For Bunch, and Everyone Else Who Loves Her

Grateful for:

1) My Happy Family
2) Fourteen years of motherhood
3) A working oven

NaNoWriMo

Yesterday I noticed a status update of a facebook friend about this NaNoWriMo thing. I'm pretty sure I'd heard the phrase in years past, but had some vague notion that it had something to do with Mork and Mindy.

So I asked what it was. Which led me to the official NaNoWriMo website. In a nutshell, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, which runs from November 1-30th and during which participants strive to write a 50,000 (minimum) word novel from scratch.

I've toyed with writing a novel before. Heck, I've toyed with writing anything, but I've had a hard time A) committing. B) feeling like it would be worthwhile. C) coming up with an idea D) sticking with it when I've started. (I've gotten as far as a most excellent title saved in Word a few times...)

But this idea of putting it out there in one month intrigued me. After reading a few pages on the official website, I decided to throw my hat in with the other 172,000 (aspiring) writers and go for it. Nothing to lose for trying!

To complete the goal in 30 days, with my trusty calculator I've concluded that I'll need to put out 1,666 words a day, every day, which is kind of a scary number if you think about it (no, I'm not referring to that 666 thing when I say this, either). Yesterday I only got 207 written by midnight. But at this moment, I have 3,350, so it was a good day.

I'm flying the rest of this week, and it's slated to be a very busy month already, but I am honestly excited about this. So far I'm actually digging my story quite a bit. And I don't think there is any higher compliment than the one Gator gave me as I tucked him into bed tonight. "I can't believe you wrote that story mommy! I mean, it's like a real book!"

Both Bunch and Gator are dying to see what happens next. And so am I, as it turns out! I'm just winging it as I go. The best thing about this is the advice they supply at the website. Things like this are pure genius:

1) It's okay to not know what you're doing. Really. You've read a lot of novels, so you're completely up to the challenge of writing one. If you feel more comfortable outlining your story ahead of time, do so. But it's also fine to just wing it. Write every day, and a book-worthy story will appear, even if you're not sure what that story might be right now.
2) Do not edit as you go. Editing is for December. Think of November as an experiment in pure output. Even if it's hard at first, leave ugly prose and poorly written passages on the page to be cleaned up later. Your inner editor will be very grumpy about this, but your inner editor is a nitpicky jerk who foolishly believes that it is possible to write a brilliant first draft if you write it slowly enough. It isn't. Every book you've ever loved started out as a beautifully flawed first draft. In November, embrace imperfection and see where it takes you.

So that's what I'm going to be up to for the next 27 days. I'll try to check in, but meanwhile, if any of you are also NaNoWriMo'ing, hollar! I'd love to be your buddy so drop me a line. And if any of my friends want to be a rough-draft reader, shoot me an email.

Grateful for:
1) Friends and authors J. Scott Savage and James Dashner, who have both been oddly instrumental in me getting to this point...though they most likely don't realize it.
2) The dream I had last summer that inspired my story
3) A successful first day...with lots of moments where the next idea just came to me right when I needed it. I feel like the God of Inspiration was with me today.

A Bedroom Story

I've written about my room in the garage before, so I'll pick up from there.

For about a year I slept on the cot that started the whole thing, while systematically nosing my way through all the crap that surrounded me, consolidating and off-loading as I went. During that year I managed to clear out a good amount of the space, including the large, metal, industrial desk that I suppose was meant to serve as my dad's "office". He was always slightly protective of it, though never once in my life did I see him use it.

The place was just starting to look more habitable when I went to a school rummage sale one fine Saturday. As a 7th grader, furniture acquisition wasn't really on my radar, but while poking around the yard I saw a full-size wooden bed for sale. That would be a major upgrade from the cot, I thought, and I had saved up a my babysitting money for a while. But unfortunately, at $100, it was out of my range.

A few minutes later the principal made an announcement over the PA that for the next ten minutes, everything was half off. I dashed over to him, "Even furniture?" He said yes, so I pulled out $50 and said "I'm buying the bed".

And that's how I acquired The Bed. Never would I have guessed that I'd be sleeping in it for most of the next 30 years.

It was a double bed, and I felt like I'd landed in the lap of luxury my first night in it. I sprawled out like a giant letter X, arms and legs splayed every which-way. Oh the space! And as it turned out, there was a dresser that had belonged to my great-great (or was it great great great?) grandma, which was a really good match to the bed, so I eventually inherited it, too.

Years went by. The bed stayed in the garage when I went off to my freshman year of college. But three years later it joined me and became our marriage bed. It moved with us everywhere we went during the next 20 years. That bed has witnessed all my dreams and most of my tears, and heard almost as many prayers as God has through the years.

Because of it's headboard and footboard, my tall Doc couldn't actually stretch out flat in it. Through the years there were a number of times that I asked him if he wanted to get a new bed, but always he declined, saying it was fine.

And it was! It was a fine bed and I have been grateful for it.

But now, I've finally figured out what style I'm drawn to, and our dear little bed really isn't it. If I were looking for furniture today, I wouldn't have ever glanced at it. Plus, it is small, not even queen size. Don't get me wrong...I love snuggling with my sweetie, but there have been times when it would have been nice to have the option of spreading out, too.

So now that we're for sure going to be staying in this house for the rest of Doc's training, and since I'd given up on someone surprising me with one of those HGTV or TLC room (or house, or yard) make-overs, we decided to celebrate not having to move anywhere with a bedroom remodel!

Ikea finally came to Utah a couple years back, and I had come to really like the style and clean lines they're known for. Doc liked it too, so we headed out to pick our new look, and with the help of Davis, my oh-so-handy, awesome lil' bro and his tools, we transformed our room.

Things I love: After 9+ years of nearly always being in some stage of packing to leave or unpacking upon return, my luggage finally has a home! Now there is room for everything that used to be displaced. Little by little I'm making our space into a place I like.

I still haven't accented the room. It's just bare bones so far because I can't decide what color to go with yet. Doc defers to me, but says "of course you have to pick blue. You ARE blue!" and he may be right. But if I do, which shade shall it be? And there are so many lovely greens, browns, oranges and reds as well! I realize it's easy enough to swap accent colors, but which to start with?

Anyway, the old furniture is now in my garage and I'm not sure what to do with it. If I had a big house with a spare guest room, I'd refinish it and put it in there. I confess to feeling some reluctance to just sell it on Craig's List, since the dresser is a family piece that allegedly came across the plains with my great great (great?) granny...who I am actually named for. It was later restored by my grandfather who was a carpenter born in 1900. The bed is really old, too. Hand-carved cherry wood and they actually do match each other quite nicely. So, much to Doc's chagrin, it's now out with all the other stuff I've been storing for my siblings the past several years, and we're enjoying the new space and clean lines of our room.

Here's the old bedroom. And no, it was NEVER, not once, EVER this clean! I took these photos thinking I'd need pictures to list the furniture for sale...and then promptly began the remodel.




There have been times when making the bed included arranging up to 14 pillows. I will never go there again!

Funny tidbit. I bought this bedding in Vermont 10 years ago. Nine months later I visited my inlaws in Utah and discovered that out of all the possible bedroom sets IN THE WORLD, they had purchased the very same one! Neither of us had mentioned our purchases to the other...it was just the one we both liked. Only they have a king-size bed, so mine won't be any use to them.

Here's the new look so far, taken from each corner of the room.

Doorway view of our new lovely, spacious, queen-size bed!


My chic new bookshelf, where I am free to have any books I like on display. Note, the paintings I did haven't yet found their real home. They're just hanging out here for a bit.


From the next corner, facing the door. In addition to my little desk and chair by the door, you can see the major addition here...


...THE WONDERFUL WARDROBE! This beauty has more than tripled the available space. I'm in love with it.


Grateful for:
1) Finally figuring out what style I'm drawn to...and discovering that Doc likes it, too!.
2) Sales on already-affordable furniture, and Davis' amazing power tools.
3) A good night's rest.

Memories of Halloween

Memories of Halloween

A Personal Essay

As a child, I couldn’t wait for Halloween. It was my favorite holiday because I was in direct control of how much loot I acquired, whereas during other holidays, I had to rely on the generosity of Santa and others. Whoever invented Halloween was brilliant!

There was no limit to the amount of candy I hoped to collect, so as soon as I could possibly get started, I was out the door. Trick-or-Treating was a sport to me--and I ran from house to house to reach as many as possible, till there were no more lights on and I had to return home.

I felt justified in this marathon effort, because the amount of candy I collected, and the amount I was allowed to eat, were two different things. We weren’t allowed so much as one piece of candy before coming home, because my mom had to inspect it for poison or razor blades. Which confused me because it seemed to me if someone were devious enough to dip your Tootsie Pop in arsenic, they'd probably re-wrap so it would look untouched.

The driving force behind my quest was that we had to give fully *half* of our haul to, oddly enough, the kids at the State Mental Hospital. In all my life I never heard of anyone else who did this. It wasn’t advertised or promoted at school, church, or on the television. I honestly have no idea how they came up with this idea, but nevertheless, upon returning home we'd dump out the spoils, line them up in order of importance, and then skim off the top half to keep ourselves, sacrificing the rest to the poor unfortunates who couldn’t participate in this annual free-for-all. It should go without saying that the kids at the mental hospital never saw any of my chocolate bars.

I assume my parents wanted to teach us selflessness, or at the very least, curb sweet tooth development, but that clearly backfired. Deprivation has a sneaky way of making you want more of the item, and so I became a bonafide sugaraholic. Starting in 3rd grade I worked in my school cafeteria so I could get a free lunch, and I remember the cook telling me that I'd probably have diabetes someday because of all the sweets I consumed (hail the chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon buns, and those tasty grape Popsicles!) I didn’t know what diabetes was, but I definitely wasn't concerned…I was an immortal nine-year old.

One thing I was grateful for was that I never had to wear the cheap-o box costumes sold at stores in the 1970’s; if you’re old enough, you’ll remember these printed plastic-sheets that tied on, topped off with a mask with tiny nostril holes for breathing. Most kids wore the mask on top of their head like a hat because they were so uncomfortable, especially pokey eye holes. But fortunately, we had a good assortment of dress-ups at our house, including a few wigs which always added legitimacy to any outfit. We always came up with something so as to avoid resorting to the dreaded boxed costume option.

The year I was eight Halloween came on a Sunday. Nothing could have been more devastating to me, a church-going, newly baptized, commandment-abiding Mormon girl, than to have my favorite holiday fall on a Sunday. I knew there was no way we'd be allowed to trick-or-treat on the Sabbath. My parents were surrounded by a pack of sad-faced kids, wondering how we could make it through the next year without our annual stockpile of goodies. Their solution? We’ll let you go trick-or-treating on Saturday instead! That’s what they do out in Utah. Which was great, except that we lived in California.

Perhaps they were embarrassed to be seen out on the 30th, but for whatever reason, instead coming with us they got our teenage neighbor Peggy to take us. Peggy had struggled with her weight for years, which was, in this situation, to our advantage. We knew she’d be a respectable escort because she was as interested in the free candy as we were.

We started making our way around the neighborhood, but it was noticeably slim pickings that night. Many people weren't even home, and those who were wondered why this pack of kids was at their door a day earlier than scheduled. We boldly announced "we can't trick-or-treat on Sunday" (some suspected us of planning to go out both nights--which was, in my mind, not a bad idea!). A number of them hadn't bought their candy yet. We got a lot of apologies and pennies that year. It was awkward, but I was a devoted disciple to sugar and would not be deterred.

I looked forward with great anticipation to sixth grade, when I would start junior high school at TeWinkle, which was named for the first mayor of our town years before. But despite my anticipation, that was a difficult time for me. Already wildly unpopular in grade school, the problem only got worse at TeWinkle. I struggled to fit in with not only the kids I'd known during grade school, but also all the new kids. Most of them seemed to be from well-off families, and they had an air of confidence about them that I simply couldn’t seem to acquire. I thought if I could just get myself into the popular group life would be a dream, and spent hours wondering how I could achieve that goal.

The year I was in sixth grade, the Rubik's Cube became enormously popular. Everyone had one, and contests were held regularly among students to see how fast the puzzle could be solved. I had a stroke of genius one day to be a Rubik's Cube for Halloween that year! We got a big, square cardboard box, a half-dozen florescent, glow-in-the-dark paints and some black tape to divide the colors into sharp, perfect squares. Holes were cut out for my head and arms, and the bottom was left open for my legs. It was a beautiful costume and I couldn't wait to wear it. Though sitting in my desk was, admittedly, awkward. But my costume was a big hit with my classmates. It was a happy day.

In seventh grade, I had a horrible time trying to decide what to be for Halloween. I yearned come up with something clever, even better than the Rubik’s Cube of the previous year. But by the afternoon before Halloween, I still hadn't settled on anything and was feeling discouraged. A friend of my mother's from church was over visiting my mom that day. Honestly, she wasn’t my favorite person; her son was one of my primary tormentors but she never intervened which made me wonder if she had something against me. Plus she usually just ignored me when I was around her. But this particular occasion she was being so friendly that I decided I perhaps I’d been mistaken (after all, her husband was a bishop, and everyone knows that only men with nearly perfect wives are made bishop!)

While mourning over my plight, my mom’s friend (who was one of those who always seemed to have advice for every situation) began telling me about some wonderful costumes she'd heard of. The first one got me really excited. She knew a man who had made a costume toilet out of cardboard for his child! The child stood in the tank part, which had holes for his head, arms, and feet. The bowl of the toilet extended out front and had a lid on it, which the child lifted up for people to put candy into. The whole thing was painted white, and a plunger was used as a hat. She said it was just darling! I was very sad that I'd heard about it so late; I'd have to wait till the following year to be a toilet, because there just wasn't time to put it together that day.

But her next idea was even more wonderful because it was totally doable! “Take a garbage bag, cut holes for your head and arms to go through, write the word "GLAD" on the front with masking tape in big letters, and go to school as a GLAD Bag!” Why hadn't I thought of such an idea? It was unique, quick and easy, and I had everything I needed. Plus, I was an upbeat, Glad-kinda-gal! Boy, she really did always have an answer for everything, that’s for sure.

I decided to wear a leotard and black tights underneath the bag, and I could also carry an extra GLAD bag for trick-or-treating at night...which, BONUS, would hold a massive amount of candy! This was going to be a big hit at school the next day; I could hardly wait!

Morning came and I eagerly donned my costume and rode my bike to school. It was always such fun to arrive at school on Halloween day and see all the other kids, especially when you had a great costume on yourself.

It started in the bike rack where some boys were just arriving as I was walking out. Some comment was made about a garbage bag. I ignored them, knowing inside they were just jealous because my costume was better than theirs (after all, how original is dressing up as a girl?). But as I walked to class, several other comments were tossed at me (I would soon wish that was all that got thrown that day), and I started feeling frustrated that they couldn't see that I was a GLAD bag, not a garbage bag.

First period in English class I took my seat. There was a garbage can a few feet in front of me in the corner, but when you have a bag sitting three feet closer, why bother with the can? All during class little wads of paper, erasers, tissues, and other trash were surreptitiously tossed at me. I couldn't wait for class to end so I could get away from there.

By lunch time I was wishing desperately that I had worn something else, but I kept my chin up. Our lunch yard was outdoors, so I got my lunch in the cafeteria and went to find a seat. I was specifically looking for somewhere to eat that wasn't anywhere near a garbage can. I found a table near the front of the lunch yard, in hopes that the lunch attendant would be able to see me and ward off any attempts to "help keep America looking good" through proper waste disposal.

Sometimes when you're a kid it seems like responsible adults are never there when you need them (eg: wasn't that pretty much Harry Potter’s whole problem?), and this lunch period was one of those days. Butter, soft from sitting in the sun, found it's way into my hair. A spoonful of mashed potatoes flew through the air and emergency-landed in my lap. It rained chocolate milk that sunny afternoon, followed by a hail storm of peas. When a ketchup-covered hot dog chunk hit me in the face I could no longer ignore the attacks. Humiliated, I ran for the bathroom. After cleaning myself up as much as I could, I called my mom and told her I was sick, got released, and rode my bike home.

After that, my zeal for Halloween diminished appreciably. Since I’d come home “sick” I couldn't go trick-or-treating that night…but somehow filling my enormous GLAD bag with candy didn't seem as important to me anymore. Halloween had lost some of it's magic.

Oh, in case you were wondering, No, I didn't go to school as an eighth-grade toilet the next year either. After what I’d been through, I had new insight into what being a toilet at a junior high school named WeTinkle, I mean TeWinkle, might be like.

Battle of the Jedi - A Stop Motion Movie

Gator isn't interested in sports, which, he laments, makes him different from other kids. Most of his time is spent reading, playing with his Legos, or begging for screen time, which features Star Wars a disproportionate amount of time. But every few months, he also decides to make a movie.

His interest in movie making dates back about seven years, when one day a question that had just occurred to him popped out of his mouth, "do people who make movies get paid for them?" The concept seemed to blow his four year old mind.

Not that he has specific film industry ambitions. It's just a fun hobby and we've enjoyed a number of his short productions in the past two years. It's quirky, but I've assured him that before he knows it, he'll find "his people" who have similar interests. Meanwhile, my favorite movie creations star his massive paper airplane collection, and his snakes and plastic animals. So far they have all just been on the camera, without audio tracks.

This year he decided to make a movie to enter into the Reflections contest held by the PTA. I'd like to say I was a supportive, involved parent, but the truth is it was all his initiative. Suddenly, he informed me that he had hundreds of photos that he needed to edit.

So I did the honorable thing of A) giving up the computer so he could work on it, and B) walked him through a crash course in Windows Movie Maker software so he could put the thing together. Oh, I also bought him the music and installed a new font for him. But this is his baby, including adding all the "blood" and special effects (just in case you were wondering if that was my handiwork).

As far as I'm concerned, different IS good!

Grateful for:

1) Gator. And yes, I realize that the movie calls him something else, but as far as we're concerned, he will always be our dear Gator. Just like I will always be Blue to my online besties!
2) That sunset tonight was a gift straight from the good Lord above!
3) Working out to "24". I'm doing stepper while I watch it. Hope it gets me into exercising again!

Carried By The Wind

Bunch loves music. Earlier this year she wrote a song. By "wrote", I mean after composing it, she actually wrote it down...which no one had taught her to do, so I was duly impressed because I am about 1% skilled when it comes to unraveling the mysteries of written music. I'm pretty much a play-by-ear girl...which means it doesn't take much to wow me. But still.

Bunch has been making up songs for a long time, but till now she'd never written one down. It occurred to me that maybe we should look into finding a teacher who would be better able to support her in her musical efforts. Her lovely teacher of the past 4 years had given her a fine foundation, but she wasn't going to take her the distance.

So now she has started studying with a new teacher who is inspiring her and making her reach beyond her former aspirations. (Though some days, truth be told, it's me making her reach, but I think secretly she's kind of glad to have me keeping her on top of things.) Because, while my childhood lasted seventeen-hundred years, Bunch somehow only has a short window of time left before she flies the coop and is out in the big wide world on her own. These next four years are going to fly by, and this is her chance to really solidify things and make the most of her abilities.

So I ride her some days. When she's passed that tipping point and her abilities are firmly established, she'll thank me. Till then, I'm bribing her with toffee.



Grateful for:
1) Fine Autumn days
2) Help getting our yard cleaned up for winter
3) The Dollar Theater...kids and I saw the Despicable Me matinee. It made me laugh!

We Have A Winner!

It was a hard decision folks.

But seriously, since only one person actually entered with a proposed trip during the time-frame of the contest, Samantha N, my anonymous UCDavis lurker...your mom is the lucky winner of my 2nd Round Trip Give-Away Contest!

How easy was that?! Delurking pays, people!!!

SN's mom will travel round trip from Burbank to Raleigh-Durham where she'll enjoy 36 channels of free DirecTV programming, over 200 channels of XM Satellite Radio, and unlimited amounts of our free snacks and beverages, all from the comfort of her spacious leather seat. And she'll visit those brand-new baby twins! (cuTeNeSs!!!!)

Please email and include your contact info (Phone and email) so I can get in touch with you and make the reservation.

I know this was a short, very restricted contest, and that most of us aren't in a position where we can just get up and go on a whim. But I wanted to give someone the chance to use the passes before they expire, and I'm glad Samantha N's mom will be able to see those babies! Congrats Samantha's Mom! Hope you have a great trip. And thanks to the rest of you for checking in. Next time I promise to have a contest that isn't so restrictive! ♥

Round-Trip Give Away

A long time ago (in a galaxy not so far away) I held my first "Give Away" on this blog.

Today, I'm holding my second one. Queue the confetti!

I have two one-way buddy passes that expire this Halloween at Midnight.

To win them, tell me WHERE and WHEN you'd go, and WHAT you'd go there for (eg: "visit my spinster granny and her seventeen cats").

The person who has what I decide is the best chance of making use of the passes and having a good experience will win. Yay!

THE RULES (this part is required reading!)

Travel must be between cities that my airline flies to, which can be found here.

You must read the old post (click here), which describes the meat and potatoes of flying standby. I don't have time to re-explain the nitty gritty. If, after reading the small print, you find standby travel just isn't your cup 'o tea, no worries...It's really not for everyone.

But if the thought of this lights you up like a torch in a medieval dungeon, Leave a comment
ON THIS POST, by Monday night, 11 October, 2010, at midnight. This can't be a long contest since we have just 20 days for the passes to expire. Check back Tuesday by noon to see who has won, and then email me your contact info so I can get in touch with you.

NOTES

Standby travel is easiest on Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Wednesdays (in that order). Keep this in mind when planning your trip

Unfortunately, standby travel is completely impossible VERY DIFFICULT to/from Salt Lake City on my airline. Sorry to my local friends, but that's just the facts. You could win this for someone else, though!

Flights can and do sell out, which means you could be stranded, bumped, or even pulled off a flight after you've boarded. Standby travel is not for the faint of heart. Have a back-up plan.

Visiting family or friends is a GREAT plan...in case of unexpected disruption.

You're responsible for all costs associated with your trip (see taxes and fees section on old post).

I won't be favoring people on any other basis other than the criteria I've listed. If, after looking at flight loads and dates your proposed trip strikes me as the most likely to happen, you'll be my winner. It's kind of a hassle for me, because I have to play travel agent for you...so I'm doing this for both our sakes.

You have to promise not to be naughty and do anything that would get me fired since you're traveling on my benefits.

FINAL THOUGHT:

In my opinion, any travel is better than no travel...even if it's standby. If you agree, you're a good candidate for this contest. So go ahead, look at the route map, check your calendar, and give it your best shot! And feel free to play on behalf of having someone come visit you, if you're so inclined!

GOOD LUCK!

Grateful for:
1) the chance to help someone have a fun trip.
2) my bloggy readers.
3) my amazing, awesome, fantabuloso job, which is making this giveaway possible.

And when you dream, Dream Big!

Yesterday Doc played me this song from a local band that I've actually met IRL before a number of years ago. I liked the lyrics and the melody quite a lot.

Every time I drive to the school, I pass by a "for sale" sign for this house on the creek. Doc took me there on a bike ride a while back, and we poked around the property and fantasized about actually living on the creek. (!)

I'm afraid that I can't seem to get enough of the creek. I roll my window down and pause to listen every time I can while crossing it. I stop to breathe and listen and just be whenever I walk or bike past it. And this home and property is surrounded by my beloved creek. Plus there are fruit trees and little nooky spots to enjoy a book outside. I've only peeked in windows and looked at the pictures on Zillo of the inside, but it has a nice modern style that I really like. And it's situated in a way that we'd never have to deal with the likes of this again.

I may never have a dream home, but I still think it's good advice to have dreams, including BIG DREAMS. Fantasies, even! I went too long without having any dreams, because there really didn't seem to be any point. But I think the point isn't whether or not they come true. Dreaming has a way of igniting a spark inside us. I'm trying to fuel that spark in my life now. It was dormant far too long.

What are your big dreams?

Grateful for:

1) Bunch practicing her music of her own volition
2) 80 degree blue-sky days in September
3) A future where anything is possible!

Introducing.....LORRIE!

Today is Lorrie's birthday. Happy Birthday Lorrie! I'd sing, but, well, let's just call this your song:

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫

I wish I knew how I found Lorrie. I'm pretty sure I found her, and not the other way around (that honor will be going to Keri...who shall be the subject of a future post in my "Online Friends Series").

I'm not even sure when I first found her, but I'm so glad I did...because not only am I secretly in love with her, but I'm pretty sure that she's how I connected with a couple other online favies...who I haven't written about yet but will sometime (hi mate Le! Hi Debbie!)

Lorrie is one of the funniest people I've ever met. At first blush we don't have much in common (since when should that stop us from being friends with someone?), but I started reading her blog simply because she made me laugh. Laugh at a time when I was so mired in murky muck some days that it was hard to even smile. She made me laugh and smile and cry happy tears even when I was really depressed. It's a gift.

I've stumbled across hundreds of blogs over the years, but only a tiny fraction of those have made it to my blog roll. An even smaller percentage of the blogs I read have ever bothered to visit mine, but every now and again Lorrie pops in and checks things out.

Among her many admirable qualities, Lorrie is a talented artist. She has a wildly successful ceramics company is called Our Name Is Mud, and her products are sold all over the world. They're a hit with lots of celebrities, and are regularly featured in magazines and on tv because they're so clever and whimsical...they just make you smile.

I'm not altogether certain that Lorrie isn't secretly one of my guardian angels (I seem to have a few of them). There have been quite a few days when I was struggling along, and a package arrived in the mail with just the thing I needed to hear:



(that was an inspired message!)


(Remember when the Wizzard of Oz gave the cowardly lion a "courage medal"...which was apparently all that he'd been missing? Well, here was my "medal".)

Or things that just made me laugh:


(it's been a long-standing joke that I married "Mr. Right")

Or pretty things:


(my kids both had special ceramic cereal bowls, so now Doc and I have our own, too!)

Last October when I was in NYC, I finally had the chance to meet Lorrie in real life. WOW! Not only is she even more wonderful in real life (if that is possible), but her kids are darling, and her home is magical. (And her SHOM was pretty okay, too.)

Her daughter gave me some tattoos:


Since I'm a teetotaler, there was really nothing else to do besides heading over to her amazing studio where p0tTerY hApPenS...



...and while trying to be as talented as her for a moment, I painted this:



Which, after being kilned, turned into:


The kids and I took a picture with a life-size poster one of her fans sent her in honor of her 500th blog post:


(Hi Krëg!)

In honor of her 500th blog post she invited all six seven of her readers to send her crafty cards. I didn't consider myself all that crafty (a position I'm actually having to rethink these days), but I make pretty good toffee, so I decided to make her an edible card...which, as it turned out, didn't ship all that well...but happily I took a photo of it before sending it to her, and included (the forethought! I'm amazing!) so she'd know what her toffee card said:


(And yes, my frosting penmanship leaves something to be desired. Sue me.)

I'm always touched by the kindness shown to me by friends and family, but there is something even more heart-rending about the kindness of a stranger. And when that kindness then turns into extreme generosity, well, I just don't really know what to do other than to try harder to follow their example. Maybe I'll make a difference in someone else's life someday.

Lorrie, you're the greatest! My life is better because of you and your thoughtfulness. ♥

Grateful for:
1) Gorgeous fall days and canyon hikes with my kids
2) Newly organized garage and laundry room. My hands are like cut-up sandpaper but the end result of my work is quite satisfying.
3) Time with friends

PS: Feel free to wish Lorrie a happy birthday today! Tell her Blue sentcha! (Glitter not required.) ♥