The Big Move Begins!

Hello faithful readers! I've decided to make as many changes as my brain can take in the next week or so and move this blog to its very own site - just as soon as I figure out exactly how to do that. Heh.

And no, I don't plan on sleeping much in the next week, but thanks for asking. If you're local, take pity on me and throw me a chocolate bar or an IV drip of caffeine.

So, hopefully this will be my last Blogger-hosted post. Come Aug. 1, check out the all-new, totally snazzified, bedazzled and gloriously bedecked blog at myheartsindixie.com.

And in the meantime, check out a couple of fun Happy List ideas to close out my Blogger era. God bless you all and thank you for reading, commenting and spreading the word about My Heart's In Dixie. Y'all try to stay out of trouble for a few days, m'kay?

• This is my favorite new musical group, and I guarantee you'll love them, too. Even if you're not a country fan, check them out. Their harmonies are fantastic, and heads up ladies, the gentlemen half of the quartet are rather easy on the eyes.
• I'll probably mention this again soon, but mark your calendars now - "Mad Men" is back on AMC Aug. 16. I usually only manage to watch one TV show a week - "Intervention" - but I'll even forego that for a while to watch STL native Jon Hamm and everyone else on this fantastic show.
• Shameless plug - Happy Birthday to Me on July 28th! This is my last official birthday - beginning next year, I'll begin revisiting old birthdays by working my way back down the age scale. I'm Southern - that's what we do when we reach a certain age. And I am so there.
  

He's No Zac Efron, But...

Then again, I'm no Vanessa Hudgens.

But if nothing else, my dear Knight is most definitely goofy. How so, anyone who doesn't know him personally may be asking? (If you've ever met him, you already know.) Case in point (and as God is my witness, this is a true, unembellished story - as all my stories are. Heh. Okay, maybe not all - but my reporting on this one is entirely and mortifyingly true):

Over the weekend the princesses were enjoying a sleepover at their aunt's castle, so my Knight and I rapturously snatched the opportunity to do what any couple with young children do when relatives take pity on them and keep the children.

Geesh, not that. This is not that kind of blog. And besides, you get me within ten feet of anything resembling a bed these days, I'll be sawing logs in 30 seconds. Yep, I am such the object of desire - I'm sure Playboy will be calling me any day. Snort.

Anywhoo, we went to the grocery store to grab a highly nutritious selection of bad snack food we would 1) never allow the princesses to have; 2) never let the princesses see us eating; and 3) enjoy while sitting in the living room in front of the TV, which we never let the princesses do.

Oh, how I love being a rebel.

So I'm wandering down an aisle, debating whether I should get Double-Stuf Oreos and the Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream or just grab the jumbo bag of Dove chocolates and wait for the diabetic coma to overtake me, when up walks my Knight. Rather than some normal greeting: "What are you looking for?" "Are you ready to go?" "Will I really get sick if I eat canned chili with jalapenos and Fritos?" he walks up to me and says - loudly, getting the attention of several nearby shoppers:"Why, Mistie Thompson, I haven't seen you in 20 years! How have you been?" At which point he grabs me, leans me back in his arms and kisses me like we're Scarlett and Rhett from "Gone With The Wind."

But that's not the funny part.

After he lets me up from this dramatic kiss, he looks at me with this completely innocent face and deadpans, loud enough to hear across several aisles: "So, how's your husband?"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a snapshot of my dear Knight in action. And why I have a feeling I won't be invited to participate in the school PTO this year.

Strange Things

Do you ever see something going on around you, or on TV, or in the world at large that makes you stop and say, "I just don't get it"? Lately, I swear I'm doing it more and more. I've always been a bit of an odd duck and generally out-of-step with my peers, so it could very well just be my duck bill trying to poke its head out again. Now I could go avail myself of intensive - and expensive - therapy sessions to figure out if I've developed new neuroses...but why would I do that when I have all of you kind enough to analyze me for free?

I love it when I'm practical.

Anywhoo, here's my "I just don't get it" list. If you do get it, please help me out and explain what I'm missing. If you're with me in "just don't get it" land, let me know so I don't feel quite so much like I should just quit threatening to become a hermit and actually do it.

• Tattoos - especially when a young, pre-baby woman gets one on her stomach. Ladies, I don't know if anyone has mentioned this, but when you get pregnant, this will not be very attractive. And after you've given birth, it's going to get really flabby. What started out near your bubbies is going to end up just north of your knees. So don't. Just...don't.


• "The Hills" - do we really want to encourage Speidi any further in their pursuit of stardom? I think not.


• Drinking alcohol specifically to get drunk - I've been puzzled about this one since high school (OK, college - because I was a nerd who never went/was invited to high school parties). Let me understand - you drink until you A) act like a giggling idiot; B) throw up on something; or C) pass out, usually in an undesirable location. Tell me again what part is fun?


• Why brussels sprouts are so good for you but taste so incredibly bad.


• Chewing gum. When I was little, my grandmother told me that little girls who chewed gum looked like cows chewing cud. She apparently scarred me for life. To this day, the thought of putting gum in my mouth makes me gag. And when Princess E wants to chew gum (on the rare occasions when someone else gives her a piece, 'cause y'all know I'm not buying it), I try to stay in another room while she chews so I don't have to hear her chewing it.

Yeah, that last one's probably just me, huh? Quack.

Oops...excuse me.

Wow. Just...Wow.

Thank you.

I am overwhelmed and humbled by the kind words that you've posted over the past couple of days, as well as the emails, IMs and Tweets you've sent. Thank you for your kindness, your compassion, your indignation on my behalf and your support. For those of you I know personally, I'm looking forward to giving out big hugs the next time I see you. For those I only know through the blogosphere, I hope I get the chance to meet you in "real life" and thank you face to face.

The author Elbert Hubbard wrote, "To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." I used to be terrified of criticism - it would literally make me sick to my stomach. I couldn't handle anyone being upset with me, so I was a limp noodle - I didn't stand for anything and I didn't voice my opinions on anything for fear of upsetting someone, because I thought if someone disagreed with me, that meant I would be instantly disliked. I wanted desperately to be liked, so I was - for lack of a better word - a cowardly weenie.

I'm getting over that (maybe you've noticed - heh). I decided that I was tired of "being nothing" in my impossible effort to make everyone happy, so I started staking my claim in the world, so to speak. I'm losing my fear of having an opinion, slowly but surely. This blog is one way of doing that.

So to all of you who read, consider and respectfully comment, you have my sincere thanks and my request to please continue doing so as often as possible. For those who choose to go beyond that into personal, disrespectful and deliberately hurtful comments, you'll no longer be published here - for your own sake.

You see, your comments don't hurt me. I know who I am, I know where I stand, I know where I'm going, and - while I am far from perfect - I like myself. No, the only one your comments hurt are you, because of what they reveal about you. And that I think, if you really thought about it, you wouldn't want anyone to know.

Hello, Strangers!

I know. I've been a bad blogger. Bad blogger, bad!

I have no excuse, other than the fact that May has been flippin' nuts. Work, end of Princess E's school year, my sister's graduation, a quickie vacation - and the prep for and recovery from vacation, dance recitals, etc., etc. Did I mention I'm now on a school board? As a result, I now look like this, only...shall we say...a little thicker. (Hey, when you're up until at least midnight every night working on something, sugar is the only thing that'll keep you going. Don't judge me.)

Anywhoo, I'm back and totally ready for a lazy, laid-back STL summer. The princesses and I are planning to spend most of our time at our community's new pool once all our dance recitals are done for the year (one more week - yea!), so me and my fat, pasty thighs will be lounging around for all Ellisville pool-goers to see. I'm apologizing in advance right now, but since I've learned to embrace my lily-white skin and, short of lipo I'm not willing to shell out bucks for, my thighs sure as heck aren't going anywhere, we're all just going to have to learn to live with it. I'll keep them covered as much as possible, but when I'm chasing two water-bugs around, I can't guarantee anything.

So, other than my thighs, I'm looking forward to a frugal (I'm channeling my great-grandma during the Depression and socking cash away - trust me, you need to do the same) but fun summer in the 'Lou. It's easy to do here - lots of fun free and almost-free attractions.

What are y'all planning to do this summer? Let's talk best practices in affordable and low-stress summer fun - winner gets to plan the first "Summer Lovin' in the 'Lou" outing. :-)

(By the way, I have no idea why the formatting on this post is so screwed up and refusing to show my paragraph breaks. Blogger, fix yourself!!)

Top 10 List Of What Moms Really Want For Mother's Day

1. Sleep
2. Breakfast in bed - at noon
3. Sleep
4. A professional massage - i.e. not by the cheapskate hubby with some massage oil, a couple of candles and a Luther Vandross CD
5. Sleep
6. Kisses and hugs from children who aren't screaming and punching each other over who gets to kiss and hug mom first/last/the most/the hardest/the sloppiest
7. Did I already say sleep? I can't remember. I'm sleep-deprived.
8. One night in a luxurious hotel suite. Alone. No Disney Channel - or Luther Vandross.
9. One night in a luxurious hotel suite...with Zac Efron. (Did I write that out loud? I'm sorry. I'm sleep-deprived.)
10. Healthy, loving, vibrant children and a hubby who knows how to cherish a lady. Without dragging out the Luther Vandross CDs.
11. Sleep. Wait...do I have 10 yet? I do? Sorry. I'm sleep-deprived.

Looking A Little Harder

Yeah, okay, I admit that things are looking a bit, shall we say, dark at the present moment. I for one am really annoyed that this whole swine flu thing is casting aspersions on hogs. I love hogs. I've cheered for Hogs my whole life - and in an official capacity for four years a long, long, long freakin' time ago. So how about we rename this whole pandemic thingie? How does "bacon flu" strike you? Same general meaning, but farther away from the mental image of my beloved Razorbacks. Yes, the bacon industry might be a little peeved, but c'mon, it's bacon. People love bacon. It'll bounce back in a year or so. :-P

Now that I've been highly inappropriate and insensitive with a serious topic (oh, lighten up!), let's really chase away the doom-and-gloom with this week's Happy List:

• Highlights hidden pictures online - do y'all remember this? I adored Highlights magazine when I was a kid, and the hidden pictures were one of my favorite parts. Thanks to a heads-up Tweet from Michelle Malkin (love her!), I've just discovered them online, AND when you find a hidden object, it animates! I almost wanted to wake up the Princesses and play it with them (I say "almost" because I'm not that crazy. Yet.)
• MOPS is coming to Wildwood - more specifically, to West County Community Church. We're having an info meeting May 6 at 6 p.m. Y'all come!
• This iPhone app - I wanted to do something non-boring, yet fast, yet also something edible for picky Princesses, with fish tonight, so I did the "Dinner Spinner" and half an hour later the most delicious Parmesan-encrusted tilapia was being wolfed down by the family. I could not love my iPhone more. I'm sending it a valentine next year. Dear knight, you may be replaced in my affections. Sorry.
• "Atlas Shrugged" - if you haven't read it, get up from your computer, go buy a copy (if you can find one these days - they're going like hotcakes again) and read it. The first time I read it, I was happy that I knew what's described in the story would never happen here. Reading it again, I'm blown away at how much of it is now happening. (One caveat: I of course think Ayn Rand missed the boat entirely about God. I'm surmising that growing up during the Russian revolution really did a number on her and drove her, sadly, to atheism. There is a Christian Objectivist philosophy that you may want to delve more into after reading the book.) It's scary stuff, but it's on my Happy List because it's just a fantastic book. Go. Now. Read.

And have some bacon while you're at it.

Oops

Uh-oh, I goofed. I forgot something.

I know. Shocking, right? 'Cause I never forget to do anything. My children have never gone to school with unbrushed hair, and I've never left the house without certain...ahem...important articles of clothing.

Oh, like you've never done that before. Don't judge me.

So I committed the cardinal sin of blogging - I didn't post a comment that one of my many thousands of readers (a girl can dream, right?) was kind enough to leave. And of course, it was a political comment from someone on the other side of the aisle, so it would appear that I didn't post the comment on purpose.

But that's not what happened - I'm not being a Blogging Censor, I'm just chronically sleep-deprived and continually distracted. Here's what actually happened:

So I get this comment through my email, as I get all my comments. This one, though, happens to come through the day before my dear doggie passes away, on a day when I'm rushed, stressed and exhausted. I see it, read it, wonder who in the heck "anonymous" is and which of my friends is such a diehard Democrat that they'd post this particular comment, and when I can schedule their intervention, and I continue running through my emails, intending to come back, post the comment, and then post my own pithy but slightly biting comment to his/her comment.

But that last part never quite happens. Over the next couple of days, I'm distracted by everything else going on, the email moves down off the first page of my emails, and I forget all about it - until I have lunch with a good friend today who makes a cryptic comment about me editing my blog comments.

I, of course, being the clueless wonder that I am these days, think to myself, "What the heck is he talking about?" then blather on through my day. It's only on my way home from work, when I have a few moments in the car to clear my head and think about the day that it hits me what he was talking about. It's the comment I've never posted -and he's "Mr. Anonymous."

Oopsie.

So here I am not only rectifying my error by posting the comment, I'm outing myself as an official Clueless Wonder - and, most painfully, I'm refraining from commenting to Mr. Anonymous' comment. (Rest assured, though, that I had a really snappy comeback ready to go for you, mister.)

And I'm stating for the world my Official Comment Policy - you write it, I'll post it. No editing, no holding back - unless you are ignorant enough to post something vulgar, crude or patently offensive that you would never say if your mama was around. If that happens, I won't post your comment, but I will totally make fun of you for being such a tool in a subsequent blog post. (Hey, if you wanna be an idiot, get your own freakin' blog.)

My deepest apologies, Mr. Anonymous. Please come back and post again - your comments are totally welcome here. Besides, I'll have a marvelous time spanking you in a debate. (And no, when I say spank, I don't mean in a way you would enjoy, you reprobate.)

And for all other commenters, follow the Democrats' voting policy - comment early and often. Heh heh.

Update: It turns out that the guy I thought was my "Mr. Anonymous" - who I also thought was joking - didn't post the comment in question. So, I can only guess at who it is and assume he/she was serious. In which case, he/she deserves the ripping I gave them in my return comment for the childish and ridiculous comment.

And, new policy alert - no more posting of "anonymous" comments. If you make the statement, you better be willing to claim them openly. If not, they're going in the trash bin.

The Loveliness of Virginia

I just returned from a two-day whirlwind trip to Charlottesville, Virginia, which I believe I can now safely say is my favorite place in the entire world. (Heads up: intense gushing will now ensue. Read if you dare.) My ancestors must have lived in Virginia at some point - its green rolling hills and peaceful beauty touches my soul, and I feel in my bones that I'm truly home every time I visit.

Of course, being a huge history geek I also adore it because of its historical importance. It's intensely moving for me to walk the paths and visit the homes of the founders of our country - Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, George Washington (just to name a few) - and get even a small sense of what inspired them to create this great nation with such care and reverence.

And finally, the people of Virginia are simply wonderful. The originators of Southern hospitality at its finest, they are charming, gracious and proud of their beloved state's place in history. And the accents - oh, those slow, smooth-as-honey accents just knock my socks off. Even people who haven't lived there long enough to acquire the accent seem to instantly embrace the hospitality. My friend Marijean is a prime example.

Not that she wasn't hospitable before transplanting from the 'Lou to C'ville - she definitely was, but it's even deeper and more personal now. Marjiean not only took time out from her family (sick daughter included) to drive me all over town - including two driving tours through the stunning Jefferson-designed University of Virginia campus - but she also managed to squeeze into our schedule a tour of Montpelier, James Madison's recently restored home (you can check out my photos here). This was in response to my request to just "drive me by something historic while I'm in Charlottesville!" - yep, this would be Southern hospitality at its finest!

Thank you, Mj, for your kindness and time - this trip is now on my all-time favorite "business" trip list (we actually did spend most of our time doing some fascinating work with a great C'ville client - readers, make sure to fly straight into Charlottesville the next time you go - and Montpelier, please call us. We are dying to work with you!). I can't wait to visit again - mostly to catch Mj doing more sneaking into the basements of historic homes. Heh heh.

Just Mash The Bag

So I'm getting ready to head to Charlottesville to do some on-site work with my favorite blogger. (In other words, I'm taking a two-day "Mommy Vacation.") Of course, this two-day visit requires about two weeks of planning and preparation that would make the Secret Service proud. I'm running around the house folding clothes, packing bags (Princess E is off to a friend's house while Princess G goes to grandma's), making a pre-trip grocery shopping list and cleaning the bathrooms (because if I go down in a fiery plane crash I do not want mourners gathering at my house and finding dirty bathrooms. Don't judge me - y'all know you do the same thing) while giving my dear knight a schedule of the princesses' activities, needs and latest quirks (pears=good; bananas=bad). My eyes catch the starter dough for the Amish Friendship Bread I've been given a couple of days before.

"Oh, and honey, make sure while I'm gone you mash the bag of Friendship Bread once a day."

"What?"

"Mash the bag of Friendship Bread once a day."

"Why?"

"Because that's what you have to do to make the bread."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How do I mash it? Do I really knead it or just lightly massage it? Do I do it in the morning or at night? How long do I mash it? Are we talking a couple of minutes, or should I get comfortable on the couch for a long mashing session? How do I mash it?"

"Oh for goodness sakes, just mash the freakin' bag for a minute every night, okay?"

At which point I stalk upstairs, muttering phrases like "How does that man manage to find his way to work every morning?" under my breath.

But, once I thought about it, as much as I hate to admit it, his reaction actually made sense. Here I was planning something akin to the D-Day invasion, giving him detailed instructions on precisely how to fix Princess G's hair and pack Princess E's snack, and I suddenly throw a random, slightly unusual, completely unspecific reminder his way. He's been filling up a notebook with the instructions I've been hurling his way, so when I give him something so easy, my dear knight thinks there has to be more to the whole bag-mashing duty - just mashing the bag simply cannot be all there is.

Which of course led me to then realize that my family didn't really need to pull out the D-Day invasion playbook for my two-day trip. They probably would do just fine with directions as simple as, "Clean clothes are in the closets. Food is in the fridge. Get in bed by 8 p.m. and stay out of the cookie jar. That means you too, dear knight."

Would it be perfect? No. Would it be perfect even if they followed my directions to the letter? No. Would it be perfect if I were there running the show? Uh, no.

Hmmm. Lesson learned.

So, I'm headed out the door in just a few hours. The house is not perfect. I can't find Princess E's favorite socks. And Princess G is just going to have to suck it up and wear jeans again tomorrow (oh, the horror). But they'll be fine. And they'll have fun. And next time, we'll all be a little less stressed - we're just gonna relax and mash the bag.

Singing The La-La Song

That's what I find myself doing at some point every day when I just can't take any more of the sheer insanity going on in the world today - sticking my fingers in my ears, closing my eyes and singing "la la la la la" at the top of my lungs. Childish? Yes. Effective? Kind of. And, it's better for me than drinking heavily.

What I also like to do is compile another addition of the Happy List.

1) Funny or Die - yes, some of the videos are childish, and some are stupid, but some are just dang funny. My current favorite is Jon Hamm starring in "Lex Luthor Bailout." It's Jon Hamm - even if you don't find it funny, it's still a pleasure for the eyes, ladies. Heh.

2) Temperatures in the 60s for at least half the week. Spring is in the air!

3) The iPhone. Oh, how I love this invention. My knight accuses me of being addicted to it. Not true. I can put it down at any time. I just choose to occasionally walk into walls and sort of listen to him whisper sweet nothings (actually, just his ideas for the grocery list) in my ear.

4) Humor from The Patriot Post. 'Cause I am not going to sit around crying in my cornflakes over this mess. Fortunately, with this kind of thing regularly delivered to my email inbox, I don't have to.

Y'all join in and give us some more Happy List suggestions. I know there's some good stuff out there. If not, we're creative people. Or just people increasingly desperate for a good belly laugh. Or just more photos of Jon Hamm.

Playin' With The Big Dogs

Oh, I am big time now.

My colleague - and more importantly, dear friend - Marijean (aka the STL Working Mom) has named my little ole homegrown effort here one of her "Mom Blogs that Rock." Seriously.

This is a huge deal for me because 1) Marijean's gentle cajoling (OK, actually borderline physical threats) urging me to start a blog is the reason this venture even exists, and she is a uber-well-known Blogger Extraordinaire (she's a flippin' TV news commentator, for goodness sakes!), so the fact that she thinks enough of it to recommend it is seriously flattering; and B) maybe now someone other than my family and certain deeply disturbed friends (I mean that in the best possible way, y'all - love you!) will actually read my blog.

So if you found your way through Ms. Marijean to this little slice of Southern craziness, with a side of two of the most precious little lovelies you will ever meet (that would be Princess E, age six, and Princess G, age three) and a Knight in Shining Armor (a little dented, but loyal and true after 15 years), welcome. Please give me a couple of chances to grow on you (kinda like kudzu) before you run screaming.

And please don't let the "Conservative Christian" label scare you off. I don't speak in tongues (I tried to learn Russian for two years in college, but my attempts were pathetic at best), I don't handle snakes (eeww, that would so ruin my manicure) and I won't try to baptize you with virtual water. I am a ridiculously flawed chick who screws up more times every day than I can count (and then blogs about it - it's cheaper than therapy), and I'm just grateful that God is forgiving. And patient. And eager to love and care for and bless me every day. I just declare "it" to the world from the get-go now because, to quote the wisdom of the great pugilist and admirer of all things Olive Oyl: "I yam what I yam." And for the first sustained period of time in my entire life, I really am starting to like who I am. I hope you'll like me, too.

And if not, well then, bless your heart. Heh heh.

He's Good, And That Works For Me

A couple of weeks ago my knight in shining armor and I went to our first-ever "marriage seminar." We've been married 15 years; at this point, I think we're due for an award just because neither of us has ever kicked the other out in a rage or thrown anything at the other - not that we haven't thought about it, but still, we haven't actually done it.

Anyway, we went to Focus on the Family's simulcast marriage conference, and although I have to admit being a little skeptical going in (I'm too private a person to usually get into this sort of thing), I came out a changed person. All the speakers - Gary Thomas, Dr. Del Tackett (love him - check out his blog ASAP - and if you ever get the chance to experience The Truth Project, do it), Gary Smalley and John Trent - were wonderful, but by far my favorite was Beth Moore.

Now, I'd heard conflicting reports about Beth. Some women love her, while I think some others find her a little..ahem...direct. This was my first "Beth experience," and I thought she was absolutely fantastic. Maybe I relate to her because she's a mouthy Southern chick with a wicked sense of humor. (Check out her blog to see what I mean.) Maybe it's because she and I can both be called the "Trifecta of Evil," aka a Southern Christian conservative (along with another new favorite of mine, Allison Worthington). But maybe it's because her marriage is far from perfect, as she was brutally honest about, but it's good. And good is good.

Sound like she's telling us to settle? No way. Beth's message is that women have an infatuation with idealism - we always want something better. We want that "honeymoon period" that we initially experience - that physical need for each other and feeling of total love and satisfaction - to last forever. And why shouldn't we? Isn't that what the great romances in literature, movies and TV show us is the norm?

Yeah, uh-huh. You get back to me with that overwhelming feeling of love when you've got a toddler gnawing on your ankle, a newborn throwing up on you, leaky boobs, piled-up laundry, dirty dishes and a sacked-out hubby completely oblivious to it all and totally surprised that you've got a butcher knife in your hand and are charging toward him.

Not that I ever did that. It certainly wasn't a butcher knife. Technically, anyway.

But I digress. Beth's point is simple. We've always been told to look for someone to "complete" us, and that is impossible to find. Man is as imperfect as woman is, and is wholly incapable of "completing" himself, so why in the world would we think a man could ever "complete" us?

Only God can complete us. Jesus gives us everything we need. He fills in what is incomplete in our marriage, and in our lives in general. We can't look to a man to do that, because we'll never be satisfied. And if we're not satisfied, ladies, you know ain't nobody in your house happy.

The problem is, we're looking in the wrong place. And we're longing for that overwhelming feeling of love to come back. It is going to come back - we'll find it in Heaven with Jesus. That longing we have is for eternity, and when we get there, we'll feel way beyond what we even think we're looking forward to. We can't even comprehend what that kind of love will feel like - and that feeling won't ever go away. Now that's my idea of a honeymoon!

So in the meantime, I'm looking at my dear knight in a completely different way. His job is not to complete me. His job is to love and cherish and protect and comfort me to the very best of his totally imperfect ability. He's good - and I'm good - and we're good together. And that, pre-eternity, is quite good enough for me.

My Happy List

It's been a long, sad couple of weeks. At a macro level, I've just decided to boycott mainstream media, because I'm sick of hearing the sky is falling. Have these people ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? (Answer: of course they have, which is why they're doing it. C'mon y'all - start connecting the dots. They're getting closer together every day.)

On the home front, two of my dear friends have lost their dads to cancer, and their pain is evident on their weary faces. In times like these, I don't know what else to do except pray, do what I can to make their lives a little easier...and try to find the joy in little things. Simple minded, maybe, but it makes me feel better, so here goes.

Here's the first installment of a new series I call the "Happy List" - the goofy little things that are putting a smile on my face. Y'all let me know if you have any to add - we can all use every smile we can get these days.

• My new iPhone - nope, don't have a clue how to work the dang thing yet, but it seems really cool - and the princesses and I love the Whack'emAll app. (Again, it's the little things, people.)
• Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies - really, nothing more needs to be said here.
• Reruns of "Mad Men" on AMC - two words: Jon Hamm. Wow. Just - wow.
• This new Disney Dreams photo by Annie Leibovitz. Stunningly beautiful. Someone please tell me how can I get a print to put on Princess E's wall?
• This blog - and this one. Oh, and one more (Michelle Kwan, you will forever ROCK in my eyes, Olympic gold or not).
• Daylight Savings Time. Roll on in here, Spring. We all need a little warm sunshine to smack us upside the head and snap us out of the winter blahs.
• And all the other Girl Scout Cookies. Eat up, people. It's our patriotic duty. :-)

My Mommy Vacation

So I'm in Raleigh tonight, preparing for a full day of client meetings tomorrow. In other words, a "Mommy Vacation!" (People, beggars cannot be choosers. If this gets me one day of sleeping until 7 a.m. and 24 hours without the Disney Channel, it's a vacation.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm missing my Knight and my Princesses like crazy. Princess E is spending the night with a friend from school, and Princess G is probably curled up asleep on Daddy's chest as I write this (she's the best cuddle-bunny ever). But a break from the usual routine every once in a while recharges my internal batteries faster than anything else.

I used to feel guilty about wanting (and taking) an occasional "break" like this - you don't hear about previous generations of women getting breaks from the backbreaking work and large families that were the norm. But, what they did have that we really don't anymore is a "village" - the extended family and close friends who all pitched in and helped out when one of their own needed extra help. When a woman had a baby, everyone pitched in around the clock for weeks to help. When the kids were old enough to play outside, everyone watched them, and everyone kept the kids out of (too much) trouble.

There was a real sense of community, because there had to be - but I think it was something more. The feeling of "we're all in this together" was tangible - women truly needed each other, and there was no shame in depending on each other. It was simply the right thing to do.

Now I'm not naive enough to think this camaraderie happened everywhere. But it happened a heck of a lot more often in previous generations than now. In my opinion, the camaraderie is a casualty of the "I am woman. I can do everything whenever I want by myself" way of thinking. In an effort to embrace our independence, have we chained ourselves to a lifetime of stress, frustration, unreachable goals and loneliness?

I can't have it all. I don't want it all. Because if I got it all, then what would I do? What's left after getting it all?

Here's what I do want: healthy children who love the Lord, respect themselves and others and have hearts full of compassion; a loving partnership with my husband that includes a lot of laughter; and to never forget that I am (thankfully) not in charge, but am here by God's mercy and blessed by His grace every day, even - no, especially - when things look their darkest.

So in the spirit of not having it all, I'm enjoying my Mommy Vacation, knowing my family is safe and okay without me for one night. And I'm still not missing the Disney Channel.

Random Thoughts

• I don't much like January. Last year, I totaled my car and was about a quarter-second away from being smashed to a pulp. This year, we've dealt with one crazy sickness after another, culminating in the granddaddy-of-them-all hitting our granddaddy (my Knight in Shining Armor's dad) in the form of a severe aortic aneurysm repaired just in the nick of time. Get your annual physicals, people - it quite literally saved Grandpa Knight's life.
• I don't much like January, pt. 2. I detest being cold. I'm retiring to Hawaii. I might be homeless on the beach considering the cost of living there, but at least I'll be warm. And have gorgeous Hawaiian men to look at. Did I mention I'm retiring next week?
• Michelle Kwan, please come back for the 2010 Olympics. I don't think curling is going to draw enough of a TV audience to justify NBC's investment. And we need drama beyond Bode Miller's level of drunkenness before the downhill slalom.
• My gorgeous, smart, too-sweet 17-year-old sister now has a blog. And she's heading to college in the fall. Another wrinkle just appeared on my face as I typed that. Sigh.
• I'm planning some yummy welcome-home-and-feel-better dishes for my dear friend Julie, who's recovering in the hospital from a ruptured appendix that very nearly killed her. Julie, hon, tell me this is not part of the training for your marathon run. :-P
• Is it bad to stuff your princesses with brownies and declare a pajama party movie marathon on a snow day? I should probably make them practice their differential equations, translate Latin text and mop the floors, huh? Fine, I'll give them a break and skip the recitation of the periodic table, but if the snow day turns into days, all bets are off.
• Yeah, I know. We'll be starting the movie marathon about 10 a.m. with "Cinderella," then move straight into the "HSM" trilogy. I'll supply the chocolate - BYO popcorn and footie pajamas. Extra brownies for anyone with pig slippers.

A Good Old-Fashioned Pity Party

Yep, I'm havin' one tonight.

Why? Because this was supposed to have been an Official Girls' Weekend. Not the little girls - the mommies-who-want-to-revert-to-silly-and-carefree-girls-for-48-precious-hours. I was supposed to be here this weekend, enjoying this spa and this shopping with some great girlfriends.

Ah, the best laid plans - so often thrown awry by my dear (and I use that term ever so loosely in this instance) King. Unfortunately, my long-planned Official Girls' Weekend coincided with his last weekend at a job that's been great to him for the past 13 years, but has made six- and seven-day weeks, with weekends a given for working, the norm.

He's found another great job with a great company that (gasp!) has normal working hours. (Note: the adjustment by all of us to this "normal" schedule will no doubt result in some...ahem...amusing posts over the next few weeks. [i.e. AAGGHH! He's at home on the weekends; now what the heck do we do with him?]) But, before he starts this great new job, his old one had to get one more weekend (i.e. pound of flesh) out of him. Which meant that my Official Girls' Weekend went out the freakin' window.

So, my friends are whoopin' it up in the Big B, enjoying spa treatments, bargain-hunting and meals without cutting up someone else's food. And I'm here. At home. Negotiating the Princesses' latest battle over who gets to sing what part in which Hannah Montana song and cleaning up the dog's latest "I'm ticked 'cause you didn't feed me exactly at 8 p.m. so I'm gonna poop in your office" present. (Side note: Why didn't one of you take pity on me and send me earplugs - or a new, non-deranged dog - for Christmas? Yeah, I see how you are. Ungrateful lurkers.)

Once I got the Princesses to declare a bedtime truce and threw the dog out into the street (oh, I'm kidding. I let him back in after a few hours.), I totally indulged my pity party with a hot bath, a viewing of "Dr. Zhivago" and as many M&Ms as I could suck in. Do I feel better? A little. Do I feel fatter? Definitely. Am I going to make sure the King has the next Official Girls' Weekend on his calendar in blood (whose blood is TBD)? Oh yeah.

The Writing Begins

OK, so I'm writing. The book, I mean. Also technically at this moment a blog entry, but let's not add more to the swirl that is my brain right now, m'kay?

Is the writing going well? Uh, I guess. Having never written a book before, I'm not sure what "going well" involves. I'm about 1500 words in and I don't think it totally sucks, so I'm just going to claim that as my version of "going well" at this point.

I'm also hiding away from the world as I'm writing and declaring a personal news blackout so I can concentrate. Given the state of the world when I opted out of it yesterday, I can't imagine I'm missing any good news. If anything particularly wonderful does happen, someone yell. Likewise, if I should tap into my emergency survival stash and head for the hills, would someone give me a heads-up? Much appreciated.

In the meantime, I want to hear from you, dear reader. Y'all weigh in with thoughts/musings/horror stories from the last time you did something, to quote Monty Python, "completely different." Or at least comment and let me know that someone's still reading this blog. I am counting on y'all to buy the book, so it would be nice to know I'm somewhat guaranteed to sell at least two or three copies.

And yes, I'll throw in a batch of my world-famous brownies with a copy of the book. I am so not above bribery.

Pressure

Oh, it is so on. Pressure, I mean. This weekend I'm headed to a condo at Table Rock Lake with my colleague, friend and fellow writer Tammy, but it's not your typical "girls' weekend." We're hiding away with our laptops to write all weekend long - Tammy's working on editing her awesome three-book fiction series for young adults that an editor's already interested in seeing (show off), and I'm ... we'll I'm trying to finally get my book going.

It's in my head (and yes, I think we can all agree that's a very dangerous place for it to be), but until Bill Gates invents the Shower PC (I do my best thinking in the shower. Don't ask.) it's going to stay in my head unless I go hide out for the weekend and write until my fingers fall off. So I'm going. And now I'm worried. My worries in random order:

• I don't know how to write a freakin' book. Speeches, press releases, crisis plans, sure - but a book? Shouldn't I take a book-writing class or get a license or pass some kind of test before I start this?
• What if I'm a really bad writer and everyone has just been trying not to hurt my feelings by telling me I'm a good writer?
• What if I'm only a good writer in (relatively) short lengths but not for a full book? I may only be entertaining for the average length of an, ahem, bathroom visit. Am I doomed to the bathroom book genre?
• I have a horrible imagination. Seriously. I'm missing some gene or have some sort of vitamin deficiency. How am I supposed to flesh out interesting characters for a book?
• What if I suck at this and totally let my dear friend Nancy - whose life I'm fictionalizing for the book and whose already invested a trip to Mexico in this endeavor - down? Nancy is my biggest cheerleader. She totally and completely believes I can do this. She's poured out her life story to me. What if I turn her inspiring story into a bad Lifetime movie?
• Will my dear hubby rebel and allow the children to run naked in the neighborhood while consuming massive amounts of chocolate and throwing scissors at each other if I leave him alone another weekend this year to work on the book?

I've got two choices. I could bag the trip and stay home this weekend, fighting the never-ending clean house battle and running interference between the princesses. Or, I could go find out the answers to these questions.

I'm a huge chicken .... but I'm also insanely curious. And in the mood to possibly fall on my tush - or fulfill a lifelong dream.

Did I mention how much I love pressure?

Kids Need A New School?

Stuff To Do Alert: If you or someone you know in west St. Louis County is looking for a pre-k through 8th grade Christian school, Living Water Academy is hosting an open house this Saturday, Nov. 15 from 10 a.m. - noon. It's a small school with big academic goals and an even bigger heart for children, and an awful lot of parents who are tickled pink with the small class sizes and array of academic offerings.

And yes, this is a shameless plug for my child's school. Princess E is enjoying her kindergarten year at Living Water, and we couldn't be more thrilled. We're exhausted, but still thrilled. So come check it out - or pass the word to family or friends who may be looking. And come say hi if you do attend - I'll be the one on the computer introducing people to our new school Twitter account - follow us at username LWANews.

See, we're even technologically savvy. I'm tellin' ya, it's a great school. Check it out.