A MAJOR Announcement (Not a Baby)

I’m not good at many things that I like: I can load a dishwasher like a freaking ninja savant, but I wouldn’t want to build a life around that particular talent. At the same time there are many things that I like but am not particularly good at: upon hearing my highway rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light you’d understand that I like singing, but am not good at it; you’d also see that I’m good enough at remembering lyrics to sing both sides of a conversational duet with feeling, but thus far no one has offered me a job with benefits based on my singing while driving (SWD) proclivities.

The only thing that I like and have some proficiency in is writing.* It’s always been writing. I’ve loved writing for as long as I’ve known how to do it. I kept diaries and wrote stories. Every trip I’ve ever taken has its corresponding travel journal. I kept my writing to myself, never taking the risk of putting it out there, fearing I’d find out that I wasn’t actually very good at it after all. To that end I kept it as a hobby, never a career.

*Any awkward sentence structures, fragments, or gratuitous use of the passive voice is done totally on purpose. Totally. Misspellings too. To keep you on your toes.

Even after all this time as a blogger, I can’t say “I’m a writer” without feeling somewhat fraudulent. After all, what have I really written? Isn’t this whole blog just a glorified journal? I mean, I’m not published or anything. Right?

WRONG!

For as long as I can remember my dream has been: to be a published author. To see my name on a book. A BOOK!

Well, people, I am officially announcing that I am in a book. A BOOK! I.AM.IN.A.BOOK. Iaminabook. A BOOK! (Sorry, about that. I keep shouting “A BOOK!” in real life too.)

"You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth" and Other Things You'll Only Hear from Your Friends In The Powder Room

I am one of several contributors to You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth. My co-authors are talented, hilarious, and accomplished writers; I would say that I’m humbled to be among them, but I’ve been too busy being psyched to notice how humble I am. (Seriously though, a huge thank you to Leslie and all the editors at In the Powder Room for including me!)

You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth is so crazy-full of funny that it should come with the following warning: Do not attempt to drink any beverages while reading this book – you will snarf. If you’ve birthed children, please consider adding some Depends to your Amazon order. 

I promise you’ll laugh your ass off.

So, what are you waiting for? Click here to buy the book at Amazon. Or here. Or here.

A BOOK!

I don’t hate you, just don’t talk to me anymore

I’ve been called a misanthrope and I suppose it’s true. I don’t hate all of humanity, I just don’t want to talk to most of it. Wouldn’t life be simpler if everyone wore personality name tags? Mine might say:

You’d know from a mile away if you’d want to talk to me or not. And if yours read:

I’d know to steer clear of you at a party. It’s win-win!

I should write more posts about my generally objectionable ideas.

 

Not a Spelling Champ Here

My husband is a smart, educated man. However, he cannot follow simple spell-speak for the life of him. The other night, after spelling that our son was too tired to go to karate, my husband spelled K-A-R-A-T-E aloud for 10 minutes trying to decipher my code. He kept saying “K-A-R-A-T-E. Carrot?” confused as to why I’d spell carrot so wrong, and why our son would be too tired for one. Finally, he concluded that K-A-R-A-T-E was simply not a word.

This is what I’m dealing with! And I’m a chronic spell-speaker. I am In the Powder Room today T-A-L-K-I-N-G all about it.

Autumn, Stomach Cramps, and the Myth of Tomorrow

I love autumn – not too hot, not too cold, the beautiful foliage, and, of course, Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Unfortunately, through a week of pretty horrible stomach issues, I realized something: I am suddenly lactose intolerant. Gah!!

I’m only 90% sure that Pumpkin Spice Lattes are the culprit. So, I need to do an experiment one of these days: I have to drink another one and see if I get sick. I’m pretty sure I will; so this leaves me with the choice of which day do I want to spend in the bathroom with debilitating cramps? So far the best answer to this is tomorrow.

This is the same tomorrow that starts all diets and work out regimens around the world. The same tomorrow reserved for bills and vacuuming and cleaning out the garage. Tomorrow is really an astonishingly amazing day.

I’m In the Powder Room today talking about more random thoughts on autumn, and why I am not wearing Spanx.