The Rest of the Story

I was sad to read that broadcasting pioneer and one of my all-time favs Paul Harvey has died. I mean, he was 90 and had a long, amazing life. But, still, it's a huge loss felt by his millions of fans including me. To think we'll never hear these words LIVE over the radio again "....and that is the rest of the story."

He was legendary and he narrated many walks for me between my dorm room and classes at Purdue University. No matter how cold it was trudging across campus; no matter how tired I was; no matter how I didn't want to go to class; he always made me smile with his "The Rest of the Story." It felt like he was my grandpa, encouraging me softly, indirectly by other people's stories, emphasizing why it's important to see the best in me, in my story, letting us know we are all human and in this together. His voice broadcast softly, encouragingly in my ear many cold, lonely mornings.

Whether you are familiar with him or not, take a minute and read a little about this legendary broadcaster's story:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29447376?GT1=43001

Bits & Busts

Feeling a bit like a train has run me over, so just posting a few random things today....

First of all, my daughter and I started "Are you there God, it's me Margaret?" the other day. We read together a few chapters each night before her bedtime (okay, fine, my bedtime). She literally cracked up at the bit on "We must, we must, we must increase our busts!" I have to admit, I laughed as well. It's amazing how exciting the prospect of wearing a bra is to a tween. I myself was terrified of it. Not today, girls can't wait to wear a bra and lipstick and deodorant and be all hormonal.

Anyway, to connect with your inner Judy Blume, visit her on her site.... and, yes, she even blogs: http://www.judyblume.com/

On another note, ever wonder who is behind those amazing and articulate speeches Obama delivers? Apparently, he's young, hot and can communicate.... learn more about him at http://www.newsweek.com/id/84756

And a last little bit, February is Love a Children's Author month.... For me, that brings to mind not only Judy Blume but Astrid Lindgren and several more - too many fabulous new and seasoned authors to make a list when I'm feeling like a train is running through my head. But, here's a great blog on that.... http://taralazar.wordpress.com/

I'm heading back to bed with some stuffy head, fever, soar throat, so you can rest, because you're completely knocked out medicine.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

I heart Jeff Kinney (if I was savvy enough, I could probably actually put a heart there, but I'm not.) Like, if I was in middle school, I would scribble his name on my trapper keeper in bubbly blue ink...complete with a little heart dotting the i in Kinney.

And the reason I heart him is because he is very clever. He writes clever books that appeal to both boys and girls...and my girl in particular. He writes the kind of books that make my 9-year-old cuddle up at night, in the corner of her closet, with her favorite blanky (named Bubbie), with the light on and doors closed, reading, when she is supposed to be sleeping. Oh that makes mama proud ...and it makes me heart Jeff Kinney.

They are casting for the Wimpy Kid right now.... and it would almost make Anna cut off her hair and give up her affection for all things pink and glittery just to try out (so Shakespearean!) I mean, she knows all three books by heart!

And, so, I heart Jeff Kinney. And if you do...if you are the wimpy kid or know the wimpy kid because he might be living in your house or in your neighborhood or at your school or whatever... check this out:

http://www.iamthewimpykid.com/

Another Mother's Life

I'm a creature of habit. If I find something I like, well I tend to stick with it. Granola bars, for instance. I have one everyday for breakfast. I am a granola and coffee girl.

It's the same with books. If I find an author I like, then I pretty much stock up on all things published by said author and read, read, read. For instance, Jodi Piccoult. I have every book she's written - all 15 of them and cannot wait for the new one coming in March! (On a side note, many people think that "My Sister's Keeper" is her best novel. And, I loved it, I did. I read it twice. However, "Songs of the Humpback Whale" and "Plain Truth" are both bloody brilliant.) I also absolutely adore Sarah Dessen (even though I am no longer a young adult) and Joyce Carol Oates (and boy is she prolific! I have invested a pretty penny in her work.)

So, anyway, after thoroughly enjoying Rowan Coleman's "The Accidental Mother", I hurried over to B&N to gobble her up...well, her work I mean. The sequel, "The Accidental Family", is supposed to be out this month but B&N doesn't have it. I think it's out in the UK but not here. Bloody hell!

Good thing they had another Rowan book: "Another Mother's Life."

So, I sat down, opened it up, gave it a good smell and it was something like:

- sleeping with the enemy
- telling someone how you feel and then holding your breath
- inviting a friend for coffee in order to say sorry and waiting at the table with butterflies wondering if she'll show up
- sitting in the front seat of a Delorean (equipped with a flux capacitor of course) and jetting off into the past...
- where you are promptly dropped onto a roller coaster that veers dangerously back and forth between the elementary school playground, junior high, high school and adulthood....complete with brief, gut-dropping, head-jerking glimpses of the carelessness, jealous tirades, emotional meltdowns, heart pounding affections, brief love affairs, past-their-due-date love affairs, betrayals, broken hearts, mended hearts, commitments, secret crushes, public embarrassments, forever friendships, fleeting friendships, lovers, enemies and pure chaos that defined coming of age.
- realizing that even in adulthood all those things above still exist, still hurt as much, still mean as much
- mending a broken heart
- mending a broken friendship
- remembering the minute you fell in love for the first time
- seeing the boy you fell head over heels for fall madly in love with someone else
- waiting by the phone
- hiding under the covers
- packing your car full of whatever possessions you can fit and driving away from the life you thought you couldn't live without
- watching the sunrise as you drive to your future realizing you can live without that life and actually looking forward to what you can do
- basking in the the power of friendship which is probably the fuel that drove that car where it needed to go

"Another Mother's Life" is the story of two friends, betrayal, love, marriage, family, forgiveness. If you've ever looked at another mother and wished you had her life or wondered what your life would be had you chosen a different path, then you might want to pick it up, give it a good smell and see how it makes you feel.

The Accidental Mother

So I picked up my copy of "The Accidental Mother" by Rowan Coleman the other day. I bought it awhile back and hadn't gotten around to reading it. I wasn't familiar with the author, but the book drew my attention while perusing around the book store. Alright, I bought it because of the cover. There, I've said it. I judge a book by its cover.


Or maybe it was the title... after all, some of us mothers do feel like we came about motherhood quite accidentally (in my case, quite literally) and motherhood can seem like one accident right after the next. I mean, it starts out by celebrating at a graduation party, next thing you know you are pregnant and then before you can say "Oh Sh*@!" you could have three children and be well versed in the areas of immunizations, lactation, boppies, bumbos, butt paste, weaning, whining and the pros and cons of plugging your infant's pie hole with a binky.

Anyway, I picked up the book quite by accident, knowing nothing about the author, the story or what to expect. I started reading it because I needed something to take my mind off bad things going on right now. I cracked it open, gave it a good smell and dove in.

And what I found was something like....

- receiving a letter from an old friend
- finding the misplaced box of Christmas ornaments you had given up on
- coming home to flowers on the table from your sister after she found out you'd lost your job
- discovering an old photograph of your parents when they were happy
- hearing your baby say his first word
- finding the humor when your toddler pulls out his penis in the women's locker room and says "Well what do you think of this?"
- laughing until you eject salsa from your nose over lunch with friends
- watching your young daughter brush your mom's hair and freezing that image in your mind so you won't forget it
- finding forgotten money wadded up and sweaty in the pocket of your jeans
- falling asleep and dreaming about someone you haven't seen in years

The tale of Sophie, Bella and Izzy warmed my heart, made me giggle to myself and laugh out loud. I smiled, I cried, it took my mind off the bad...and I want more. The sequel, "The Accidental Family" comes out this month. Oh happy accident.

Isn't it Ironic?

"And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day

It's a free ride when you've already paid

It's the good advice that you just didn't take...."

~ Alanis Morissette



When I started my first semester at Arizona State University some years ago this month I had to go through all the headache of getting my records from Purdue, dotting the i's and crossing the t's so I could start my new life as a Sundevil and leave the Boilermaker in me behind. I had spent enough time fannying about in engineering when I knew I really wanted to be a writer. It was time to get serious and stop wasting time. ASU, here I come.



I hit a snag when the head of the English department at ASU would not take my Freshman English credit from Purdue.



"We require our students to have an entire year of Freshman English," he said curtly, looking at me over his thick spectacles and tossing my file onto the desk between us.



"Oh, well I took advanced English, I was gifted and talented you see and so it was Advanced English, even though it was one semester, so that should cover it," I said triumphantly.



"That's lovely but we here at ASU require all of our students, gifted and other, to take two semesters of Freshman English," he said.



"I'm sorry, you are telling me you won't accept my English credit because it was advanced but if I had two semesters of, say, remedial English, I would be fine?" I was fuming. The lines, the red tape, the costs of text books and this idiot were really raking on my nerves.



"Ok then, what is irony?" he asked me as he sat back in his chair folding his arms over his pot belly.



Where was Alanis Morissette when I needed her? I fumed, stumbled around for a minute, I knew I knew the answer but I was caught off guard.



"Sarcasm," I spat back, folding my arms over my chest and starting to realize that maybe it wasn't such a great idea to be arguing (disrespectfully) with the head of the English department at a major university, one that I'd hoped to get a degree from.



"No. It's not sarcasm. You may leave now," he returned to the papers on his desk signalling that I was clearly dismissed.



I marched out of his office, out of the English building and all the way back to my apartment where I proceeded to get on the computer and look up the word irony. Damn.



So I was transferring as a Junior (and a late junior at that because I had been an intern at Purdue every other semester) and would have to take a Freshman English class. I would look like a grandmother in there! I was so mad.



On a whim, and because I did feel pretty stupid, I emailed the head of the English department. I apologized for my outburst and disrespect, citing my frustration with how difficult the transfer process was and how I would feel uncomfortable in a class of people where I would appear as a senior citizen. I also included the proper definition of irony.



He wrote me back and said it showed great character on my part for taking the time to write an apology and admitting to my mistake. He said I could take a 200-level English class instead of English 101 with all Freshmen. It was a small victory, I guess.



On the first day of English 215, I was still annoyed that I had to take another English class. Some of us showed up at the classroom when we were really supposed to go to the computer lab to meet. Finding the lecture hall empty, we decided to walk to the lab to see if the rest of the class was there.



I fell in line next to a guy dressed in a grungy flannel shirt, long wavy hair, hat on backwards and jeans that looked like they could walk themselves. He lit up a cigarette on the walk over and exhaled a cloud of smoke.



"Want one?" he asked, smiling at me.

"No thank you," I replied but was happy not to be walking alone.

"I'm John," he said taking another drag and blowing it out. "John Patriarche."

"It's nice to meet you John."



And that, my dear friends, is irony.

Your Choice is Crystal Clear

"Your Choice is Crystal Clear"

Crystal Lee for Student Body President


Clever and catchy, yes? That was my political campaign slogan some *cough* years ago in high school. It worked, too. Despite some relentless and deliberate sabotage from a group of senior girls (with rather large hair) who made it their mission to torture we underclass girls (with equally large hair but better looks - imo). If you detect bitterness and resentment in my tone, well you are...completely right. Dumb buuh... I mean, no, no. I am so over that and them and have been for years. Bygones, right?)


So why bring this up now? Perhaps the Obama fever sweeping the nation brought back the nostalgia of my foray into politics. Or perhaps it's being in my hometown after all these years. Regardless, I was thinking about life and choices and things being crystal clear. You would think at my age *cough cough* one would start to gain a sense of clarity. Things should be crystal clear, right?


Well, I find in my life things tend to be clear as...mud ...or, more accurately, poo ... which is what I'm usually dealing with (three young kids, two dogs, you get the picture.)

In my inaugural blog here, I've come up with a sort of state of my union...things that are clear and some things that are... well, poo.

Clear & Poo:

• This economy sucks. Like huge suck fest. Huge like my ass is getting (thanks to this freaking Midwest weather.) Income could become challenging... as is zipping.
  
• Caleb (one-year-old little Cherub that he is) has the third child syndrome. Need a remedy and stat. Symptoms include but are not limited to: Throwing his lovely blond curly head back despite where it might land or whose jaw it might sock, body becomes instantly rigid, mind blowing screams and stuttering "uh uh uh uh!" with a crescendo effect.)
  
• Eli (little Precious nearly-five-year-old that he is) takes after his father. You know the whole men only hear what they want to hear thing? Apparently, it starts early. Case in point: this morning while buttoning up his coat, I instructed him to be good at my sister's: play nice, share, clean up, follow the one toy at a time rule and use his manners. When I asked him, "Did you hear what I just said?" He replied, "Yeah, play with one toy and don't jump on the furniture."
  
• Anna (little nine-year-old Princess that she is) suddenly has a limited three word vocabulary: "Oh my God!!" Eye rolling and feet stomping come included.
  
• Dogs (lovie little golden canines that they are) are afraid of the snow. Mind you, they are desert rats. Born and raised in Arizona (oh how I miss you!) So, until they brave the cold white, I am cleaning up poo in the garage.
  
• John (hubby bubby that he is) has become a huge motivation and time suck right now. I mean, how am I supposed to work while he's bundled up on the couch watching episodes of LOST?

It seems that this list is all poo.... where is the clear part? It's clear, crystal clear, that I need a new slogan and a new campaign and a husband with a job and Super Nanny and ... a pooper scooper.

But wait! I am a PR professional and a fledgling politician. I know it's all about how you spin something:

• This challenging economy is the perfect time to be resourceful. No income? No new shoes. No need to cook dinner- PB&J for all! Oh wait, there was that peanut butter recall... Top Ramen then... once ate it religiously. Hallelujah! Zipping becoming a challenge? I still have maternity pants. I seldom leave the house anyway which is helping with fuel expenses.
  
• Caleb is suffering the terrible twos at one... So he's advanced for his age.
  
• Eli only hears what he wants to hear.... He is selective. Nothing wrong with being choosy. Especially when choosing say... a wife.
  
• Anna is turning into a teenager already... I'll be turning into my mother earlier than I thought. Was bound to happen anyway.
  
• Dogs are pooping in the garage ... John can have that job. I mean, until he finds a better one. You know, a paying one. No disrespect, dear. You are handy and very good with a shovel.

And in the meantime, we are all together, in the town I grew up in where it's clear we have lots of family and friends.

I guess your choice is crystal clear - it's all in the way you spin it.