For Molly, who loved it.
Announcing - Product Review Round-Up, aka my new blog where I get to talk like a Cowboy.
(screeeeeeech...dust flying...slams into the home blog)
Whew! I'm back.
Hello. How are you? Really? That's great! (or) That sucks!
Me? Hey, I'm fabulous because I finished up this project and launched it the other day:
CUTE banner, don't you think? No, I had nothing to do with making this banner but I did pick the best web designer around, the lovely Daisy Olsen of WP Mama, who geeked the site, resourced the graphic arts and allowed me pester her on a daily basis for several months. Daisy, you survived this bossy client, may you be blessed with cooler, calmer customers from here on out.
The story about the site is in my blog entry at the top of the home page of Product Review Round-Up, or "prrrup" as I like to say when I'm in a hurry and/or want to roll my r's. Yes, please do click on over there, I have ads galore on the site and with each hit my site makes a little "ka-chiing!" noise.
But, if you want all the news now, here's a summary:
- Product Review Round-Up is a collection of links to reviews hand-picked from thousands of product review blogs.
- I'm serious about the "hand-picked" part. I look for truly honest reviews, with the pros and cons, the nitty gritty, the praise and the pans.
- I also seek out bloggers who comply with the recent FTC guidelines for full disclosure on blogger reviews.
- We all know about those lucky bloggers who get all-expenses paid trips to Disney places and have companies ship free stuff, from major appliances to diaper covers, to their front door. Yay for the lucky bloggers! But, I'll link to these feted and gifted bloggers only when the reviewer truly critiques the product. Example - Kristy scored a free Samsung dishwasher and published a thorough write-up. She mentioned a feature she was not happy with - "Leaves dishes a little damp unless you run it with the 'Extra Dry & Sanitize' option". That's what I love! And, that's what I link to because, if you're like me, you want to know the downside about a product, especially something that costs the big bucks, like a dishwasher.
- On the flip side, there's a world of bloggers who do not go on free junkets to Florida or have their cabinets torn apart for a free dishwasher and yet, they review products anyway! Imagine that, doing it for free! I love these folks and many of the Product Review Round-Up links are to bloggers who just want to share their opinions after purchasing a new printer, Moleskine notebook, eco-friendly kitty litter, or fancy chocolate.
- The links are popped into product/service categories - Beauty & Personal Care, Books, Eco-Cool Goods, Electronics & Gadgets, Entertainment, Food & Beverages, Health & Fitness, Home Care, School & Office Supplies, Kids & Babies, Travel and, my favorite, Unique Products (check out this listing - "Miss Serendipitist takes a snooze with Wrap-a-Nap". You heard it first here, the Wrap-a-Nap may be the next Snuggie.
- Once the world has pored through the current links, I'll be adding fresh links daily to each category beginning next week.
- I'll also be reviewing products and publishing my honest review on the blog. Actually, "we" will be reviewing products, which segues into the next bullet point:
- I have a partner in this. Or, in the cowgirl parlance, a "pardner". Joining me in the search for reviews of excellence is our family's mighty marathoner, a mother of two wild and crazy guys (at the wild and crazy ages of 4 and 2), and all around badass woman and picky shopper, my husband's daughter Tiffany Hendryx. Tiff lives in Brooklyn which makes this blogging endeavor a bi-coastal enterprise, not unlike movie making or a Silicon Valley venture capital group with a Manhattan office.
- Tiff will cover blogger events on the East Coast and has already been put through the paces at her inaugural event, the EuroPro/Ninja product launch back in September. I deployed a small platoon of my cherished friends to fuss and watch over Tiffany - the veteran bloggeristas and sister badass women Laurie, Devra, Liz, Kristen, Jenny, Yvonne, and, forever representing Canada at these things, JenB
- I was sad that my buff pal Carmen did not meet the equally buff Tiffany as they could have entertained the gathering with an epic arm wrestling showdown. Maybe next time.
Here's a very nice pic of buff Tiffany to the left of the aforementioned Jenny. Tiff's looking skeptical at whatever is on display/being demonstrated. I think it's good to have a buff skeptic as a business partner/pardner.
Jenny appears to join Tiff in the skepticism, though you never know as Jen could also be on the verge of cracking a joke.
No mention of the Ninja event is complete without this pic of Laurie and Devra en route to the event. I love my friends because they don't care what strangers on a train may think of them as they pose threateningly in full Ninja attack mode.
Finally, because we're all about the 21st century and Social Media, we have a Twitter account, @ChiefWrangler.
Now, if you published a product review on your blog and want to send it to my attention, Tweet me or email me at -
uncommoncowgirl@gmail.com
"Uncommon cowgirl" indeed. We Filipinas are tough babes, but we are not known for rustling the water buffalo around the rice fields.
There you go, good readers! I hope you take a look at the "prrrrup"!
And now, Git Along Little Doggies, Yippee-yi-yo-kai-yay, and Happy Trails to you/'til we meet again, my dollins.
The State of the State of Grace
This bracelet, an odd but strangely sweet gift from Molly, says it all about the week I had. Malcolm's ears, normally folded over in beguiling little flaps, punctuates the bracelet's message - Yoda ears, straight up like two exclamation points
Oy, the week I had! Sick, oh, was I sick. Oy, the sickness I had! Yes, I am channeling a Jewish grandmother to help me write this post.
Your beloved Bubbeh aside, oops I did it again, I caught some crazy bug directly after a BlogHer conference. The title of the last post is right on point - I really should get out a heck of a lot more because my wimpy immune system needs steady and frequent exposure to the world's germs. This particular germ hit me bad - Fever, hacking cough, malaise, a feeling like my body was slammed around in a mosh pit at a Black Flags show. All symptoms met the criteria for Swine Flu. Did I have it checked out? No, because I did not want to get out of bed.
Am I done, yet? About the bad week? Not entirely:
Any time I was awake, I messed with this blog. A big mistake for someone like me who, even on a healthy day, can pull off some pretty ugly errors in geeking. I needed to do something while I had the Swine Flu/cold/whatever, so I occupied myself by joining another ad network, configuring the ads and, with the ambition only Nyquil can provide, I put up a new banner. Attempting those tasks put me - and the blog - in a near-coma. Everything looks fine and dandy now, but if you just happened to check out this site between 1:00 to 5:00 am Pacific Standard Time on certain late nights/early mornings this past week, you would have seen everything in dire disarray. The size of one banner I uploaded occupied the entire screen of my MacBook monitor, sending the main body of the blog down to the basement of the Internet. Another banner installation resulted in the margins squishing up against the sides of the screen and, I swear to you, I honestly believe I heard The State of Grace let out a long, high pitched scream, not unlike the haunting cry of the dying lobster, a-boil in the pot.
Then, the ads. The ads! Oy, the ads! I was accepted by another network, one that I would not feel badly and guilty about if I didn't post frequently (yeah, like getting out more, I should post more, too) as I was nicely asked to do while a member of the excellent BlogHer Ad Network. Our friends at BlogHer holds your hand and makes you a cup of tea as they assist you, step by step, in adding ad content to your blog space. With my new network, Six Apart Media, you're on your own. Bad news for you, Nyquil addled Grace Davis! I tried to install a "skyscraper" ad, one located directly under the banner. Observe above - that didn't fly and sure, it may have been the heady alcohol rush of my Nyquil dosing, but I heard that high pitched scream from the monitor again. After trying one configuration after another, I had success with the one modest vertical banner, over to the left. Make me feel better and click that, would you, please? Thank you.But, for each moment I struggled with pixel sizes and ad scripts, for each lovely Autumn afternoon I spent feverishly sweating in damp sheets and for each pound I added to my waistline from inactivity (because I feel quite strongly that you should feed a fever AND a cold, whether Swine Flu or not), I was compensated many fold with this ultimate gift from a highly regarded and very kind sister blogger:
I am humbled by Ree's lovely and generous acknowledgment. She didn't have to do this, she has far more important things to do like herding cattle, homeschooling her beautiful children and cooking big vats of delicious ranch food for her family. But, it seems that Ree wanted to assist me in spreading the word of self-forgiveness for survivors of child abuse and domestic violence. From this gracious act, I have a lovely group of new readers from Ree's vast audience of thousands (an awesome two million readers a month).
So, welcome to my blog, new readers! Thank you for being here.
Dollin regular readers, thank you for always being here.
Swine Sickness, get outta here, already.
As for the state of The State of Grace, we continue, wobbly and with a Nyquil hangover, but still, very much here.
Whereupon I Begin to Get Out More
I am writing this at the inaugural BlogHer Food Conference in San Francisco and let me tell you, these foodies are different from you and me. They give their blogs fusion-dessert names like "Vanilla Garlic"; they sprinkle exotic spices on garbanzo soup like sumac ("Camus" backwards is what I thought right away, ever the literature geek); they are willing to dip their hands into a vat of chocolate just because they can; they are intense, serious and earnest. This is a good crowd to observe and good people to know. After all, they know where to find the big vats of chocolate.
I wish I had taken a pic of this vat of chocolate, but I was upstairs in the lnternet Lounge recovering from the pasta coma that overtook me after the lunch provided by Bertolli. Apparently, the entrees were straight from their frozen food line and it was excellent. The gluten free folks starved (isn't there always a group of dietary restricted eaters who suffer at an event?) but I happily wolfed down the gluten-laden lasagne, the tricolor raviolli, the penne with squash and shrimp. Others were dismayed at the thought, as one would imagine a true foodie would be: Frozen food? Served at a conference? IS THERE NO GOD? But, not me. I cleaned my plate like a good girl.
I wish I had taken a pic of this vat of chocolate, but I was upstairs in the lnternet Lounge recovering from the pasta coma that overtook me after the lunch provided by Bertolli. Apparently, the entrees were straight from their frozen food line and it was excellent. The gluten free folks starved (isn't there always a group of dietary restricted eaters who suffer at an event?) but I happily wolfed down the gluten-laden lasagne, the tricolor raviolli, the penne with squash and shrimp. Others were dismayed at the thought, as one would imagine a true foodie would be: Frozen food? Served at a conference? IS THERE NO GOD? But, not me. I cleaned my plate like a good girl.
While the gluten eaters were consuming, a handsome young man expertly worked the crowd with a wireless mike clipped on to his muscle shirt. I prodded my pal Charlene, she of Diary of a Crazed Mommy blog fame, and clued me in - handsome young man was one Rocco DiSpirito.
It's a good thing I didn't have the scoop on young Rocco otherwise I would not have had the nerve to take this Cougar-intensive picture:
So, the title of this post refers to me getting out more. Maybe I should go back inside. Or, maybe not.
No, it's good for me to be out and about. For one thing, meeting up with the people I love, most especially my blogger pals, means that I go out to eat. Kindly note the image of my friends Kalyn and Christine aiming their lenses at the dessert bowls (a crumble to the left, a poached pear to the right). It looks slightly rude, if not a little clinical, but the smart restaurant will honor and welcome this level of enthusiasm. This is a classic food blogger move, and if you as a restauranteur say no to camera wielding diners, you're saying no to the press. Bad move. Could shut you down. Serious here.
Wait. WAIT. Cocktail hour. End of conference. I'll be back.
Senator Edward M. Kennedy (D-MA), 1932-2009
I am very reluctant but now, this proud American liberal, must say goodbye to Camelot.
It is gone. It is over. And, my grief is huge.
"General, we need MORE WOMEN!"
Um, it's been, what, a month since BlogHer? Two weeks since my last post? Yes? Yes. Oh, yes.
I have a good excuse this time. A really, really good excuse: I started another blog. I did it it in a mere 10 minutes while sitting in a sun filled vacation rental at the famous Sea Ranch on the Northern California coast. Our great fortune in staying at Sea Ranch came about by the horrendous misfortune and loving generosity of the fabulous VDog who broke her ankle in multiple places while she was hanging out at the same sun filled vacation rental. Instead of finishing up her two week stay, VDog had a lot of Vicodan to consume as well as a pressing need to return to civilization for a hot date with an orthopedic surgeon. She offered the second week of the Sea Ranch house to Hubs, Malcolm and me. Like unfeeling opportunists, we took it.
Looking out to the deck of the Sea Ranch vacation rental where the new blog was created.
The birth of the new blog involves Twitter, the Ford Taurus and the fact that I'm probably older than you. I swear, it's all connected and bullet pointed, as follows:
- I was invited to what turned out to be a jolly blogger event at the Ford Motor plant near Chicago prior to last month's BlogHer conference. It it also turned out that in the group, I was an N=1 of my age group (Baby Boomer, born 1955) and parenting status (kid just graduated from high school, no need for family car, etc). The new Ford Taurus, product of focus, appealed to me as a Boomer and a childless woman, but the invitees skewed heavily towards mom bloggers. There should have been more of me, like N=20!
- At the Ford event, I overheard someone say that this "was not your Grandma's Taurus." I spoke up, as I often compelled to do when I encounter ageism, and said quite loudly and firmly that technically I am a grandma (of my lovely stepkiddo's kids) and that's sort of the wrong approach, all righty? A polite acknowledgment and apologies were extended. We moved on, I had a great time and will be writing up a review of the tour and test driving the new (hybrid!)Taurus.
- Two days later at BlogHer, I attended a panel - Identity/Passions: LifeBlogging Outside the Lines: When you’re not a Geek, a Political Wonk or a MommyBlogger - and asked the panelists if anyone was organizing any communities of non-mom bloggers. It was clear to me after the Ford event that someone needs to step forward and let companies know about this great untapped blogger market. There were no such initiatives to the panel's knowledge.
- Time travel forward to the Sea Ranch stay. I'm in my pajamas, taking in the sun and marine air. I'm caffeinated. I'm happy. I check out what's happening online (vacation rental had lightning fast wifi) Then, I'm ballistic because I see the "this is not your grandma's Taurus" in a Tweet! Again, with the ageism!
- Gah! I had enough. So, right then and there in my pajamas on the floor, I created More Women in 10 minutes flat on the handy-dandy Ning network.
- After announcing this on Twitter and providing the link, within 15 minutes 20 women signed up.
- At this moment in time, we have 85 members - single women, young women, married women, Boomer women - and all are not solely identified as mommy bloggers.
- Tomorrow, we just may conquer the world! Or, at least, perhaps Ford would like us to test their beautiful cars at a Boomer/Gen X, Y and Millennial event.
The mission statement:
More Women will provide a collective voice and resource for women whose
lifestyle choices, phase in life and blogs precludes a focus on
parenting.
More Women will provide opportunities for members/bloggers who
wish to be available to marketers, companies and organizations as guides and
participants in product evaluation.
I truly want this to fly and fly high enough for all to see that it's not just mothers who are powerful consumers, all women are. So, we need members. We need PR and marketing contacts. We could use some advertisers so we can fund our own events. If you can help, then come forward and sign up - in your pajamas, even!
As to the title of this post, somehow that odd little sentence/demand seemed to keep coming up when I was setting up the blog and network. I was entertaining this curious imagery of a soldier galloping on a horse over the battlefield then making his way to the officer in charge, a female general. He needed reinforcements, he needed the best, and he saluted his commander and said to her: "General, we need MORE WOMEN!"
Namaste, good dollins.
BlogHer 09: Aftermath
Here you go, the Tweet that tells a thousand stories. I posted this ten minutes after I read my post for the BlogHer Community Keynote two weeks ago. In these past two weeks, I've been in rehab, recovery and rejuvenating mode. With this post, I'm ready to reboot.
Recovering from attending BlogHer does not imply that the event was a negative experience. Certainly, the Keynote was not easy - I take on the anxiety of 10,000 Woody Allens when it comes to speaking in public. Add to that the emotional charge of my post and you're reduced to posting one word Tweets as demonstrated by the image above. But, that's really it as far as letting events at BlogHer "get to me". If anything did get me, it was the legendary BlogHerBola, flu-like symptoms that show up two to three days after BlogHer weekend. I had a week's worth of the BHBola which makes me feel like I did BlogHer fully and completely.
I actually think I did "do" BlogHer in a way that worked well for me. I planned it all pretty carefully, knowing I would be nervous before the Keynote and, following the read, relieved but slightly jittery in that "whew-it's-fucking-over" way. In contrast to how I've "done" BlogHer in the past - staying up late, drinking until late, running late, trying to see all my friends but only managing to squeeze in brief hellos and hugs - I took it easy and took care of myself:
- I worked out in the gym.
- I ate three meals and went easy on the glycemic intensive killer carbs.
- Attended only three parties including the legendary CheeseburgHer event.
- Did not run with an entourage, thus guaranteeing myself the flexibility to take off on my own.
I also allowed myself these luxuries:
- Did not share my room. Had it all to myself. Bliss.
- A long, hot bubble bath every night.
- Packed my favorite dresses to wear and enjoyed being kinda cute for my age.
- Wore comfy but kinda cute shoes.
- Made an appointment for a chair massage an hour and a half before the Keynote.
- Drank champagne where available.
And, expanded my perspective by:
- Making it a point to sit at tables where I didn't know anyone. Then introduced myself around the table and met the loveliest folks.
- Not attending mommyblogger sessions. Not one. Instead, I went outside my niche to attend sessions such as the Op-Ed writing workshop, marketing to women of color, who's reading you, and all the keynotes.
- Doing more listening than talking. The Keynote reading is enough talk.
I have much to share about more listening/less talking. I knew this would happen to me after reading my fierce but tender message about forgiving yourself. The core of this BlogHer 2009 experience was about listening to my fellow sister and brother survivors of child abuse and domestic violence. But, this is indeed fierce and tender stuff that warrants more attention and words than what I'm doing right now - hastily getting a blog post in before the day unfolds.
And, what a day it's going to be - starting with the soul-satisfying tasks of puttering around in the garden, hanging with Molly who has moved in with us (this delights me to no end), waiting for my husband to return from a business trip, then going to a Melissa Etheridge concert with my dear friend Jodee who I have known for (gulp) 42 years.
May all of you have a day as fabulous as this.
May all of you find self-forgiveness.
Then, when you have arrived at that place of peace, coming to wholeness and a full sense of self, may you let go of that selfhood and become one with all.
Love to you, Dollin Readers.
BlogHer 2009 - Bottom Line on BlogHer Criticism
Big BlogHer stage, opening day. It looks like LAX, don't you think? I'll betcha somebody bitched about that.
The post-BlogHer debriefing is in full swing on Twitter and the women's blogosphere. Historically, I've participated in the strum und drang, putting up a blog post on the scandal that most offended my sensibilities.
However, this year, I will try my utmost best to refrain from elaborating on the drama on this here blog. That said, this will be difficult, as I could easily rehash any and all of the following issues and incidents:
- Defending the mommy bloggers right to exist. What, have we become Israel or something?
- Explaining to the non-moms that I was once a non-mom too, and I actually do understand their feelings that non-moms were seemingly invisible.
- Taking on the crazies who mosh-pitted their way to snatch up swag bags. The use of "snatch" is a pun most intentional.
- Trying to find peace-in-the-hood on the contentious topic of who gets on a sponsor's hot party guest list and who does not.
- Tweets, tee shirts that were blatantly sexist and racist but were not meant to be because one had to consider the source and context of who made the racist Tweet and who wore the sexist tee shirts.
- Exploring the notion that BlogHer was too e m o t i o n a l.
- Analyzing the concept that BlogHer was too SQUEEEEE!
Oh, how I could go on.
Instead, I offer to the world this kindly reminder:
BlogHer, like any other excellent, grand experiment, can't and never will win over everyone.
Thank you.
I will return. I have a video for you. Please stand by.
Ohhhhhh, BlogHer, you knock me out, too.
From BlogHer Producer Jenny Lauck's flickr photostream comes a Jenny-on-Jeni smackdown at the BlogHer 09 Expo. BlogHer colleague Jen Monroe delivers a right punch with precision square on Jenny Lauck's ear. Boas and double tiara bonus action included. However, that magic wand's clearly not helping Jenny L. any.
Grown women. Mothers. Role models. Stellar writers Responsible citizens - having crazy-wonderful fun.
My BlogHer posts coming up. Oh, I have so much to share. In the meantime, if this doesn't lure you to BlogHer 2010 (in New York City!), you need some smiling lessons.
Grown women. Mothers. Role models. Stellar writers Responsible citizens - having crazy-wonderful fun.
My BlogHer posts coming up. Oh, I have so much to share. In the meantime, if this doesn't lure you to BlogHer 2010 (in New York City!), you need some smiling lessons.
The Hubs. He loves me. Even though I'm a boat wrecker.
So, we're talking love on this blog, now? Good, because I must write about my husband, The Hubs, as he's known 'round these parts, and his love for unworthy, funky, sometimes smelly, always sassy but grateful little me. Loooooves me perfectly, without reservation or doubt.
Proof: Last week he took me to Club Med.
Club Med! The fabled resort of sport and ooo-la-la! I've always wanted to go on a Club Med vacation, play all day then gorge on French cuisine at night. I was well aware of Club Med when it was a naughty place, where one was adorned with a string of beads (and little else) that you traded for booze and had petit affaires with the comely G.O.s. Those days are gone and the Club has become wholesome and family-oriented, not unlike Vegas but without the over-abundant buffets.
Hubs has business in, of all places on the planet, the Dominican Republic, where has an ongoing project with a group of excellent ophthalmologists. He's been conducting a savage commute from California to the Caribbean, leaving our home turf on a Wednesday, overnighting in Miami, then flying the next day to The DR, as he calls this gorgeous country with affection and familiarity
Say it with me, Internet - FREQUENT FLYER MILES GALORE.
Since this has taken a major toll on our Cialis Lifestyle, Hubs had me pack up my swimsuits and took me along on the commute for 10 days. The beginning and the end of the stay last week were work days, and in the middle, Hubs treated me to five days of Club Med on the other side of the island in a paradise called Punta Cana.
Ahhhh, Club Med Punta Cana with your exquisite white sands, palm fringe beach and 80 degree water. May we return to your tropical embrace often. However, I will not be sailing your Laser boats again. Jamais!
And this segues into more proof of the Hubs' unconditional love for me - The Laser Boat Incident.
Let it be known that though I have done many sea-oriented sports - SCUBA, windsurfing, serving as Ship's Cat on large sailboats, floating on inflatable mattresses with cocktail in hand - I'm not comfortable on large bodies of water. Over the years I have forced myself to learn how to do these varied water sports to overcome that fear, but I'm still freaked. After all, water can be deep and one can drown.
Hubs, on the other hand, is a water person and will jump on any seaworthy craft be it Huck Finn's raft or a sleek 100 ft ocean going sailboat. Thus, the nifty little Laser boats bouncing and bobbing on the sun dappled turquoise waters at the Club beckoned to us in a jaunty Gallic accent - YOU MUST SAIL US! TAKE ZEE LESSONS AND SAAAAAIL US!
How can one say non? It was certainly another opportunity for me to face-my-fears-and-do-it-anyway and for the Hubs to have a crack at another water toy. So, on the second full day of our stay, we checked into the water toy beach hut a half hour early both because of our excitement and to appease our neurotic American need to be first in line. The comely G.O. told us not to worry and to be back at 10:30 am. In our neurotic American way, we did not budge, we stayed put. The place was full of Europeans, mostly the French, and we knew from experience that our Euro-Frenchy-pals do not stand in neat lines awaiting their turn. Instead they rush through the fray and crowd up to counters in a crush of humanity.
The lessons began at 10:40 after we spent 10 minutes being neurotic Americans, our eyes darting back and forth and wringing our hands - where is the instructor? What's going on? The hell? Other guests sauntered up to the hut, moving slowly in the white sand in what I've come to recognize as the casual, European shuffle. Another comely G.O. (yes, they are all comely) jumped into our circle of 8 students and announced in French, Spanish and English that he was our sailing instructor and his name was J.C. (Later he revealed what his initials stood for: "Yez! I am Zee Jeezus Christ! In fact, I am 33!" to which I replied, much to Hubs' horror, "WHOA, it's gonna be a bad year for you, dude.")
J.C. was funny and charming but was ready to kick serious ass if we didn't obey his every move. I was instantly intimidated while Hubs felt an immediate bond with that attitude, which is quite similar to how he raised his kids. This did not bode well for me and I knew I would be doomed.
The Hubs is a water guy and he had a ball! He mastered the Laser in his first try, following J.C.'s instructions to the T - center the rudder stick! Pull in the line! Push the stick, do not pull! Push the stick way out when you're ready to tack, then take in the line and jump to the other side of the cockpit under the boom!
(All that sailor talk, eet eez sexay, eez eet not?)
As for me, poor scared-of-the-water land-lubber me, I failed. No, I didn't fail, I fucked up royale in front of an entire beach side bar full of the French who don't like Americans anyway and my fuck-up did not help the American cause. In fact, I think I have singlehandedly ruined US-Franco relations for years to come and I would like to personally apologize to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton for making her job that much harder.
Here's what I did:
Less than a minute after I set sail in my Laser boat, I panicked and did the wrong thing - I pulled the rudder stick instead of pushed. This put the Laser into a tailspin and I lost control whereupon I smashed square into the dive boat.
Zee beeg, beeg Dive Boat.
Then, with the Laser boat turning crazily away from that beeg-assed dive boat I almost decapitated three snorkelers in the immediate area.
And, then I capsized the Laser boat.
But, the Hubs? He did not laugh or snarl or curse. He did not walk away pretending not to know me. He did not bury his head in the fluffy white sand. Rather, he hastened along the beach, ready to jump into the water and guide my boat along. One of the comely G.O.'s got to me first and allowed me to wade back to shore while he righted the boat and sailed it expertly and effortlessly back to the class.
In my book, this is a happy ending, most especially in that we were not charged for the little dent I created on the hull of the dive boat. It's a happy story, because I know that despite my very public klutziness, the Hubs felt badly for me. In fact, he was quite adamant that I should have gone back out on the Laser and try it again, like getting back on the horse after a fall. That's faith! That's love! And, that's the end of solo sailing for me.
For the rest of the day, I hid under a beach towel and decided, for once and for all, that I am a land person. The Hubs can be in charge of all water-based sports and I will be responsible for hiking in the mountains. I am very, very good at hiking in the mountains.
I can do this blogging thing. I really can.
I know how I can go forward on this blog. I can write about...
LOVE.
As in, "All you need is..."
And, "Crazy little thing called..."
Also, "Let's do it, let's fall in..."
This start-again-with-the-blog post is not about Beatles, Freddy Mercury or Cole Porter LOVE. I want to tell you about the love that's plastered all over the Internet. I'm talking the love that dares, big time, to call its name. We're talking -
MOMMY BLOGGER LOVE.
And, that Mommy Blogger Love? Is aimed smack dab at that cap and gowned kiddo you see here, my Molly, who just graduated from high school, turned 18 four days later then took off to backpack in Peru - all in the course of a month. Just like that, one month and the 215 months before that, and now it's all over: her childhood. Finished, checked off, done, finito.
Yeah, yeah, I know. We parent our kids until, well, we're dead. And beyond the grave in the more neurotic parent-child dyads. But, for all intent and purposes, Molly is a Young Adult, moving on to college (at our excellent community college - bless you, our dear child, for that wise move) (and I need to tell you immediately, Internet, that the kid was accepted to a four year college, but she doesn't know what she wants to do, so she's going to SAVE HER PARENTS MONEY by living at home and getting her general ed requirements completed locally) and, sometime in the next two weeks, Machu Pichu, for crying out loud, where she will undoubtedly be chewing coca leaves as I know you and I would do, given the legal access as they have in the higher elevations of Peru.
Back to the love, the big mushy love we profess on our mommy blogs. Screw that nonsense that all we talk about is poop and pre-school. Sure, we do that and more (hell, I blogged about the time Molly threw a party at the house without my permission and part of her punishment was that I got to blog about it), but we're really talking about loving our children so much we have to write about it, much to the chagrin of many, especially those who get pissy that while we're waxing lovingly about our kids and their excrement (and the forbidden parties) we make money and get free appliances and trips to big companies who ply us with handsome swag.
For the record, that level of swag does not come my way.
Better than swag, this came my way: An opportunity given to me - and Molly's Bio-Dad and my Hubs/her Step-Dad - to surprise the kid with a letter from each of us, tucked into a folder of her best work in AP English. This brilliant plan was put together by Molly's brilliant teacher, Ms. Miranda, who secretly e-mailed all of us and asked that we write to our children of the pride, wishes and hopes we have for them. The fabulous Ms. Miranda then printed our letters out and stashed them in each student's portfolio. Shout out to great teachers like Ms. Miranda!
Here is my letter, and here, unabashed and unashamed, in front of the entire Internet and God and everyone else, is the love I have for my kid:
June, 2009
Dear Molly,
I'm sending this to you via your wonderful AP English teacher Ms. Miranda's email because when you read this again sometime in the 2060's you'll wax nostalgically about the good old Internet days, before everyone started communicating telepathically through "neural-mailing". After talking about Twitter and texting, your grand-kids will roll their eyes and go back to their "neural-Game Boy" in which they direct the action on their monitors with their eyeballs.
I'm not going to waste our time by quoting John Donne or Yogi Berra. It's just as well, in your next four years in college, you'll get a goodly dose of Donne and maybe, if you're really unlucky, the Confessions of St. Augustine, if that's still taught in Western Civ. And, certainly between your Dad and your Uncle Mark, you have access to a vast reservoir of baseball trivia which no doubt includes the many quotations of the great Yogi.
Rather, what I will say to you here is based not on scholarship or Major League Baseball, but on pop culture. Don't be fooled by your professors and those show-off intellectuals you'll meet at cocktail parties - pop culture provides the masses with a never ending source of wisdom and deep thought. Season Four of Project Runway immediately comes to mind.
Thus, I want to share with you something that made your old Mommy cry while watching ER in the Spring of 2002. You were not one for what you called "the doctor shows" because they made you "sad". So, I watched this by myself, the episode where the geeky but good and kind doctor Mark Greene dies of a brain tumor in Hawaii. Suffering from his disease symptoms, but at peace in his Hawaiian vacation rental, Mark was laying down resting and hanging out with his 15 year old daughter Rachel. They both knew it was close to the end, so Mark took the opportunity to tell her what he wanted her to be after he's gone. He told her in a weak but firm voice:
"Be generous."
Indeed, good advice, for you and anyone, really. Give back, Moll'. Give without needing to be acknowledged. Give because it feels good. Give what you have learned. Give love. Give, be generous.
The other pop culture item is from the main chorus of a song you adored when you were in elementary school. We heard it again on that road trip to Tahoe we took with Noah and he yelled out from the back seat, "OH! I LOOOOVE THIS SONG!" The lyrics are romantic in theme, but the essential message is one that I embrace in my full heart when I think of you, my girl, my child, my Molly Rose:
"I love you, always forever
Near and far, closer together"
And, I do love you, my beautiful daughter. Go forth into the world knowing that you have this never ending love from me.
Congratulations, Molly. I am so proud of you.
I love you,
Mom
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