For CJ Redwine’s Sister’s Eyes Only

 4 Responses »
Nov 042011
 

 

See these earrings?

And these?

 

Pretty snazzy, aren’t they? Betcha wanna know how you could possibly get your hands on a pair of these little babies, don’t ya?

Yeah?

Well…I’m not going to tell you. Turns out I suck at getting other people to pony up for a worthy cause like The Julian Project, even when offering Pretty Things to encourage participation, so I’m just gonna go with what works this time. CJ Redwine’s sister, a.k.a. HC Palmquist, happens to rock the socks off of earrings like these. In fact, she’s the only one who donated for the last pair, and she basically offered me a pie to just hand these over to her. (She makes really good pie.) I was about to say yes and then we both came to our senses because there is the Julian Project and all so we  decided to proceed and pretend like I have influence over all of you by admitting I don’t have influence over any of you.

Clever, right?

CJ Redwine happens to think it’s genius. Also? She totally let me pimp out her were-llama famousness for the sake of maybe helping me donate more than what I can talk Buttercup into giving me from her piggy bank. Which? Makes CJ even more awesome than I had previously assumed based on how much I like her sister’s pie.

And I really like her sister’s pie.

But that’s neither here nor there because no one wants to donate $5 to be in the running for one pair of these earrings or $10 for a chance at both pairs except for CJ Redwine’s sister, right?

Right.

So here’s the deal, CJ Redwine’s sister: click here and do that donation thing then come back to this post and leave me a comment letting me know if you are trying to win one or both sets of earrings. Tweet this. Facebook it. Blog about it. None of it’s gonna get you extra entries because I’m revising a manuscript right now and don’t have the time to keep track of all that craziness but tweet, Facebook, and blog about this if you can spare a moment and it makes you feel good inside. Don’t get all anxious and stuff since you’re probably the only one entering, anyway, so this is as good as in the bag, right?

Right.

The reverse psychology worked, yes?

Let the craziness begin.

***

Fine print: Earrings were graciously created and provided by the very talented mother of Born to be a Dragon author Eisley Jacobs for the sole purpose of raising funds for The Julian Project.

More fine print: CJ Redwine rocks.

Even more fine print: And so does her sister.

Donations and comments will be accepted through Friday, November 11, at midnight, EST. The winner(s), presumably CJ Redwine’s sister, will be announced the following day here on the blog.

The Cathartic Chicken

 8 Responses »
Sep 072011
 

I think I have blogger’s block. Normally, I’ve got about a million ideas swimming through my head with roughly 95% of them earmarked for Blog Posts I Would Have Time to Write if I Hired a Nanny and by the time I sit down at night to get the ideas on the screen, I have to decide which idea gets to be born into words and off I am on my merry way.

Lately, however, I’ve been struggling. Maybe it’s lack of motivation. Maybe it’s stress. Or maybe I most likely need to borrow some of HC Palmquist’s Ambien or Robin O’Bryant’s pet Leroy and see where those avenues take me for inspiration. I had originally been thinking of buying a huge metal chicken named Beyonce to be my muse, but looks like that’s already been done. So instead I’ve been finding myself staring at an empty square on my screen waiting to hold my words while Add New Post kinda just stand there, mocking me.

A new post about what? Maybe it’s just me, but I sometimes wonder if I need to filter my moods when deciding what to post. When it comes to blog hits, funny works. Introspective? Not so much. But that leads me to question why I am blogging anymore if my only desire is to see an upward trend in readership because if ‘m not writing for myself first than who am I writing for?

I’m not going to take some bullshit high-road and tell you that I’ve reached nirvana and no longer care what you or anyone else thinks and will be happy to just share my words on a public forum that no one other than myself makes time to read. I’m not going to tell you that being authentic is more important than being popular, mainly because, even through I agree with the sentiment, the blatant overuse of the word when it comes to blogging makes me want to pull my hair out. And I’m certainly not going to tell you that while your writing needs to be for you before it’s for anyone else, you had better damned well be thinking about your audience and your numbers and your popularity and your ability to network with other writers/bloggers/social media innovators to get your name out there for the sake of that Godforsaken platform because we’re happy your authentic blog that you write for religiously and maintain just for you because the mere act of sharing your words even if no one else is reading them is cathartic in and of itself but really? Who told you all that shit didn’t matter?

It’s all very chicken and egg-like. It doesn’t matter if our dream is to connect with others in the same place in life (shout out to all the Mommy Bloggers and a big WHAT UP to the Writer Mama’s out there!), or if we are trying to keep our heads above water in an ever-rising sea of expectations regarding what we need to have accomplished to be deemed worthy of a book deal (Bump-its come to mind), or if we just want to prove to ourselves that after wrangling the kids all day and looking for that nerve you are pretty sure you just had, we can still string together a sentence for other adults that don’t include the words “potty, nigh’ night, or Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you not to flash strangers your Hello Kitty panties to strangers in the middle of Target?” A dream is a dream is a dream. It’s just up to us to sift through the bullshit on the way, kick any and all irrelevant emotional baggage to the curb (being careful to store away the relevant emotional baggage for later use in the appropriate essays, articles, books, and or blog posts), and decide each and every time we sit down to send our words out into the universe what drew us to do so.

For me? This blog is my personal space which I publicly share. Sometimes I’m snarky, funny, offensive. Others I am introspective, reflective, and revealing. You might not like or appreciate the snark or maybe introspective isn’t your thing. And that’s okay. I’m not writing for you. I’m writing for me. And if something I say just happens to connect with someone who just happened to stop by on a particular day, that will be enough for me. I wore a mood ring as a child to let the world know without speaking the color of the thoughts I carried within my head. Now, there’s an app for that.

So which came first, y’all?

The chicken or the egg? The inspiration to share or the inspiration to influence?

Mamavation Monday: A tale of two blog posts

 6 Responses »
Jul 112011
 

I once tweaked my neck sneezing. This is important to note because two days ago I sprained my ankle.

While standing in front of this…

 

I can’t get into further detail because there aren’t any. I limped my way through packing The Husband’s work cooler, getting his dinner done before he woke up for work, and getting Buttercup into bed. I woke up yesterday morning not being able to walk, kissed The Husband goodnight as he climbed into bed to prepare for another midnight shift, and dropped Buttercup off at a friend’s house. That’s when HC Palmquist called to give me the same speech I gave her about being a jackass for driving myself to the ER and told me to stop by her place so she could play taxi.

Frankly, I think she was just looking for some cheap entertainment.

Observe:

check-in Nurse: And what are we seeing you for today?

Me: I either broke or sprained my ankle.

Nurse: When?

Me: Last night.

Nurse: Last night? Um, okay. Have you taken anything for the pain or swelling?

Me: *Blinking* Shit. I  didn’t even realize that was an option. This is why I’d never be invited to appear on Celebrity Rehab.

HC Palmquist: Um, I think you actually have to be a celebrity for that to happen.

Me: Or shot someone in the head and had my name all over the tabloids. –yes, I’m talking about you, Amy Fisher.

HC Palmquist: *shrugs shoulders* Same difference.

Nurse: *Obviously ignoring the exchange* How did you injure yourself.

Me: I was standing in front of my refrigerator.

Nurse: *waiting.*

Me: That’s it. I was standing in front of my refrigerator.

HC Palmquist: Hysterical laughter.

Or this one:

Nurse Practitioner: What did you do to yourself, dear?

Me: No idea. But I can’t put weight on my foot.

NP: This happened when?

Me: Last night.

NP: last night?

Me: Why does everyone act like I should have come in right after I made the sandwich?

HC : *snickering* Because that is what a normal person would have done.

NP: (to HC) Thank you. (to me) Made the sandwich?

ME: That’s how it happened. I was standing in front of the refrigerator.

NP: And?

ME: That’s it. I. Was. Standing. In. Front. Of. The. Refrigerator. I grabbed what I needed to make my husband a sandwich and suddenly felt like comparing the pain in my ankle now shooting up my leg to an unmedicated childbirth.

NP: So, it never occurred to you to take an aspiring for the swelling?

ME: It’s swollen?

 

NP: Really?

HC: Hysterical laughter.

Or:

NP: Well, it isn’t broken. But you did really hurt yourself. You can see significant swelling on the X-ray.

Me: Thank God.

NP: It is sprained. You aren’t off the hook. I’m sending you home with an ankle brace and crutches. No weight on that injured ankle for three days.

Me: That count started yesterday, right?

NP: It might have if you had come in when you almost broke your ankle making a sandwich.

HC: hysterical laughter.

It wasn’t until after I sent HC home with a few tokens of appreciation for playing nursemaid all day that I realized I got had. I’m the one who should have been charging admission.

The line forms here, people. You’re welcome.

***

The problem with posting on a schedule is that life happens off schedule. Today’s focus was supposed to be on Leah Segedie and today’s awesome two-year-anniversary celebration for her ground-breaking Mamavation social media health initiative, but then all the crap before the asterix happened. And because it wouldn’t be funny on Wednesday, I figured I’d do do double duty and talk about both today.

If you are new to the blog, let me explain. Every Monday I try to post a personal health related update sharing my current experience with the Sistahs of the Mamavation community. The literal ups and downs…no harsh judgement allowed. Just support and open arms for those giving their all to trying to better themselves for their health and their families.

I also serve as an editor for Leah’s Bookieboo blog and post weekly. So yes, there is a fair amount of time invested, but only because I believe firmly that Leah has created a fantastic community and love being a part of it. I also love that i can call many of the moms friends and inspirations. Shelley, Kimberly, Kia, Stephanie, and Sue…thank you for being part of this group of Awesome created by Leah.

Happy birthday, Mamavation. Can’t wait to see what the next year brings you.

Random Fact Friday

 4 Responses »
Jul 012011
 

Two: the number of dollars HC Palmquist handed to Buttercup to cover her tip for Buttercup’s painted toes last weekend. Probably because she wanted to speed things along and didn’t trust me to tip anyone properly after I got stuck with the We Ran Out of Room But Are Still Going to Charge You Full Price spa chair. Also probably because the chair punched my spleen. I didn’t like it.

Shank: Like prison except not because it was used in a direct message to HC. Exact verbage:

Forgot to shank you for Buttercup’s tip.

Auto correct: That would be my personal kryptonite.

Tears: What I was wiping away while trying to control the laughter while writing HC yet another twitter DM.

And by Shank I totally meant Thank. Although both are grammatically correct.

Abdominal muscles: The part of me that hurts from trying not to spit water onto my keyboard after reading the following response :

Here’s a tip: shanking a friend is not the proper response for not getting the good spa chair.

Of course: As in, it isn’t. It was auto correct, dammit. Not a Freudian slip! I’m too pretty for prison.

Original thought: There are none in blogging. Robin O’Bryant wrote a hilarious post with this format and I feel like I know her well enough to take the format, add some typos and improper language and call it my own.

Shank you: And you’re also very welcome.

This is What Happens When I Invite Other Voices into My Head

 3 Responses »
Jun 152011
 

What follows is what you would call a composite in the journalism world, Based On a True Story on the Lifetime Channel, and enough reason for the psychiatrist to up my Prozac dosage seeing as how the conversation didn’t actually happen.

Well, okay, it did. Kind of. But I basically spared y’all the commercials over the past two years and boiled it down for for everyone to be able to follow along. Except for HC_Palmquist, who didn’t realize until she was halfway through reading the first drat that she doesn’t have to be physically present to be this funny.

Me: I finished the book. Now what?

HC Palmquist: You write a query. My sister has a workshop she teaches for that. You should sign up.

Me: I’ll look into it. After I send the Pure and Obvious Genius I have penned out to the top agents on my list and wait for them to all start tripping over each other with contracts in hand. I promise to at least look like I wasn’t expecting it when the day comes.

Four minutes and no responses later…

HC Palmquist: So how’s that Pure and Obvious Genius thing working out for you?

Me: *Honestly confused* I’m not sure. I don’t have any responses yet. And that’s mainly because I’m not counting the ones that said no.

HC Palmquist: Maybe you need to check out CJ’s workshop?

Me: I’ll look into it.

HC Palmquist: Sure you will.

Me: Okay, I won’t. It’s not like I need that kind of help. I mean, I’m not an inexperienced writer or anything. I didn’t start writing yesterday, you know. I even have Published Clips from the newspapers I worked at and freelanced for. Hell, I stepped over puddles of blood at the scene of fatal car accidents to avoid pissing off the fire chief, for crying out loud, and stood This Close to People Eventually Convicted of Murder while covering their trials. I think I can handle a fucking query.

five minutes and six query revisions later…

HC Palmquist: How’s the query writing going?

Me: I think I’d rather present The Husband with an itemized expense report showcasing my extensive “Oh So and So sent me THAT RAMDOM THING I FOUND ON ETSY thing for free hoping I’d mention it on my blog collection and wait for the steam to stop pouring out of his ears.

HC Palmquist: But the experience! The Clips! The pools of blood!

Me: Right…I can do this thing…

Fifteen minutes and nine more revisions later…

Me: I can’t fucking do this. How the HELL am I supposed to convince a perfect stranger who has no idea how utterly AWESOME my book is that my book should be a, you know, BOOK in the BOOK STORES on their SHELVES for PEOPLE to BUY with a one page letter? I SUCK at writing letters. That’s why God invented email.

HC Palmquist: Don’t tell me you haven’t looked up agents that accept e-queries.

Me: *Eyes shimmer with faint hope*

HC Palmquist: But you still have to write it in the same format.

Me: Shit.

Two minutes and forty-five revisions later...

Me: I think I finally have something here.

HC Palmquist: Good. Maybe this time you won’t embarrass yourself completely when an agent finds a query with your name on it in their inbox.

Me: You mean like that time I wrote Muff Top?

HC Palmquist: Yeah. That.

Me: I was really hoping that one would have worked based on the humor factor alone. I mean, really. That would have made a kick-ass How I Got My Agent story for  Chuck Sambuchino.

HC Palmquist: No arguments here. Now, back to the query…and the workshop?

Thirty minutes and fifty more queries circulating in Publishing Land.

Me: This one is SO going to work. I mean, it’s PURE and OBVIOUS GENIUS REVISITED. And Friends A-Z all agree it’s SOOOOOO much better than the first one I sent out (shut up) so that means it’s practically perfect. Now, how long is appropriate to wait before agreeing to a contract? I don’t want to look desperate or anything.

HC Palmquist: At least three seconds. Anything sooner and you just look like a whore.

Me: Thanks for the tip. *Sits back to wait for Happy in the Inbox.*

Six months later and still waiting….

HC Palmquist: So, not that you are interested or anything, but my sister is offering her last query workshop ever next week.

Me: I think I’m signing up.

HC Palmquist: *Falls over dead*

Me: Seriously. I obviously have no fucking clue what I am doing and need serious guidance and CJ obviously knows what she’s doing.

HC Palmquist: *recovering quickly* Ok, I’ll send you the link.

Three days later

Me: Why didn’t you tell me my query SUCKED ASS and I needed this workshop LAST YEAR before I blew that shiny first impression with that crap copy? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOUR SISTER IS A QUERY GENIUS???????

HC Palmquist: *Wondering if I know what Twitter is and how I have never heard of CJ Redwine, the fact that she has an agent, a book deal, and a clue.* Oh? *blinking innocently* Right. My bad.

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