Saturday Review: Australia

A couple months ago, Smitty and I had an interesting conversation. Life-changing, you might say.

Then again, maybe not, because it did revolve around People magazine’s sexiest man contest.

I kid, I kid! Okay . . . actually, I don’t. But I wish I did.

Our discussion had to do with Hugh Jackman, the magazine’s top guy. I said that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t get it. Because he’s such a scrawny, nerdy guy. He’s a little man, I said. And as a tall, not small girl, that’s just not appealing to me. And the same goes for Eric Bana, I threw in, just for good measure.

Smitty looked at me like I’m crazy, something that I will have you know happens on a regular basis. She claimed that both actors are not scrawny, nor are they short.

Wha???

So, as we do when any important question comes up, we turned to the internet. And, my friends, it turned out that I was wrong. Both Mr. Jackman and Mr. Bana are 6’2” or so. (No, I’m not looking it up again to get it exactly right. I have some limits, you know.)

[Random side note, because the rest of this post is so on topic: Jackman and Bana are also both from Australia, and they were both born in 1968. I believe this explains why they are essentially the same person in my brain.]
I’m here to tell you today that since watching Hugh Jackman in Australia, I fully accept just how wrong I was about him. As we watched the movie, I didn’t mention this. But Mark apparently noticed, too, and commented about his crazy muscles. (Hugh’s, not Mark’s. Sorry, honey.)

Aside from this revelation and a little bit of Australian history (which, let’s be honest, I could have learned from our friend, Wikipedia), I really didn’t get much out of the movie.

As a matter of fact, I felt exhausted, disappointed and a little bit depressed. I won’t spoil it for you, but not everyone has a happy ending. And if I’m watching a movie called “epic,” I’d like for everyone to have a happy ending.

I’m irrational like that.

According to 20th Century Fox, “Australia is an epic and romantic action adventure, set in that country on the explosive brink of World War II. In it, an English aristocrat travels to the faraway continent, where she meets a rough-hewn local and reluctantly agrees to join forces with him to save the land she inherited. Together, they embark upon a transforming journey across hundreds of miles of the world's most beautiful yet unforgiving terrain, only to still face the bombing of the city of Darwin by the Japanese forces that attacked Pearl Harbor.”

And this epic adventure is almost three hours long. For at least the last half of it, I kept thinking, “Surely this is it! It must be over now!” I should have kept a better eye on the clock. Because it was not over.

I’d heard that this movie was supposed to have beautiful cinematography, and before we rented it, I saw it described as being similar to Romancing the Stone. And since I like that movie – and the whole bickering man and woman fall in love while on an adventure genre – I thought it sounded like a good one.

I was wrong. Some scenes were, indeed, beautiful. Because Australia is beautiful. And some issues were, indeed, moving. Because history is moving. But the acting, the plot, the movie itself? Not that great.

Then again, maybe I just didn’t get it. I’ve never seen any of Baz Luhrmann’s other movies, so it’s possible I don’t get him. Even so, I wouldn’t give this one any thumbs up.

In case you’re still on the fence, here are my favorite bits from actual critics:

Australia tries to be a sprawling, romantic epic. Instead, it's a melodramatic exercise in tedium. Rather than being old-fashioned or classic, it's old-school and conventional. Instead of believable romance, it offers schmaltz and cliché. (USA Today)

Deliberately anachronistic in its heightened style of romance, villainy and destiny, the epic lays an Aussie accent on colorful motifs drawn from Hollywood Westerns, war films, love stories and socially conscious dramas. Some of it plays, some doesn't, and it is long. But the beauty of the film's stars and landscapes, the appeal of the central young boy and, perhaps more than anything, the filmmaker's eagerness to please tend to prevail, making for a film general audiences should go with, even if they're not swept away. (Variety)

The second half of "Australia," Luhrmann's attempt to pull off a wartime weeper, is so aggressively sentimental that it begins to feel more like punishment than pleasure. I left "Australia" feeling drained and weakened, as if I'd suffered a gradual poisoning at the hands of a mad scientist. (Salon.com)

So, now that I’ve left no mystery about how I feel about this movie, how about you? Have you seen it? Did you like it? (Feel free to disagree! Brenda did, and so did Time, Newsweek and TV Guide.)

I Do.

The first time Mark asked me to marry him, I was 16 years old. We were both in high school, and I was pretty sure he was joking.

Three years later, he asked again. This time, with a ring that I’d picked out and a spaghetti dinner he was so proud of.

I said yes both times.

Mark and I began as an unlikely couple, way back in 1994. As one classmate so delicately put it, what was a goody two shoes (that would be me) doing with such a troublemaker (yes, that was Mark)?

She was right. Rude, but right. And yet, somehow, it did work. We worked.

Today is the 10th anniversary of our wedding. That stressful, exciting, exhausting, wonderful, emotional day seems so long ago. But at the same time, I’m quite positive it happened just last year.

(Because I cannot possibly be old enough to have been married for a decade. Right?)

Mark and I went to the same high school in a small town. We were only two years apart, but we didn’t exactly run in the same crowd. (Although, it turns out, he was neighbors with my best friend, Smitty, and another best friend, David. And cousins with one of my best girlfriends, Kimi. I said it was a Small Town.)

We met at a football game, where I learned that Mark had a crush on one of my friends. Three of us sophomores talked to this senior, hinting that we wanted a ride to the big party taking place after the game. My friend Mindy and I chickened out in the end, because, well, you remember the goody two shoes remark from earlier, right?

But it seems I made an impression on young Mark anyway. I’d like to think it was my beauty and wit (I remember liking him most of all because he laughed at my jokes. Because I’m funny, people!) . . . but I have a feeling it might have been the annoying way I kept singing the song that was stuck in my head that night. It was 1994, so it could have been worse. I could have sung Sheryl Crow or [shudder] Crash Test Dummies. But instead, I sang – over and over and over – What’s Going On by 4 Non Blondes.

Anyway, our first date was the Homecoming Dance. It was also my first date. And . . . as my mother dragged out of me the next morning, my first kiss.

[Cue the “awwww.”]

We dated all through high school and through my first two years of college. Unless you count the time I tried to break up with him. Or the time he tried to break up with me. Oh, the drama, the angst, the tears. The beauty of a long-distance relationship.

Since we didn’t deal so well with the long-distance (while I was in college, and he was working at home), we decided the only logical thing to do was get married.

I was 19 when we made that decision. A freshman in college. You can just imagine how excited my mom was.

But get married we did. And I finished college. And we moved. And changed jobs. And fought – a lot. And figured out how to live with each other. And remembered how to laugh together. And learned how to cry together.

Just being honest here.

In the last ten years, we’ve lived in three apartments, two duplexes and one house. We’ve gone to more funerals than I want to remember, including his mom’s. I graduated from college, started graduate school, quit graduate school. Mark started and stopped college a handful of times. We’ve both lost jobs. We shared dreams, wishes, ideas, plans and prayers. We adopted two cats. We had a beautiful baby girl. We traveled to Seattle, Colorado, Branson, Florida, Virginia and Tennessee. And, oh yeah, more than a few road trips to Kansas, Des Moines and St. Louis.

We’ve racked up credit card debt – and paid it off. We’ve planted a church – and left several churches. We’ve made friends and lost friends. We’ve said things we regret, left things unsaid that should have been spoken, thrown things across the room and stormed out of the house in anger. And we’ve taken classes and gone to seminars and sat through counseling and read books – and learned how to live and love better than we ever thought possible.

Mark is an amazing man – a loving, accepting and forgiving, helpful, funny man. He has supported me through all sorts of ups and downs, and he’s helped me grow into a better person. He’s an incredible father, and the best husband I could want.

And he’s still making me spaghetti dinners to be proud of.

Happy anniversary, Mark. I love you – a lot.

It's kind of like an anniversary video. But not.

If I were just a little more tech savvy, I'd put together a great slide show to commemorate this occasion. One set to music. Yeah, that's what I'd do.

But since I'm not, I won't.

Instead, I give you a link to Dan Seals' One Friend, one of the songs we had sung at our wedding and a sentiment that's even more true today than it was then.

And, of course, a whole bunch of pictures.

As you can see, I was quite excited for my mother
to take a picture on my first date. Soooo embarassing at the time!
(And yes, of course I love the fact that I have it now!)

Mark's senior prom, 1995. Yes, all of that hair is mine.

It was quite the trend at our high school to get professional couple photos taken.
And by "professional," of course, I mean Sears. This was the fall of 1995.

My junior prom, 1996. My hair is pulled back in a banana clip,
because I just could not handle another prom night of bobby pins and hairspray.

My senior prom, 1997. Yes, I am quite pale, thank you.

My cousin Sarah's wedding, October 1996.
Because everyone looks beautiful in sleeves like that.

My dorm had a formal dance. Spring 1998.
My roommate decided to lay on the floor to take this flattering photo.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society black tie ball,
one of many work functions Mark has attended with me in the last decade.

Fall 2005. Or maybe 2004. After you've been married this long, it all blurs together.

Taking a nap during our fishing trip to Canada. I don't remember feeling happier than normal, but when I look at the pictures from that trip, I can see it. I see how happy Mark and I were to just be together.

The Three Amigos: Mark, Smitty and me at the Coors brewery in Colorado.

Honest, we don't drink that much beer. But apparently we document each occasion when we do!
Smitty, Mark and me at a concert a few years ago.

The Three Amigos (and a few others) partying like it's 1999 . . . in 2008.

And a family was born. October 8, 2007.

Another hospital photo. Because we were there for a long time.

Christmas 2007. We still weren't sleeping much then.

Summer 2008. Life was getting fun right around this time.

Christmas 2008. Mom and Dad had a great time figuring out the new tripod. Annalyn was not amused.

Thanks for taking this walk down memory lane with me. Have a great weekend!

Where's Glamour Shots when you need them?

I've had the same profile picture for several months now. I realize that using the same pic helps me create a brand and all that. But I'm kind of getting tired of the same pic!

So last night I decided to take a new one. Aside from the spots I saw for about half an hour after my little photo session, I don't think I did too bad. Check it out:

All right, maybe these pictures are pretty silly. So help me out. A lot of us don't like pictures of ourselves, so how do you deal with it? How do you get a good picture of yourself?

Mister Manager, Daytime Dilemmas and a Day at the Park

After yesterday’s crazy long and whiny post, I believe I owe you some brevity and cheer. So, in no particular order, here it is, short and sweet.

***

Last summer I watched The Starter Wife (the miniseries) after the regular TV season was over. This summer, I’m choosing more wisely and going with Arrested Development. I’ve watched the first three episodes, and I’m happy to say I’m hooked.

***

Annalyn has had a fever, off and on, for the past three days. I ended up staying home with her yesterday afternoon, and aside from the crying jags and burning forehead, she was perfectly adorable. She’s starting to speak in two-word sentences, and they’re just so sweet: “Bye-bye, Daddy.” “Thank you, Mommy.”

***

Staying home with Annalyn reminded me of the dilemma that is daytime television, in particular, the 3:00 hour. How can one possibly choose between Ellen and What I Like About You?

***

I went to the grocery store to buy some chicken. My whole purpose for going out, to the store, was to get a bag of chicken. I came home with pudding, refried beans, bananas and bagels, making this the second week in a row that I won’t be able to participate in Jessie’s Friday Family Recipes carnival. Because I need chicken for my recipe. And I want to take pictures.

This blogging life is so complicated.

***

I forgot to include in yesterday's post (the one I should have named, "The weekend was long. This post is longer.") that we went to the park on Sunday afternoon and had a great time. Of course, you know by "had a great time," I mean that I got some great pictures. So now, because you’ve been so kind to read this random rambling mess, I present to you pictures from last weekend:

A long post about my long weekend.

Three-day weekends can be tricky.

They don’t come around often, so when one arrives, we’re determined to make the most of them. To live life to the fullest. To participate in every activity with the inane hope of getting caught up on rest at the same time. There are parties to attend, children to entertain, expectations to manage and weather to work around.

Or is that just my family?

My long weekend started out great. As promised, I finished Annalyn’s first-year scrapbook. It’s not perfect, but I sure do love it. It’s 30 pages, front and back, of cuteness – and I even got the whole thing extended and posted and screwed together (thank you, Mark). Granted, I did buy the wrong size page protectors for the last 10 pages, but I did not let that stop me. Nope, I just let that project illustrate my dedication to giving up on perfect.

And Mark and my mom thought it was great anyway.

On Saturday, we had quite a schedule lined up. And we started with a bang, thanks to a less-than-full night’s sleep. I’m not sure what was up with Annalyn, but she didn’t sleep well all weekend.

For those of you not ruled by naps, let me explain what that means for our tightly scheduled Saturday. First, she slept late (9 a.m.), which was awesome. It meant that Mark and I got to sleep later, making up (kind of) for the hours we were up with her during the night. However, that meant Annalyn’s morning nap came much later than normal. And as a matter of fact, she sat in her crib fussing for an HOUR before FINALLY falling asleep. By that time, we were close to running late, so her nap got cut short, and we hit the road to a birthday party.

Because there's no better plan than to start an afternoon and evening with a tired kid.

The good news is that the chicken nuggets I nuked in our microwave took on magical characteristics just by being in the car. Annalyn gobbled them up like they came from the golden arches, something she hasn’t been interested in doing while sitting at the dining room table.

After the birthday party, we split up. Mark and my dad went to watch Angels and Demons. Mom, Annalyn and I headed to a kids’ music festival. Annalyn loves her CD and DVD by They Might Be Giants, and they were performing. Perfect, right?

Uh, no. As we sat, sweating, waiting for the band to set up, I’m pretty sure my mom was wondering why on earth I thought this was a good idea. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to take a wiggly, squirming toddler who doesn’t toddle and make her stay within a 3-foot radius of our seats?

The highlight of the evening is a toss-up. I’m not sure what Annalyn enjoyed more: dumping half a bottle of water on her head and mine, cleaning the cement floor with a used baby wipe, ignoring the Grammy Award-winning band playing in front of her, or dancing her little heart out IN THE CAR ON THE WAY HOME.

As we like to say in my family, a good time was had by all.

Sunday was actually a day of rest, if you don’t count the torturous delightful hour and a half I spent in the church nursery. Sweating. Wiping noses with toilet paper, because apparently we can’t keep Kleenex in stock. And holding a darling little girl who cried for 40 MINUTES STRAIGHT.

And oh yeah, telling Annalyn to suck it up, because she needs to share Mommy. Yes, I’m your Mommy. No, Mommy can’t hold you. Mommy loves you. Eat your Goldfish.

And then there was a nap involved. For everyone.

No stress on Sunday night, because Monday was a day OFF. A FREE DAY! A day to do nothing! Or everything! Or . . .

My idea was to go to the zoo. But Mark watched The Weather Channel (because that’s what you do when you get old), and rain was a-coming. Instead we headed to The Legends, an outdoor shopping center about half an hour away. After spending that 30-minute drive arguing debating where we should eat lunch, Mark remembered that a new Mexican restaurant had just opened.

And since Mexican restaurant = chips and salsa = happy baby, it was an easy decision.

By the time we got there, it was after 1 p.m., so I was surprised to see several families waiting in the lobby. But our wait was just long enough for me to change a verrry dirty diaper in the restroom (where Annalyn freaked out on the changing table, apparently afraid she was going to fall off. I don’t know. This has never happened before. It was fun.), and then we were seated.

And we waited. And waited. And waited. Not patiently, either. Because it was way past Annalyn’s lunchtime. And there were no chips on our table. (And, oh yeah, she’s recently decided that she hates sitting in high chairs.)

To make a long story slightly shorter, we got up to leave, told the manager why, got promised a speedy and FREE lunch, sat back down, ate a decent lunch that still took way too long, and finally left.

We walked down to the water fountains, where a band was performing. After letting Annalyn cruise around the fountains and listening to a pretty good cover of Bohemian Rhapsody, I suggested we visit Carter’s, my very favorite baby clothing store. (Affordable + not-bad quality = happy mom) Unfortunately, it was starting to spit at that point, and since we have been caught in the rain at The Legends before, I let Mark convince me that a better option was to head over to Cabela’s.

Because what says Mom’s Got a Day Off better than many large stuffed wild animals?

In an attempt to redeem this less-than-perfect day, Mark decided we would go to a Chevy dealership and test-drive a Traverse. Our area dealers are participating in Mommy Madness, a blogger promotion in which you can test-drive a Traverse and get a gift certificate for a massage in return, so this sounded like a good plan. Even though at least two of us were realllly tired and ready to go home at this point.

But, in the spirit of the weekend, it was not to be. We walked around the lot (in the drizzling spit rain), checking out several Traverses. We even walked up to the door of the office and tried to walk in.

Only to find it locked. At ten till five.

Because in today’s economic climate, car salesmen really have too many customers to worry about the ones literally trying to WALK IN THE DOOR.

After glaring at the salesman sitting just inside that LOCKED DOOR, we got back in the car and went home.

It was quite a weekend. We also rented Valkyrie, caught up on The Office, ate pizza more than once, bought a video camera and had lots of family snuggle time. So overall? Not too shabby.

How was your long weekend?

A Day of Remembering

"May you never forget what is worth remembering,
nor ever remember what is best forgotten.”
~ Irish blessing

Memorial Day brings a lot of memories to mind for me. I graduated from high school on Memorial Day weekend. I got married on Memorial Day weekend. And Mark's mom died shortly after Memorial Day weekend.

It's a strange combination of memories.

What are you remembering today?

Saturday Review: Season Finale Week 2

Last week I discussed the week’s season finales, and I’m happy to say that this week brings us to the end of season finale season. Happy, because that means So You Think You Can Dance is on . . . and we get a break from other shows. Summer, here we come!

But before we can truly begin summer, I think we need to debrief the last of the season-enders. Let’s get started.

SPOILER ALERT: Stop here if you haven’t watched these shows yet. Because then you’ll find out what happens and you’ll be bummed out, and it will be Up Close & Personal with Smitty in high school all over again. (I said I’m sorry, Smitty. I didn’t mean to tell you about the ending!)

Monday was the day we’ve been waiting for, the day we’ve been teased about for a season and a half, the day that we find out why there was a goat in Ted’s apartment on his 31st birthday. And, because we’d been teased for so long, I have to say that the season finale of How I Met Your Mother was a bit of a letdown. The goat, the birthday party, even the big change in Ted’s career path – it had been built up so much that the payoff just wasn’t that spectacular. The best part, I think, was the scene where Robin and Barney finally start to address their feelings for each other. It didn’t get too mushy and they didn’t act out of character, but it was still a sweet moment.

Tuesday’s finale was much better. As you know, I’m a big fan of NCIS. I even read the show’s message board some weeks. (Don’t judge me.) And even though I’d read some interviews and spoilers about the NCIS finale, I was still surprised. You might even say stunned. Because even though none of the team members died (despite CBS’s insistence on saying, “And only one will return.” in the commercials), the team is definitely not together. And I’m really not sure how they’ll resolve the situation next season. This was a good one.

And now . . . the finale of all finales . . . American Idol. Even though I sing – and secretly believe that I could make it on the show if only I weren’t so old – this season was the first one I’ve watched from beginning to end. And let me tell you, I was ready for it to be over! But it was good. I think the last several contestants were extremely talented, and I imagine we’ll see, or hear, a lot of them in the coming months. I liked Danny, but I was glad he got cut. I didn’t think he was nearly as talented as Kris. And, of course, Adam was in a league of his own. That being said, I was happy with the finale results. I mean, imagine if poor Adam would have been forced to record that wretched song!

As for the finale itself, there were some good performances, some lame performances and some that I missed entirely. (Sorry, American Idol, laundry doesn’t stop, even for you.) I thought Fergie looked terrible and it’s ridiculous that she used language that needed to be bleeped. I thought Rod Stewart danced like the old man he is, but yes, he’s still good. I really enjoyed the group number of Pink’s “Still a Rock Star.” I thought it was pretty appropriate for the situation.

Except maybe where they said, “You’re a tool.” Not so appropriate to sing to the bajillions of fans who voted for them.

I was not surprised to see Tatiana return, but I guess she’s a good sport to act so foolish. Bikini girl, I could have done without. As another blogger mentioned, so much for this being a family show.

I really liked the Kiss performance, and looooved Kris Allen and Keith Urban.

And in the end, I was happy that Kris won. I think both Kris and Adam are extremely talented and genuinely nice guys. And I think they’ll both be successful. And now, thankfully, it’s over.

One more thing, though. Here are two great links about Kris Allen. First one is from Give Me My Remote, showing his interview with Jay Leno - adorable! Second one is from Kelly's Korner, talking about his faith - awesome!

What did you think? Are you glad that TV season is over and summer is here? Did you think Adam should have won? Do you watch NCIS?

And do you think I’ll ever catch up on The Office?

It’s a bit like watching your great-grandmother do a strip tease.

Sarah at The Mom Chronicles does a great post every week called Thursday Ten. Since I’m a fan of putting my thoughts into important-looking bullets – you hush, it helps me think! – I thought I’d give this a try.

Except it’s Friday. And “Friday Ten” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. So I give you the very wordy Friday Five. As Nigel says, “And . . . cue music!”

• Last night was the big night. Yes, it was my mom’s birthday (helloooo, spice cake!). But it was also the night my beloved So You Think You Can Dance returned. And it did not disappoint. From Cat Deeley and her furry white vest to Nigel’s crazy British insults (Exhibit A: the title of this post), all my favorite folks were back in my living room, where they belong. Although . . . the six-time men’s baton twirling champion, Crazy Kate, creepy “joint-tortionists” and the same-sex ballroom dancers don’t actually belong in my living room.
• I have given in to peer pressure and started doing the 30-Day Shred. Day 1 (also known as Monday) was wretched. I thought I was going to die, and I was okay with that. Day 2 (yes, I am a glutton for punishment) was also torture, but in a different way. Working out didn’t make me feel like puking, but my muscles made it very clear how unhappy they were to be woken after years of inactivity. Day 3 actually took place on Day 4, because I had an allergy attack that wouldn’t be stopped. But by last night (Thursday, or Day 4), I almost felt normal again. Unfortunately, Annalyn woke up an hour early this morning, so I wasn’t able to shred myself. Thankfully, I’m quite sure Jillian will still be there come 6:00 tomorrow morning.
• Annalyn has a new game, and it’s adorable. It’s called “Night Night,” and it has two versions. In version one, she grabs a pillow and/or a blanket, lays down and says, “Night, night!” Then she pretends to sleep. Because when it’s not actually bedtime, this apparently is a fun thing to do. The other version involves Mommy and Daddy pretending to sleep (and snore), then waking up. For some reason, that makes the kiddo giggle her head off. Which, you know, makes us laugh, too.
• Tonight I’m going to scrapbook with my friend Christelle. I said I was finished with Annalyn’s one-year album last month, but really, I’ll finish it tonight. I still have to journal and embellish and generally polish it up. I still won’t be completely finished, though. (Will this project ever end??) I need to make a trip to the scrapbooking store sometime this weekend to buy extra page protectors and album extenders . . . because I had a LOT of pictures to deal with! And while I’m there, I think I’ll find someone to help me put the whole album together. I have a feeling it will involve screwdrivers, and I’m not so good with the tools.
• Jessie has started a fun carnival over at her blog, The Vanderbilt Wife. She’s asking everyone to share their favorite family recipes – and already, I’m seeing a lot of yummy food! I had hoped to post about the Cheesy Chicken I make, based on a recipe from Mark’s mom. But thanks to a little chicken misunderstanding in our house, it just didn’t happen this week. Go check it out anyway! After all, you probably need a good dish to take to a potluck or BBQ this weekend, and I bet you’ll find something there!

All right, that’s all the randomness I can manage for now. It’s your turn – what’s your week been like? Do you have plans for the holiday weekend? Am I the only one who wishes Mary Murphy and her annoying-as-all-get-out scream would get booted off of SYTYCD?

Stay cool. Stay you.

Last Sunday at church, all the graduating seniors stood up front. The youth pastor presented them to the congregation; we clapped and prayed. And I thought, "Wow, this is weird."

See, I would swear it was just last year that I graduated from high school. Just last year that my biggest concerns were beating Wes at the class rank contest and figuring out how to wear my hair for prom, wondering if I'd like my roommate at Truman and worrying that my boyfriend might not wait for me to come home for a visit.

On the other hand, I know - even if I don't want to admit it, even to myself - that in the blink of an eye, Annalyn is going to be the one standing at the front of a church on Senior Sunday.

I feel like I'm in an odd place - halfway between my teen years and hers. Stuck in the middle between my memories of my childhood and awareness of how fast hers will fly.

And as I've been thinking about this, I planned to dig up my graduation speech and share it with you all. I thought you might get a kick out of it. But tonight, when I opened my file cabinet and peeked into the folder where I saw it last . . . it wasn't there.

My speech is missing!

And no, before you ask, of course I didn't save it on a disk. Are you kidding? This was way back in 1997 - I didn't have a computer then, believe it or not! I wrote my speech - the day before graduation - on a piece of paper, one that I color coded, carried through the ceremony and put it away for safekeeping.

And now it's missing!

Also missing? My high school yearbooks. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, they'll turn up somewhere. After all, you probably haven't even seen them in 12 years. Right?"

Wrong. Until a few months ago, my high school yearbooks sat on my bookshelf in my living room. I kept them handy, so every time Smitty or I would run into or randomly think of someone from the ol' days, we'd look them up in the yearbook.

But when I moved the bookshelf to Annalyn's room and put away all my books, I forgot to put my yearbooks in a handy location. I'm not actually sure what location they are in.

So now I'm missing my speech and my yearbooks. And all I have for you is this photo of a pasty white Mary on graduation day. (Go ahead, chuckle at my pale face. But just so you know, I was sick. Now don't you feel bad?)

Happy Graduation Season, friends. Stay cool.

What's your favorite graduation memory? And do you know where my yearbooks are?

There is nothing ironic about show choir.

Ahhh, that was glorious! I knew I would love GLEE. And I did. I loved it. I want more of it. I need more GLEE.

For those of you who have (somehow) missed it, GLEE is a new show on Fox. It debuted after last night’s American Idol, but won’t resume until this fall. The hour-long comedy is about a high school show choir in Ohio. It’s a little bit dark, a lot funny, and I am in love with it.

In the final scene, as the choir performs the Journey song that has been stuck in my head since these previews began, the teacher who has been working with them walks in. And as his eyes teared up, I’m not even kidding – so did mine. It was beautiful.

The end.

Just kidding. You knew I had more to say, right?

First, I have my favorite quotes from last night’s premiere, excluding most of the ones that have been run into the ground in the previews.

• I’m on my feet four hours a day, three days a week here! Do you see what I have to deal with?
• My long-distance girlfriend in Cleveland almost broke up with me.
• Last month they held down a guy and shaved off one of his eyebrows just because he watched Grey’s Anatomy.
• Look, if it was up to me, we wouldn’t have mandatory bi-weekly locker checks.
• Every Wednesday we’re going to have a puzzle night, because I know how important it is for you to have a creative outlet.
• Dr. Phil said that people can change!
• High school’s over. For both of us. It’s time to move on.
• She used to be filled with so much joy.
• You broke the rules. And for that, you must be punished.
• Don’t you get it, man? We’re all losers.
• These steps are not hard! I’ve been doing them since preschool.
• Do you think you could recruit the jazz band? . . I’ve got some pull.
• And what are you bringing to the table, Justin Timberlake?
• Being a part of that, in that moment, I knew who I was in the world.

Yes, you guessed it. I was in my high school’s glee club. Of course, we didn’t call it glee club. I didn’t know anyone actually called it that. Maybe it’s an Ohio thing?

Anyway, I was in my school’s show choir. For half the year, we were called Select Chorus and wore tuxedo shirts, cummerbunds and suspenders. I sang in that half of the year.

For the other half, we were called Swing Choir, and we danced. While singing. I accompanied the choir on the piano for that part of the year.

In the spring of my senior year, I did finally dance with the swing choir. And while I wouldn’t call it the best moment of my life (like Will did in GLEE), I will say I enjoyed it. Even though I was so embarrassed to be seen dancing in public. To a Beach Boys song. With jazz hands.

As they say, there is nothing ironic about show choir.

If you missed it, you can watch GLEE on Fox.com. And until it’s up, here’s a preview.

(And if there was ever any doubt this show was made for me, the Fancast page says next to the preview, “You might also like . . .” and guess what’s listed first? Gilmore Girls. And next, Veronica Mars. Apparently, Fancast knows me well.)

Did you watch it? What did you think?

Notes in the Margin: What I Learned This Week

Or, I should say: What I learned again.

Every now and then, I need to be reminded: nothing goes as planned. So plan for that.

See, I like to cut it close. From my monthly budget to the time I allow for getting ready in the morning, I like to plan each minute, each dollar.

It’s not a matter of getting a lot out of life. It’s more a matter of . . . laziness. And procrastination. If I can get ready, from shower to hair drying, in 30 minutes, then I can sleep in that much later. If I can account for every dollar of our paychecks, that gives me more money to allot for eating out and birthday gifts and clothes.

But what happens when things don’t go as planned? When Annalyn just needs her mommy to hold her for five minutes in the morning? When the car needs a repair unexpectedly?

I do this with my time in general, too. I cram my calendar so full of activity that it doesn’t leave room for spontaneous events. So, when a friend calls and says, “Hey, we’re headed to Wendy’s for dinner. Want to join us?” I have to decline. Because we’ve already got a birthday party and a concert to attend.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reminded of how this madness keeps me from experiencing good stuff, as well as brings us too close to disaster for my comfort level.

So on Sunday, after we had chosen to take an afternoon nap when Annalyn did, and we were rushing around like crazy trying to get ready for having our small group over for dinner, I took a few minutes out of my carefully timed cleaning schedule. And I sat on the (dirty) kitchen floor with Annalyn and ate a chocolate snack.

It took maybe five minutes. And it meant that I didn’t end up fixing my makeup or – really, let’s be honest – even stop sweating before our friends arrived. But hearing my little girl say, “mmmm!” and watching her eyes light up at that treat – well, it was worth it.

And it reminded me that I need to leave some room in my schedule, my budget, my life. That’s what I learned this week.

What about you? Learn anything recently? For more stuff learned, head over to Musings of a Housewife. Also, for more sweet moments, visit Chatting at the Sky.

But first, please scroll down for a big announcement. You don’t want to miss this one!

The one in which I make an announcement.

Today marks my 300th post. I did consider, on this momentous occasion, making a list of 300 Things About Me.

But I decided that was a bit much. You’re welcome.

I am here to make an announcement, however. Beginning on Monday, June 8, I’m going to hold a Bible study here on this 300-post-old blog.

Of course, by then, it will probably be a 317-post-old blog. But you know what I mean.

I’d like to invite you to join me in studying Jennifer Rothschild’s “Me, Myself & Lies: A Thought Closet Makeover.” It’s a six-week Bible study encouraging women to “clean out the junk in their thoughts and replace these hidden negative thoughts and failures with positive truths from God’s word.”

I don’t know about you, but I talk to myself a lot. And a good majority of that talk isn’t exactly positive. Sometimes it’s so bad that I would never say it out loud . . . to someone else. But I sure am willing to say it to myself, over and over and over.

So I could use some help replacing those negative thoughts with God’s truth. This study “teaches how to replace the lies you may have been telling yourself with the truth from God’s word.” I can use some of that.

Here’s a short video describing the study. (I tried to embed it here, but it didn't work for some reason.)

Each week of the study, we’ll have a live chat on my blog. For those unable to make it to the chat, I’ll have a post up for comments as well. This study is video-based, and you can download each week’s session for individual use. But if you can’t watch the video for any reason, you can still participate in the study!

June 8 is just a few weeks away, so if you’d like to participate in the study, order your book soon. And please, invite your friends to join us, too!

So, who’s up for it? Who’s with me?

Well, I guess I could just go to bed...

We've had a lot of storms around these parts lately. And apparently they knocked out our cable last week. I say "apparently," because the cable stopped working.

And our internet is through our cable.

So on Thursday night, when it wasn't fixed, despite Time Warner's assurance seven hours earlier that "we have someone out there working on it right now," I didn't have cable TV or internet.

I really wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

No need to panic. The local ABC channel came in well enough that I could watch the season finale of Grey's.

Thank goodness. I'd have hated to have missed that cry fest.

Needless to say, when we turned on the TV and computer last night and found that all had been returned to normal, I sighed with joy. And I patted my laptop lovingly and tell it how glad I was to have it back. Just like I'd do with any old friend.

And that story most definitely does not lead into today's post or relate to it at all. But there it is anyway.

Last night we had our small group over for a BBQ. We keep joking that we might be better suited for a supper club anyway, and last night's get-together chalked up another point in that idea's favor.

The best part of a BBQ at our house? Mark insists on doing most the work. He is a master griller and a baked bean connoisseur. (I'm not allowed to give you a recipe, but I'll tell you that there's bacon, onion, ketchup, mustard and brown sugar involved. Mmmmm...)

In other words, I'm not allowed to help. Vacuum and empty the dishwasher, yes. Touched the hamburger patties, no.

And who I am to argue? Check out this spread we had tonight:

For more good stuff in the kitchen, check out Balancing Beauty & Bedlam. Who grills at your house?

Saturday Review: Season Finale Week 1

And so it begins. Along with tornadoes, April showers also bring May sweeps and season finales. And after spending a day focusing on my own personal “It’s a twister!” moment, I think we’re due for something a little more lighthearted.

Unfortunately, none of this week’s season finales cooperated. Enjoy.

SPOILER ALERT: Stop here if you have not watched these shows yet. Because I will ruin them for you.

Castle: I don’t even know why I began watching this mid-season show. It’s certainly not like I needed another hour to devote to the world of TV. But the premise included a mystery novel author, and as a mystery novel reader, I couldn’t resist. And you know, it’s pretty funny. Plus, I really like the way the main character relates realistically to his family.

The finale wasn’t too dramatic. After all, we’ve only had a handful of episodes to get to know the characters and the premise. But they did manage to solve a crime, injure a semi-main character and leave us with a cliffhanger. As finales go, not bad.

Bones: I read a lot of spoilers, so I knew a few things that were coming up in this season-ender. Zack would return, Booth and Bones would get it on, and oh yeah, Booth had a little thing called a annoying plot device brain tumor. One site I read the morning after the show aired called it “Bizarro Bones,” which is just about right. I’m pretty sure – and was from the beginning – that the episode was Booth’s dream while he was in a coma. And I loved how the elements – locations, people, issues – were all there, but just slightly off. That’s how I dream, too! But the memory loss at the end? So annoying!

Grey’s Anatomy: Oh, Shonda, why do you do this to me? The drama. The intensity. The emotion. The tears. Oh, the tears.

First, the good stuff. McSteamy acting like a girl = hilarious. Arizona explaining exactly why George enlisting is “awesome” = moving. Bailey breaking down when she tells the Chief why she can’t take the peds fellowship = devastating. Christina cracking a smile and pushing out those three little words = beautiful. Justin Chambers’ acting and character development = fantastic. Derek and Meredith’s non-wedding wedding = perfect.

The bad stuff, though . . . that’s what’s going to stick with me. That ending, with Izzie and George’s lives hanging in the balance – it might be enough to do me in. As in, finally force me to walk away from this show. I didn’t think I could take any more after Denny died. It was just too much sadness on a Thursday night. But I stuck with them. And then Denny came back and, against my good sense, I stuck with this show anyway. And then . . . then! It got good again. But if they lose two main characters to tragedy like this, I’m just not sure my heart will still be in it. Or, maybe what I mean to say is that I'm not sure my heart can handle it.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Next week: How I Met Your Mother, NCIS, American Idol. And I still have to catch up on The Office.

How’s your season finale season going?

April showers bring . . . May tornadoes?

Six years ago, Mark and I had just bought our first house. The week before we were scheduled to make the big move, three friends helped us move a few boxes into the house.

We’d gone to church that morning in Lawrence, our last Sunday at the church we’d just begun to love. Then we headed to lunch.

When we got out of the car at the restaurant, we were surprised at how cool it had gotten. We felt a little underdressed in our skirts and shorts, but we figured we’d sweat soon enough moving the boxes around.

After eating lunch and unloading the cars at our new house, we took a break in our unfurnished living room. And then Mark’s phone rang.

It was his brother, who lives 20 minutes away, calling about the tornado.

What tornado, we asked.

Mark could hear sirens in the background of his brother’s call, but it was quiet in our new neighborhood. After they hung up, we decided to see what we could find out. As one of our friends went out to the car to listen to the radio for news, Mark and I just looked at each other. And then around the house. And back at each other.

We had just bought a house without a basement. With big windows in every room. In Missouri.

We didn’t even know where the crawl space was yet. And honestly, I didn’t even know what a crawl space was!

After we found a news report on the radio, we learned that we were under a tornado warning. That’s the bad one – although that day, I wasn’t quite sure which is worse, the watch or the warning.

One of our friends, Julia, called her parents, who lived about 5 minutes away, to make sure they were in their basement. They assured her that they were fine and mentioned that we could all come over if we wanted.

After what in retrospect seems like a lot of pointless debate, we climbed into our three cars and followed Julia to her parents’ house.

Our caravan drove at a reasonable speed, following all traffic rules and noticing that yeah, maybe the sky did look a little green.

We pulled into Julia’s parents’ driveway, parked and walked up to the door. Her dad, Alan, welcomed us, and we followed him into the living room, where we gathered around the TV. With one eye on the meteorologist on screen, we asked Alan if he thought we should go to the basement.

He said, “We’ll know when it’s time.”

Poof! At that moment, the power went out. Our hearts dropped. And we headed to the stairs.

Single file, we jogged down the steep stairs, and Alan directed us to the most inner room of the basement. Before we were all crammed into that room, though . . .

Bam! The storm hit the house. My friend Stacy screamed. We all crouched to the floor.

And then it was quiet.

We stood up and looked at each other. And then we looked out into the main room of the basement. And saw a tree, sticking through the wall.

Holding hands, hugging arms, we filed back up the stairs and walked out the garage to see the damage.

Stepping outside, we surveyed the street. And that’s when I got a little teary-eyed. A little shaky. Branches and debris were everywhere. We could barely see our cars; they were covered in tree litter.

And a huge old tree across the street had been completely uprooted and tossed across the neighbors’ yard.

Tornado damage near our house

After we collected ourselves and had exclaimed and sniffled ourselves out, we decided to go see if our basement-less house was still standing. Just as slowly as we’d traveled away from our new house, we rushed back to it.

It was untouched. We found a few pieces of insulation in the yard (not sure where they came from), but our neighborhood had not been hit. Over the next few weeks, I would realize that the exact path we took to Julia’s parents’ house was the same one the tornado took, touching down one street over from the house we went to for safe shelter.

We spent the next couple of hours trying to drive to Julia’s house and, after being turned away by the police trying to direct traffic around the vast damage, trying to get back to her parents’ house. We finally gave up trying to drive in, parked the car and walked back into the neighborhood. Then we concentrated on calling our friends and family to assure them we were fine and to make sure they were, too.

Starting as an F1 and ending as an F4, our storm was part of a series of tornadoes that swept much of the country that May. We were so blessed to be kept safe. Many, many others were not so lucky. According to Wikipedia (yes, I know, shut up), a total of 86 tornadoes touched down in Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas and Tennessee, making May 4, 2003 one of the largest single-day outbreaks in history. Thirty-eight people were killed, and nearly 400 were injured by the tornadoes. Here’s one video, although you can find dozens more.

And that is why our next house will have a basement.

What’s the scariest storm you’ve survived?

Good thing Kinko's can print on short notice.

A few months ago, I went to Nashville for a little conference called Blissdom. And if you’ll recall, one of my biggest regrets from that weekend was my lack of business cards. Because I was the only one who didn’t have them! (Or at least it felt that way.)

So I vowed to get around to printing some cards before attending another conference. And then promptly forgot about it.

Until I posted on Facebook that I was going to another conference this weekend, and a couple friends were kind enough to say, “Hello! Do you have business cards this time?”

Oh yeah. Those things.

So, I’ve got to rustle up some bloggy business cards, and fast. Because I’m going to Chicks Who Click on Saturday.

It turns out that there’s a real-live blogging conference here in Kansas City. And thanks to the wild world of Twitter, I’m going free of charge! Thanks, @zenaweist and @Deetells!

This one-day conference is going to teach me how to be organized, how to customize my “social toolbox,” how to find that line between transparency and privacy, and oh, so much more.

So, my question for you is this: If you could attend one conference – blogging or otherwise – what would it be? And why?

Taking a shortcut on Wednesday. And Tuesday.

I love reading The Pioneer Woman’s cooking blog. The combination of delicious, down-home comfort food and fantastic photography is a thing of beauty. And it makes me hungry.

But sometimes . . . I have to admit . . . it’s a little discouraging. Because on any given day, I just cannot handle recipes with a dozen ingredients. Or fresh herbs.

So I was excited to read yesterday’s post: Monkey Bread. You know why? Because monkey bread, I have just learned, is made from canned biscuit dough.

Ah-ha!

I feel like I just discovered a national secret, a cooking conspiracy. Or somethin’.

All this thought about canned biscuits made me think about how many shortcuts I take in the kitchen. How many pre-made ingredients I use. How many products make my life easier when it comes time to feed myself and my family.

And you know what happens when I start thinking, right? I have to make a list. So, here you go. The top 10 cooking shortcuts that work for me:

1. Brownie mix – In some circles I’m actually well-known for one thing and one thing only. And that’s my brownies. That come from a store-brand mix. What can I say? Not everyone is destined for greatness. Like I am.
2. Muffin mix – Mark’s mom often made blueberry muffins for them when he was growing up. I’m not sure if she made them from scratch, but I’m going to guess she did. I, on the other hand, love these packets of muffin mix with these three life-giving words: Simply Add Water.
3. Pizza crust in a can – I’ve tried the pizza crust mix in a packet. It’s not the same thing. And yes, Mom, I do know how to make it from scratch, which is way cheaper. I just don’t like to do it.
4. Salsa – Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I want to make my own salsa. And I do. But I sure haven’t done it yet. Until then, Sam’s Choice medium salsa is doing the trick.
5. Shredded cheese – I’ve noticed that some of the cooking blogs I read like to mention how much better cheese is when you grate it yourself. And I don’t disagree. I do, however, remember how much it hurts to catch your knuckles in that thing. And there’s the fact that it takes so much time. Like, minutes.
6. Spaghetti sauce – I had never considered making my own spaghetti sauce. It really seemed like an awful lot of work. But then I made this lasagna, which pretty much forced me to make my own sauce. And you know what? It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was pretty good. But for spaghetti on a Wednesday or Friday night homemade pizza, you can’t beat Prego traditional sauce. Mmmm…yum.
7. Crescent rolls – Another favorite from Mark’s family, the canned crescent rolls are a staple around here. Thankfully, they make a reduced fat version. Because one can? Yeah, pretty much disappears around here!
8. Cinnamon rolls – Are you seeing a pattern here? I like my bread products to come from a can! Canned cinnamon rolls (again, the low-fat and store-brand version) is the easiest, most delicious “homemade” breakfast I make. It’s perfect when we have overnight company or have to take “treats” to our Sunday school class.
9. Break-apart cookie dough – It’s the ultimate in laziness, I think, but you better believe I do it. Not only do I buy pre-made cookie dough, I don’t even take the time to scoop it or slice it. Nope – just break it apart and bake. At least, I bake the ones I don’t just eat right out of the package!
10. Instant oatmeal – Time to redeem myself after all of that not-so-healthy talk. When I’m really on my weight loss game, I eat a bowl of apple and cinnamon oatmeal (two points, if you’re counting them) every morning. It takes just a few seconds, it’s delicious and it’s filling. Can’t beat that.

Unless you count the cinnamon rolls.

This post is part of Top Ten Tuesday and Works for Me Wednesday. (Hey, I actually wrote it on Tuesday but it will post on Wednesday!)

What are your shortcuts in the kitchen?

Who needs flowers?

My Mother's Day consisted mainly of sleep-related gifts. First, Mark got up with Annalyn and took her to the grocery store, so I could sleep in. Next, they came home and piled into bed with me so Annalyn could shower me with kisses and cuteness. Then, after eating a late breakfast and playing some more, Annalyn took a nap . . . and so did I.

That's right: sleeping in and a nap. I sure can't complain, can I?

After the Big Sleep of 2009, we all got ready for the day (and don't even point out that half the day was gone, thank you very much!) and headed out. I thought it would be a great day to walk around a shopping center, maybe get some ice cream.

That was before the cold front moved in and the rain started.

So it turns out we spent our afternoon at Target. Which is fun, of course. The good news is that we went to a fancy new Target with fancy new carts (See below for someone else's photo. Because of course I didn't think to take my camera on this big trip.). The bad news is that Annalyn was not interested in spending her Mother's Day in the Target store. And she made that abundantly clear.

Photo by slackermama

What? Doesn't your child demand to hold every item in the cart and then chuck them across the aisle? Just ours, huh?

Well, we all survived. And to polish off this momentous day, we played some more, went to bed late only to be awake at 4:30 a.m.

Apparently, Annalyn wants to make sure I don't get used to that fully rested feeling.

Saturday Review: State of Play

Last weekend, Mark and I were treated to a date night, courtesy of some movie passes and a babysitter. I’d had the free passes since my birthday. Five months ago. So we were due for a good movie. And we had decided that the perfect movie for us to spend the passes and the date night on was Duplicity.

Unfortunately, it stopped playing in our theaters on the Wednesday before our date.

Thankfully, we’d seen previews for State of Play. After all, what good would a date night be if it began in an argument over the wisdom of using free movie passes to see a Matthew McConaughey movie?

State of Play has been called “an intelligent adult thriller about the death of newspapers.” Entertainment Weekly said, “State of Play has enough layers of insidious surprise . . . to keep even a seasoned 
political-corruption buff guessing.” And TV Guide wrote, “[B]y cleverly raising questions about print versus online media, the screenwriters manage to instill the tried-and-true political thriller with a satisfying contemporary twist. . . . [It] is the kind of thriller that starts with a bang and throws in enough twists to tie your brain in knots as the layers of deception are stripped away to pose some genuinely frightening questions.”

I agree with all of that, but I figure you probably came here to see what I thought.

First, the actors. I think there must be something wrong when Russell Crowe is more appealing to me than Ben Affleck. Perhaps I’m getting old? (Don’t answer that.) I don’t know. I’m not saying Ben is not a good actor. I thought he was just fine in this movie. But Russell was better. By far.

Yes, I’m on a first-name basis with these people. Aren’t you?

Rachel McAdams was adorable and, in my opinion though not many of the critics’, believable. I realize that I related to her character mainly because she’s like me – young(ish), a blogger, fairly new in her career and anxious to learn more and move up. But that’s enough for me. I liked her. And I liked the friendship and respect that grew between her character and Russell’s.

Other main actors in this movie were Helen Mirren, Robin Wright Penn, Jason Bateman and Jeff Daniels. Ms. Mirren (um, no, no first name here) was lovely as usual. Robin was bland and forgettable, but she always is to me; we actually looked her up when we got home, because I just wasn’t sure she really was Jenny. And we’ve seen Forrest Gump a few hundred dozen times. Please believe me and don’t make Mark do his Forrest impressions to prove it. Jason was hilarious, and Jeff was not so hot. Or maybe it was his (Jeff’s) character. Either way, I didn’t like what he had going on.

Second, the story. State of Play was based on a 2003 BBC miniseries that was apparently well-loved. I’d never heard of it. But then again, I couldn’t find BBC on my TV if you paid me. (Nothing against the British and their TV. I just don’t watch it. We have enough addicting shows here in the U.S., thankyouverymuch!)

This movie was about a Senator whose staffer – and, it turns out, mistress – is murdered and the journalists who solve the mystery. Because the police only solve mysteries on TV, I guess. The movie is a commentary on several issues: the death of print journalism, the commercializing of the news, the corruption of our politicians, the difficulty of marriage, the scary possibilities of corporations funding – and even creating – wars.

That’s a lot to worry about at once, but the movie itself did a pretty good job of fleshing out these problems and showing us implications for each one. For me, corporately funded wars are just too scary to consider and corrupt politicians are not at all surprising anymore. So what I focused on – and what the movie focuses on, too – is the message it sends about today’s journalism.

Which brings me to . . .

Third, the message. I work in public relations. But for most of my high school years – and one short semester at college – I was determined to be a journalist. The hard-hitting, scoop-finding, world-saving type of journalist. Think CNN. Think foreign correspondent. Think Up Close & Personal. But I changed my mind, got sidetracked, ended up somewhere else.

My industry, however, works hand in hand with journalism. My colleagues and I do most of what we do with journalists in mind (for better or, sometimes, worse). So the industry is still close to my heart, and as a blogger and a PR professional, I know well the battle print journalists are fighting today.

So this issue wasn’t news to me (ha! Little pun intended.). What I did leave the movie wondering is this: are movie reporters real? What I mean is – do the stereotypical journalists exist? Did they ever? Has it ever been about “just the facts, ma’am,” or was that all just a dream, a fantasy, a built-up image of what we thought those people should be and do?

What do you think?

And finally, the bottom line. State of Play was a great movie, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to watch a mostly serious, sometimes funny, thought-provoking and action-filled movie.

Less Than Perfect Once a Month Cooking

Just like serious coupon-clipping and consistent exercise, once a month cooking is one of those things I wish I did. But don’t.

I keep on trying, though, and some months I get further than others. Last month, I pushed myself – all for the sake of blogging.

You can read about how it turned out at Once a Month Mom.