Blue Cheese
Horseradish
Cool showers
Foot rubs
Non-fiction
Sushi
Taking my contacts out
Flossing
Politics
Rap
Talk radio
Baseball
Cleaning
Sleeping on my back
Being a little chubby
Small towns

Prepare Ye More Guacamole!

I have mixed feelings about the world ending on Saturday. On the one hand, it's nice to know things in advance; I hate surprises of the life and death variety. It's also a relief that we'll all be going together, removing the need for any long, sappy goodbyes (something else I dislike). Another plus is that I've cancelled the June car and student loan payments and have more money now for guacamole, which I plan to eat in excess until midnight Friday. I kept the June mortgage payment scheduled as a small show of skepticism, but also because the mortgage industry has been hit so hard, I'd like to throw them a bone. I call it an economic goodwill back-up plan.

However, it's not all fun and guacamole when we're talking about world's end. There are a few down sides to this. I have a familiar feeling from my school days when I'd be really excited about a project, visions of A pluses dancing in my head only to approach the deadline with last-minute scrambling and wishes for at least a B minus. I planned on being a much more accomplished, interesting, and philanthropic before the show was over. I've been scheduling an exciting shoulder pad comeback in 2012. There were life lessons and personality quirks I'd been planning on learning and ironing out in late 2018, followed by a bestselling memoir documenting the process. I'll miss finding out if I actually lose 15 pounds this summer, what Christian and Max grow up to do with their lives, and what travel deals Ryan would have found for us over the next 50 years. Greece? Dollywood? Mars?

It's a mixed bag, I tell ya. Now, pass the guac please and tell me the up and down sides of your imminent demise.

Self Help

I decided something today. I'm going to start making decisions that will benefit Future Self instead of just satisfying Present Self. Present Self is driving me nuts, eating too much, and not being tidy. She's like the worst college roommate. (Wait, I was that roommate, I think.) Time to put Present Self in her place and start sucking up big time to Future Self. I heard she's awesome.

Some Thoughts On Personal Safety

I passed a frog on my walk yesterday. He was crossing my path, making his way from the little pond, across the road and toward the lake. It's strange to encounter animals that you're used to seeing only in animation. His slow, deliberate hop was so grandiose, it was like a caricature of a real frog. I guess I thought real frogs were much less dramatic. Perhaps he was an actor frog. 

His long legs extended at least a foot launching him into a wet plop on the asphalt as he began his real life game of Frogger. (Lucky for him, it wasn't rush hour.) He seemed to be in no hurry, resting thoughtfully in my path. It makes no sense, but I was nervous as I got close, as I am with all animals despite their size. I know I'm bigger, more threatening, and higher on the food chain, but I don't like taking anything for granted. I want to be ready for any surprise attack or sudden, threatening moves such as whipping out a tiny banjo and singing about rainbows. 

I passed him without incident, keeping my 3.3 mph pace. I got a few strides beyond him when I felt that eerie feeling of being watched. By the frog. I whipped around, one hand in karate position, the other securing my phone for a call to 911 if necessary. He pretended to ignore me.

Our Circus Can't Beat Up Anybody Else's Circus

I did something stupid over the weekend. I went to see the circus. It was so underwhelming, I strongly urge the owners to rename it, "Mediocre Show on Earth."

The last time I saw the circus was in 1988. My grandfather treated my family to the show. He was old, in the beginnings of his decline. It was a Saturday afternoon. I wore a red dress. The show, as I recall, was spectacular. The clowns were so funny, the animals were so majestic, the contortionists were so bendy, the stunts were so life-threatening, and the trapeze absolutely blew my mind. In short, the experience was magical.

I wanted to revisit the circus many times since then, but was turned off because of alleged animal abuse. I boycotted the circus for as long as I could possibly stand it, right up until Saturday. I'm not sure why I decided to give in. After all, I was on a 23-year streak. I guess I sort of hoped that the allegations were either false or no longer an issue. Plus, who are we to say that elephants don't like wearing sequins? (See how easy it is to break down your moral fiber with only a little justification?)

If only I'd been warned that the real reason to boycott the circus is that it has taken a serious nose dive into the Snore Zone. For example, there were fewer clowns this time, and they were not even remotely funny. I know we're in a recession, but is funny that expensive? Did funny have to get cut out of the budget? I walk around being funny all day long for free! If it were up to me, I would have given the horribly annoying musical numbers the axe instead.

There were very few stunts in the show---no ladies doing handstands on top of galloping horses, no tiny Asian men folding themselves into 3 x 5 index cards, and no trapeze artists flying through the air by their teeth. The best we got was a man catapulted across the stage shortly after being lit on fire. It was semi-impressive if I hadn't SEEN IT EVERY NIGHT ON DAVID LETTERMAN IN 2006. Plus, they gave the guy a giant inflatable landing pad and a crew with fire extinguishers to greet him there. Where's the excitement in that?

I wanted to like the circus, I really did. I went in ready to give it my all. And I would have been satisfied if only it had maintained the 1988 status quo. But truthfully, I was hoping it had become bigger and better as most great American industries do, like our car manufacturing and healthcare system. Oh wait.

But seriously, I was semi-expecting that the circus of 2011 would be all thrilling and edgy. You know, I thought maybe they'd have one of the lions escape from the cage, jump into the crowd and eat a kid. Then, just before the crowd tramples each other on the way out of the building, the lion runs back to the cage, vomits the kid out whole and unscathed at the feet of the burly tamer to the jaw-dropping surprise of the audience. The lion takes a deep bow as the crowd erupts into applause. The lion tamer then lifts the kid---who is actually a pygmy circus performer disguised as a kid---onto his shoulders. And all of this, of course, is going on as trapeze artists are flying around the big top on fire, practicing contortion moves. Now THAT'S thrilling and edgy. That's the circus of 2011.

Hey, Circus, you can actually have that idea for free. You're welcome.

Of Failed Viaries and Holy Jeans

I just failed at three attempts to make you a video. It's the thing to do these days, the video on the blog. I refuse to call it a vlog, however. I hate that word. I barely tolerate the word blog, but vlog? Nope. Can't do it. Maybe if I make one I will call it a viary or a vournal or, hey---a video! I like the word video. It's got a great 80s ring to it. Or perhaps I will call it a film, because I'm artistic like that.

On my video/film I was showing off my new glasses. They replaced my old pair with Transitions Lenses. At the time, I was very excited about Transitions Lenses, but they didn't really work for me. The actual transition of those glasses wasn't so much from clear to tinted lenses, as much as a transformation from decent looking glasses to extremely dorky glasses. Other people (my dear dad included) are rocking the Transitions Lenses, but sadly I could not. Life is much better now with good, old-fashioned plastic lenses that make me squint and get a piercing headache in sunlight.

Speaking of sunlight, I have some exciting news to share! Despite what the groundhog predicted, I can assure you that spring is just around the corner. Why? Because the other day as I was retrieving clothes from Max's drawers for him to wear to school, I grabbed a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee. I put it back and grabbed another, and guess what? That pair had a hole in the knee as well. I traded it for a third pair and, again, found a hole in the knee. I was just about to growl, when I realized what this all meant. These are the pants that were purchased in early September and they are wearing out! Every year, just as I'm on the verge of replacing all the hole-y jeans, I realize that it's not worth it because the kids are ready to wear shorts. Glory, glory hallelujah! I might make it after all! As it stands, Max only has one more pairs of jeans without holes. I figure it should only be a few more weeks before the last pair gives up the threadbare ghost and ushers in a new season.

Thanks for checking in if you're still checking in. And happy almost-spring!

100 Things About Me

I know this is so 2006, but I like this exercise.

1. I have brown eyes.
2. My oldest child is only an inch shorter than me right now.
3. I have the beginnings of a bad knee.
4. I was born at home.
5. I like to eat.
6. I get up every morning at 6:40.
7. I am currently trying to reconcile my lifelong rift with winter.
8. I'm a friendly person, but a bit of a loner.
9. I keep my fingernails short.
10. I am about to turn 34.
11. I enjoy the liberal daily use of good smelling lotion.
12. I like my dog, but sometimes fear that I don't show her enough love.
13. I'm the sixth of eight children.
14. I like to learn a little bit about a lot of things.
15. I hate it when my home phone rings; it's almost never someone I want to talk to.
16. I enjoy cooking most of the time.
17. I love singer/songwriters.
18. Almost every bit of advice or scolding I give to Christian is something I should use myself.
19. I love my house.
20. I used to leave my contacts in for months; now I take them out every night.
21. I'm in love with my husband.
22. I think I want to go to the circus for my birthday.
23. I am falling out of love with blogging.
24. I enjoy vacuuming.
25. I do not enjoy dusting.
26. I hate cleaning out the fridge.
27. Someday I'd like to learn more about the stock market.
28. I'm working on a novel. The process intimidates and terrifies me.
29. I crave summer like a drug.
30. I would have enjoyed math more in my youth if someone had explained that it's one of very few things in life that result in a "right answer."
31. I like texting.
32. I like old buildings.
33. I love doing laundry and folding laundry, but I hate putting it away.
34. I have decided to consciously stop wishing things were different about myself. What a waste.
35. I think David Gergen is the best political commentator ever.
36. I used to hate chewing gum until I realized that I could chew it for only a few minutes and then spit it out. Turns out, I'm in charge of my gum!
37. I enjoy walking outside more than any other form of exercise. 
38. I am a huge fan of carbohydrates.
39. I like driving my car.
40. One of my pet peeves is people who stand right outside the entrance of buildings smoking.
41. Sometimes I feel like a good writer and sometimes I feel like a crappy writer.
42. I feel like I've become much more serious in the last few months and I don't like it.
43. I'd like to have more ambition, but I also want to feel content.
44. I no longer have a toenail fungus.
45. I am genuinely tired of reading about war: in fiction, in nonfiction, in real time.
46. I am more funny on paper than I am in real life.
47. I am not competitive with others.
48. I really try to be a good parent, and I think that most of the time I am.
49. I used to be afraid of semicolons; now I just don't like them.
50. I would never want to re-live my twenties.
51. I would never want to re-live my teens.
52. I am saddened when I hear of unhappy childhoods.
53. I believe in working hard, but also making lots of time for fun.
54. I love A Prairie Home Companion on NPR.
55. Even though I am a woman, there is a lot that I don't understand about women.
56. Give me sushi and I'll be happy.
57. I'm overwhelmed sometimes by how much I love my kids.
58. I am continually amazed by Ryan and his accomplishments.
59. I can waste an entire day with little to no effort at all.
60. I am a longtime user of Proactiv Solution, and a sucker for most infomercials.
61. In my opinion, traveling is not only fun, but absolutely necessary. Every place I've ever visited has changed me and my view of the world.
62. I want to travel more. Lots more.
63. I think bridges are jaw-dropping structures.
64. I worry about my dad's health sometimes. I want him to live a long, long time.
65. I don't worry about my mom's health so much. She was a health nut before health nuts were cool.
66. One of my favorite quotes to ponder came from Mad Men: "Nobody knows what's wrong with themselves, but everybody else can see it right away."
67. I'm trying to figure out what everybody else can see right away about me.
68. I love my brothers and sisters.
69. I like to sleep with a foot sticking out of the covers.
70. I am not afraid of or opposed to killing spiders.
71. I have nice handwriting.
72. I have bad hearing.
73. I think it's important to listen to intelligent people who disagree with you.
74. I used to love David Letterman until he was revealed to be a dirty old man.
75. I love the energy in restaurants.
76. I use a lot of brown sugar in my cooking.
77. I don't understand people who are difficult and abrasive.
78. Sometimes I want another child, but most of the time I don't.
79. The older I get, the more I believe that faith is an intensely personal process.
80. The other day I remembered something really mean I did when I was 12.
81. I fear that I will never get used to the east coast greet-with-a-kiss-on-the-cheek thing. Awkward.
82. I really enjoy and appreciate fast food sometimes.
83. I don't have much interest in super fancy restaurants.
84. I don't think I have enough confidence in myself.
85. I am mildly obsessed with This American Life.
86. I prefer showers to baths.
87. I truly enjoy an un-rushed trip to Target.
88. Sometimes, if I really think about it, the momentum of technology can really freak me out.
89. I haven't made burritos for a long time.
90. I feel sad that Ryan's parents are dead.
91. I love the last mushy bite of an ice cream cone.
92. I am in love with the beach.
93. I wish I would have known my grandparents
94. I have music playing all the time. (Just like my mom.)
95. I am short.
96. I am nervous to be the parent of a teenager.
97. I check my email all the time.
98. I don't keep a regular journal.
99. I am tired.
100. I like grapes.

Emotional Growth: As Seen On TV

Something is happening to me. It's the kind of thing I expected to happen around the time of Christian's high school graduation or maybe when I decrease the time between my hair appointments to keep up the blondification of the increasing gray hairs. As it is, I am only 33 years old with only one silver eyelash---a persistent one I have to keep plucking out---and two little boys who still get excited about Legos. But still, something is happening to me.

Maybe I brought it on prematurely with the purchase of the Clapper, a product I've fallen in love with since its arrival at my doorstep last month. We have a wonderful working relationship, the Clapper and I. I stand in applause and it lights up my life, and then we do it again in reverse. As much as I love the Clapper, maybe it's the cause of the something that's happening to me.

The something is a haunting, a mild ache in my chest, a tendency to be sentimental, reflective, and quick to produce tears. It happens at inopportune times, like at Max's second grade class program a few weeks ago. The class was strung across the room singing a cheery song about being America's kids, America's future. I cried because it was true. It was very inconvenient. Most everybody else was chuckling at all the nose-picking and fidgeting of America's future. But I was crying. I was also crying because of the old wrinkled granny in the audience who was shaking her head and lamenting about the number of Mexican kids in the class. She didn't think they should be part of America's future. That made me cry too.

In the name of full disclosure as I ponder this mystery, I should also admit that I have recently been outfitted with a Snuggie. I did it to myself. In fact, I outfitted the entire family in them for Christmas. We don them while watching movies together or reading books. Today I found Max in his tan church pants, no shirt, and his child-size blue Snuggie worn backward, robe-style. He resembled a young, blond Moses. He parted the couch pillows and settled into a cartoon. He's America's future, you know. I'm wearing my Snuggie as I type this, and I am comfortable declaring my affection for it. The Snuggies are wonderful. Ridiculous? Yes. The cause of my sentimental streak? Perhaps.

Maybe the combination of the Clapper and the Snuggie is the reason why, at plenty o'clock one morning I was alone by the Christmas tree, watching a movie about a family. There were funny parts that made me laugh and sad parts that opened floodgates of emotion. And instead of policing the emotion and rationing its release, I surrendered to it. I let the tears and heavy sighs have a free-for-all with me. I bathed in all of the wonderful sadness. If I'd had a spoon nearby, I would have eaten it. I was wrapped in an overwhelming feeling of content. My soul reached from the inside out, tugged at my ear and whispered, "Just FEEL!"

The feeling thing is a big part of the something going on with me. It's not just feeling emotions at classroom programs and midnight movie viewings, though. It's a new version of feeling, an emotional upgrade of sorts to my internal software. The emotions are accompanied by a new understanding that I have no need to transform them, explain them, or resolve them as I used to believe. I don't have to find ways to turn sad into happy, scared into secure, lonely into loved. Everything is what it is. Feel it, embrace it, and let it go.

Is all this written in the fine print of the Clapper user manual? I'm not sure. I throw away users manuals.

If it's true that these As Seen On TV products propel the aging process and its accompanying maturity, I'm conflicted. I'm enjoying my new outlook on life, not to mention the comfort and convenience of on-demand ambient lighting and soft fleece. But are there other, less-enlightening side effects headed my way? Hot flashes? Hip replacements? Bingo nights? Only time will tell.

In the mean time, however, I'm going to put off ordering the Perfect Brownie Pan or the Microwave Pasta Boat. I can only handle so much wisdom at once.

'Twas the Monday Before Christmas...

And all through the house,
There was crap that needed to be put away.
The kids were in bed
And there was a giant pile of laundry
To be folded.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Mama (in her ratty sweats)
Tore open the window
And dumped all the laundry outside.
Problem solved.

Playing Mind Games With My Christmas Tree

I'm stalking my Christmas tree. I can't leave it alone. I spend almost all my time right near it, inching my way on the couch to be within arm's/branch's reach. Sometimes I switch to the chair on the other side of it; the view is nice from there too. I wonder if the tree wants me to back off and find some other friends. I wonder if it thinks I should have spent more time fluffing its artificial branches when I set it up. I wonder if it feels naked in the back where there aren't any ornaments. I wonder if it wants to be friends on facebook. I wonder why it never writes clever messages to me on Twitter. I wonder if it knows that I'm considering a real tree next year. Heyyyyy. That would be a game changer, wouldn't it?

Wait, it would say, I don't understand. You can't leave me alone, for crying out loud! And now you're talking about replacing me?


I bet that would make my tree less critical of my overbearing codependence. Who's calling the shots now, tree, huh?

This Story Is Way Shorter Than It Looks

I'm suffering from a chronic case of writer's block
I think I need a strong antibiotic
And perhaps some sort of -ectomy
I've sat down to write many, many times
Then frozen completely
Several hours later when I finally thaw
I can't write
Because at that point I need a snack
Because I'm hypoglycemic
Speaking of hypoglycemia
Most people roll their eyes at the hypoglycemic population
(I'm looking at you, Ryan)
But that's just because they are jealous
That those of us who are hypoglycemic
Have to eat at regular intervals
Or else we get really mean
And lightheaded
And headache-y
And petty
And sometimes dead
I cannot be held accountable for things I say or do
When my blood sugar is low
I have a note from the doctor
No I don't
I just fibbed there
But you can't blame me
Because I haven't eaten for three and a half hours
Let's switch gears now
A funny thing happened today
Ryan's been waiting for some test results in the mail
Not results for blood sugar levels
Results from the licensing exam
He studied all summer long for that damned exam
It was one of the black rainclouds that hung over our summer
(There were others, too)
He took the exam at the end of the summer
And had to get a 70 percent to pass
It's a ridiculously difficult test
Most of which has nothing to do with his work at all
But a man's got to do what a man's got to do
And my man had to study for and pass this test
He found out last week that he passed
(Holy Mother of Yahooeeee!)
But he didn't know his score
Until today
I got the mail and texted him that it arrived
I asked him if he wanted me to open it
He didn't reply right away
So I was forced to open it
(My blood sugar was low at the time)
I saw his score and was confused
It said 720
I thought maybe a decimal was missing
Like, it was supposed to be 72.0
And I thought to myself
Wow, he barely passed
That's going to bother him
He's going to ruminate about this for months
When he finally texted me back
(After I'd had a cookie to prevent death)
I asked him if he wanted to know his score
He said yes
I told him that he got a 72
Or at least what I figured was a 72
I told him the decimal was missing
It just said 720
But it was supposed to be 72.0
Because I had it all figured out, of course
He called me at that point
He was laughing
He said 720 is the scaled score
Which made sense, now that he mentioned it
Since it said "Scaled Score: 720" on the paper
I asked him what that meant, then
What's your score? I said
He said, Well, 500 is 70 percent
Oh
Which means 720 is way more than 70 percent
Right-o
Even more than 72.0 percent
You betcha
Like ninety-something percent
Yowza
He's not exactly sure how many percent
Because as it turns out
That is a really tough math problem to figure out
And this wasn't a math exam
It was a licensing exam
Which he passed, by the way
With a buttload of flying colors
And I couldn't figure out what percentage it was either
Because I'm hypoglycemic

The Very Complex Creative Process

• Stage 1: A good idea is born. No, make that a great idea.
• Stage 2: Your soul is filled with purpose, your veins with adrenaline. You're the king of the world! No, better than that--you're an artist!
• Stage 3: You compose the entire piece in your head and...it's brilliant.
• Stage 4: Pen (or computer, or paintbrush, or guitar) in hand, you begin the real work, the nuts and bolts of putting your brilliant idea into a tangible form!
• Stage 5: You stop for a snack.
• Stage 6: You check out what's on TV.
• Stage 7: You get back to work and redo the entire beginning.
• Stage 8: You stop for another snack.
• Stage 9: Potty break.
• Stage 10: You get back to work and erase at least one-third of what you've done.
• Stage 11: Panic.
• Stage 12: Confusion.
• Stage 13: Blank staring.
• Stage 14: You force yourself back to work and squeeze out a painful sentence/line/stroke/chord.
• Stage 15: You stop fooling yourself and admit--out loud--that you are an idiot.
• Stage 16: You wallow in the miserable realization that you will never, ever, ever have a good idea again in your life.
• Stage 17: You imagine yourself as an old, toothless homeless person talking to anyone who will listen about all the brilliant ideas that escaped you.
• Stage 18: Massive chocolate and/or potato chip intake.
• Stage 19: You give yourself a half-hearted pep talk and decide to try again.
• Stage 20: Before trying again, you wander every room in the house and lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling.
• Stage 21: You re-read The Little Engine That Could.
• Stage 22: You weep uncontrollably.
• Stage 23: You force yourself back to your work.
• Stage 24: You're really serious. No more playing around. You're going to soldier on. You're ready to get back on the creative horse, no matter how many times it bucks you off.
• Stage 25: You get back to work...right after you take a very important self-portrait.

Stuff I Didn't Know About Adulthood Until I Got Here

• Most things are complicated.
• Most people are complicated.
• Sooner or later, you have to learn to be assertive.
• You really only need a few good friends.
• The amount of thanks you gave your mother for cooking is directly related to the amount of thanks you'll get from your own kids.
• Being right is less important and valuable than you ever thought it would be.
• Grownups get mad at kids for making messes, but nobody makes bigger messes than grownups.
• Taxes suck.
• There are too many occasions where there is very little you can do to help.
• Just when you think you've got it all figured out, everything changes.
• Nothing is black and white.
• You will continue to be haunted by everything you swore you'd never do as a parent.
• People can change, but you can't change them.
• Sometimes life is absolutely terrifying.
• The most valuable skill you will ever develop is listening, followed closely by shutting up.
• You're going to feel ambivalent about a lot of things.
• No matter how old you get, there are still times when all you want is your mommy.
• You are the only one who's going to eat that last little bit of cereal in the box.
• Sometimes you have to be your own cheerleader.
• Emotions are transient. Let them come and go.
• You'll probably regret voting for at least half of the people you vote for.
• Worry is a robber.
• You are going to change a lot of toilet paper rolls, diapers, and trash can liners.
• Swearing, when saved for special occasions, can really make you feel better.
• It's completely, 100% okay and normal to doubt.
• It's virtually impossible to leave the house without spending at least $40.
• Gossip always gets you back.
• You really don't need all that stuff. 
• Buying stuff really does seem to make you feel better sometimes.
• Even if you didn't lose the remote control, you're going to be the one to find it.
• Watching the news is only occasionally beneficial.
• The IKEA instructions include everything but the argument with your significant other.
• Sometimes you don't know you're experiencing PMS until you feel the urge to throw things at people's heads.
• No good has ever come from the word "upgrade" especially as it relates to software.
• Every time you turn around, some organization will be asking for your money.
• You will continually surprise yourself at your ability to waste time.
• There is freedom in accepting that life is uncertain and unfair.
• It's good to say no sometimes.
• You can act brave without feeling brave.
• Loving someone will reveal just as much about yourself as it will about them.
• Your metabolism is a jerk.
• You might as well say "I love you" every time you feel like it.
• No matter what you do, individual socks are going to randomly disappear.

What have you learned in adulthood that you didn't know before?