A Rose In Any Other Language

I read my daughters' texts nightly. They are not allowed to have their phones in their rooms at night and they are not allowed to change their passwords so that Brian and I can have access to them. This is not an invasion of privacy. This is a safety precaution. They are still learning to navigate life, and we need to be aware of what's going on. So far, they are respectful of this and only bothered a tiny bit.

Then, Hadley pulled a quick one on us.

She began texting in Espanol. Wha--?? I only speak Dora, ya know, and she's way beyond Dora. Weirder still was the friend she was texting with--let's just call her The Sweetest Girl Ever In The Whole Wide World. I couldn't imagine The Sweetest Girl Ever In The Whole Wide World saying anything that needed to be coded. Heck. I couldn't imagine her saying much at all!

My curiosity (and my nerves) were peaked. I copied the texts and pasted them into Google translate. Y'all know what? They were texting homework. They had a conversational test in Espanol I and were practicing. Okay. So, not only do I have a good kiddo, but she's got good friends as well. Wanna know what the conversation was?

My dad teaches geography, helps with softball and golf and likes world politics and spending time our family (mi familia, Dora taught me that).

My sister is very athletic. She plays softball, likes to laugh and is social. She is eleven years old.

My mom is forty-four years old and likes to rest. 

Um ... That's what she has to say about me? Brian gets world politics; Briley gets "laugh" and "social" and I get rest?!?

I've been blogging since 2005. I've written four full-size books in two years. I'm in the middle of finishing my fifth book. Sure, I'm running behind schedule, but who doesn't? I was a regular for over a year on a local news show. I write a regular newspaper column, I write a regular magazine column, I teach full-time, and I speak to various groups all over our region. I co-produce the OKC Listen TO Your Mother Show. I attend softball tournaments and drive to golf events. And the word she comes up with is REST?

But, you know what? She's got a point.

Friday night, I took a book to bed at 8:30. It was glorious.

When she grows up, Hadley wants to study political sciences and behavioral sciences. She wants to work with the FBI in their behavioral analysis group.

She thinks she's so smart ... and she is.

After reading her texts in Espanol, I totally believe she's chosen the right field.

As for me? I'm going to bed early tonight, hoping I can turn off my alarm in the morning because of snow...

Truth In Advertising

I'm trying a new thing tomorrow: I'm roasting a chicken in the crock pot. Pinterest has assured me that this $7.42 chicken will taste just as good if not better than the rotisserie chicken that Hellmart sells for a dollar cheaper.  As I prepared my crock pot and my dreams of a yummy smelling house, I was taken aback by the words FRESH and YOUNG. I am sure that some foodie somewhere will be all giggly over the prospect of roasting a a fresh young chicken with parts of his/her giblets missing. But, I would prefer that Tyson take my hand, look me square in the eye and lie to me. I wouldn't think twice about buying a chicken that was labled "Old and Fulfilled Chicken, died in a pasture as he was free-ranging with all of his giblets in tact."

I'm sure that labeling wouldn't sell to anyone except me.

And speaking of me and speaking of truth in advertising, I do still call myself a blogger. If anything this past year has taught me it's this: Things change. If this is life-changing news to you, please do yourself a favor and turn off Netflix.

I do love writing-slash-blogging, but this past year has found me spinning with the changes and the one thing that I allowed to suffer was my blog. In trying to keep my family from becoming too dizzy and trying to do my job to the best of my abilities and trying to keep my head above water ... or at least above the occasional glass of sangria I partake in every once in a while. 

I think--I think--I'm doing okay enough to try and get a handle on my blogging again. 

So, I feel safe enough in keeping my "blogger" label for now ... even if it is prefaced with "old and fulfilled."

Ignore the "best by" date--it's been in the freezer

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Saturday in the Ozarks with OWL

How was your weekend? Mine? I've had a great, great day! I love any day that I can talk about writing, meet great people and chillax with my family. And all of that happened this weekend.

Ozarks Writers League (OWL) invited me to speak with them today. Last night, we started at Ye Olde English Inn in Hollister. Because my family loves a good adventure, they came along.

Ye Old English Inn really was an amazing place to stay. When I was growing up, my family used to come to the Branson area, and Hollister was just down the road from our little cabin on the Taneycomo. So, getting to stay here made me a little bit nostalgic. But, that was okay because one of my topics today was Telling Your Story: Writing Memoir While Still Living Your Life.

Ye Old English Inn uses these. 

The Daughters had no idea why we would be given a key.

"What's this for?" they asked.

Technology allowed Brian and I to recall the days of yore when you didn't slide a card or punch in numbers in order to unlock doors. Ahhh ... The good ol' days. If only there had been a Bon Jovi concert locally for me to throw the key upon the stage ...

While there was no Bon Jovi, our room did overlooked the outdoor bar where a band was playing. So, we raised those windows, stuck the girls in bed and listened to our own live music show from the comfort of our bed, wearing our pajamas. This was the next best thing to Bon Jovi.

My second presentation was about blogging. Surprise! Y'all know I have a thing for blogging. If blogging were a person, I might be open to having an open marriage. (Not really. Do NOT email with offers and propositions ... unless they include head shots.)

This day? It was fabulous. I loved visiting with the writers of OWL and the other speaker, Christina Butler-Taylor. The people I met today are nothing short of generous with their kindness and welcoming of a fellow spinner of words. If you're a writer in the Ozark area and are looking for encouragement and like-minded writers, you'll find a home with OWL, to be sure.

And me? I'll go to bed satisfied with a great day, and I'll probably send The Daughter to bed with my regaling stories about how we used to think these devices were totes cool.

Here ya go, honey.

 

It's been a rough couple of weeks for Daughter 1.  We ordered her two shirts that she desperately wanted and when they came in, they were my size. Okay, okay (no pun intended), it was probably because I accidently clicked my size without thinking, but what can I say? I've had a lot on my mind. But, this little mistake made us have to frantically order the right sized shirts and hope they got her in time. Good news? They did. Bad news? We still stressed about it.

Then, we got the call from school that the two classes she was most looking forward to, Orchestra and Publications, were scheduled for the same hour of the day. She would have to make a decision. Her decision was to, sadly, give up Orchestra. Her rationalization was that eventually, if she went to law school in order to go into the FBI, she'd need to have writing skills ... and writing is her passion. So, with a sad heart, she gave up her cello.

And finally, as she flipped through the pictures on my phone, she decided that I didn't love her nearly as much as I love her sister because I had more pictures of her sister on the big water slide and had no pictures of her on the big water slide.

"Plus," she said, "You haven't blogged about me in a long time."

"First?" I said, "I do have pictures of you. This one is of you."

 

"How can you tell?" she challenged.

"Because of the order of pictures that I took."

"Well, you still haven't blogged about me much."

"Do you want me to blog about what you said when you got off the slide?"
 

"MOMMA!"

"Well, do you?"

"I don't care."

So, what'd she say? When she got off the slide, she walked over to me and said, "Oh my gah, Momma. I just tooted and water came out."

See? I blog about both of my kiddos.

Lessons From The Water Park

The last day of school, Daughter 2 won a pass for six people to our local water park. Each girl picked a friend and we set out for a day of fun.

Well, the word fun is relative, right?

I'm a 44-year-old momma. The water park doesn't hold the same mystic it used to hold for me when I was say ... much younger. Just willing myself to wear my skirted bathing suit out in public where the general public could judge me, well, it just wasn't shouting fun to me. But, I love my girls and I skirted up and went.

While I lay in the shade (skin cancer is scary, yo), I contemplated the many lessons the water park had taught me since I had become a momma.

1. I am not the best momma out there. I sat next to a woman who dragged her kids out of the pool every thirty minutes to reapply. Then they had to sit there and drink their water to stay hydrated. And before they could go back in, she made them go to the bathroom and wash their hands. She did this all with a smile. She also had dark circles under her eyes and looked like she hadn't slept since the turn of the century, but you could tell she had this mothering thing down pat, as dictated by all the parenting magazines.

2. I am not the worst momma out there. I could be all catty and judgmental without knowing why that one momma was dressed inappropriately for a water park and stayed on her phone for a full forty-five minutes while her preschool aged child flitted from one adult to another asking for help with her arm floaties and sunscreen and such. But, I won't be that way. Seriously. Who am I to judge? I mean, she could have been participating in a job interview. You know, a job interview that ended with, "Come over after she's in bed, and I'll crack you like a walnut between my thighs." Whatever that means.

3. There are a lot of people at water parks who never use the bathroom. That can only mean one thing: They pee in the pool. I, on the other hand, went to the bathroom. It was disgusting. Related? I got in the pool just once.

4. Being proud of my grey hair can be disastrous. Before we left the house, I grabbed a hat and started to pull my hair underneath it. Then, I thought twice about it. I am growing out my grey hair, and I've actually gotten more compliments about it than I have any other hair style or color I've had in the past ten years. I tossed that hat back on the rack and walked out the door. Turns out, that I wear a hat at the water park not to hide my grey, but to shade my eyes. I made do, though.

5. I will go to the water park exactly one week before I get a new pedicure. I don't schedule it like that or anything. It just happens.

6. There will be that one kid. Every single time we go to the water park, there will be that one kid who pukes or poops and the whole park will close down. This will force us to get a pass to go across town to the other swimming pool that is gigantically bigger but doesn't have the same toys and rides.

7. Even without toys and rides, my kids and their friends will make their own fun. And watching them have fun makes me rethink number 1 on this list. Not for long, but long enough to make me smile.

Seven

My friend, Jennifer, and I recently had a conversation about food. I told her that our taste buds change every seven years. It's true. Well, it's true as far as I know. In fact, I know a lot of stuff, kinda. You want me on your trivia team. Trust me on this one. But, that's not the point of this post. Unless you are looking for a trivia team member, then here I am!

Anyway ...

We then talked about how things seem to change every seven years. You keep your tax stuff and financial stuff for seven years. Seven is supposed to be a lucky number. Seven is a Biblical significant number. And it got me to thinking about my writing--my blogging.

Source

I actually started blogging (for the third time) in January of 2006. I've been blogging for over seven years. Eight years, if you want to get all mathematical about it.

Since then, we've moved several times; I've gotten two IUDs (not at the same time); Daughter 1 is starting her last year of middle school; Brian was outted as The Dad; I've become a published author! (You've read my books, right?) I've scored a regular segment on Tulsa Live. I'm a syndicated columnist. Brian and I have changed jobs ... twice for me, more for Brian. Daughter 2 is becoming quite the softball player, and Daughter 1 will certainly be the next Christina Kim.

And in the past few months, our lives have changed even more since my own momma had her stroke and has now moved in with us. (She's doing very well, y'all. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers!)

What's my point? I'm not really sure other than my blogging has suffered. I'm still, though, composing blog posts in my head almost constantly. Blogging, my friends, is one of my favorite things ... I'm not sure why I've forsaken it in the past few months, but I plan on changing that.

For the next seven days? I will blog. Daily. That's one week.

Seven.

Keep reading. I'll be back tomorrow.

Let It Go ... Not The Song

"I don't like talking to people," D1 said as we got into the car to make our way to the STATE university for her week-long Summer Science Academy. 

"I know," I nodded. "Neither do I most of the time, but I do it anyway."

We had this conversation a dozen times on our way there.

And just before I left her for the week, we had that conversation again. 

And she hugged me like she used to hug me before she got all cool and teenagery and stuff. 

And I came this -><- a="" an="" baby="" back="" campus="" cannot="" car="" close="" et="" flippin="" for="" i="" in="" leave="" my="" on="" p="" saying="" the="" to="" university="" week.="" whole="">

But I didn't. 

I snapped a picture of her being teenagery instead and walked her to the commons where she said, "I don't like talking to new people." I nodded.  Because I couldn't talk, I nodded.

Then I left her with a couple of other girls and a college mentor where they began discussing and cussing The Fault in Our Stars, both the book and the movie.

I choked back tears and threatened the lump in my throat to stay where it was as I waited for the elevator. If I could just get on the elevator and make my way down the four flights, I'd be good.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed 1. Then I bit my lip and told myself to pull it together. I could still hear the group talking about how sweet Gus and Hazel were and how hard they cried when he just wasn't in the movie/book anymore.

And then I pressed 1 again, but I wasn't moving.

And I pressed it again and again and again. When it was clear after thirty-two presses that I wasn't moving, I pressed the door open button. Nothing. I pressed it repeatedly a dozen times. Nothing. I pressed every button to no avail. I ran my hand down the button area ala Buddy The Elf and got nothing. I even pressed the alarm. It made a lame ding, ding, ding sound. I barely even heard it. 

Finally, I called the campus help line. Since it was Sunday, I got an automated system that promptly hung up on me. Twice. I pressed the elevator help button and got this sound: Wah Wah Wah. So, I pulled the director's number from my back pocket and called her. Right after she promised to get me out, the electricity went out.

So, I Instagrammed it. 

I also took a selfie (which showed just how black it was), and I texted everyone I know. 

This is the response from my hubby who was still at D2's softball tournament (they won, BTW):

So much for concern from the father of the baby I was abandoning at summer camp!

Finally, twenty minutes later, a campus policeman showed up and struggled at manually opening the door. I would have helped him, but I was in the middle of a text to my friend, Denise. 

I bolted down the stairs and sped away. I texted D1 to take the stairs the whole week. And then I drove away. I let my baby and her mandatory-stair-climbing dorm go. 

When we were making summer plans, we had inadvertently scheduled D1 and D2 for camp at the same time. Initially, I was worried. Then I was excited. Some alone time for momma? Yes. I just had no idea it would come so quickly ... or in hot, dark elevator. 

Lilla Rose Hair Clips~GIVEAWAY!

I never had long hair as a child. I liked having my hair played with too much to let it grow out. As an adult, however, I rarely have the time to get it cut, so it grew out and I had long hair. I love my long hair, but it's stringy. I used to have just an ounce of bounce to my hair that would give it body and I could do all sorts of amazing things with it. Then I had kids.

Now my hair just lays on my head, turning grey.

I recently got it cut into longer layers. I really do like it a lot, but I miss being able to do things with my hair.

Enter: Jessica Baber, Independent Lilla Rose Consultant (Go like her on Facebook). She gave me a freestyle, princess tiara hair clip.

When I first got it, I thought there was no way it would stay in my hair. It's lightweight and pretty simple to use. My hair generally requires complexity and lots of Aqua Net in order to do what I want it to do.

But ... it worked perfectly. It stayed in my hair and my hair did what it was supposed to do, and I loved it!

In honor of Valentine's Day (and updo's that make us look more gorgeous-er for our lovers), Jessica and I are giving you a $16 gift certificate to her online store. Here's what you need to do:

1. Go to her website and pick out a product you'd want for $16 or under.
2. Leave a comment on this post telling us what product you'd like.

That's it! It's that simple! At 10:00 on Friday, February 14, Random.org will choose a winner and we'll notify you by email.

I can't wait to see what items you pick out! They are all fabulously cute!

WINNER: Barbara Shoff!!  Congrats! Enjoy your clip!

Christmas Break 2013-2014, Day #2,561

You know when you were a little kid and wished that Christmas would never end? It's happening. It's happening right now. It's a million degrees below zero out there and, initially, the kids were totally all about it.

Now? We're over it. We're Okies. We like our one-time snow day. We like our one-time snow/ice storm. After that? We're done.

Of course, this weekend the temps will be in the 50s. It's Oklahoma. We're where Mother Nature comes when her hormones bottom out.

So, what will we do today on our 2,561 day home? Anything we want. My brain is spent.

Sister Sleepover

"Can we have a sister sleepover?" Daughter 2 asked as she bounced around the living room. Knowing that she had not had good sleep since the last day of school and knowing that she'd likely be driving her sister nutso, I passed the buck to Daughter 1, who would have to be sleeping with her.

"Can we have a sister sleepover together?" Daughter 2 asked her sister, who was sitting on the couch, half dozed and quite possibly with drool coming from her mouth since she hadn't had good sleep since the last day of school.

Daughter 1 shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, "Don't care." Then she stood up from the couch and said, "C'mon."

Forty minutes and three dozen yells of "Calm down!" by her three family members, Daughter 2 finally settled and The Daughters went to sleep. Before I went to my own bed a couple of hours later, I peeked in at my sleeping beauties. They were back-to-back in the middle of the bed. I imagined that Daughter 1 had gotten ugly with a wild Daughter 2 and they'd gone to sleep pouting. None the less, their breathing was synched up and I wished for them at that very moment that they'd always remain this close, not necessarily literally, but for sure figuratively.

Eight Nine Ten hours later, I woke up to a quiet house. Brian was already at the gym (he's such a good man) and The Daughters were still asleep. I peeked in and found Daughter 1 completely wrapped in her comforter and her sister, sprawled in the middle of the bed, uncovered.

In my attempt to cover Daughter 1, I woke her.

"I was just trying to cover your sister."

"She doesn't want covers," she told me in her sleepy voice.

"She might," I argued. "It's really a cold day out."

Daughter 1 really didn't care. She got up to pee and to seize possession of the remote control. I brushed my teeth and went back into her bedroom to cover her sister and found this:

 

She had covered herself.

"See?" I said as I called Daughter 1 back to her room to show her that her sister did want covered.

"Yeah," spouted back Daughter 1, "I wanted a bed to myself we can't all get everything we want."

Except that ... Daughter 2 ended up in the middle of the bed, by herself with all the covers. I guess good things come to those who sleep in.

2013, You've Sure Been Good

I love the New Year ... a time for new beginnings. That's always a welcome event, unless you're winning and the game isn't over and someone calls "Do Overs" then that kinda ticks me off. Nonetheless, I love the New Year.

In anticipation of this fresh start, let's look back over the year.

Source

In January, D2 celebrated her ninth birthday, and I harassed my cousins.

In February, I taught my kid the definition of rectal, and I took pole dancing classes.

March brought us strep throat (hallelujah!), and I showed off my dope rappin' skillz, yo.

April brought us (you, especially, but it made me happy, too) MY BOOK! And, I called out another author ... apparently you people like sap.

What a great month May was--I learned a lot and fell in love with my man all over again.

In June, we went camping, and I let it all hang out.

My husband pretended to be a Pretty Woman expert in July, and I entertained people in the Hellmart Parking Lot.

August found me in my gyno's office with a list of suggestions, and I reminisced about D1's first note from school.

In September, I met George Straight and D2 met a bull, and I got pissed about the VMAs.

October brought a wake-up call for us as a family and we counted down to Thanksgiving, and D1 and I chatted about spooky things.

In November, I had an opportunity to be kind and I took it, but it cost me, and Getting Lucky was published--you've read it, right?

And that brings us to December, where I felt a connection with Noah, and I had to help Brian take off his trunks.

My Favorite Things: Lazy Sundays

During the school year, there are very few Sundays that don't require my attention to something school-ish. (There's a special place in hell for people who think teachers only work 8:00 - 3:00 Monday through Friday nine months out of the year. And that special place is filled with ADHD kids who are out of meds and their helicopter parents.) Where was I?

Oh, yeah. There are only a few Sundays during the school year during which I have nothing to do. Today was one of them.

I still have a to-do list a mile long involving books, blogging, writing, school, house, daughters, husband, dogs, cats, dust bunnies, yard work, quantum physics, whatever. But, tomorrow, I have no obligations, so I can work on them tomorrow and take today to be lazy, which is what I've done so far.

I like Sundays anyway. Sunday school and worship services are a great start to the day if for no other reason than that I have to be unplugged. I turn off my phone when we pull into the parking lot and turn it back on when we pull away from the parking spot. For that time, I am unplugged and no one can disturb me. (There are other reasons why I like my Sunday school and worship services, but that's all I'm jumping into at this time in this space.)

We usually go to our friend's pizzeria for lunch--it's a buffet, so there's no arguing and no waiting.

When we get home, I tackle my to-do list for the weekend/Monday.

But, since we are still on Christmas break, I snooze.

I kno what you're thinking: Heather got a new hair cut.
This isn't me. I'm not this tan.
Source

I woke up in time for Daughter 2 to go to her sleepover. Then I shipped Daughter 1 off to her youth group. And here I sit. Relaxing. And blogging.

There's not often that we, in our ever-connected world, get a chance to just sit, so today, I'm taking time to do just that. I'm enjoying a lazy Sunday. It's one of my favorite things.

Also, since The Daughters aren't home, I'm eating the Christmas candy I've stashed throughout the house. It's also one of my favorite things.

My Favorite Things: Holiday Cooking

One of the many things I love about blogging is the connections I've made with so many different people from all walks of life--people that if we were to meet at Hellmart, we might not even look twice at each other, but because we have the commonality of blogging, we're soul sisters (or misters). So, on Saturday night when I baked my famous triple chip cookies and they all came out looking like this:

I took to Facebook and tagged some of my foodie blogger friends like Debbie, Julie and Rachel. I figured that they could give me a quick fix. And they did. But so did a lot of other people. In fact, I got sixty-nine comments on my picture of my sad excuse for cookies. In fact, one of my favorite high school sophomores (ahem, Kaycee) said, "Were they supposed to look like fake vomit?" No. No they were not, but I'll keep that in mind for April Fool's Day or maybe next Halloween.

The cookies were still not fixed. I'm blaming old baking soda. PSA: Baking soda expires. Did you know that? I know that (now). They should put that on the box.

The good news is that I made a batch of Spicy Nuts, which I love saying, and didn't need anyone's assistance because they came out fabulously. In fact, they are so good that they are all gone.

 

Of course, the cookies are all gone, too. Even though they looked like fake vomit, they tasted like awesomeness.

I love holiday baking!

#NaBloPoMo: Judging Books By Their Covers

I would make the world's worst eye witness to a crime or an accident.

What was the perp wearing? Ummm ... black or maybe white. Long sleeves or ... short sleeves.

What color was his hair? He was either bald or had a mullet. Maybe he had a 'fro.

What did he do? He robbed that woman. Unless he was petting a dog. Or wait, I'm sure he helped that  Boy Scout across the busy street.

I'm horrible when it comes to immediately remembering details. But, I totally judge books by their covers. It's probably what drew me to Buzz Books USA first and foremost.

I like book covers that make me stop in my tracks and think, "WOW! What's that about?"

I like book covers that pop, and I kinda hafta blink.

I like book covers that catch my eye and make me smile or laugh or giggle or sigh.

But, I really, really like my book covers.

#NaBloPoMo: My first ever blog post ... or why I started blogging

Almost seven years ago, I started a blog. The truth is that I had started a couple of blogs before then, but couldn't remember what they were called or where they were located or what I said. And I didn't tell anyone about them. What if they read them, y'all??

Then, I got an email from my cousin Maggie. She had started a blog.

Me, The Daughters, My Own Momma and my cousin Maggie at
Listen To Your Mother--OKC, one of the many, many opportunities
the blogging has presented to me.

She has two kids, and our younger kidlets were born just a few months apart. She lived in a small-ish town in the northwestern part of our state. She was far, far from home. A blog was a great way for her to keep the rest of the world outside of northwestern Oklahoma in touch with her family and her life.

So, I started a blog, again. (It was a riviting first post, y'all.) Ya know. To keep the rest of the world outside of northeastern Oklahoma in touch with my family and my life. Also, I wanted to keep up with Maggie.

It turned out that I really liked blogging. I started telling people about my blog. I emailed everyone I know to tell them about my blog. I wanted everyone to read it, and, in case I forgot the address again, I'd have a hundred or so people with an email from me telling all about it.

I evolved and started blogging on a local newsite. I kept it fairly anonymous and called myself Minivan Momma. Then, one week after turning down a job to manage their website, the site was redesigned and Minivan Momma, which had quite a following, was homeless. And that's when I started this little gig. (Very evolved first post--go give it a read.)

And there ya have it. How I got my oversharing start.

P.S.:  About a year later, I got an email from an old high school friend. She informed me that another one of our classmates had started a blog, and she said I should check it out. It was a pretty fun read.

#NaBloPoMo: The Post that Didn't Post

I try really, really hard to be positive. There are so many things in our world that need "fixing," and I don't want to be known as a complainer. Complaining does nothing to fix anything. Really. Complaining does not one thing. I know that this is not a world-shattering thought, but around the time of the any elections, my social media feeds would seem to indicate that 99.9% of my friends really thought they could change the world with their complaints.

I wanted to write a post telling everyone to just shut the hell up. I didn't though. I wanted to remain positive.

Source

As long as we have elections, there will always be two sides. Even people who say they don't care, do. I wanted to tell people to just be nice, for goodness sake. When my kid--MY NINE-YEAR-OLD KID--shared with some friends (who are politically on the other side of the spectrum) where our family stood as far as presidential candidates were concerned, she was told she was going to hell. Really. These people are "Christians" despite their penchant for judging others. I told her not to sweat it. God had bigger problems than our presidential elections and the God we served loves all people--even Judgy McJudgersons. Then I wanted to tell them to shut the hell up. But, I didn't.

When gun-control legislation was introduced in response to Sandy Hook. The ugliness continued. No one wants their guns taken. No one wants to take your guns. Everyone continued to ask opponents, "What would you do if..." in presenting their cases. Funny thing was no one was listening to any of the responses. Once again, shut up. I wanted to say it a million times over. I didn't do it, though.

Religion? Everyone's right. Everyone's wrong.

Welfare? Help them all. Help none of them.

Healthcare? Heal the sick. Screw the system.

Movies? They hated it. They loved it.

We can't seem to have a civil discussion anymore. And, I had a post wherein I told everyone to shut up. I wanted to say that words are empty when they lack action ... then I realized that I needed to follow my own advice. This space would stay positive. This space would make a more intentional movement toward positive action. This space would be a place of respect.

So, my "Shut The Hell Up" post? It never posted. My words became actions instead. I would remain positive, even though the rest of the world seemingly jumped onto a negative, one-way road.

#NaBloPoMo: My Writing Space

I'd love to show you my writing space, it's light-colored walls full of inspiring photos of my family. A bookshelf in a corner holds my favorite books, including every single book of Celia Rivenbark. I sit in a high-back, high-end leather chair, facing my large solid oak desk that is beautifully cluttered with this and that and a paperweight with a four-leaf-clover suspended inside, even though I have a small framed quote that reads Diligence is the mother of luck.

I cannot show you that space, though, because it doesn't exist. We do have an office and a fairly nice desk. But, I only use it if I'm writing something academic. And since I've run the gamut of academia, I never sit in there to write.

Instead, I write on the couch. Much like Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, I nestle myself into my spot on our blue love seat in the living room and I sit down to write.

I'd also love to tell you that the words spew forth from me like vomit from a sick kid on November 1. But, that's not always the case. Sometimes, I can sit and write and write and write.

Most times, however, I sit and get a good ideas then get distracted by, well, The Big Bang Theory.

Yay! It's time to write!

Ooooo ... Great idea!

Oh my goodness ... is The Big Bang Theory on The CW again?

Now, what was I going to do again?

When push comes to shove and I have major writing to do or certain deadlines looming, I'll move into the front room and position myself on the brown leather couch--my favorite couch ever! But, there are hazards being in there as well.

I See Where I Rate

For the most part, the government shut down didn't have a direct impact on me and my family except to cause extreme anxiety in my already-anxious child about how the government shut down would directly effect her and her alone. I have close friends whose families wondered where their grocery money for the week (or two or three) would come from; I knew people who weren't being paid because they are employees of the Federal government; and every single person I knew had an opinion, one way or another, about what the real issue was and who was at fault.

As for me, I didn't fully understand it. I listened to the commentary, I read every last shared post on Facebook (and then did some major blocking of ignorance), but I all I really got from it was that our politicians' behavior could be best summarized with two words: Big Babies.

Good news--they came to an agreement before we defaulted (whatever that means) and the government shut down was ended, which really didn't mean too much to me and my family because, as I said before, we weren't directly impacted. Life was still going on as usual. I blogged a little. We did our #ThankfulThursday. We went to school. We came home. We went to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

On Thursday morning, we woke up, got dressed in our costumes and drove to Tulsa to film my segment for Great Day Green Country. Brian and I were dressed as a Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes winner and spokesman. Daughter 1 was dressed as Napoleon Dynamite--Sahweet! And Daughter 2, after a lot of last minute scrambling, was dressed as one of the Duck Dynasty Guys.

We did a segment wherein I discussed how we do our own Halloween costumes and how I try to not spend exorbitant amounts of money on something that we'll only wear for four hours at best and how 90% of our costume can be used in some other capacity and about how I crowd source for the hard to find items--like a Napoleon wig.

The interviewer, KC Lupp, who is always so kind and seems genuinely interested during our segments, asked my family how they felt about my blog and my oversharing, and they all responded that they were the first editors, nothing gets posted without their approval and then we cleared.

All during my interview, I felt my phone in my back pocket vibrating like an adult toy with new batteries. Brian and The Daughters went back to the lobby--they didn't need much changing. I headed back to the changing room and then joined them in the lobby where I checked my phone.

You were preempted!
The president is speaking!
You aren't on! The president is!
Why aren't they showing you?
When will you be on?
What are you doing? Send. Send. Did it send? What are you doing? I don't think this phone is working. (My own momma just learned to text.)

So ... we stayed around to film my next segment ... but I'm not telling you when it will air in case the President reads my blog has plans to wipe me from the air completely. (So there! I will not go down easily, President Obama!)

In the meantime, though, we ran into a few of our Wednesday night friends:

So ... what was my takeaway from Thursday?

1. Apparently The President outranks a mom blogger from Oklahoma--who knew?

2. Modern Family photo opps always make things better.

3. Our costumes look really, really great on and off the air.

"Why?"

"Can I go with you, Momma?" Both daughters have asked. Not at the same time, of course, that would require that they work together and since this past weekend was an extended weekend, working together had long gone out the door.

"Nope," I said, only half-apologetically. I would love to have a weekend with just my family away in the wooded wilderness, but this is not the weekend for this. "It's for regular bloggers who are adult women only." I gave a very detailed description of the attendees so that they wouldn't think there was a chance they could go with me.

"But why are you going?" Good question. Good question, indeed.

I'm going away this weekend to Arkansas Women Bloggers Unplugged. I went last year and had a great time. In fact, last year, I got to visit with Stephanie Buckley, the beautiful blogger behind The Park Wife and the founder of The Women Bloggers. And when Steph and I visited, she asked me to start up and manage Oklahoma Women Bloggers. And the year since has been nothing short of amazing.

"But why are you going, Momma?" they have each whined multiple times. And it's a valid question. I want to go because I am really looking forward to the break--let's be clear on that point, of course. I want to go so that I can socialize with other women who put their lives on the internet for all to read as well--there are a lot of us, but we're a rare breed. I want to go so that I can learn new things and teach new things as well.  I go with that answer because I hope they see me as a lifelong learner and choose to be a lifelong learner for themselves.

"To learn how to be a better blogger."

"Why do you want to be a better blogger?" Ideally, I'd love to earn a living as a blogger. I'd love to write all day long. But, even if that opportunity presented itself, I'd have to be really passionate about writing--and that's what started me on this bloggy road in the first place. A passion to write and share and tell stories. They know what passion means; we've emphasized that word time and again with them. Be passionate about what you do ...

"Because I'm passionate about telling my story ... and your stories as well."

"Why do you want to tell our stories, Momma?" If only they knew how brilliant they are. If only they know how smart and beautiful they are. If only they knew how creative and thoughtful and thought-provoking they are. But right now, they don't know. Eventually they'll get it, but not now.

" I want to tell your stories so that when you are older, you'll have your life written down ... by me. It's a gift to you. My blog is my love letter to you ... "

source

"That and y'all do some really funny stuff."

The Cat Came Back

"Momma!" Daughter 2 yelled at me as I pushed a mower through the jungle that had become our front yard, "We found Leonard!"

Four days earlier, during a rain storm that had helped our lawn achieve jungle status, Bo The Dumb Dog had opened our back door and let himself in. He dug through our trash, probably ordered some porn on pay-per-view, and then let himself back out when the rain stopped. In the meantime, the door to the back yard was open and the cats, Leonard and Sheldon, let their curiosity take them where Daughter 2 was afraid to let them go: outside.