I Am The Dancing Queen

Sometimes I think about getting a work-out partner - going rollerblading or walking with a friend instead of all by myself. But I don't really think it would work out, because sometimes when I rollerblade late at night, by myself (with my IPOD), I’m fifteen again.

I turn on sappy love songs and for a little while my mind is filled with teen angst and romance as scenes from a hundred half-written novels flash through my mind. I feel quite sure that no-one can really see me as I roll along in the dark. Surely, I think, they can't see my lips moving when I act out the particularly moving scenes, can they?

After a few minutes the music changes, and I roller-disco down the street to Hot in Herre, no longer horribly out of shape and flabby, but a fit, super hot dance sensation ready to be showcased on "So You Think You Can Dance, Roller Derby Edition."

A minute later I spot people sitting in a car parked in a driveway and I slip back into stealth rolling mode, hands at my sides, casual stride - no inappropriate thrusting hip or head movements for bystanders to giggle over. (Move along, nothing to see here folks...)

The music changes again, this time into something that makes me want to throw my hands in the air and pretend I'm flying. The music soars around me and I hurtle down the street at top speed, brave, amazing, fearless - at least until I see a rock or a pebble or a crack in the asphault and realize I’m going awfully fast.

Thoughts of broken bones break the spell. Then, suddenly clumsy and thirty-six again, I apply the brakes, turn down the music and slowly roll back home.

Hey, Look, I'm in a Book

A fantabulous blogger named Peach put together a blog book for charity and holy shocker, one of my posts was selected for inclusion in the book. I'm kind of geekily giggling over the idea that I'm (SELF) published.

I'm already planning ways to mention it in casual conversation.

At book club: "As a published author, I thought this book was AWESOME."
At the grocery store: "I was going to buy generic toilet paper, but now that I'm a published author, I think I'll spring for the Charmin."
At home: "As a published author, I would like you to pass me the salt."

Kind of like that. (Warning to friends and family: It probably won't get old for a looooooooong time.)

All of the proceeds go to benefit a charity called War Child International, which works to help children affected by war. None of the bloggers involved, including Peach herself, is making a red cent off of the book.

The book is called “You’re Not The Only One.” I'm so excited to buy it and read it.

(As a published author, of course.)


P.S. It's not a sex book. Someone wanted to know if "Intimate Stories from the Internet" meant it was full of sex stories. Um. NO.

Good gravy.

It's just stories about things people have gone through. "You're Not The Only One going through the stuff you're going through." That kind of thing.

Of course, I haven't read the book. For all I know, it's my post plus a ton of really graphic sex posts.

(Oh dear. I'm going to get some really strange blog traffic now.)

Let's Talk Some More About Me

My beautimous blog friend Kelly tagged me for a Seven Quirky Things About Me meme, which I've done before - here and here. But frankly, I cannot resist the subject matter (ALL ME, ALL THE TIME) so I'm gonna do it again, sort of. I'm changing it up a little.

Therefore, I give you:

Seven Things I Want

1. I think the whole problem with the way the news media is currently covering the mommy blogging milieu is that they aren't enough news stories about me, or interviews starring me, or enough articles about me being on Nightline (WHY AREN'T I ON NIGHTLINE?!!). Since Nightline has not called yet, I would like to be asked to speak at General Conference, and when I speak, I would like them to flash my blog address repeatedly on the bottom of the screen, like a scripture.

2. I want to start a blog called THE NAVEL GAZER COOKS where I would post all of my recipes and all of my pictures of things I cook, except I think everyone already knows how to make a bowl of cereal, so perhaps also I would give Photoshop tips, and maybe there would be some random pictures of horses or some such. I think that might be a good idea for a blog. Maybe.

3. I want to be thin. Yes. I do. I want to be thin, BUT, and I'd like to make this absolutely clear - I don't want to have to exercise unless I really feel like it (in other words, not often), and also, I want to eat lots of stuff in large quantities.

4. I want those jerks at Dyson to send me a freaking vacuum already.

5. I want to be able to fly using only my arms. This would help me out because I have places to go, but I'm afraid of planes. I don't like being in situations where vehicles are moving around without my input.

6. I would like our bankruptcy to be discharged tomorrow, despite the letter they sent letting us know our case was being "routinely audited." I would like that letter to spontaneously burst into flames. Ahhhhh, the Bankruptcy. IT JUST KEEPS. GETTING. BETTER.

7. In spite of that, or maybe because of that, I want my husband to know how much I love him. (Oh, I know that isn't funny. Whatever. It's my blog.) Seriously - I love you hon.

Remember when we got married - how I had that fit of laughter in the temple right before the wedding ceremony was supposed to start? I couldn't stop laughing, and everyone was staring, and my mom was kind of apologetically saying something about nerves, and you thought I was having some sort of panic attack. The truth is that I was so happy that day, and it just bubbled up out of me for a few minutes. That's still how I feel, even in the tough times. I feel lucky. I feel happy. I'm so happy to be with you, and I love you - no matter what.

Because Talking About Yourself Is Fun

You know, today started off a good day. We got up. I had a good hair day. We went to church. We went for a bike ride. It was a beautiful day out. There were even bubble wands.

But it went progressively down hill from there. The kids were being sweet and good, but they plucked at our heartstrings all afternoon long as they talked about Utah and their friends and their old yard - each guilt inducing word punching us in the gut just a little more until husband and I ended up depressed and deflated on the couch. I cried and he DID NOT CRY, because he is a cop, and everyone knows that cops don't cry. After a while he went to bed all sensible like, but I had things to do, like stay up and make myself a bowl of frosting. (SHUT UP, you can't expect me to depression binge on plain graham crackers. The humanity.)

Anyway, the blogging muse has left me for another woman (someone in Utah probably), but I need to post something, so I'm going to finally fulfill the meme that the wonderful Veronica tagged me for many moons ago. (Do you read Veronica? She is LOVELY.) I don't actually have enough posts in each category to make the meme fire on all four cylinders, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'm supposed to list some of my favorite past posts in the following categories:

Friends: I haven't written about friends much. (O.K., at all.) I have a hard time expressing my feelings about friends - in person, in writing, or over the phone. When I'm confronted with a friend moment that would require the expression of some kind of expression of friendly affection, or acknowledgment of good feelings, or - you know, normal human emotion - I shut down. Part of me still thinks this is tenth grade (when I told the girl I thought was my best friend "Hey, you're my best friend, and I really care about you," and she laughed and made fun of me for weeks, because she thought I was seven kinds of lame).

So there isn't much to choose from. But this post mentions friends. Sort of. In passing. (FINE, it doesn't really count probably, but I'm listing it anyway. Even though 50% of you won't get the mormon specific punch line.)

Family : I don't know if I have a favorite, but this one is, at least, not on my list of favorites up at the top, so it might be new to a few of ya. (Why does ya sound so natural in real life, and look so dumb when you write it? Doesn't it look affected, sitting there at the end? It bothers me to have it looking like that, but then "a few of you" sounds so formal, doesn't it? It's a conundrum.) (Well, possibly it's a conundrum. I'm not entirely sure I'm using that word correctly if you want to know the truth. But I don't feel like looking it up. It's late.)

Me: Things that might be awesome is probably the most me of all of my posts. I know most of you have read it, but I cannot tell you how much of my life I have spent hoping to be "discovered." For something. Anything. Not because I want to practice my "art," (because I don't really HAVE any art) but because I'm a terrible attention whore.

The Sunday before we moved I sang in church for the first time since we'd moved to Utah four years prior. My daughters sang a song, and then I sang a song - it was kind of a medley, and it is absolutely unbecoming how delighted I was by the compliments afterward. It was disgusting actually. I was pretending to be all modest and pshaw, but deep inside I was BEAMING, and even deeper inside, a little voice was saying, "STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT. IT SHOULD NOT MATTER THIS MUCH." It's why I will never stop blogging - I'm addicted to the comments.

Something I love: I'm guessing I'm not supposed to link to one about my kids, because of the aforementioned FAMILY category. And I never posted about food. That leaves... Hmmmmm. What does that leave?

I could do the music one, but everyone's read that and frankly, you can only read that one once or twice before it just sort of makes you want to slap me around a little. (SNAP OUT OF IT, WOMAN. WE ALL HAVE PROBLEMS.) I could link to the one about Highland, or the one about the house, but then I'LL start crying again. So I'll just link to one about blogging. Just because.

Wild card: My favorite post ever is still Goodbye Cruel World, not because it's well written or anything, but because it makes me laugh every time. At myself. (Yes, I know that's lame. HELLO, have you MET me?) I just keep remembering how hard I was laughing during the ultrasound, and the look the ultrasound tech was giving me, and how my husband was laughing, and I'm just instantly in a good mood because that was some good, quality laughing. (You know how when you laugh really hard you always remember it? Fifteen years ago I was sitting in a parking lot with a good friend and we were laughing so hard that she accidentally spit candy corns all over me, and even now, we'll look at each other and say, "Hey, remember the candy corns?" And we'll both start cracking up. I love that.)

But I won't link to that one, because, um, I think I've milked that cow one too many times now. I'm just gonna link to the post where I fought with my husband, because it makes my sister-in-law laugh and it makes another sister-in-law feel vaguely uncomfortable. (And now they will all be wondering if I'm talking about them. I have six of them. Heh heh heh.)

I have to think about the tags. I can't remember who does memes, and who doesn't do memes and who does memes but only if they're really good, and who does memes but doesn't like people to tag them and... Huh.

(Ya know, I think I'll skip the tagging.)

Comment Requested

I want to make a comment box to hang around my neck and take to parties. And after I meet someone new, after we’ve talked and laughed and parted ways, I will request a comment.

If you think about it, a comment box would clear up so many things - Did they like me? Do they want to be friends? Did they think I was boring or dorky or dumb?

After they leave a comment for me, I could send one back to them, getting right to the point (not just dancing around it) - “Oh, me too,” “Yes, I’d love to be friends, I’m so glad you asked,” “I thought you were hilarious, it was so nice to meet you,” “What you said really touched me - I think you are wonderful.”

Then armed with the evidence of mutual good feelings, we'd skip the waiting period, move past the small talk and the pretend reason to call, and dive right into friendship.

Quirky? Who, Me?

Well now. That was a nice little break. I've managed to completely obliterate my blog traffic (not that I care about those kinds of things, no siree bob). In many ways it's nice, knowing I'm writing for about three people. It feels positively cozy.

Veronica has tagged me for Six Quirky Things About Myself, and guys, I was so happy to have something to blog about that I almost peed myself. Veronica's husband actually came up with the list of things that were quirky about her, which sounded like a terrific idea. Not only would I get a blog post out of it - I wouldn't even have to WRITE the thing. So I asked my husband what was quirky about me.

"I don't know," he said.

"You can't think of anything odd about me?" I asked him incredulously. "Seriously? You don't think I'm a little weird?"

"Oh, no, you're plenty weird," he said. "I just can't think of anything specific."

Oh.

Ok then. I'm so glad we cleared that up.

ANYWAY. Here is my list of six quirky things, NO THANKS TO MY HUSBAND:

1. I am quite sure I'm going to die before I'm 60, probably of cancer, or in an incredibly tragic traffic accident or a horrifying plane crash or something. Everytime I fly, I am sure it's going down. I start obsessing over it several days in advance, and by the time I board the plane I've usually convinced myself that my fears are actually the Holy Spirit warning me that the plane is going to go down with me in it, so I write a letter to my kids before I get on the plane and leave it somewhere easy to find, because I want them to have something to remember me by. The plane is always perfectly safe, and even though my husband teases me and says dramatically, "You're ALIVE, you're ALIVE," I know, deep inside, that it was a close call, and that NEXT time, it's for sure going to crash. Probably. (Did you know I was in a plane that was struck by lightning once? We landed safely, but it FREAKED. ME. OUT.)

2. I think that if I don't die in an incredibly scary, dramatic fashion, I am probably going to die in a very embarrassing, mortifying way - like having a stroke when I'm naked in the tub. Or even worse, maybe I'll have a stroke when I'm pooping or something, and then they'll come in to find me dead but naked, and they'll have to try to move me off the toilet, and it will be gross, and my husband's last memory of me will be all - nasty.

3. I drive like a grandma. I'm the one in the right hand lane on the freeway going 59. I am no longer fazed by people who flip me off. I used to be a bad-ass in the car, and then we moved to a little town where the speed limit on every road is 25 and I rarely went more than 5 miles from home. Traveling on an actual freeway, in actual big girl traffic, is insanely terrifying. The cars are all going so fast, and all that's keeping us from slamming into each other is the tiny little white dotted lines, which, strangely, don't really make me feel all that safe. And of course, I usually don't think to write my children a goodbye letter before I get on the freeway, so I have to drive extra slowly so that I don't die on this particular trip, because if I do they will NEVER KNOW their mother loved them. Tragical.

4. If I lie down, I am asleep within seconds, literally. It drives my husband nuts. It doesn't matter if I'm tired or not, if you put me in a horizontal position I'm out of it within seconds. (Er, except when we're being romantic. Mostly.) I'll be in the middle of a conversation with my husband and a minute later I'm snoring. He always knows when I'm falling asleep because I do that little jumpy thing. (Do you know what I mean? You know how babies startle and jump when they are falling asleep? I still do that.)

5. If my husband looks at me a certain way, with a certain loving look in his eye, I cannot sustain eye contact and I usually giggle, and then he laughs at me. We've been married for 12 years, I should be over it by now, shouldn't I?

6. When I'm at home by myself, I like to tell myself stories I've made up and will actually sort of act them out. I'll walk around the house talking to myself dramatically as I'm cleaning, playing the different parts. I'll get so wrapped up in what I'm telling myself that I'll be disappointed when people come home because they are interrupting my story. I do the same thing in the car by myself. It's endlessly entertaining. Sometimes I drive around the block an extra time, so that I can finish the "chapter." Sometimes I make myself cry. Sometimes I'll get mad at my husband in my imaginary story, and it will carry over into real life. I can't help being irritated with him, and he'll say, "What?!" and I just say nothing, because I can't very well tell him the truth. He'd think I was crazy or something.

I'm tagging Karen, Heidi, Blackbird, Amy, and Hollywood. Unless they don't want to be tagged. Then I take it back. (How embarrassing.)

My Brain is Leaking Random Nonsense

1) I can't stop watching the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders reality show, where they try out and get cut and cry and get cut and cry some more. I actually stooped to DVRing it today. It's hypnotic. I honestly can't believe so many people are that coordinated and perky.

2) I took my kids to McDonalds yesterday so that they could play in the Play Place, and a man handed me a napkin and left with his two kids. He'd written on it with a red pen. It said, "You seem nice. Call me at ____________." ?? !! ?? ?! There are so many levels and ways in which that is wrong, but when I try to write about them, my brain starts to explode a little. I will ignore the faint praise of "You seem nice" and skip right on over to WHO DOES THAT? I mean, yes, I was looking extremely hot with no make-up, a ponytail, some of my most non-fabulous winter fat clothes, my three small children and my very visible wedding ring, so I can see why he felt that he must reach out and touch me, so to speak, but STILL. Yowza.

3) I think the world would be a better place if people spontaneously burst into song. In Enchanted, when Giselle starts singing in the park, everyone joins in and it becomes this big happy musical number, to Robert's chagrin. But when I start singing along with my kids at the grocery store people just look at me funny. Grinches.

4) Why is freaking MOISTURIZER so expensive? FREAK. I just wanted some cheap moisturizer and seriously, $17.99? For grocery store lotion? I usually stick with Dove and Cetaphil, but was thinking about branching out into actual serums or whatever, but I'm gonna have to wait until I get a raise, because DANG that stuff is expensive. Sheesh. And it's not like it actually works.

5) I have been developing a theory about office productivity and how people spend their time. This is what I've come up with so far:

Going to Lunch 15%
Deciding where to go to lunch 5%
Post Lunch Discussion of Lunch 5%
Working 20%
Getting Coffee/Soda 5%
Going to the Bathroom 5%
Complaining 5%
Talking about TV 5%
Arguing about Politics and/or Religion 10%
Talking about Dogs 30%
Talking about Pictures of Dogs 30%
Exchanging Pictures of Dogs 30%
Surfing the Internet 20%
Sending chain emails 10%
Tapping fingers on desk 10%

I realize that doesn't add up to 100. I think the laws of time and space are suspended at work, because sometimes one hour can feel like eleven. And my office is even extremely cool. It's just - offices in general. All things considered, I think we're all much more productive when we're working from home.

6) Saw this over at Grace's place, and yeah, I'll definitely second her AMEN.