The Wishful Writer

Jokester.

2011-06-19T11:21:00.000-04:00

I totally owe Part 2 of my PRK eye story and have it half written. But I realize the majority of folks aren't super interested in it, unless of course you have had or are planning to have your eyes "sanded" down.

Part 2 is coming, but until I have time to finish it, I thought I'd leave you with a joke someone shared with me last week. I can't stop retelling it.

What part of Popeye doesn't rust?

Wait for it, wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

The part he puts in Olive Oyl.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

My Experience With PRK Eye Surgery

2011-06-17T11:31:00.001-04:00

Update: I'm an idiot. In the first publishing of this post, my backwards brain mistakenly and erroneously referred to my eye procedure as RPK. Um...it's actually PRK. I've made the correction.

Second Update: April just read this post and was outraged I did not accurately reflect her savings. She saved $300 more than I quote in the story below. I hope she can forgive me....

I took this lovely photo the moment I got home from my PRK procedure - obviously I couldn't tell the photo sucked.

I couldn't see, not a damn thing. But I wasn't in any pain...not yet anyway.

I want to share my PRK experience (one I would do again in a heartbeat) because I poured over so many other personal accounts during my recovery to make sure what I was experiencing was normal. I bypassed all the articles written by industry folks and went straight to the accounts by people wearing stupid looking goggles (see above) and juggling a million different eye drop bottles because I knew that's where the truth could be found.

I have to say, I'm glad I didn't start reading blogs about PRK until AFTER I'd had it done. I think I might have freaked out. That's not to say I hadn't done my homework on the doctor performing my surgery. My girlfriend, April, had the LASIK procedure done by the same doctor a year prior, so I knew his credentials were good. April doesn't buy toothpaste without deliberating for hours and consulting her Excel spreadsheet, so I trusted my eye balls were safe.

Prior to my initial meeting with the doc, I figured I'd have LASIK, the same procedure April did. They create (usually witha laser) a half-moon shaped flap in the cornea. An ultraviolet light beam removes ("ablates") very tiny bits of tissue from the cornea to reshape it. When the cornea is reshaped in the right way, it works better to focus light into the eye and onto the retina, providing clearer vision. The flap is then laid back in place, covering the area where the corneal tissue was removed.

Voila. Takes about five minutes total (for both eyes) and there is little pain and you can pretty much see better right after it's over.

Sign me up. I wanted it.

My vision wasn't terrible. It was hovering around 20/60. I pretty much had to wear contacts or glasses all the time and it bugged. Ever try yoga wearing glasses? Don't. Takes an act of God to keep those damn things in place.

I made my appointment and as I waited for my consultation, April drilled me on negotiation tactics. That's right, this is an ELECTIVE procedure and you can negotiate.

Seriously.

I had my doubts too, but not only is April an avid researcher, she can negotiate with the best of 'em. Once, when an auto shop called to explain a fix would be more costly, she not only got them to stick to the original price quoted, but convinced them to throw in an oil change at no cost. It's why I keep her.

When she went in for her procedure, she came armed with the knowledge of how much a friend of hers had paid. The sales person told her it would be nearly $5k for both eyes. She explained a friend just had the procedure done for $1200.00, same procedure. Sales person hemmed and hawed and said her friend likely had a different procedure, but came off $1,000.00 immediately. April pushed for more and after the sales person stepped out of the office to "consult" with the doctor several times, April secured a "top secret" price of $1,500.00 for both eyes.

I told her she was nuts. I was certain they planned on bringing the janitor in to do the surgery.

I was wrong. The surgeon she met with did the LASIK surgery and I'd say within 24 hours, she had 20/20 vision. She had dry eyes for several months, to be expected, but no complications then and none since.

Sitting in the office, waiting for my consultation, she reminded me of all this. During the consultation (which thankfully did NOT include the scary machine that blows air through your eye and into your brain), I endured about an hour of different eye tests and a very quick visit with the doctor himself.

I was a candidate for a procedure, just not LASIK.

I had no idea there was any other procedure being done. Apparently, if you are lucky enough to have astigmatisms, PRK is more widely utilized.

As it was explained to me by the doctor, the shape of my eyeball (due to the astigmatism) doesn't easily allow for a half-moon shape flap to be made in my corneas. Instead, a laser would simply "reshape" my eye, which would be a "TAD" bit more uncomforatable during recovery, but safer than LASIK because there is no risk of infection because there is no flap that needs to heal.

I'm no idiot. When a doctor uses the words TAD BIT in relation to pain, you know you're gonna cry like a little girl. Assuming your eyes work enough to cry.

I hated the ordeal of contacts and I've already explained the zen-ruining power of glasses in yoga, so I agreed the PRK procedure would be best.

I got shuffled back to my sales person and after extolling the virtues of the surgery, I got my price point. Just under $5,000.00. I smiled and explained my partner, sitting just outside, had surgery a year ago for $1,500.00. He'd already told me there is no price difference between LASIK and PRK. After a blank look, I too received $1,000.00 off the price - immediately. After thanking him for the "great deal," I explained the surgery still wasn't what I had budgeted for, so would need to go home and think about it.

Here's the deal - after they've spent a few hours with you doing the consultation, they DO NOT WANT to let you leave without booking you. He appeared frustrated, but quickly covered it up and gave me another $1,500.00 discount and said what he was offering me was UNHEARD of. He went on to say advances in technology prohibit such steep discounts now and I should jump on the offer.

Another secret, if negotiating doesn't make you uncomfortable (like it does me), hang in there, even if you feel pressure. I would have caved there, at the newly discounted price of $2,500.00 if I wasn't worried April would kill me before we got to the parking lot.

I explained I really wasn't an impulse buyer and it was still more than I budgeted for as I'd expected to pay what April paid. I told him I'd go home, think about it and call him if I thought I could manage to pay $2,500.00. He was frustrated, but he took my phone number down and we left.

MAGICALLY, a few days later, I got a phone call from the sales guy and he said he had some last minute "cancellations" for the upcoming Saturday. He'd already had to buy the supplies and needed to fill the spots, so if I could come in, he could offer me another discount of $700.00.

That's right. I had both eyes done for a total of $1,798.00, down from the original price quoted of $5,000.00.

AND I felt confident the janitor wouldn't be doing the surgery.

Once I accepted his "UNBELIEVABLE" offer, I made my appointment for that Saturday and refused to think about the TAD BIT of pain coming my way.

Part 2 tomorrow.

Paula Brooks/Bill Graber Non-Appreciation Facebook Page

2011-06-17T08:59:00.000-04:00

A Facebook Page has been set up to collect stories being published by media outlets and bloggers world-wide. If you'd like to read more about this situation (I warn you, some of the published bullying accounts are difficult to stomach), feel free to head over and check out the links. Folks are adding links as they find them.

I think Mr. Graber's claim of being a misunderstood do-gooder are, um, clearly DONE.

Puppy Lurve

2011-06-16T16:00:00.000-04:00

Because nothing lightens a mood like dawgs, I felt it necessary to share these pictures.

I think it helps explain why I kiss my dogs on the teeth. Go ahead and judge me. I can take it.

Snaggle doesn't understand that the basket was a joke, for the poodle. He also doesn't undersand why he has three rows of teeth.

Rosie, on her back, paws in the air like she just don't care.

You don't even have to tell me. I know.

And last but not least, there's Riley, who I often "nanny" for during the day....

In other, non-critter related news, I had my three month check up after having RPK surgery on my eyes and I have 20/15 vision. I'm going to blog about my experience (probably tomorrow) since other blogs really helped me out during my recovery time.

Time to go walk those four-legged family members.

Getting Back To What's Important. And Who's Important.

2011-06-15T20:52:00.001-04:00

Oy. My head is spinning, what with all the chaos surrounding the Paula Brooks scandal (more via the link and my post from yesterday).

As more stories are hitting the web, Paula/Bill/EnterNameHere gets crazier and crazier. This person (supposedly a male, heterosexual, married man) disguised himself online as a lesbian and morphed from a surfer mom to a doctor to Rachael Maddow’s informant to working in a harassing office at the NSA to an employee of James Cameron in the span of four years (and I left some shit out).

This individual manipulated who knows how many people, built a website often sourced by media as the pulse of all things LGBT and was narcissistic enough to believe he wouldn’t get caught.

I actually think the words “Paula Brooks” need to become a verb for “you just got played.”

Right? Can’t you see it? “Dude, you just got Paula Brooked.”

Nothing could shock me anymore. Not even if the Washington Post uncovered the secret that Paula/Bill/EnterNameHere was truly a sock puppet with special powers.

He says he took on the persona of Paula Brooks because no one would take him seriously on LGBT issues as a straight man. He created heartbreaking stories (wife dying of cancer) and left a bunch of us wondering just who we can trust on the web.

But I don’t want to focus on this dimwit right now. I want to focus on someone who deserves it.

Someone who is who she says she is.

Lisa McGlaun.

A straight woman.

Someone who has been A REAL ally for LGBT people.

A person living with cancer.

Not pretend cancer like “Paula’s” made-up wife, Debbie.

The real kind. The kind that makes you sick. Takes your hair. Makes you re-evaluate your life.

That kind of cancer.

I first met Lisa when I started blogging back in 2007 or thereabouts. She authored a blog that reported only on heart warming topics and inspiring people. The blog, while understandably not updated frequently right now, can be found here.

Taken with the blog’s content, I soon began leaving comments for Lisa and vice versa. A true friendship developed which includes regular Facebook contact and the ever-so-important exchange of holiday greetings.

In November of last year, I noticed something different about Lisa’s Facebook photo. I clicked over to her Wall and read some of her status updates. My heart sank.

Immediately, I emailed Lisa and inquired about what I’d read. True to form, Lisa responded quickly, but only went into details after making sure I first knew how excited she was about the adoption process April and I are in the middle of.

That’s Lisa. Truly compassionate. No Paula Brooks faking here.

Lisa’s story moved me to tears.

In July of last year, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Thankfully, the cancer had not spread outside of the large tumor found in her left breast. The doctors were sure they’d found the cancer early and her prognosis was good, but still terrifying.

Chemotherapy is shrinking the tumor and while it’s leaving her fatigued and in some pain, it also sparked something amazing.

Not that I’m surprised. This is Lisa we’re talking about.

Lisa today and on the mend!

In Lisa’s own words:

“When I went to my oncologist’s office for the first time in August, I distracted myself by reading all of the signs posted on the walls. That way I didn’t have to think about what was coming down the pipe…chemo, surgery, radiation…all stuff that was out of my control.

One of the signs said, ‘Do you want to be a happy hooker?’

Well, that caught my attention! Turns out it was an invitation to join a crocheting group started by my doctor. These people get together once a month to crochet hats and blankets for chemo patients, which I was about to be one of!”

Lisa went to that Happy Hooker meeting and loved it. Instead of focusing on the side effects of her cancer treatment, like not being able to get off the couch if she wanted to, she made hats. Lots and lots of hats.

During an appointment at another cancer office, Lisa noticed they didn’t have a Happy Hooker group to provide a source of warmth for the bald-headed people coming in and out of treatment.

“My head gets really cold,” Lisa said. “I know other women who’ve lost their hair and feel like I do. There have been nights when I’ve slept with a hat on because even though I’m nestled under the covers, my shiny bald head is not!”

Lisa began to donate all the hats she was making to the cancer center. Yarn was getting expensive, so Lisa did some brainstorming to figure out how she could keep up with the demand she knew existed.

“I’d go to bed thinking about how I could afford to keep doing it,” she said. “I’d wake up at 4am because cancer patients who are on steroids never get a good night’s sleep! I settled on a buy one/share one program and my husband, Todd, came up with the name Hats Unto Others.”

Hats Unto Others.

Here’s the deal. Lisa is super creative and can crochet nearly any type of hat (and any color) that the buyer wants. After she’s done making the buyer’s hat, she crochets one that she donates (in the buyer’s name) to a local cancer center for a chemo patient.

It’s $27.00 for the two hats ($25.00 plus a $2.00 shipping fee). The preferred method of payment is PayPal and Lisa can give you all those details if you want to be a good sport and help her meet her initial goal of creating 1,000 hats.

I know it’s summer, but for a bald-headed chemo patient, a sweltering day in June can feel like ice. Get you a cool cap for the upcoming fall season and help a cancer patient out TODAY.

Here are just a select FEW of the hats made by the talented Lisa:

You know Apes and I each got one! We love them.

To contact Lisa about the Hats Unto Others program or to place your own order, you can contact her at hatsuntoothers@gmail.com.

Thank You

Lisa, thank you for reminding me, in the current atmosphere of blogger suspicion and manipulation, that REAL, HONEST connections can be made through this thing we call the internet.

I feel blessed to know you, to have learned from your journey and as a result of your positive outlook in the face of adversity, I know the power of the human spirit and I know that it is good.

Now, ya’ll readers go buy yourselves a hat and tell Lisa I sent ya!

The REAL Paula Brooks.

2011-06-14T01:39:00.011-04:00

So, it's been a while since I've blogged, what with trying to get the whole baby thing on track - which, by the by, we are NEARLY THERE! I'll keep you posted.

However, I have to blog tonight because an article in the Washington Post was just brought to my attention...have you seen it? Here's the link (read it and then come back to me):

‘Paula Brooks,’ editor of ‘Lez Get Real,’ also a man
By Elizabeth Flock and Melissa Bell

For those who haven't had the um, distinct pleasure of interacting with Paula or know what Lez Get Real is, it's a website reporting on everything from celebrity to court cases with an LGBT slant. I'm not a reader of the site because, well, because myself and several other of my blogger friends had a falling out with her, I mean HIM, long before the inception of Lez Get Real.

But first things first. As the article points out, Paula is not Paula. Paula is really a married man named Bill Graber only pretending to be Paula. Paula got BUSTED because s/he was part of the investigation into Amina Arraf, the supposed Syrian lesbian blogger who went missing and became an international story. Turns out, Amina is really a married, American man named Tom MacMaster. Apparently, neither Amina or Paula knew the other was a hoax, but Amina's trail led to Paula's trail which led to a Washington Post article which led to my Facebook page which led to me reading it and yelling WHAT THE FUCK?

Ya follow?

I KNEW something wasn't right with Paula. So did my blogging buddies who are doing exactly what I've done which is cull through all their emails to help expose this guy. He didn't just start pretending to blog from a lesbian perspective three years ago and with good intentions, no matter what quote he gave to the Post. Sure, Paula's articles were timely and informative, but there was an aggression to Paula and those of us who interacted with "her" quickly got the sense that something was off.

My first interaction with 'Paula Brooks' happened on November 15, 2007. Here's the email I received:

dear Heather,

Hello my name is Paula Brooks, you probably know me as Paula the Surf Mom and I would first like to say I love your blog. I find you very witty and humorous; and that is the whole point of this e-mail. As You know recently I joined the staff at Lesbiatopia and am have a great time blogging on lesbian topics so let me get right to this and ask if you would possibly be interested in blogging with us. As you can see from the attached email our other main writer at Lesbiatopia, Renee Gannon, would also love if you would join us as well. What we offer to you is a very good traffic base as some very good exposure to your articles...

if you go to our page and click on our sitemeter you will see we are averaging somewhere around 700 or better hits most days at the moment and just this week alone we have had 3000 visitors come through our site... and we have developed a very good promotion program for our blog so that has been going up every week and we think we should be at around 17000 hits or more by the end of this month.

So like I told Renee in the attached e mail I thought as a writer you might be interested in sharing our traffic and join us. and your writing style would be a perfect fit for all I think. Think it over... I think this would be good for all concerned

Paula

I was very flattered at the time as I'd been building readership of my own blog, but didn't see how I could possibly keep up with content for another, despite being a fan of Lesbiatopia. I wrote back explaining I was beyond flattered, but didn't want to commit to something and be unable to follow through.

Paula was persistent with her compliments and seeming flexibility and even emailed me a picture of her baby twin daughters with signs pleading with me to write for Lesbiatopia. No idea if the kids are really Paula/Bill's or just borrowed for the deception, but the story of Paula Brooks included a wife named Deb with cancer and twin baby girls. Oh, and Paula was deaf, so communicating by email was the only way to reach her. Unless, of course, she could get her father on the phone who could interpret for her. As we all know, now, thanks to the Post article, Paula's father was really Paula, who is really Bill. No one was deaf.

Ya follow?

I never had a need to talk to Paula's father, but a few of my friends did when the blogging world got messy and Paula started bullying and coming damn near close to harassing and threatening folks (more on that in a bit). My friends who talked to her father said it was beyond creepy. They confronted him about Paula's bullying behavior and "her dad" said things like:

- Paula will always be my princess and I will always give her what she wants
- I know Paula can be aggressive, but.....

So insanely creepy knowing the full story now and how ill someone has to be to concoct this entire charade.

But back to my early interactions with Paula. I agreed to write humor/slice of life articles for Lesbiatopia, pretty much the same type of content I wrote for this here blog. Over the course of the next few months, I corresponded mostly with Paula, but also began to form a friendship with Renee (Lesbiatopia's editor) and with another blogger/contributor who I'll call S. for now (I'm pretty sure both Renee and S. will be recounting their own run-ins with Paula and I'll let you know when/if those stories go live).

When I went a few weeks without submitting anything to Lesbiatopia, I got a nice email from Paula just checking in. I explained I was working through some challenges with some difficult people at the time and needed to take a breather. She seemed to understand, but assumed my issues were related to the fact I was gay which I never said and which wasn't true. She wrote the following email:

Thu, 5/15/08, Paula Brooks
Date: Thursday, May 15, 2008, 2:25 PM

Thanks for letting me know whats up... I was worried when I had not heard form you in such a long time.

Heather I am sorry this is all happening to you, it is of course all shit, but is unfortunately part of many of our lives as lesbians. There are some people out there that hate gays so much they will do and say anything to hurt us.

I have a bunch of these horror stories from my time working for the NSA. I went to Duke and I can tell you that RDH is a pretty nice area to live in so that could be a good thing if you move there.

Looking forward to your articles, they sound like just where we want to go with our content. And thanks for the prayers.... Mom is doing a lot better these days, but she still can't speak real well... but then I could never hear her anyway so I guess it all balances out.

The girls are good, getting so big and lord are they smart. They keep me hopping with their schemes. I sat them down this morning to make you some "Feel Better Soon Ms Heather" cards.

Huggs
Paula

Unreal, right? Reading back through these now, I just shake my head. Playing the deaf card...not being able to hear her ailing mom; the kids are gonna make me cards....

Completely of her own volition, Paula started promoting the heck out of my blog and it did bring in new readership, but also an unspoken pressure from Paula. It started to get uncomfortable for me, especially when she told me she could help pep up my blog, all she'd need was the user name/password. I wasn't comfortable with that, so I just asked for the directions on how to implement a few of my ideas. She never got back to me. Apparently, if she couldn't have access, she really had no interest in helping me out. It was a red flag. Another one.

But it gets better. Way better.

My blogging pal S. was going through a difficult time and Paula started insisting she take her struggle publicly and refused to respect S.'s wishes to deal with the situation in her own time. Paula began emailing Renee and I, demanding we do our lesbian duty and make S. understand why it really wasn't an option not to share her entire life with the world. We bucked back. Said no way would we participate in making someone do something they weren't ready for. Paula threatened to take the story to the press herself and really put S. through hell.

Paula sent S. emails and texts that to be honest, frightened her. I suggested she alert the authorities just to have some sort of record of the harassment. Eventually, Renee was pulled into the mix and both S. and I shared our concerns about Paula's behavior.

In September of 2008, Paula and Renee started having real difficulties seeing eye to eye about the progression of Lesbiatopia, not to mention Renee didn't want other site contributors to have to deal with the same type of treatment S. endured. I'm sure Renee will go into detail about what happened with the site when her article goes live, but suffice it to say, things got ugly when Paula realized Renee wasn't going to back down and give control of the site away. Paula had access to the website user name and password, because Renee trusted her, and out of anger, logged into the site and changed the user information, locking Renee out of her own site. When Renee confronted her, she refused to give up the new password information until Renee beat her at her own game. Renee pretended to be sorry, asked for forgiveness and said she truly did want to work with Paula. That worked, she got the information and within seconds, Paula was the one locked out.

As you can imagine, things got ugly. Paula started emailing us contributors about how unfair the situation was, bad mouthing Renee and wanting us to take sides. Again. At this point, I'm just wanting to stay as far away from Paula as possible.

However, as a reader and sometimes contributor to Lesbiatopia, I couldn't help but read the malicious and hateful comments she'd post on the site's articles. Anything she could to try and belittle Renee, she did. Her comments even bordered on threatening.

For instance, she left this "message" for Renee on the blog:

Date: Tue, Sep 30, 2008 at 5:05 PM

Subject: [Lesbiatopia] New comment on Interview: Madalyn Sklar of GoGirls Music.

look my favicon is not the only thing you will wind up with if we dont deal with this....

I'm not sure what a favicon is, but I do know what a cyber bully looks like.

Paula must have realized s/he stepped over the line becuase the comment was deleted soon after it was posted, but copies of it were kept and filed.

In November of 2008 as Paula continued to wage cyber war on Renee, protests for LGBT rights were happening all over the country and Paula anointed herself as the most important lesbian on the face of the planet who had the power to question every blogging queer about their activism. It was obnoxious and offensive.

Renee was dealing with a personal issue during one of the protests and already had a trip planned to Palm Springs. She blogged about the trip, but not about her personal issue.

Of course, Paula left a comment on the blog:

From: Paula Brooks
Date: Wed, Nov 12, 2008 at 2:26 PM

Subject: [Lesbiatopia] New comment on My Palm Springs Weekend Plus A Pictorial.

Everybody else was in the street protesting and fighting for your rights and you were in Palm Springs?

I'd had enough. I responded.

November 12, 2008 2:36 PM
thewishfulwriter said...

you don't need to defend where or how you spent your weekend. You helped raise nearly $16,000 to fight Prop 8. And even if you didn't, you still don't owe anyone an explanation.

November 12, 2008 2:41 PM

Paula Brooks said...

ok heather whatever
and I am wondering here...can she speak for herself or do she need YOU to fight that battle for her too

I was in the midst of considering how to respond or even if I should when my personal email account started dinging. I had new mail. Of course I did. I knew it was Paula even before I opened the window. I knew exactly how she'd gone after S. and Renee and knew now that I'd called her out publicly, she'd be contacting me ASAP.

The email from Paula:
Wednesday, November 12, 2008 11:10 PM

Heather I'm not looking to fight with you, but this is not going to be won by people being all sweetness and nice...

They tried that... they wanted everyone to like us after it was over... well we lost and we lost big and they still don't like us.... (Paula is referring to Prop 8)

Now I was not out there in LA... but I was here all weekend with Debs... working the phones and texting people to get them out and to speak up for Julie and Johann who were in the street.

Lori Hahn was on the steps of the state capital speaking up

But that is Renee... always something more fun to do... she needs to be shamed if not for going to Palm Springs then for writing about it when others were out there fighting for her...

Paula

My response:

To: "Paula Brooks"
Date: Wednesday, November 12, 2008, 6:21 PM

I disagree. She should be very proud of what she's done to date and if we start judging each other, we are no better than those we are protesting against. Bullying others into doing things the way we want them to or think they should is not the answer. Ever. Good luck in your efforts.

heather

Paula's response:
Thursday, November 13, 2008 1:22 PM
From: "Paula Brooks"

Yes Heather, Renee wrote some articles that helped raise some money and a thousand dollars of that money was from a check I wrote… Then she took her own money and went to have a good time while Julie and others were fighting for her rights in a street not two miles from Renee's home… (Paula is referencing Renee's Palm Springs trip here).

It is not just Renee, this seems to be a real big problem in our community. Now you can write articles or you can write checks…You can pretend everything is going to be ok and go on vacation or you can see it is not and get into the street to raise your voice…You can get mad at me for getting on your asses to get you out to tell the haters no more or you can get out and get mad at the haters for making you a second class citizen…

It is all a choice… Which one are you going to make? Will I see you Saturday at the Capitol?

Paula

My response:

From: "Heather"
To: "Paula Brooks"

Sent: 11/13/08 3:24 PM
Subject: RE: Here is how I see this...

Here's what I think...I think you don't know as much as you think you do about everyone else's life and why they do things (or don't do things). Seriously...who do you think you are?!

I think you have shown yourself to be a bully and childish in how you handle your anger. I think you should take your own advice and focus your energy on positive things instead of lashing out at anyone who has the guts to stand up to you.

No, I won't be there on saturday. I have to work. Go ahead and bully me now too. I won't be responding or reading any more communication from you. I chose to focus on positive people with positive energy. Your merry go round of anger is a big red flag to more people than you think.

heather

On November 15th, 2008, Paula posted this in the comment section of my blog (she deleted it not long after posting it):

You know Heather you said I don't know what is going on in other people lives.... that i should be more constructive...

Here is what I get from reading this blog... you had a great time playing with you friends...

I don't see where you called your congressman to say all of this sucked...

I don't see where you called your mayor saying all of this sucked...

I don't see where you e mailed Obama saying all of this sucked

Those are constructive things to do and good things to tell others you did because they respect you and they will follow your lead...

but In fact from reading this blog all i see is you telling others to do something you are not going to do yourself...

That to me is a very big red flag to me and that is how we lost in California...

Now till you are doing that I won't be reading this pink cloud you call a lesbian blog any more.

Paula

I know I said in a previous email to Paula I wouldn't be responding to her anymore, but I just needed to get out one last thing. Okay, well, several last things. I chose to do it publicly in the comment section of my blog because I felt like it was important for her (him, damn it this is confusing) to know that bullying will not be tolerated.

As I was re-reading what I wrote, I have to say, some of this sounds almost prophetic in light of the Post article....

I wrote...

Oh Paula: You know, if I actually respected you, your comment might make me stop and think instead of just shake my head in amusement.

And what I said was that you should not go around trying to bully people on their blogs by leaving hateful comments, similar to the one you just left on mine, when you have NO idea what the person has going on in their life. You blasted someone for taking a MUCH needed break when you have NO idea the reason/timing behind it. I do. It was necessary.

I could say your time would be better spent with your daughters instead of trolling blogs and leaving hateful comments - but that would be me ASSUMING you don't already spend enough time with them. I can't make that call. I'm not privy to your life and your day to day operations. Similarly, YOU are not privy to ours - so stop making assumptions. You look foolish.

Believe it or not, there are things YOU DON'T KNOW. The world doesn't revolve around Paula Brooks and what she says and how she thinks. Your dictator-like tendencies are laughable. You are sweetness and light as long as NO ONE gets out of step with you. Or disagrees with you. Or calls you on your bullying/militant hateful ways. The moment that happens, you turn into a threatening, stalker-like bully (you are lucky no one turned over some your messages to the authorities. Seriously). The moment I said something about how childish it is that you are STILL leaving hateful comments on people's blogs, you started flooding my inbox with your hate and condescending theories. Completely predictable.

The fact you can't see or take responsibility for the bridges you've burned isn't surprising. I didn't have a thought one way or the other re: the Lesbiatopia split. You made my mind up for me as soon as you showed your true colors and began leaving nasty (often threatening) messages. I've been angry and disagreed with people, but I've NEVER behaved the way you did, nor do I condone it. I knew if you would do that to one person, you'd do it to another. And I was right - here you are doing it to me.

As for my blog, I never claimed it to be a LESBIAN blog. I identify as more than just a gay woman (you should try it). It's just MY blog. About MY life. You don't get to control the content - and I know that bugs you. You feel like you have a say in ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. Because you know it all...you have all the answers...

You have NO idea what I have or haven't done in the way of seeking equal rights. And I'm not going to defend or disclose it just to prove to you I'm a "good gay."

You are NO BETTER than the people we are seeking equality from. Because YOU have to have it YOUR WAY. And if people disagree, you attack them. Anyone reading my blog or a handful of others can see this for themselves.

I know you think venom is the only way to achieve success. You think being nice is worthless. Believe it or not, you can be assertive WITHOUT being nasty. Again, you should try it.

I actually feel sorry for you. It has to take so much effort to be so angry and hateful all the time. To troll blogs, searching for a post just so you can leave a dig or try to say something really hurtful.

I told you I'd no longer be reading or responding to any emails you send me. The same thing goes for this blog. Send all the nasty comments you want, they will not be posted or replied to.

ps. I don't care how many readers you have. They'll learn.

pss. I'm actually relieved you won't be reading my blog anymore. But I don't really believe that. I'm almost positive you'll be back to read my response. And you will either respond back or flood my email. And if history repeats itself, you'll be leaving nasty comments for months to come. I won't be reading or responding to any of it. Nor will I be heading to your blog to leave nasty comments. That's not MY style.

I'm moving on. Please do the same.

Heather

I never heard from Paula again. S/he started Lez Get Real and found a new group of bloggers to target. Hadn't even thought about Paula Brooks again until Renee posted the Post article on my Facebook.

I share my interaction with Paula because I refuse to sit by and let Paula/Bill say he did all of this with the purest intentions to help the LGBT community. Bull shit. No way. What our community really needs is straight allies who can amplify our voices. Paula/Bill could have done that, used his powers for good. He chose deception, bullying and harassment of the very community he now says he only wanted to help.

Oh. This is Paula (so he says):

UPDATE: photo removed at the request of "Paula" who still has the balls (and I can say that now that we know "Paula" is a dude) to post comments using the LezGetReal avatar and the name Paula Brooks.

HE wrote in my comment section (June 15, 2011 6:47 PM):

The Washington Post had my specific permission to use my picture... because they asked I am specifically denying you that permission. Please remove the photo,

My response:

"Paula" - Actually, I'm more than HAPPY to remove your photo from my blog. Plenty of people have seen it and will be able to find it without having to look very far. It's served it's purpose. Not at all surprising that this is your only comment when what you SHOULD be doing is apologizing for your inexcusible behavior. Of course, not that any of us expect it from the likes of you.

P.S. Renee's article is up with more detail about her relationship with Paula/Bill and exactly what went down with Lesbiatopia. It's very well written and full of more unbelievable lies.
Melanie Nathan also wrote about her experiences with Paula Brooks.

P.S. I've read several comments where people have said we need to cut this man a break, that isn't it possible he was truly just trying to advance the LBGT cause. No go. Let's just say, for a second, I roll with that line of thought. WHY IN THE WORLD would he also need to create a wife and twin baby girls? Okay, let's say to help "round out his character." WHY IN THE WORLD would he use his own wife's name and identity for this "character?" - without her knowledge? WHAT DID PAULA GAIN by saying her wife, Deb, DIED OF CANCER? Why in the world would that be necessary to "advance our cause?" Plain and simple - Bill is a NARCISSIST who enjoyed the attention he received by bullying. His online life was far more exciting than his real one. the end.

Dear God.....this stuff only gets worse. We are even starting to question whether Bill is even really Bill. What's keeping that from being a lie? More reading:

http://www.gaelick.com/2011/06/our-friend-paula-brooks/16220/#tab=tab1

http://www.thegavoice.com/index.php/blog/culture/2817-straight-men-posing-as-lesbian-bloggers-can-choke-on-their-keyboards

I might be a mess.

2011-04-03T23:22:00.000-04:00

April shaved our dog Rosie tonight and brought me a fistful of hair, hoping to make her point that we should shave the dogs more often.

Her point was lost on me, becuase this is all I could think to do...

Matching.

2011-04-03T18:21:00.001-04:00

I have so many flippin' blogs in the works, including one explaining the hat I'm wearing above (BEST CAUSE EVER), but none are finished and while posting incomplete blogs is not beneath me, their content is more deserving than a half-assed effort from me.

Aside from the rigors of regular life (read: alarm clocks, cooking, shaving my legs), life has been crazy busy with preparing to adopt an infant. We are working with an agency to enter into an open adoption, which means we'll have some level of contact with our child's birthmother. We feel it's important for our child to have a connection with their birthparent and our hope is it helps with his/her identity. Not to mention, we'll always know who to thank for the greatest gift in our lives.

Right now, it's all about paperwork, finger printing and home study applications. Once we are cleared, we'll be "searchable" by birthparents on the adoption website and free to chat with any pregnant birthparent who contacts us. Not every conversation will lead to an adoption, but once we click with a birthparent, we are considered officially MATCHED and we await the arrival of the bambino. Once the baby is born, the birthparent does have a limited time period to change her mind, but the agency we're working with is has counselors who monitor the situation and help work through the feelings with the birthmother to make sure they are making the right choice for the child, whatever that may be.

For sure, it's scary, but because it's an open adoption, the percentage of women who change their mind is very low with our agency. Birthparents know they aren't losing their child forever with no way of knowing if they've made the right choice.

Hopefully we'll have exciting news to report sometime in the next year!

So, no baby yet, but we have all kinds of time to talk about what we'd be doing if we DID have one.

Like this morning.

Lazy Sundays in our house usually start with us chatting in bed, figuring out our day and playing keep away from the dogs. The keep away game is usually my responsibility. Today it resulted in the decapitation of the stuffed sheep. Sad.

"So, whatcha think we'd be doing today if we had a child?" I asked, snuggling with the headless sheep and burrowing down under the covers.

"Well, he or she would definitely be in bed with us right now, right here," Apes said, patting the space in between us. "Then, we'd get up, brush our teeth and probably go out for some kind of adventure. Maybe down by the river if it's a nice day."

Nodding, I wanted to know how the night would end.

"A game. You know we'd play lots of games with our kid. My mom used to play this game with me that I LOVED. She'd get a deck of cards, turn them all over and we'd take turns trying to find matches. Have you ever played it?"

"Uh, YEAH. Every kid on the planet plays the match game."

"You wanna practice right now?" April was out of the bed and walking toward a bag sitting on our dryer.

Before I could figure out why in the world there'd be cards in such a big bag and why she'd really be so excited to play with them, she turned over the bag and this fell out:

Well played, April.

Well played.

You know how much I like to match socks.

Aponex

2011-02-19T20:28:00.001-05:00

It never ends.

April found another phrase to jack up.

After a long afternoon at the Lasik Eye Center (I'm considering laser surgery), April proceeded to give me a hard time about not having master negotiating skills.

She's truly a master. She negotiated $3k off her surgery a few years ago and proved me wrong when I worried she'd end up with the office janitor slicing on her eyes.

During my appointment, we got them to come down $1k, but no more. Apes said it was because I came across too interested.

When I begged to differ, she rolled her eyes and said:

"Chill out. I'm just giving you beef."

Cue quizzical look.

It took me a few minutes to figure this one out.

"GRIEF, APRIL!"

She didn't even bother to look embarrassed.

BIG. LOVE.

2011-02-14T14:18:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning, ready to tell Apes all about the weird and disturbing dream I had.

She'd invited Tila Tequila to be the "third" in our relationship and it just wasn't working for me.

I started to explain my dismay that she'd pick Tila over Jennifer Nettles or Mariska Hargitay when she hollered back from downstairs: "Hey, babe, I really want to hear all about it, but I'm late for work. Tell me tonight?"

When I finally got out of bed a half hour later, I realized why she was running late:

...and my last card...a homeade card....

For those wondering what kind of Valentine's Day cards April bought....you shouldn't be surprised by the theme:

They even came with temporary tattoos - and who doesn't want their significant other covered in soccer balls, footballs and baseballs on a day of love?

I actually love the cards, especially given we just had a discussion about kid's Valentine's Day cards. I used to pick out Princess cards and April picked sports or Spiderman cards every time.

So, see, they were perfect.

I have a little surprise of my own for April. She'll find it the second she opens her car door at work :)

She Said It.

2011-01-23T20:14:00.000-05:00

April, April, April.

Shake your head. And love her.

Really, that's all you can do.

For example (I'll give you three):

1) On Friday night, Apes and I joined some great friends and headed to the Birchmere to see Chely Wright perform songs off her new album, Lifted Off the Ground.

Yup. We were this close.

As expected, Chely took in the crowd, made us feel like we were hanging out in her living room and even offered to call Taylor Swift to see if she'd buy us all a beer. Pretty impressive given the last time I tried to get Taylor to buy me anything, all I got was a restraining order.

But I digress.

After Chely's set, she faced a line of hundreds of fans, meeting each individually to take pictures, hear how her book, Like Me, detailing her coming out process touched them to the core, and wrap them in warm bear hugs.

I've never seen anything like it.

I interned at RCA Records in Nashville and I'm here to tell you, this kind of fan access is nearly unheard of. I watched Chely's fans sit next to her, brimming with excitement, tears, anxiety and sharing some of their most personal experiences surrounding their own coming out.

Not once did she look bored, tired, irritated or in disgust at the line that never seemed to dwindle. No handler decided when someone's time was up. Chely just listened. Really listened. I respected her as an artist, now I have nothing but respect for her as a person.

But once again, I digress. Back to Apes.

Because Chely took so much time with each fan (she stayed until one a.m. to see us all), we had quite the wait in line. Our friend Melissa forgot to bring her CD to the concert and was diving in her purse to see what she could offer Chely to sign.

Options included a wine cork, a wallet, her phone and a plastic Tic Tac box.

Before Melissa could even pull the box completely out of her bag, Apes snapped her fingers and said:

"That one! Give her that one. Tell her how refreshing she was and ask if she'll sign your Tic Tacs!"

I groaned, but the couple in front of us hee hawed, giving Apes more motivation to continue.

She turned to them, "That was good, wasn't it? You liked it, huh?"

When they nodded yes, she turned to me.

"See! SOMEONE appreciates my humor!"

Yes. SOMEONE does. Corn ball.

Needless to say, Melissa did not approach Chely with the breath freshening treat (Although, I'm certain Chely woulda signed it). Instead, she found some paper and approached Chely without April's one-liner.

As for Apes and I, we had our own sit down with Chely, had her sign our CD and shared a bit of our own story with her.

Ya'll, support Chely. She's amazing. Buy her book. Buy her CD. You won't be sorry.

2) Apes has been wanting to collaborate on a series of children's books for quiet some time now.

Work kept me from brainstorming with her all of last year, but it's on the agenda now and she's got a new idea percolating every day.

Yesterday morning she woke me up out of a dead sleep to tell me about a new idea that would inspire children to brush their teeth.

The fact my eyes weren't open and I was mumbling something like "write it down, we'll talk later, dreaming about pasta" meant nothing to her.

"Isn't it a good idea?!"

"Yes. (and it was). Can we talk about it later? Like, in the daylight?"

"Okay, but you promise not to BRUSH me off? Get it?! BRUSH!"

Insert April's "proud laugh" here.

She was still laughing as I drifted back to sleep.

3) We were walking into the house and April started singing a Tim McGraw song.

You know it, Indian Outlaw.

She strutted a bit, and then got to the chorus.

"I'm an Indian Outlaaaaw, son of aaaaaaaaaaa Chuck-a-tawwwwww."

I turned toward her.

"Hey, Apes?"

"Yup." She continued to strut.

"It's....I'm an Indian Outlaw, half Cherokee and Choctaw...."

She actually tried to argue with me for a minute.

I thought I was going to have to prove there is no such thing as a Chuck-a-tawwwwww tribe.

Here's when I knew she knew she was wrong.

She said....

"You're gonna start blogging again, aren't you?"

Baby Steps...

2011-01-14T21:35:00.001-05:00

Sitting at our local coffee shop, filling out the rest of our adoption paperwork :)

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

2010 Recap. Late. As Usual.

2011-01-12T12:57:00.001-05:00

Obviously my New Year's Resolution to blog every day has been as successful as my resolution to stop cursing. Not happening, dammit. That being said, I HAVE been meaning to post our year-end-review on the blog, so here it is :) Just pretend it's still the holiday season, will ya?

Merry Merry!

So, it’s a week before Christmas and I’m not even a little bit prepared. I’m 36 years old. It’s not like I have no idea when Christmas is. Like I didn’t notice the trees, wreaths and wrapping paper in all the stores - lined up right next to the Halloween costumes. Salvation Army plus bell ringers outside of WalMart - check. Twenty-four hours of sappy holiday movies on Lifetime – check.

Yet, here I sit in my office, surrounded by a toppling mountain of unwrapped presents, a snoring dog (Snaggle) and the whir of a borrowed space heater trained on my three-month-old pedicure…and I’m wondering how it’s possible the month of December has made me it’s bitch…again.

However, I concede. But only because I’m saving my remaining energy to open the Egg Nog I bought at 7-11 this morning. I may be behind, but ain’t nothing wrong with my priorities.

2010 has been quite the year for Apes and I. She still calls Snowden Academy her home away from home, serving as a counselor and assistant director for the school. When she’s not at work or rearranging our closet/organizing our mail by size at home, she’s making a name for herself on every tennis court in town. She is on a million different teams (perhaps a slight exaggeration) and helped take one of those teams all the way to a national competition in Palm Springs, California this past November. The team didn’t just GO to nationals. They WON nationals.

Proof:

The first pic was taken moments after April and her partner Matt clinched the big win. The second picture is of April and icon Billie Jean King. The third shows April posing with the celebratory banner. She spent a good amount of time trying to line up the balls in the banner with her, uh…you know. Apparently they live under her arm pits when she plays tennis.

As for me, I’m just lucky April doesn’t hate my guts for pretty much abandoning her for the better part of the year in order to take on one of the most amazing professional opportunities of my career. Habitat for Humanity International hired me to be the project lead for the 2010 Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project. The former President and his wife built alongside volunteers, homeowners and generous sponsors in six different communities (four states) in just five days this past October.

During this project, I learned the following things:

- Working 18 hour days for months on end isn’t quite as much fun as it sounds (but so worth it when you’re sitting in a golf cart with a former President or handing him a Bible to hand to a new Habitat homeowner)

- After a while, airports CAN feel a little like home

- No matter how many times you tell someone your name isn’t Jennifer, it won’t matter

- Habitat employs some of the most amazing, giving and talented people on the planet and I am thankful every day I’ve been allowed to work alongside them

With all the excitement of the past year, we also suffered a great loss. Our big dawg, Stewart, is now in heaven, jumping from one cloud of bones to another. He began to show signs of illness in September and by the end of October we found ourselves saying see-you-later to our gentle giant. We miss him every day and his stocking hangs in memory.

The other three pups (Rosie, Snaggle and Jean Paul) are doing awesome and continue to make us question how it’s possible to not have enough room on a king sized bed.

In other news, it’s with great shame that I report neither April or I have made it to the final game in Fantasy Football. We are crushed. Last year we took first and second place. Our teams, White Fluffy Bunnies (April) and Ass Master (Me) have both been laid to rest. A full revival is planned for 2011.

Here’s hoping you and yours have had a wonderful year! If we didn’t get to catch up with you this year, let’s do it soon. If we did see you, let’s do it again. We both appreciate all the special people in our lives and continue to be amazed you don’t run away screaming.

Big Love,

Heather, Apes, Rosie, Snaggle and Jean Paul

Missing Stewart

2010-11-15T12:30:00.002-05:00

His eyes.

That's what I miss the most.

He had the brightest blue eyes. Lined with black.

Those eyes saw into my soul and on his final day, they allowed me to see into his.

We were on the vet's floor, his big head on my lap. April lying beside him, spooning him, tears dropping, one after another, onto his coat of graying hair.

His bangs kept falling over his eyes as we waited for the doctor to fill the needle full of sleep. I kept pushing the hair away, wanting to, needing to, see into the eyes that registered every emotion I ever felt.

Did he know what was getting ready to happen? Was he in pain? Confused by our wails and red faces?

I was desperate to know what was behind those eyes, trying to focus on them behind waves of tears falling from my own.

Without question, he did know he couldn't walk when his back legs gave out on him earlier that morning. I'd watched, horrified, as he tried to drag himself, G.I. Joe style, to the back door.

Even without the use of his legs, he still wanted to go outside to use the bathroom.

Gingerly, but not gingerly enough, I tried to lift his back legs wheel-barrow style in an attempt to support his efforts.

He cried out and so did I.

After suffering through a series of seizures several weeks earlier, we'd taken Stewart to the vet and he was put on phenobarbital. It stopped the seizures, but we knew whatever was causing them would likely get worse. Could be a brain tumor. Could be this. Could be that. We'd never know.

The deal: as long as he wasn't in pain, could walk on his own and was eating, we'd do everything we could to keep him comfortable. Afterall, he'd had 14 amazing years and we were lucky he'd been healthy all his life.

Watching him unable to drag himself outside, I knew our luck had run out. I made the call I'd been dreading. April needed to come home.

She found Stewart and I at back the back door, both crying in pain.

I searched her crestfallen face. She knew what I knew. We didn't have to say it.

Her chin quivered. Step one in trying to fight back tears.

Emotions high, we spent the next few minutes discussing how best to move him, causing as little pain as possible. I ran outside, moved the car around and together we put him in the backseat.

I drove, April sat in the back with a very agitated Stewart. I couldn't look in the review mirror. It was too hard.

I didn't want to see what I could hear.

April crying. Telling Stewart how much she loved him. How lucky she felt to have found him in that shelter 13 years ago.

I didn't want to see his twisted legs. The same legs that used to power him on our hikes and long walks downtown.

I didn't want to believe this was really happening.

We pulled into the parking lot. April stayed with Stew. We weren't going to move him until it was time for the doctor to see him.

A few patients were in front of us. A kitty with an ear infection. A big dog with allergies so bad his owner said he was trying to chew his own paw off.

I tried to make small talk, smile, desperate to feel like I was just there for something routine. Like he wasn't out there, in the back of my car, drawing his last breaths.

I wanted time to stop and speed up. I didn't want to go through with it, but I wanted to get it over with. The waiting was killing me. Too much thinking. Too much bile in my stomach.

The kitten came and went. The door shut behind the allergic dog.

I kept thinking...When they come out, it's our turn.

I watched that door. Praying it wouldn't open. Knowing that when it did, they'd be ready for us.

It hurt. It opened.

The vet offered to hold the door while we brought Stewart in.

Nodding, I cast my eyes downward and walked outside. April saw me coming. Her tears came faster.

We eased him out of the car. This time, he let me pick up his back legs and wheel-barrow him in the door.

I could feel the sympathy stares from everyone. Our pain was palpable and they knew what we were there to do.

Then there we were...

On the vet's floor, his big head on my lap. April lying beside him, spooning him, tears dropping, one after another, onto his coat of graying hair.

My heart felt like it would never be the same again. It was tight, felt small, like one of those compressed t-shirts wrapped in plastic that companies give away as a gimmic. Like it would fit in the size of a baby's hand.

I heard the vet's footsteps, going to get the sleep needle.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." All I could say. Looking into those eyes.

They looked back at me. Bright. Blue. Beautiful.

The vet sat down beside him. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't stop myself. The syringe was big. Filled with blue sleep.

It looked like windshield wiper fluid.

Lovingly taking and stroking his front paw, the vet soothed Stewart.

I held my breath. My constricted heart pounded. April sobbed, her hands going back and forth over his body.

Stick.

The sleep started to seep. Nearly done and Stewart jerked his paw.

Lifted his head.

30 seconds passed and he was still with us. His sudden movement meant he didn't get the full dose.

We'd have to do it again.

I didn't think I could take it. The vet was so sorry. It wasn't her fault.

I had a moment of - maybe this is a sign! He wants to live!

But I knew better. He didn't want to live like this. In pain. Unable to walk or go to the bathroom.

She came back with more blue sleep.

Settled in beside us, and this time, Stew didn't jerk.

Within seconds, our big boy was at peace. His eyes still open. That might have hurt the most.

No longer blue, but cloudy. He was gone.

The vet didn't rush us. Gave us our time and tissues to wipe the snot. Laying there, we cradled him, kissed his drying nose and prayed he was in heaven, on a brand new set of springy legs.

I'll never be able to erase the image of him laying there on that orang-tiled floor. One paw under his chin, the other splayed out beside him.

When we were able, we picked ourselves off the floor and faced the people in the waiting room. No one met our eyes. I really appreciated it - I don't think I could have handled it.

I paid for the cremation of Stewart and $161 later, was in the car, my head on the steering wheel, matching April sob for sob.

We drove home, neither one speaking. Stewart's collar in my hands, I rubbed his dog tag in between my thumb and forefinger.

He was gone. Really, really gone.

There was only one thing to do. Put our tennis shoes on and go to his favorite park for a hike.

Driving to the park, we told our favorite Stewart stories. On the trail, we stopped, held hands and yelled as loud as we could:

WE LOVE YOU STEWART!

We picked up brightly colored leaves, rocks and a twig, to put with his ashes. He loved this park.

He had a favorite watering hole. We didn't have a knife, but we had a key.

We carved a heart and his initials into a tree right by the place he loved to swim.

Coming home after the park, neither of us wanted to open the front door.

It would be different. His big head wouldn't be on the other side of it.

It's been several weeks now and I still have trouble opening the front door.

Or seeing his food dish.

Or the back door where he struggled and cried in pain.

He was truly an amazing dog and our family isn't the same without him.

Thank you to everyone who helped us love him.

courtesy: Carrie and Lanie. You captured him PERFECTLY!

Stewart at the river house. One of his most favorite spots.

courtesy: Heather Hrabe. Thank you for this amazing photo.

Young Angst.

2010-11-11T15:28:00.001-05:00

As a 6th grader, I had some serious angst.

My mother picked out the most frilly, most horrible dresses she could find for me. I had to share a room and bunk beds with my brother. I lost the school dance competition and my dad made me walk through a swarm of bees at the zoo, certain his theory of "if you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone" was true.

If I can find the photo of me in a frilly dress with bee stings on my face, I'll post it.

The cause of most of my angst, though - Madonna wasn't my mother.

I really, really wanted her to be.

Not that I didn't love my own mother (when she wasn't forcing me into dresses that made me look like I belonged on a plantation) - but Madonna was COOL.

She wore cones on her breasts. And sang songs with the word VIRGIN in it. She was famous, had a potty mouth and I was completely convinced that if Madonna was my mother, someone else would have to make my bed and no one would care if I hated quiche.

My mother always made quiche because it was healthy and fast and "damn it, you're gonna eat it WITHOUT asking what's for dessert."

My argument that quiche is nothing but cooked throw-up carried absolutely no weight.

Bottom line...Madonna wouldn't have made me eat quiche.

Now that I'm older, though, I'm glad Madonna isn't my mother.

The breast cones have been replaced by scary arm-veins and my daddy would change a lot.

Not to mention I'd probably have to babysit my own daddy and/or buy him beer until he was old enough to get it himself.

Awkward.

So I feel like I should say....I'm grateful for my mom.

And who knows, maybe one day she'll stop cooking quiche and start wearing cones on her breasts.

How cool would THAT be...

Fighting Fitness

2010-11-09T09:20:00.014-05:00

When a gym advertises an "intense boot camp for all fitness levels," what they really mean is your $180 for the six-week class is just as green as what came out of Lily-Lives-To-Lunge's Gucci handbag.
You know Lily. She rolls up to the gym in her SUV. Perfect work-out clothes. Body that popped right back into shape after birthing adorable, rosy-faced babies. Doesn't need to use weights during the workout because the diamond on her left hand is bigger than anything the gym can provide.

Sure. Put us beginners with Lily. And by us, I mean me and my neighbor Pat.

We're three weeks in to this boot camp and only now can I pee without pain and profanity. That can't be normal. I shouldn't have to grab the window sill to lower myself onto the toilet. I shouldn't need April's help to get back up.

I'll never look at a jump rope in the same way. If you are going to require us to be all double-dutch, maybe this isn't a class for all fitness levels.

And when you say we have five seconds left, don't be changing that shit up on me. Just because I'm not breathing doesn't mean I CAN'T COUNT. That extra two seconds could mean the difference between home or hospital.

I'm also going to go out on a limb and suggest most beginners can't do one-armed push ups while alternating bringing a knee to their chest. It's sweet that we beginners are given alternate options, though. I don't feel awkward at all laying on my stomach visualizing doing a push up while others around me are grunting and clapping in between sets of 30.

Breaks. Let's talk about breaks. Sixty seconds in between sets isn't a break. It's mean. That's what it is. It takes longer than that to convince myself I'm probably not going to die.

I'm just saying.

I'm also saying Pat and I had the last laugh tonight.

After you tortured us for a solid hour, made us do lunges with zero regard for the pain we'll feel tomorrow, we waved goodbye to Lily as she pulled carrots from her bag and headed straight for Taco Bell.

Yes we did.

That'll teach you.

Anyone Out There?

2010-11-08T09:40:00.002-05:00

Reasons people have given re: why I haven't blogged in a bajillion months:

1) I lost the ability to type when I decided to give up Diet Coke

2) My mom made me quit because I wouldn't stop using the word Fuck. She grounded me.

3) April is cured of Aponex and I have nothing to chronicle

Well...

I did give up Diet Coke (SHOCKER, I know...I probably should have made sure you were sitting down before I just sprung that on you all crazy-like) - and it DID have me throwing up for the better part of a full day, but far as I can tell, has not affected my motor skills.

My mom really does hate when I use the word Fuck and if she could put me on restriction for it, she totally would. Additionally, it is not above her (or out of the realm of possibility) for her to try and wash my mouth out with soap, but I can almost do a full push up now, so I don't think she wants to mess with me.

The day April is cured of Aponex, I will watch Sarah Palin's reality show, Alaska. Need I say more?

The truth: I took on an amazing consulting gig back in February that consumed every spare second of my time until just a few weeks ago.

I took a few weeks off to reclaim my life and am trying to get back to doing what I love and have neglected.

Hello, blog. Nice to see you again.

PS - I love my new slippers. Target if anyone else is a dork and wants some.

April and Her Empathy

2010-05-06T19:03:00.004-04:00

After Apes got home from work today, we collapsed on the couch to catch up on each others day.

She swung her legs over the arm of the couch and rested her head in my lap, launching into a monologue about all the struggles kids have as they make their way through high school.

As a therapist, she's pretty much seen it all.

While not a dark conversation, the tone was serious and I looked down at her earnest blue eyes, shaking my head in agreement.

She went on to tell me how difficult she had it in 7th grade.

"I mean, it was hard, even back then. Really, really hard. Everyone was changing and I didn't want to change. Like...I got my period and I HATED that! My mom knew how upset I was and all she could say was, 'Well, I hoped that wouldn't happen to you...'".

Dude. I couldn't help it. I had to laugh.

I can totally see April's mom saying that to a young April, so desperate to get her daughter to stop crying.

But it gets better.

Apes shut me up so she could finish telling me the rest of her traumatized youth story.

"In 6th grade, I had it ALL. I was top dog. I won every award you could win, girls didn't really like boys yet, teachers loved me, and...AND I was CAPTAIN OF THE SAFETY PATROL! I was someone in 6th grade! Then I had to go to a new school and everything was different."

Ya'll, she said that with a tear in her eye. She felt that pain in her toes. Still. There was no sarcasm in her voice.

Sister is damn proud of her safety patrol history and of the "staff" she had in her final year of adolescent happiness.

I peed my pants a little.

The conversation ended.

The Real, Real World.

2010-05-01T13:26:00.002-04:00

April, from her recliner in the living room: "Hey, Heather?"

Me, from my office chair: "Yup?"

Her, missing her filter: "When are you going to shave your legs so we can play tennis again?"

Read my List

2010-03-17T22:12:00.002-04:00

1. Edward Cullen and the rest of his vampire blood suckers ain't got nuthin' on the crazy night time hours I've been keeping ever since I took a new gig a month ago.

2. Yes, I just referenced the Twilight series. Suck it. I'm on the fourth book and only feel slightly (a lot) ridiculous when I pull the book out on a plane and grown business folk look at me like, "She doesn't LOOK twelve...."

3. I've missed blogging. I've missed Apes. I've somehow almost missed the entire month of March. I didn't even call one of my best friends, Jenni, until 10pm on her birthday. In-E-propriate.

4. I had a Ben and Jerry's milkshake in the Atlanta airport last week. For the record, NOT on the P90x recommended list.

5. Yeah, I haven't done much (any) P90x this week. But I'm getting back on that wagon!

6. April is wowing the tennis community here and she's got her first official match on Sunday. Can't wait to watch her tear it up and then gloat, from my seat, about how much better I could play than she did. With both hands tied together and left in the car.

7. The little ball on my Blackberry keeps falling out and I haven't had time to take it by the Verizon store. It's being held in place by a piece of scotch tape. I'm keepin' it classy.

Later tators!

Bronchitis

2010-03-06T12:19:00.001-05:00

I have it. Bastard.

I'm putting all my faith in the Z-pack perscribed by the doctor yesterday and have promised Apes I will not attempt my own tonsillectomy.

In other news, Apes is attempting to learn her the difference between "bad ass" and "hard ass"....my work here is never done....

Oh - I see sunshine, I see sinshine! Totally worth reporting....
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

The Perfect Gift

2010-02-28T17:08:00.003-05:00

I've been meaning, every day, to write a quick post to let you'uns know that my blogging may be a bit sporadic over the next little bit.

I have taken a new contract gig that has me pretty busy from now until nearly the end of the year. It's a brand new project for me, so I've spent the last week desperately trying to get up to speed and nailing down my roles/responsibilities.

The good news is I have work until the end of the year. The bad news is I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment and am likely to remain this way until the project comes to an end!

I miss writing AND reading everyone's blogs. My Google Reader said I have nearly 1,000 posts to catch up on. That knowledge simply added to my feelings of being behind the eight ball, so I simply shut Google Reader down. If I can't see it, it's not real, right?

This new gig is not only a great business opportunity for me, but after it comes to an end, April and I are going to focus on starting our family. We've talked about it non stop for three years and if we don't do something soon, we'll look like the kid's grandparents before it graduates kindergarten.

We are researching adoption avenues right now and are keeping our fingers crossed we might have a new addition to the family next year! We are considering open adoption which moves at a quicker clip than closed adoptions. I also haven't given up on wanting to have a child myself.

Knowing that this new job might be stressful, April did a very April thing...

I traveled to Atlanta last week and as I was unpacking my suitcase, I found a wrapped gift and a small card.

The card read:

"I love you so much and miss you. When things get rough or you feel overwhelmed, just remember what's next for us..."

I opened the gift.

A book of children's bedtime stories.

With an inscription from Apes:

"To the best mommy-to-be."

How can you not love her?

Pear-casso?

2010-02-21T09:42:00.003-05:00

Somewhere around dark-thirty this morning, Apes mumbled in her sleep, leading to another fabulous conversation she'll never remember we had (until she reads my blog, of course).

"What?" I managed, a groggy reply.

"Did I get world famous?"

"Did you get world famous?"

"Yeah. Did I?"

"Yes, April. Yes you did. You became world famous."

"Good."

"Can I ask you what you did to become world famous?"

I did my best to translate the reply she delivered directly into her pillow.

"You ROLLED fruit?"

She tilted her head enough for me to hear her better.

"Nooooo. I PAINTED fruit."

"Oh, you PAINTED fruit. What kind of fruit?"

"Eh, just fruit."

"Oh. Ok. Who bought it?"

"I don't know."

"Ok. Is this conversation over?"

"Probably."

"Ok."

Shady....

2010-02-19T16:29:00.003-05:00

I've been taking baby steps toward darkening my hair.

Last summer, I was about as opposite of brunette as I could be...

Member?

It was October of last year when I decided to go darker, but my hairdresser talked me into a mid-way point, just to make sure I wasn't going to freak out...

I liked it - but it wasn't exactly what I wanted.

I wanted darker.

Today, I got my wish.

And I LOVE it.

It's such a change from the straw-colored hair I've had all my life.

I hope Apes likes it!

Hi Hi Hi Hi

2010-02-17T09:45:00.005-05:00

First, thank you for all the emails checking to see if I still have a pulse.

I do...and, as April says, a pulse means my mouth still runs...which, depending on who you talk to is either a blessing or a curse...

Aunt Jody, I owe you a return phone call and Mom told me you called her re: my unintentional blogging hiatus. Gonna try and hit you up today. (By the by...I hope you noticed my own mother didn't even know I haven't been blogging...Whenever I ask if she's been keeping up with the site, she'll tell me "Oh, honey, I've been really busy working and playing golf, but now that I have my sparkly Iphone, I try to catch up whenever your father drives us somewhere. Well, I catch up in between telling him how to drive...").

Mhm.

Apes and I took a quick, four-day trip last week and totally unplugged from the world. We watched ten movies, read, played our new favorite game (Bananagrams) and actually RELAXED.

I feel I should tell you, before I go any further, I am the Bananagrams champ. Mostly because April can't spell and tries to get away with bullshit slang words. I'm too smart for that. Just ask me, I'll tell you.

We are in week five of our P90X workout and we have a love/hate relationship with Tony Horton. That being said, we are slowly seeing some changes and I no longer have the desire to eat pieces of cake as big as my head. That's saying something...

And last, but not least, Apes has graced us with another Aponex (for those of you who don't know, Aponex is April's own language, made up of all the common phrases she simply can NOT get right...)

Me: "WHAT are you talking about, Apes? That makes no sense!"

Apes: "It's not supposed to make sense, Heather! GAWD. I'm just tugging with you!"

Me: "Tugging with me? I can't even begin to figure out which phrase you've massacred."

Apes: "Maybe I haven't."

Me: "No, you have. I'm certain."

And she had.

She wasn't tugging with me.

She meant pulling my leg.

Help me.

Art of Sarcasm

2010-02-07T15:25:00.003-05:00

If you've met April, you know sarcasm doesn't come easily for her (giving it or understanding it).

I am nothing, if not a ball of sarcasm, so it's made for some memorable moments in our four+ year relationship.

That's why when April does manage to successfully use sarcasm, even if it's a dig at me, I can't be upset.

Quite the contrary.

I must commend her.

The other night, we'd just finished the dinner I'd made (salmon over sweet potatoes with a zingy/spicy sauce).

Apes got up to clear her plate and had made it all the way to the sink before I yelled, "Hey, selfish mc-selfish! How 'bout getting my plate too!"

"I AM, Heather! Geez. I was just going to rinse mine first and then come back for yours! Calm down."

"That makes no sense, April. Why wouldn't you grab BOTH plates so you don't have to make two trips?"

She rolled her eyes, walked back to the table, her plate still in hand, and retrieved mine.

Then she did it. She used sarcasm. AND a dead pan tone.

It was perfect.

Wait for it, Wait for it....

She said:

"Fine, Burger King. I'll do it your way."

Brilliant. Absolutely Brilliant.

PS - Go Saints!
PSS - Ang, thank you so much for your email. I'm responding and will send tomorrow. Love you big!

Wintor Storm: Saturday, 10:30am

2010-02-06T12:01:00.005-05:00

After shoveling and clearing out around our cars for about an hour, Apes and I are beat.

If I hear, one more time, "and you LIKE THIS?" I may tackle her.

To be fair, we WERE frozen solid before our shoveling duties were over.

While we are getting plenty of snow, it doesn't look like my town, south of DC, will be breaking any records. Temps got a little warmer than expected last night, resulting in mostly a sleet mixture instead of the heavy snow first predicted.

I'm not gonna lie. I pouted a little bit. I really wanted to beat the record. I wanted it so badly you'd think I had control over it.

I still refuse to believe I don't.

Here's what our front yard looked like before we shoveled (10:30am):

Yes, that is our pine tree lying on top of April's car. We had to move it (thank you for the help, Teo).

...and thanks to the sleet last night....

It's now noon and the snow is still coming down. Smaller flakes, but very steady.

Apes and I are getting ready to pop in the movie, Disturbia.

Then maybe some sledding....

Winter Storm: 5pm

2010-02-05T17:14:00.003-05:00

So, for awhile the snow came down as if it didn't mean business.

Now, we have snow on steroids.

It's 5pm and here are my photo updates:

Apes tried to stay ahead of the shoveling game...she's nothing if not fashionable in her snow gear...

I searched all over town for a pair of galoshes and obviously was a bit late in the game. I swear I found the VERY last pair of size 8 boots. It's fair to say they aren't exactly April's style...

It's gonna get crazy up in here.

Calm Before the Storm

2010-02-05T12:48:00.003-05:00

Word on the street (and on every weather channel and website) is that we are getting ready to be clobbered by what could be a historic snowstorm.

I've heard everything from 24 to 30 inches.

Just so we're clear, I took out a measuring tape and 30 inches comes up to my lady parts.

That's a lot of snow.

It's been drizzling a light, steady snow for about an hour now, but it's not sticking yet. Hits the car and melts.

I took a few "before" photos and will update my blog as the storm continues.

Before:

Needless to say, I'm all for a big snow. Not sure my lady parts agree, though...

Downward Dog?

2010-02-04T20:07:00.000-05:00

Apes and I were getting ready to do Yoga tonight.

I went to get a glass of water and came back to find this...

Perhaps it's how "downward facing dog" got its name?

The Profile of a Blogger

2010-02-04T11:37:00.001-05:00

If you are a blogger, you HAVE to go check out my friend Brian's recent post titled:

The Profile of a Blogger.

He nails it!

And the winner is.....

2010-02-03T18:15:00.004-05:00

The winner of a Petrol Fuel For Dogs gift pack is.....

Courtney and Lisa!

I put the name of everyone who left a comment on a piece of folded up paper and made a blind-folded April (with the assistance of our toy poodle, Jean Paul) select the recipient.

Courtney and Lisa, email me your mailing address (wishfulwriterblog@yahoo.com) and Jenn will put a Petrol sample pack in the mail as soon as possible.

Thanks all for playing and make sure to let me know how the dogs like it!

For those interested, check out the website (www.petrolfordogs.com) and see what they are all about! You can order Petrol directly from the website.

Pour out the love!

Peace, love and puppies.

Heather

Dog Lovers Love This!

2010-02-02T16:52:00.002-05:00

Here's the REALLY COOL thing.

Jenn is willing to send a sample pack, just like the one in the video, to one of my blog readers for FREE!

The fairest way I know how to do this is...

If you want the sample pack, leave me a comment about your critter. I'll count up the comments, throw everyone's name into a hat and have April draw the winner.

I'll post the winner tomorrow evening sometime.

Petrol Fuel For Dogs is such a smart idea and the company is already getting a ton of buzz!

Haitian Releif and a FREE T-Shirt!

2010-01-24T10:04:00.005-05:00

Most of you'uns know I do quite a bit of freelance work for Habitat for Humanity.

Here's the thing, it never feels like work. It feels more like a family, a family determined to make a difference in the world and provide safe, decent and affordable shelter for every single person.

Granted, it's a lofty goal, but if you consider the organization has built more than 350,000 houses around the world since 1976, providing more than 1.75 million people in 3,000 communities with a home to call their own, you'll see the mission is one every employee, donor and volunteer takes to heart.

To be clear, these homes aren't built FOR families. They are built IN PARTNERSHIP with families. Each homeowner goes through a stringent approval process and must demonstrate the ability to budget money, pay a monthly mortgage and be willing to invest in what's called sweat equity. To bank sweat equity hours, homeowners have to attend classes and work with volunteers/donors to build their own homes and often the houses of others in the program.

While Habitat is not a "first responder" organization after a major disaster, there are employees and volunteers already in Haiti working on shelter issues and determining how best to help the millions of people in need.

You can help in those efforts! I know there are many wonderful organizations you can donate to (I've donated to many myself), but if you can spare another $10 to Habitat, you will be gifting a(nother) heaping spoonful of hope AND you get a FREE T-shirt!

The T-shirt, featured at the top of my blog, comes in adult sizes S-2XL and is inspired by the work of Haitian artisans who salvage steel oil drums and transform them into awe-inspiring works of art - most often as metal wall sculptures. Artists use hammers and chisels to create their designs, breathing new life into old material.

Support Habitat for Humanity's rebuilding efforts in Haiti when you purchase this new t-shirt. 100% of the purchase price will go to Habitat for Humanity's Haiti relief efforts.

To purchase your T-shirt, click HERE.

To learn more about Habitat's relief work in Haiti, visit: www.habitat.org

Thank you!

That's Hot...

2010-01-23T13:59:00.004-05:00

So, April and I are trying to get healthy (again).

This means we are torturing ourselves with the P90X program (kill me now) and watching what we eat (kill me yesterday).

Our yummy-in-the-tummy food options no longer include buffets, ice cream or biscuits.

I'm still dreaming of biscuits.

Light. Fluffy. Buttery Goodness.

Sigh.

We are determined this time and even took the "before" pictures.

They are locked in a safe and each of us swore on our dog's lives that they'd never see the light of day. Doing so would result in painful death. No questions asked.

This morning, I made some egg-white burritos (whole wheat burritos, of course).

In order to give them some flavor, I wished, aloud, that we had some hot sauce.

I hate hot sauce. But I love flavor. Flavor wins.

Yesterday I halfheartedly looked for hot sauce and couldn't find any, so I started to write it down on our grocery list before we sat down at the table.

April, also known as Super-Save-A-Lot, sprang into action!

"No! Wait, don't write that down. We have some!"

"We do? I looked already." I pointed to each and every cabinet.

"I know we have some." She began rummaging through all our drawers, picking up bottles, shuffling boxes around.

"Here it is!"

I stared at her. Dumbfounded.

"SERIOUSLY APES? You don't want me to write it on our grocery list because we have THIS?"

Behold:

In case you can't tell exactly how crazy little this bottle is....

"SERIOUSLY, APRIL?!"

"Well, I told you we had some!"

My eyes hurt they rolled so far back into my head.

She put the hot sauce on the table and we sat down to eat. I'm certain Diet Coke is the secret to reaching your fitness goals. I don't care what April says.

...and after we each put three drops of sauce on our meal....

I wrote Hot Sauce on our grocery list...

The Sands of Time

2010-01-21T14:14:00.004-05:00

My mom sent me the link to this video on 12/29/09, encouraging me to watch it, certain it was worthy of blog posting.

Within days it was buried in my email and I'd forgotten about it.

Well, almost forgotten about it.

Every single time my mother called, the first thing she wanted to know:

"Have you watched that video I sent? You HAVE TO WATCH IT! It's amazing. Do it."

For those of you who know my mother, when she says "do it" she's not suggesting you do it. If you want to keep your limbs, you comply.

Today is the first day I've had the chance to go through all my emails and respond to them.

I came across her email and the link.

Still trying to pick my jaw up off the ground. The detail and artistry is indescribable.

I've seen it three times in the last half hour.

All I can say is,

You guys HAVE TO WATCH THIS! DO IT!

Or I'll sick my mother on you.

Here's the background that came with the video (video to follow right after):

Subject: Awesome (UKraine) Talent..

This video shows the winner of "Ukraine's Got Talent", Kseniya
Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II. Her talent, which admittedly is a strange one, is mesmeric to watch.

The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $130,000.00

She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.

It is replaced by a woman's face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman's face appears.

She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.

This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.

In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying goodbye.

The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine, resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.

Kseniya Simonova says:
"I find it difficult enough to create art using paper and pencils or paintbrushes, but using sand and fingers is beyond me. The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there's surely no bigger compliment."

And here is the video...

.........................................................................

Did you do it? Did you watch it again?

I knew you would.

Amazing!

Move Over, Rachel Ray.

2010-01-11T18:32:00.002-05:00

While it's true my cooking skills are less than stellar (I've actually burned soup), there is one dish that just might make me famous.

I didn't create it, but that's neither here nor there.

What's important is that I can COOK it.

If you are a fan of dishes that are guaranteed to pudge you out, this is your recipe.

It's been in my family forever - my mom used to make it every Christmas morning. It was the one time a year we were allowed to eat something other than Cheerios or Raisin Bran for breakfast...

Which meant my brother and I started foaming at the mouth around Thanksgiving in anticipation.

You may wanna double the recipe or make two batches (as this feeds two, maybe three people).

Lemme know if you try it!

Apple Breakfast Goodness

Yer gonna need:

3 Tablespoons butter
2 Green, Granny Smith* apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
3 Eggs
1/2 Cup milk
1/2 Cup flour
1 Teaspoon sugar

*You'll want to use Granny Smith apples. Red apples don't taste the same!

In a skillet, melt the butter and add the apple slices. Saute them until they are coated and soft. Whisk together, in a medium sized bowl, the eggs, milk, flour, sugar and a dash of salt.

Spread the apples evenly in a medium sized oven-safe casserole dish. Pour the whisked mixture over the apple slices.

Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes.

Topping:

1/4 Cup sugar
1 Teaspoon cinnamon

Combine sugar and cinnamon. Remove dish from oven and sprinkle topping evenly over the top (add a pat of butter if you'd like). Return the dish to the oven for 2 minutes.

Serve immediately (with maple syrup if you'd like, but you won't need it!)

Christmas Re-visited.

2010-01-10T17:20:00.003-05:00

I realize few people are in the holiday spirit now that we've rung in the new year and shoved our holiday decorations under beds and in the back of sheds, but April's Christmas Eve poem is too good not to share!

Just after Thanksgiving, April got a jolt of creativity in the middle of the night and ran downstairs to type up the "surprise poem" running laps in her head.

I'd forgotten all about the poem until we were at a friend's house on Christmas Eve and April pulled out several pieces of paper from her jacket pocket.

She said:

"I wrote this poem for Heather and if ya'll don't mind, I'd like to read it."

I got all sappy and glow-ie, thinking how sweet Apes is and how lucky I am to have a partner so willing to show her love for me.

She cleared her throat. And started.

"It's called A 4-Legged Christmas

Twas the night before our family Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, no dog and no mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that naughty doggies couldn’t reach them up there.

Our three dogs were nestled all snug in the warm bed,
While visions of chicken breasts danced in their heads.

And Heather in her thermals and I in my robe,
Had just settled in after shoveling the pups a path in the big winter’s snow.

When downstairs there arose such a clatter,
I knew only Rosie could cause such a splatter.

Away to the stairs I flew like a flash,
One by one I sprinted down in a dash.

The moon cast a spotlight on the damage by the tree,
the light gave a shiny glow to the pile of glistening pee.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a tiny toy poodle, wearing a holiday sweater, so sheer.

With the look of a lamb so innocent and confused,
I knew any moment he would squat to poo.

Louder than beagles his pack they came,
As I shouted and barked, and called them by name!

"Now Stewart! now, Rosie! now, Jean Paul and whoever!
Let’s all gather round cause I’m gonna give a lecture!

To the corner of the couch and the shiny wooden floors,
Doggies must never pee or poo, oh never indoors!

As I sighed deeply and inhaled like never before,
Heather awoke and stumbled down to take a look at the wet floor.

Then up to the safe big bed they all flew,
Tails tucked in between their legs, silent, and Heather too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney came a sooty, lost little hound.

He was covered in snow from his head to his paws,
And his furry coat all matted and gnawed.

With a raw and hairless place on his back,
He looked like an orphan pup separated from his pack.

His brown eyes-how they twinkled, his under bite and crooked smile how merry!
His sweet dimpled nose shined like a big blackberry!

His small little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

He was thin but bouncy, pacing all through the house!
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He let me know right away that he wanted to be fed.

He made not a noise, but went straight to the bowl in the kitchen,
And gobbled all the kibble, rice and chicken.

Then laying his head in my lap to be pet,
He nodded and purred, indicating in this house, he was set!

He sprang up the stairs, to join his new pack,
And sweetly they all slept cuddled closely in the big, king sack.

Heather mused “since your allergic, I’m glad he’s not a kitty,”
April simply muttered, "Thank God FOUR dogs is the limit in our tiny little city!"

-- April (for my girl)

FYI: I'm keeping her forever.

A List and an Aponex

2010-01-01T18:08:00.003-05:00

Holy Heck - it's 2010!

I've enjoyed my self-imposed lazy-ness, but have missed blogging and have so much to share with you (most of it to come in later posts).

Yet to come are:

A Christmas Eve poem penned by Apes (it's awesome)

A family recipe for the best breakfast EVER (my mom made it every Christmas morning for my brother and I)

A hysterical Christmas gift idea from Apes

The Christmas Letter I sent out describing our year-in-review

and of course, some photos.

However, I'm in the middle of making breakfast-for-dinner, so tonight's post will have to be short and sweet - but something ya'll love dearly.

Aponex.

Last night, I was rough housing with Snaggle the stray pup. He loves to wrestle and "play bite" your arm.

Apparently, Apes thought Snaggle and I were moving too close to her, um, boobie region, and she didn't want the dog to mistake her boob for my hand.

She yelled: "Heather! Stop! I'm scareful!"

Before I could respond, she shook her head vigorously and said:

"Yes. Scareful. That's what I am. A cross between scared and frightful. Shut it."

Merry Merry!

Oh. My bad.

2009-12-20T23:23:00.001-05:00

The Carolina Panthers are about two minutes away from a huge victory over the Minnesota Vikings.
They just scored their third touch down in as many drives.

My hooting and hollering woke Apes up.

"What's all the commotion?" She lifted her head, eyes still sealed shut.

"The Panthers are kicking ass! Whoever is playing the Viking D in Fantasy is hating life right now!"

"That's me. In both leagues. Thanks." She threw her head face down in the pillow.

"Oh. My bad."
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sled and Slide!

2009-12-19T16:26:00.003-05:00

It's 4:30pm and STILL pouring snow. Big, white fluffy flakes...which made it perfect for...

SLEDDING and SNOW ANGELS!

Teo and Mike wasted no time creating their angels:

We all wore our reindeer ears as we headed to Lee Hill for our sledding adventure:

Pat showed Lee Hill who was boss:

I caught April's ride on video:

I couldn't wait for my turn:

Kevin took it way too easy on the hill...

Lanie, um, bit it while going over the ramp. Of course we were all very concerned. It only sounds like we're laughing hysterically...

Apes ate a bit of snow herself...

You can't tell, but that's Carrie and Lanie...eating snow for dinner:

Teo takes a turn:

April took no prisoners...

Claerly we're not having any trouble occupying ourselves!

Catch My Drift!

2009-12-19T12:24:00.003-05:00

We are having a BLAST!

And by "we," I mean my neighbors AND April.

She did not brave the storm and road trip - we decided there was nothing brave about driving over the mountains to Tennessee last night.

Insane maybe, but not brave.

At last count, we had ten inches of snow and it's still coming down in buckets. They say it'll continue snowing hard until about 6pm and then the sky will spit flurries until the wee hours of tomorrow morning.

Of course I have PHOTOS!

Last night we decided the only place to be was at our corner bar. We gathered up our neighbors and walked down the street and into the warmth of The Well.

I snapped this photo on our way home from the bar, around 9pm:

Of course I was so excited I could hardly sleep, so I raced downstairs at 2:30 am to take this photo (huge trees in our front yard keep the snow from piling up too much):

Apes shoveling the back yard this morning at 8am. The snow was taller than the Poodle!

The wipers on my car are nearly covered! Took this photo around noon today.

A look down our street at noon today:

Our backyard at noon today. You can see where we shoveled snow so the dogs would do their business - it's time to shovel again...

It's now close to 1pm and it's snowing about as hard as I've seen it. The only downside to this amazing winter wonderland is my concern for all the stray animals. We have some cats that hang around our 'hood and I'm wondering where they are and how they're holding up.

I'm saying a few prayers for them and hoping they're curled up and warm!

Will keep snapping and posting photos!

LET IT SNOW!

2009-12-18T09:11:00.005-05:00

Holy Geez!

Huge snow storm predicted for our area! Reports have us getting anywhere from 8 to 24 inches, depending on how the storm develops.

Can you say EXCITED HEATHER!

Snow shovel is out.

Best coat to wear for making snow angels - check.

Tube for sledding - by the side of the house.

Poodle in a warm sweater - of course.

My only gnawing uneasiness about the storm has to do with Apes driving in it...

She was supposed to leave this afternoon to drive over the mountains to attend a family wedding. Normally I'd be going with her, but for several logistic reasons, we decided I'd stay here with the dogs.

The thought of her driving, at night, over a windy mountain in a crazy snow storm doesn't sit well with me (or with her family). We're playing it by ear to see if she hits the road or not.

If she does, I'll be a basket case until she arrives safe and sound.

Inches of snow will also cause some issues with our princess-paw dogs. I am going to have to put a catheter in Snaggle. Surely there's a You Tube video on such procedures...

Here's to a night that feels a lot like Christmas!

Be safe out there, ya'll!

My Side.

2009-12-15T17:24:00.004-05:00

Tap. Tap.

This thing on?

I know there has been some speculation I have been in rehab for my Diet Coke affliction. It's not true.

I'd rather cut off my left arm than quit. And that's the truth.

I've just been lazy when it comes to writing. Thankfully, Apes gave me something to write about last night.

Her SLEEP TALK is back!

It takes about 2.2 seconds to fall asleep once you nestle in our new bed. The memory foam topper cradles your body and whispers sweet lullabies in your ear. I swear.

I was entranced in my third Dateline of the night (thank you DVR) and Apes was fast asleep. At some point, I gasped in horror at the ugly pants a woman on TV was wearing and apparently April didn't appreciate the interruption of slumber.

"Shhhh...." she whispered-mumbled. "Quiet as a mouse!"

"What?"

Silence.

"QUIET AS A MOUSE?" I laughed and repeated slowly, staring at the top of her head to see if I could see sugar plums dancing above her pillow as she waited for Saint Nick.

Nothing. No dancing candy, no response.

About an hour later, the dogs started rustling, cuing me to either take them outside to do their business or pay the consequences.

Figuring I'd be sweet and brave the freezing cold so April didn't have to, I took the dogs downstairs and out back. Rosie will not go unless you stand outside with her, so I wrapped a blanket around my legs and hopped around the porch screaming "GO ROSIE GO ROSIE!"

Desperate to get back into the warmth of the bed, I ran upstairs and nearly jumped on April.

Not on purpose.

SHE WAS IN MY SPOT.

Seriously.

She STOLE my spot.

STOLE IT.

While I was out in the freezing cold with the dogs.

We both like to sleep on the left side of the bed. Many a debate has ensued over who is more "needy" for this particular portion of the bed.

We both sleep better on that side. April has to go to the bathroom more often. I take the dogs out more often. I said so. She said so.

"OH HELL NO, APRIL!" I stood over her, staring in disbelief that she would be that sneaky. That cruel.

She played dead.

"No. NO NO NO NO. MOVE OVER. It's MY night for this side of the bed. I can't BELIEVE you."

Nothing.

So I started rolling her over.

"Noooo, my alarm is over here!" she blindly pointed in the direction of the clock.

"So. Move. I'm not playing."

"UGHHHHAHHHHHAAAAHHHHHHH." Her frustrated grunt sounded like an angry animal giving birth. She swung her legs over and moved back into her spot.

"Hey April..."

"What?"

"Quiet as a mouse, please."

Weekend Pictoral.

2009-12-07T14:38:00.003-05:00

The snow on Saturday didn't stick around long, but it stayed long enough Snaggle had to be carried outside to do his business. He has no idea he was a stray and we saved him. In fact, I'm quite certain he thinks he's doing US a favor by living here.

On Saturday night, a small group of folks came over to the house to wish Apes a happy birthday.

We can always count on Pat to bring the fun.

The night's entertainment was a dice game called Left, Right, Center.

Each player starts with $3. You roll 3 dice. If you roll an L, you pass a dollar to the person on your left. An R means your dollar goes to your right. The letter C requires you put a dollar in the center and a black dot allows you to keep your money.

You're out of the game if you have no more money. The winner keeps the pot in the center.

It looks something like this:

I was on an early roll!

However, Pat took all our monies and won the pot.

I love this picture simply because Kevin and April are the only two who appear to have a clue the moment is being preserved.

As is custom at our parties, the leg wrestling portion of the evening was not left out.

To leg wrestle, start like this:

On the count of 3, you each lift your inside leg, hook legs and try to flip the other person over.

Like this:

April flipped every single challenger in seconds.

Teo:

Michael:

Relda (not pictured).

Kevin:

And everyone thinks I'M the brute!

We made nearly each and every guest traipse up to our bedroom and admire our new bedroom suit. They weren't allowed to leave until they sufficiently ooohed and awwed over the furniture that took us six months to pick out.

I realized I haven't shown ya'll yet! Here it is:

Hope you all are having a good day! I bought two of April's gifts today and already have them wrapped and under the tree.

Santa ain't got nuthin' no me!

'Tis the Season

2009-12-05T10:42:00.004-05:00

I LOVE CHRISTMAS.

I have six huge plastic boxes to prove it. Just ask Apes. She'll be happy to tell you how excited she was to lose half the shed to ornaments, stuffed snow men, and the like.

At least I don't have a plastic manger scene to set up in the yard.

One of those would never work. We'd have dogs peeing on the baby Jesus and that just seems all kinda wrong.

We got our tree last night and it's perfect (thank you Lion's Club on Route 3).

Here's the view from outside the house:

Inside (this is now my favorite room):

We spent the morning doing some arts and crafts...personalizing the dog's stockings :)

Stewart's:

Snaggle's:

Jean Paul's:

Rosie's:

Probably my favorite Christmas decoration in the house comes courtesy of April's dad, who was nicknamed Wink. Unfortunately, Wink is no longer with us, but April was able to rescue his favorite Christmas tree.

I think you'll appreciate it as much as I do. Particularly since Wink loved a good glass of vino.

Introducing Wink's tree:

PS: IT'S SNOWING HERE!

You should see me. I'm like a kid. Okay, I'm more of a kid than normal.

It's HER DAY!

2009-12-03T09:11:00.004-05:00

Today is Ape's birthday!

Wish her well, will ya?

I've enjoyed celebrating her every year and try to remember to do it every single day.

What's a birthday celebration without a little Aponex?

We gave Stewart, the big dog, a bath recently and he began running around the house like we shot him full of narcotics.

"Wow," Ape's gushed, watching Stew root around in the couch. "He's awfully sprite!"

"What?"

"Stewart. He's sprite after his bath. I wonder why dogs get that way."

"SPRY. He's SPRY. Not SPRITE."

"Oh."

Happy Birthday Apes. I love you and your jacked up phrases.

Holding It.

2009-11-24T16:38:00.003-05:00

Who knew my last post about aging (without the slightest hint of grace) would touch a nerve in so many people?!

Thanks to everyone who forwarded the post and left a comment. Ya'll crack me up.

Here's what I've pondered most of today...

Why in God's name do I insist on waiting to go to the bathroom until I hurt so much that I'm certain my bladder is hanging out of my "down-there" parts?

I'm a big girl. I know where the bathroom is.

I can feel and acknowledge the tiny twinge that indicates I've fully digested my two liters of Diet Coke.

But I choose to ignore the signs.

Rather than act like an adult and take care of my business, I allow myself to become distracted as the pain grows, requiring me to clamp my legs together as if my life depends on no air seeping through.

My feet tap, I hum, swivel in my chair and only after I'm certain I can't possibly walk to the bathroom, do I even attempt it.

Why?

*she says, crawling to the bathroom*

I is Old.

2009-11-23T16:41:00.004-05:00

I'm old. You want to know how I know?

Because I no longer roll my eyes when people say "time sure does fly, the older you get."

Now I just shake my head furiously in agreement.

I fear large groups of teenagers, like the one on my flight yesterday afternoon. All the girls had 4,321 bobby pins in their hair and sported matching lip gloss. Beyond frightening.

I caught myself driving a few miles BELOW the speed limit last week. Who AM I?

I'm old.

Swear on my life, I stabbed myself under a fingernail with a pen two days ago and I actually yelled, "JIMMINY CHRISTMAS!"

Um. WHAT?

In my youthful days, the F-bomb would have been appropriate.

I'm sitting here, at my computer, blogging as an Icy Hot back patch works it's magic.

Need I say more?

Suddenly I'm overcome with a desire to watch Golden Girls reruns....they make old sexy.

Shameful. We Are Shameful.

2009-11-14T19:47:00.004-05:00

I can't believe I'm going to post these photos from last night's White Trash Party.

In fact, I'm betting most of my friends will likely kill me and never hang out with me again once they realize I'm really sharing these atrocities with the world.

If I come out of this friendless, ya'll owe me.

Here's April's concrete interpretation of white trash...

MJ trashin' it up like no one's business...(I think we had to bury the tube of red lipstick...)

Apes and I throwing the "W" hand signal....you know, for White Trash (Yeah. We're not cool. We know and still don't care).

The group pre-partying at Pat's. I'm ashamed to say we were all very proud of ourselves.

I want to pee myself every time I see the overly dramatic picture of Pat.

So my "W" hand signal is an "M". I'm supposed to be white trash, not a genius. How cute is Michael?

The party decorations and food were awesome.

MJ putting in her grill.

People should have been notified before the party that they'd need special eye ware in order to look at my blue eyeshadow.

Kevin and Michael, our hosts.

Heidi and I. So, it's not until I started to pull this blog together that I realized I made this obnoxious face all night long...

Subjecting Janette to my thug face.

MJ - totally busted drinking boxed wine. BUSTED.

We had an awesome time last night and even more fun today!

What could be more fun?

Welp, we're hosting a high heel race (for men and women) - to benefit the local SPCA. Today, we all gathered to make a hysterical training video.

I laughed so hard it felt like exercise.

Apes is editing the tape and I'll be sure to post it!

.Trashed.

2009-11-13T17:39:00.002-05:00

So, my neighbors are throwing a white trash birthday party for a friend of theirs.

I've never met this friend, but me, Apes, and our posse are SO attending her party.

This is the best I could do on short notice.

Redskin jersey, hoop earrings, blue eyeshadow, every ring I own and a sideways baseball cap.

I'ma tear me up some beer pong and break dance on the astro turf.

Right after I hang my coat up on the clothes line they've installed.

Photos to come.

You know it.

Rain Drops Falling on My Head.

2009-11-12T15:20:00.004-05:00

It's been pouring rain here for two solid days (thank you Tropical Storm Ida).

Last night, Apes called on her way home from work, excited about a sale happening at Tuesday Morning.

That's right. We get all excited-like when our local bottom dollar store has a sale. Where else can you get leopard print oven mitts for $1.00 and glass figurines that not even your grandma would accept?

It was nearly five o'clock and already pitch black as she pulled up to the house.

Did I mention it was pouring rain?

It was. Buckets of rain. Cold rain. That's integral to the story.

Apes wanted me to run outside and hop in the car. After all, it was dry in the car. No need for both of us to get wet.

Also important to the story - she happened to be driving my car because the Jeep's battery died on us a few days ago.

Shielding my pony-tailed head with my hands, I ran down our front steps, the rain slapping my body.

I pulled on the car door handle.

Locked.

"OPEN THE DOOR!"

Calm as she could possibly be, Apes starts fumbling around, trying to find the right button to push.

She didn't turn on the overhead light.

She didn't hurry.

She simply took her time, opening the sun roof and the windows.

"RAINING! RAINING ON MY HEAD!" I screamed, jumping up and down. "UNLOCK THE DOOR!"

"I'm trying!" she said, still fumbling around. "I can't find the button! How am I supposed to open it?!"

Um....

"USE YOUR HANDS TO PULL THE LOCK UP! OLD SCHOOL!"

SERIOUSLY?

Sheepishly, she leaned over, tugged the lock and settled back into her seat. Her dry seat.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I asked, wiping cascading water from my head.

"Sorry."

Sorry.

I nearly drown to death because she lost her common sense and all I got was sorry.

Sheesh.

Disco Coffee.

2009-11-10T13:03:00.002-05:00

My neighbor Pat called last weekend and invited us to Disco Coffee.

When pressed for a definition, she replied:

"Well, it's amazing coffee, friends and DISCO MUSIC, of course!"

Of course.

Disco Coffee.

Institute it in your neighborhood.

Times may vary, but 10:00 a.m. on Sundays is a good start.

I promise to get pictures from our next one.

Blabbin'

2009-11-09T18:53:00.003-05:00

Letseee...

First things first. Apes and I learned, whilst rocking out at the Montgomery Gentry concert last weekend, that Outback Steakhouse is offering a free Blooming Onion and beverage to all veterans and active duty on Wednesday, November 11th (Veteran's Day).

So if you've served, or are serving our great nation, go get your Bloom on and THANK YOU for protecting me, my family and the freedoms I hold dear.

In other news:

Many of you know Apes and I bought new bedroom furniture and yet we're STILL sleeping on our lumpy pull-out couch because we don't have a mattress for our king sized bed.

My back, which has been on strike, will be pleased to know that we have a memory foam mattress and topper being shipped to the house this week.

I'm welling up just thinking about a night of rest that actually involves REST and limited to no pain.

......

I've been glued to the Weather Channel all day, watching Tropical Storm Ida reports and bemoaning the fact that another season is under way and still no Hurricane Heather. For YEARS I've waited for a tropical storm to bear my name and for years I've been disappointed. We're already on "I" and now I'll have to wait for next year.

I mean, I get it. It's a weird thing to hope for, but whatever. I do.

PS - Dear Ida, please leave my gulf coast friends alone. They are staring you down and want no part of your stinking waves.

......

I painted our bedroom weeks ago, yet I'm still finding paint on everything.

I just pulled scissors out of my office drawer and they are covered in paint. Seriously.

My office is downstairs, my room is upstairs.

How the hell....

I'd blame April, but I know better. The moment a speck of paint touches her being, she showers, spins four times, inspects herself and changes clothes.

.......

Snaggle the Stray Snuggler thinks he's adorable when he burrows under the covers and bites your boobs, but he's not.

He's really not.

Gettin' our country on!

2009-11-07T19:00:00.000-05:00

Apes and I at the Montgomery Gentry concert.

Birthday gift from mom and dad.

Rock on!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Orange.

2009-11-03T18:39:00.003-05:00

My friend Christine is amazing.

She has a spirit that puts my soul at ease, a cadence to her life that draws people to her. If you're lucky enough to know her, you feel special and loved and on this planet for a reason.

No matter who you are.

The last time I was in Atlanta for work, Christine asked me to go to dinner. We left the office, crossed the street and as we walked into the parking garage, Christine stopped mid-sentence and took several steps away from me.

I wasn't sure where she was headed, but followed.

We walked directly toward the elderly garage attendant who was sitting in his spot just inside the garage opening.

"How are yew? It's so good to see you back at work!" Christine drawled, her southern accent just as cute as her strawberry blond hair and chicken purse.

"He's been ill," she said, looking at me before giving the man a bear hug. "I am so glad you are back - I've missed you!"

The attendant was just as excited to see Christine. His eyes lit up and he stood gingerly as she wrapped her arms around him.

He'd been eating an orange and insisted Christine and I each take a piece.

I watched as he carefully pulled two slivers of his orange a part and nearly welled up as I put the sweet fruit in my mouth.

How many people passed by this sweet man and thought nothing of him?

Dismissed him?

Not Christine.

She saw him. Sees everyone.

She puts herself above no one, sees the value in everyone.

Christine doesn't preach love. She just IS love.

If more people followed suit, we'd live in a different world.

Ketchn' Up.

2009-11-01T20:00:00.003-05:00

Oy. Has it been more than a week?!

Somewhere in between work, deciding to paint our bedroom in two days (hi cathedral ceilings), planning a kick-ass cabin trip for 20 crazy women over the Halloween weekend, preparing to receive new bedroom furniture, drinking copious amounts of Diet Coke and packing to head to Atlanta (again), the week totally got away from me.

And by got away, I mean ZOOM.

So here I sit, in another hotel room, staring at a room service tray and dressed in work out clothes that won't actually see the 4th floor gym.

There is a reason for the attire, though.

I totally need a sports bra to dig into this hamburger. It's huge and requires heavy lifting. Too many women aren't prepared to grub appropriately.

I've traveled so much over the past few months that my hard-case Samsonite suitcase, which is supposed to withstand Kryptonite and being dropped from the Eiffel Tower, is all jacked up. The rubber on the wheels is out of whack and I pretty much have to balance all 55 pounds of suitcase on one wheel and can only roll it in one direction. Backward.

I swear.

F'n suitcase. I'm hopeful Samsonite will do right and replace my wheels.

Hear that Samsonite?

Do right.

Okay kids, hamburger is calling.

GRUB ON!

Hope ya'll had a great weekend! I missed you!

Multi-functional

2009-10-23T21:16:00.000-04:00

At first glance, these may just LOOK like Diet Coke screw tops, but they aren't.

I've found yet ANOTHER use for the lids - aside from keeping yer drinks bubbly and collecting reward points.

Should you ever be too lazy to retrieve your contact case from your luggage, the lids make an excellent alternative.

Just add water and your eyeballs.

Genius.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Aponex

2009-10-22T22:52:00.003-04:00

Oh this one is good, ya'll.

Just got off the phone with Apes. She was telling me about the monster softball game she played tonight.

Unfortunately, the team lost both games, despite her great at-bats and fielding.

"Seriously, honey," she said, "it was close, but no hand grenades."

NO HAND GRENADES?!

I snorted I laughed so hard.

"Close but no CIGAR, Apes. Cigar."

Bless her heart.

Problems Commenting?

2009-10-21T09:33:00.002-04:00

My good pal Mike S just sent me an email...seems he's having trouble commenting on my blog.

Anyone else having an issue?

Email me at wishfulwriterblog@yahoo.com and let me know.

I'm going to work with blogger to try and resolve it. I'm getting some comments, so not sure why others aren't getting through.

Mike S - thanks for trying and for alerting me to the issue. Reading comments is my favorite part of blogging!

More later....

Clumsy Much?

2009-10-20T21:17:00.003-04:00

My morning started off with a forehead burn.

I am now a firm believer that if you haven't used a curling iron in more than a year, you should be required to attend safety classes and wear goggles.

No exception.

My day of absent-mindedness didn't end with a forehead scab.

On my walk back to the hotel after work, I was so deep in thought I walked smack dab into a glass door.

Yes I did.

The guy walking behind me tried to make me feel better by saying:

"Hey, thanks for running into it before I did. I'm sure if you hadn't been in front of me, I'd have done the same thing."

"No sweat, I'm a giver," was all I could manage.

My scabbed, bruised forehead pretty much screams blind girl.

Awesome.

PS - Kelli, you are AMAZING. Thank you for the you-know-what.

Snaggle at night

2009-10-19T22:39:00.001-04:00

Tonight's "good night, we miss you picture" from Apes and the critters.
Don't you wanna kiss those teeth?!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Completely Random Update

2009-10-18T20:07:00.004-04:00

Sorry for being so M.I.A.

Work was nuts last week and when I did have time to write, I didn't really feel like I had anything of interest to report.

Which has never stopped me before, I know.

So with no cool, or touching, or hysterical stories to report, I'm relying on the "random update" standby.

ONE.

My friend Lesli and I saw the movie Whip It last night and while it's not likely to win any major awards, it's a fun chick flick and any fan of Ellen Page will overlook weak movie-moments just to watch her own Juliet Lewis's character, Maggie Mayhem, on the roller derby track.

Able to apply my basic knowledge of roller derby (thanks to Sarat and Suzi who've taken me to a few Big Easy Rollergirl bouts in New Orleans), I cheered as Bliss, Ellen's high school character, shoved and hip checked girls to earn "lead jammer" points.

What resonated most, though, for me, was the movie's mother-daughter story line. Bliss is a tom boy who tries time and time again to earn her mother's approval, even if it means not being true to herself. Bliss enters beauty pageants and tries to live the life her coiffed mother (played by Marcia Gay Harden) insists she live "for her own good". The two don't see eye to eye on anything, eventually causing Bliss to lie about what she loves (derby) and the life she's meant to live. The movie explores the pain Bliss and her mother experience, never losing site of the love they share, but not shying away from the pain judgment causes. Eventually Bliss's mother comes to terms with truly accepting and loving a daughter she couldn't be more opposite of.

I teared up.

TWO.

Before the movie, Lesli and I hit up the mall and she introduced me to a store I'm now infatuated with. It's called LUSH and they sell all manners of fun soaps, shower steamers ('member my infatuation with them!), skin care items and massage bars (that shimmer and smell yummy). We spent forever in the store, watching soap bubble demonstrations and getting mini-spa treatments.

I bought:

The Sunny Side bubble bar (you crack a little bit of this under running water and it creates a sparkling bubble bath).

I also bought, after watching a demonstration, The Big Blue Bath Bomb. If you drop this in the tub, after crumbling bits of Sunny Side bubble bar under the faucet, it makes a mermaid bath! Seriously - it's bright blue, foamy, sparkly water that's so soft and smells so good you'll never want to get out! I did it tonight and was sorry I only bought one Big Blue Bath Bomb!

I also bought a porridge soap bar (told you I went nuts). The web site describes it as: stuffed with real oats for an exfoliating scrub and fresh orange juice to invigorate sleepy heads, this sweet treat smells like molasses and makes skin deliciously soft.

It smells SO good. Haven't used it yet - waiting to unwrap it when I get home.

The store sells some great combination baskets - I'm thinking it might be a great idea to buy one, keep some stuff for myself and still get 2-3 other holiday gifts out of it!

...and nope, not getting paid a red cent by Lush to tell you how much I love their stuff.

THREE.

I'm kicking ASS in Fantasy Football this year! I've never even been in the play offs, so the fact my team is 6-0 rocks my socks. In an effort to keep my flawless record karmic-ally blessed, I've limited my trash talking which just might kill me before the season ends.

FOUR.

April is the best person on the planet. She knows how much I miss the critters when I travel, so she snaps pictures of our pups and sends them to me before bedtime.

FIVE.

Just a few weeks until Halloween weekend and I'm stoked! A huge group of us (about 20 gals) have rented four cabins and will spend the weekend being silly, roasting marshmallows and telling our best/worst ghost stories. I can't wait and guarantee lots and lots of photos!

My dinner just arrived. Off to eat my Bistro salad and raspberry gelato!

Workie Workie

2009-10-13T21:46:00.002-04:00

I'm in Atlanta and running 'round for work.

Looks like we're gonna get drenched tomorrow - two inches of rain.

Awesome.

I've got a three block walk to the office.

Awesome.

Will post when I can - hope ya'll are having a good week!

Playin in the Punkin Patch!

2009-10-11T00:41:00.004-04:00

It's that time of year again....

Hello, Belvedere Plantation Pumpkin Patch!

This year we acted the fool with our friends Karolyn and Lauren.

Of course...we have the pictures to prove it!

The crazy-ness started before we even entered. Shocking.

Apes, Karolyn, Lauren:

I love this slide. For some reason it felt faster this year!

I wasn't a fan of the pig races, so I took a picture of my feet instead...

You know how much we love the zip line!!

What started out as friendly fun in the barn turned into a semi-wrestling match between Karolyn and Apes.

Getting on the rope swing is never easy...

Big Kid. Me.

After Karolyn spun me in a million circles, I couldn't even walk...

She got Apes too! (what kind of blogger would I be if I didn't offer you another side-ways video?)

Awwww....

Apes is clearly very happy with her choice of pumpkins...

And the night ended as many of them do...with Apes "Heisman-ing" something she's holding...

WalMart Super Hero

2009-10-10T14:29:00.000-04:00

..Only Apes can have this much fun shopping for groceries...

Just call her Web Slinger, protector of produce.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Introducing Weird Speak.

2009-10-10T08:39:00.004-04:00

This morning I hit the mother-load of April weird speak.

Weird speak is what I call her language when it isn't quite Aponex (for new readers, Aponex is what we call April's inability to utter a common phrase without jacking it all up).

Weird speak happens when April's brain works faster than her mouth, resulting in a string of conversations that make sense only to her.

I swear on my favorite pink highlighter, this is exactly what happened and how our conversation went this morning...

We are sleeping downstairs on the pull-out couch because we sold our bedroom suit in last week's yard sale. At some point, we'll find and agree on a king-sized bed.

I woke up to April, out of bed, growling by the back door.

Then I smelled it.

"Ewwww," I yelled, rolling over and suffocating my face with the pillow.

"Your daughter pooped RIGHT by the back door! And it's runny. Oh, and she was trying to eat it."

GAG. GAG. GAG.

Rosie, the culprit, hopped up on the bed. April took notice, and said:

"Heather, don't lick her."

"Don't LICK her?! Really? Um, I won't LICK her. I do have boundaries."

Not in the mood to deal with my sarcasm (cleaning runny poop will tamper with your ability to handle me), Apes clarified.

"I MEANT don't let her lick YOU. I can't speak and clean at the same time."

Oh. Okay.

After Apes satisfactorily cleaned the floor with ever cleaner known to man, she got back in bed and asked what I wanted to do today before we head out for our annual PUMPKIN PATCH fun.

"Prolly should go to the grocery store," I mumbled - but only halfheartedly. I hate grocery shopping.

"Yeah, we should probably go before the giants do."

I let it register.

"Right. We should probably beat the giants to the grocery store. You know how they can get....what exactly does that MEAN, April?"

"I meant giant CROWDS. Crowds."

"You didn't say giant CROWDS. You said GIANTS."

"I know. But I MEANT crowds."

"Your brain works faster than your mouth sometimes."

"That's true. I mean, giants and crowds meant the same thing in my head. You know, giants I.K.E. crowds."

"A.K.A. crowds!!!!"

Dear Jesus. HELP ME.

We laughed at the ridiculousness of our morning exchange for a solid five minutes.

As it stands, I can't lick the dogs, we have to beat the giants to the grocery store and IKE is a special brand of crowds.

It's not even 9am....

Mommy's Home - VIDEO!

2009-10-08T21:35:00.000-04:00

Captured it on film for ya'll!

Two Words.

2009-10-07T18:58:00.004-04:00

Two words, spoken at 5 p.m. every day, make me absolutely giddy.

I watch the clock as the afternoon progresses, knowing exactly what will happen the moment I say those two words.

I can't help but grin in anticipation because I love the reaction I get when I say...those two words.

Every day, right before I say 'em, I inventory the dogs.

Yes, the dogs.

Jean Paul, the poodle Pope, is always sleeping on a chair next to me.

Snaggle, the stray snuggler, is usually perched on a cushion at my feet.

Rosie, the one-eyed wonder, is chilling on the couch, all four paws facing heaven.

Stewart, the big dawg, never shirks his duty and can be found keeping an eye on the living room.

I know exactly when to say it, because my office is at the front of the house.

The second I see the tires of the Jeep roll past my window, I say it.

"MOMMY'S HOME!"

Silence turns into chaos.

Every dog, from every direction, bolts to the front door, yipping, jumping and turning circles, waiting for Apes to open the front door.

It's like a game I win every day at 5pm.

One of these day's I'll film it!

Green Goodness...

2009-10-06T07:58:00.004-04:00

Several of you left really touching comments on my last post and for some reason Blogger is holding them captive and won't let me publish.

Blogger reports they are aware of the issue with comment moderation and hope to fix it soon - I will post and respond to the comments as soon as they free 'em up.

Thank you for leaving them and for making my day. You all are the best!

So....

April went to the grocery store without me yesterday, which means she came home with a bunch of stuff I'd never ever buy.

Desperate for breakfast this morning (and not feeling cereal with vanilla soy milk), I grabbed one of the new fruit smoothies she bought.

Bolthouse Farms Green Goodness.

This smoothie has everything but the kitchen sink in it: apples, pineapple, green tea, spinach, barley grass, wheat grass, BLUE GREEN ALGAE, garlic, zinc mango, banana, folic acid, Vitamin A, B6, B12, C, kiwi fruit and a handful of other ingredients I'm too lazy to type.

April and I have been meaning to make one of these fruit/spinach smoothies ever since I read about them over on Jenna's blog.

However, I'm just lazy enough in my quest to get healthy that buying one of these smoothies instead of actually expending the energy to make one seems like a good plan.

Wasn't sure I was going to like it, but YUM.

It's so good and I'm certain I've lost weight already, just by lifting the beverage to my face.

The color of the smoothie is, well, it's pea green, but that just makes me feel like it's even healthier for me.

It can look like the color of spinach, it just can't TASTE like spinach. And it doesn't.

It tastes fruity and scrumptious and it washes down smoothly with a glass of Diet Coke (it doesn't need the Diet Coke, but I do....)

Oh - and I'm not being paid to advertise by Bolthouse Farms. If I was, I'da probably left out the "pea green color" bit....

Happy Sappy Note.

2009-10-05T10:41:00.003-04:00

I had an "I really love my blogging friends" moment this morning and I want to share it with you.

When I started this blog a few years ago, I truly didn't think anyone other than my close friends and family would read it.

I didn't know the first thing about blogging, stumbling, digging, feeds, blog catalog, or link backs.

All I knew is I wanted to write. Every day.

The blog would be a way to keep people up to date about our goings-on (I'm not a big fan of the phone) and it would force me to hone my writing skills and develop a cadence to my style.

I knew I wanted to write as I speak. Have my friends read a post and say, "I could HEAR you saying that!"

My blog started slowly, every once in a while a new reader would leave a comment.

Suddenly, I realized just how cool this blogging thing could be.

I began reading more blogs, leaving my own comments, making friends.

Making AWESOME friends.

I remember, in my first year of blogging, I'd check my SiteMeter for statistics, anxious to see how many people hit my blog in a day.

I felt on top of the world one July night in 2007...my blog hit 39 views by midnight.

For blogs that routinely get hundreds of thousands of hits a day, 39 views is laughable, I know.

But for me, it was huge.

I don't have a blog with a niche. I don't have readers coming to get nutrition advice (unless they want a bad example), I'm not spouting technical facts or having contests.

Those 39 people were checking in on me, to see what kind of day I had, or to find out if Apes said something ridiculous (again).

They were more than views, they were friends.

Still are.

This morning I checked my SiteMeter at 10am and I'd already had 59 views.

59 people checking in on my day before it even got started.

I know it sounds silly, but it kind of made me happy weepy.

It's not about numbers to me. It is about friends.

Thank you for being my friend.

For caring about my day.

For coming back even when I don't post every day.

It means a whole big bunch to me.

Honestly. It really does.

And because I know how much you care, I know you'll be delighted to learn I'm UNDEFEATED in my Fantasy Football league.

That's right.

UNDEFEATED.

Life is good. Thanks for sharing mine.

Today's Aponex

2009-10-04T14:52:00.005-04:00

We're over at Carrie and Lanie's house (the FACE SMASHER team if you're in our Fantasy Football league), and Kat n' Apes are in a serious discussion about the Washington Redskins.

Overheard from my comfy leather lounge chair:

Apes: "I think Daniel Snyder, the Redskin's owner, is a jerk. There is NO WAY in JOSE that I'd ever coach for the man if I were a coach."

Kat, as she often does, let it pass.

I, as I always do, called Apes on it.

"No way JOSE, Apes. Not...'no way IN Jose'...."

Cue eye rolls from me and a big dimply laugh from Apes.

She may not know her common phrases, but she does know football.

This morning, prior to the cutoff time for Fantasy Football changes, Apes looked like a sports agent, all comfy in my office swivel chair, her feet on the desk, phone propped to her ear, wheeling and dealing, making trades and promising results.

I swear I heard her offer a "money back guarantee."

Football is her language of choice. No question.

Yippeee Yard Sale

2009-10-03T07:17:00.000-04:00

We've been up since 4am...we aren't playing with this yard sale...we set up a room full of fruniture and plan on making a cool million...or at the very least, a quarter.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A Dog's Life.

2009-10-02T12:37:00.005-04:00

Um, I'm not saying Rosie is the laziest damn dog on the planet, but this is how I found her a few minutes ago...

What's that? You want a closer look at LAZY?

Sure.

However, I will concede that this position shows off her lovely feet which are so fuzzy we lovingly refer to them as "bedroom slippers."

There is that....

Oh...and I'll probably go to Hell for making fun of my one-eyed dog. I'm aware.

Changing it UP!

2009-10-01T08:00:00.002-04:00

For YEARS I've wanted to do something different with my hair.

I've just been too chicken.

BWAK. BWAK. *flaps arms*

Before my previous appointments, I'd flip through magazines, cut out pictures of the cut or color I wanted to experiment with and full of purpose, swagger into the salon.

Within seconds of my stylist getting ready to make me into a "new woman," I've always applied the brakes, deciding I'd rather be sure of my hair-do versus unpleasantly surprised if I hated it.

Not this time.

Yesterday I put my big girl pants on and decided to go for it.

I've always wanted to try being brunette.

It's Fall.

It's fun.

It's only hair.

Here's my before photo, proving a cut and some sort of color was LONG overdue:

Here's thew new, brunette me!

I'm still getting used to my own reflection, but I really love it!

Total gold star for Dana, my hairdresser.

She might have been more nervous than I was!

Total. Girl. Moment.

2009-09-24T20:44:00.003-04:00

I totally got lost in my shower today.

Not "lost lost" obviously - I mean, I don't have that big a shower.

I got lost in the aroma of lavender, thanks to my shower steamer.

I stayed in the shower so long I emerged with more wrinkles in my skin than a Shar Pei.

These little balls of smell-good turn your shower into heaven on earth.

You unwrap one, put it in the corner of your shower and as the water splashes it, the aroma of whatever scent you choose floods your bathroom.

I was amazed at how well it worked.

There was still half a steamer left after I took my shower, so I left it for Apes and didn't tell her.

She just came downstairs raving about her shower.

Guess we'll be buying more.

You can get 6 for $25 or 1 for $5.

I found mine in a novelty bookstore in Atlanta, but you can order them HERE if you wanna smell good shower!

ps. This is not an advertising post. I am seriously SO stoked about my shower steamer I wanted to write about it.

I'm not getting paid to advertise the place I've linked to - in fact, I've never used them. However, I'll likely buy from them soon since I don't think I could ever return to my OLD way of showering - sans steamer.

If I ever receive a free sample of something or am getting paid to review an item, I'll let you know. Scout's honor.

Loving Her.

2009-09-23T11:38:00.004-04:00

I've been a total slacker when it comes to blogging, I know.

I miss it.

Work has been crazy, Apes pulled her back out and we've got a flea infestation problem that is making us more than a little grumpy (and itchy).

Needless to say, Apes and I have been on edge.

Regardless of how crazy it gets, how irritable we are with each other, I always know she loves me.

Because she sends emails like this one which I just got a minute ago:

Hello Honey,

Just checking on you.

I wanted to tell you how much I adore you and appreciate all you do.

38 IS great!

Love,
Me

She's the best.

I know how lucky I am.

Back Talk

2009-09-18T17:58:00.000-04:00

There is a longer post to be written about this, but it'll have to come later...after Apes and I get home from the Urgent Care center.

Long story short - she pulled her back out this morning...who knew putting on shoes could be so dangerous!

This lovely photo was taken moments before heading in to get an Xray.

She's in a lot of pain but I'm pretty sure she'll try to pull her back out again next weekend...the doctor's office has Direct TV and the NFL Package....

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

I wanted Icon. I got Amy.

2009-09-14T08:08:00.000-04:00

I've always been a celebrity hound.

Always.

As a young child, I used to daydream Madonna was my mother. Not that I didn't love my own mother, but come on...it was MADONNA. In fact, I distinctly remember feeling jealous when her daughter Lourdes was born.

I'm not so jealous now. I mean, I could have given birth to Madonna's new boy toy and that's just awkward. No one wants to be older than Mommy's boyfriend.

Whenever the month of September rolled around, I'd feverishly fan through the pages of any celebrity magazine I could get my hands on, desperate to find out which famous actor or actress shared my birthday.

September 14th.

Year after year, I was disappointed.

Guido Verweyen (huh?)
Carmen Kiss (what?)
Faith Ford (okay, I know her, but surely it gets better...)
Kimberly Williams (slightly better, but not iconic)
Patrick Garcia (*hangs head*)

Seriously?

I was looking for Tiffany, or Belinda Carlisle or Soleil Moon Frye.

And before you begin mocking me, I was a kid a looong time ago. These were my icons. Shut it.

I don't know why it was so important to share a birthday with a celebrity I adored.

Somehow, in my frizzy-headed, brace-face, pre-pubescent world, sharing a birthday with a celebrity meant validation for me.

It meant one day I too might be famous.

Year after year, I'd scour celebrity birthdays, certain the newest crop of actors or musicians would include someone who shared my big day.

While she couldn't be bothered to be born on my birthday, at least Brittany Spears had her first son on September 14th.

Not really iconic though.

I won't lie, even today, at the ripe ol' age of 35, I still hold out hope.

Which is why my feelings got hurt this morning.

In my annual search of celebrity birthdays, a new name popped up.

Amy Winehouse.

Um, apparently the greatness I'm destined for is crack addiction and rehab.

Awesome.

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I shared my misfortune with my friend Gary when he called to wish me a happy birthday.

After laughing heartily, he hurt me. He hurt me bad.

"I hate to tell you this," he said, "but I share a birthday with DOLLY PARTON."

Of course he does.

He got my icon.

I got Amy.

Midnight Mania

2009-09-07T00:43:00.001-04:00

My heart is still thudding in my chest - which I realize is weird to say given if it were beating in any other part of my body, THAT would be the emergency instead of the "WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP" sound that woke me from a dead sleep inside my hotel room.

For a second, I thought I'd set my alarm to "potty in your pants" volume, but before I could become too irritated with myself, the WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP was followed by a recording:

"There is an emergency on your floor. Attention, there is an emergency on your floor. Please exit the building and do not use the elevators."

WTF?!

The recording was so calm, it took me a moment to realize she wasn't informing me about brunch or the outcome of the NASCAR race.

I shot out of bed, visions of fireballs chasing me down the stairs. As the recording and WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP continued, I did my best to gather myself together.

This was an emergency. I needed to keep my head.

With no idea how much time I had, I covered the basics. I'd been asleep, so I'd long since taken off my bra. I couldn't go out bra-less, so I threw my hoodie sweatshirt on - killing two birds with one stone.

I covered my bits and gave myself pockets.

Frantically, I searched for and found my wallet - I wanted to have ID on me in the event something bad wrong happened to my body. If nothing happened to my body, but the hotel burned down, I wanted to have my ID so I could catch my flight home. I actually thought that through - acknowledging I'd look hilarious boarding a flight in my blue boxer shorts and bright orange hoodie sweatshirt.

But whatever.

I also grabbed my diepod (my Ipod that I'm certain is suicidal) - it wasn't its time. I shoved it in my sweatshirt pocket just as the alarm sounded again.

I caught myself in the mirror and realized the error of not washing my face before bed. My cheeks were wearing my mascara - but no time to correct the situation. For all I knew, I'd have to crawl on my knees to the door.

I began running through all my childhood drills.

Stop. Drop. Roll.

Make a rope out of your bed sheets.

I was sliding into my flip flops when I noticed my laptop. I grabbed it, thinking of the act of Congress it took for work to issue it to me. It was worth dying for - waiting to get another would kill me if a hotel fire didn't.

I opened the door and remembered the book I'm reading. "The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club" by Laurie Notaro. My friend Sharon sent it to me and it's a riot. I had to take it with me. I raced back to my bedside, curled the book up and stuck it in my pocket along with my wallet and diepod. I re-tucked my laptop under my arm, grabbed my room key and nervously opened the door.

I looked down the hallway.

No fireball in sight, but I saw the movie Backdraft - I know that shit can sneak up on you.

Other pajama'd people were trying to find the stairs - apparently its a good idea to actually read those evacuation plans on the back of your door - particularly if you are on the top floor of your hotel, carrying a laptop and wearing a sweatshirt that weighs 700 pounds.

Eventually we found the stairs and began our descent, nervously chattering and trying not to look at each other's night time attire. I'm certain my goth eye makeup startled more than one person.

Sweating by the time we'd made it down the stairs to the third floor, a teenager popped his head out into the stairwell and said:

"It's all clear. We burned popcorn in our room and set off the alarm. They can't turn it off once it's triggered and they have no way of telling folks they can stay in their rooms."

Seriously?

Burnt popcorn caused me to have to Sophie's Choice all my belongings and stress about leaving April with four dogs and a full case of Diet Coke I never got to drink?

Grumbling, I began the walk back up seven flights of stairs, the laptop threatening to slip right out of my sweaty hands.

By the time I got back to my room I FELT like I was on frickin' fire.

I put my laptop down, peeled off the sweatshirt and acknowledged the night's emergency drill would have been easier on me had I not consumed the entire bag of kettle corn I bought at the Decatur book festival today.

The end.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Puppy Love

2009-09-06T20:38:00.000-04:00

..If only I could have a fifth dog...I borrowed this one from the couple sitting next to us at dinner tonight. Actually, Shannon asked if we could borrow him and I promptly took him from her.

I had the best time with Shannon and Melissa at the Decatur book fair - they are the best for making sure I don't get too lonely.

Fantasy Football draft tomorrow!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

I-Pod Pity Party

2009-09-05T12:13:00.005-04:00

SO many stories to tell about the week I spent with the crew of Whirlpool Building Blocks in Atlanta, Georgia.

Eight Habitat for Humanity families purchased homes that were built in FIVE days by 250 volunteers.

In addition to providing a range and refrigerator to EVERY Haibtat home built in North America, Whirlpool sponsors this weeklong event, showing they are more than a donor, they are a true PARTNER in Habitat's mission to eradicate poverty housing. Their commitment to Habitat is why, when Apes and I remodeled our kitchen last November, we chose to use all Whirlpool appliances.

I spent the week running around, interviewing volunteers and writing up stories for the daily newsletter. Fortunately, the weather cooperated for the build and it wasn't until yesterday the sun came out and was hot. REALLY, REALLY HOT.

The HOTNESS of the sun is crucial to my story.

So is the fact people kept bringing candy, chocolate and Twizzlers to the media house.

I have no will power, particularly when faced with a bag full of Reeces Peanut Butter Cups.

There they sat, on top of the mini-fridge, daring me to pass without gaining weight.

Not wanting to be rude - I mean, after all, someone DID have to go to the store, pay for them, bring them back to the media house and put them on the fridge - I grabbed three mini-cups and put them in my pants pocket.

I grabbed my lime green Ipod, hit shuffle and be-bopped out the door to conduct some interviews.

Arriving at House 6, I put my Ipod in my pocket, chased down some volunteers and checked out the progress of the house.

Feeling completely inspired and in awe of what was being accomplished, I took a seat on the street to take it all in. The slam of hammers, the sound of saws, the chatter of volunteers, the smiles of homeowners.

Needing to get back to the media house to transcribe my interviews and write my articles, I walked back up the hill and through the door.

Absentmindedly, I reached into my pocket and it was like someone hit PAUSE on my life.

I froze.

Because what I was feeling was not at all what I should be feeling.

I mean, I felt my Ipod, but not JUST my Ipod.

It took several seconds for me to put it all together.

'Member those peanut butter cups I threw into my pocket before traipsing into the hot sun for an hour?

Not only did I have a pocket full of goo, this is what my Ipod looked like:

I took a LOT of grief from my coworkers, but eventually got my Ipod cleaned up and usable again. Several hours later, I found myself outside helping move some landscaping wheelbarrows, when Tami, a coworker and great friend, walked up to me and said:

"HEATHER!"

I looked at where she was pointing and apparently, when putting my Ipod in the pants pocket NOT filled with chocolate goo, I failed to make sure my headphones made it in. I'd been dragging them through muddy puddles for some time - but that's not all. At the moment Tami pointed to them, my headphones were seconds from being run over by a truck.

I rescued them just in time, but wondered, aloud, if my Ipod was suicidal.

Now everyone is calling my Ipod my Die-pod.

The end.

Only in Atlanta

2009-09-04T16:10:00.001-04:00

Please tell me you know why I took this photo...

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Seriously?!

2009-09-04T14:13:00.001-04:00

Just passed this sign in Atlanta.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Roof Top Warriors

2009-09-01T10:32:00.000-04:00

Day two! 250 volunteers, 8 homes, 5 days!

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Building!

2009-08-31T12:09:00.000-04:00

I love this Habitat / Whirlpool build.
I cry every time a homeowner speaks!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Chiming In.

2009-08-28T18:33:00.003-04:00

Sorry I've been MIA all week - Apes has been under the weather and I'm busily wrapping up life here in Virginia before I head back to Atlanta for two weeks. I fly out tomorrow - it's time for the Whirlpool Building Blocks event again! Remember last year?

Things have been so hectic that when the Fed Ex man knocked on my door today, I thought he had the wrong house.

We hadn't ordered anything.

It's not my birthday.

I opened the door and stared down at the package.

It had my name on it.

I picked it up and remembered.

Ang.

She's not just a dear blogging friend, she's a dear friend.

Not long ago, Ang sent an email, letting me know I should be on the lookout for a gift from her.

Apes met me at the door and together, we opened the large box, stunned to find a gorgeous set of wind chimes.

A PERSONALIZED set of wind chimes. See that pink circle? In it, there's a tag that Ang had our names and anniversary date engraved on.

I couldn't get a great picture, but I really wanted to show you how special this gift is!

Up until 3pm today, I felt haggard, rushed and like the day was trying to escape from me.

This precious, PERFECT gift changed everything.

I immediately hung it up.

Stood outside and felt the breeze blow by my face and rustle the melodic chimes.

The most amazing sound danced from my front porch.

Time that had been going by at mock speed...stopped.

April and I stood together, watching the chimes, smiling and talking about Ang.

This woman has a heart of gold.

Regardless of where she is in life, or what's going on in her own, she's always thinking of someone else, always wants to know what she can do or how she can help.

She's been a loyal blog reader of mine for a long time and I'm so grateful for her friendship - which is truly the best gift she could ever give me.

Apes and I will think of Ang, and her heart, every time we enter our home.

Ang. Thank you.

I am blown away by your generosity.

Again.

Snaggle's D-Day

2009-08-23T13:41:00.000-04:00

We are on our way to the local SPCA.

The stray we found (called Snaggle) has his intake appointment at 2:30.

We are on our way...without Snaggle. We couldn't do it, even knowing he'd probably be adopted quickly.

We spent hours this morning debating the future of Snaggle. He's got an appointment on Wedesday for heartworm treatment and the vet said he'd feel bad for a few weeks and would need to be contained for ten. Neither of us could stand the thought of him being sickly and not with us. Especially if we couldn't be guaranteed someone would kiss his teeth. That's so important to any dog's healing.

So, we're going to treat him and care for him and if a good home comes available, we will happily place him.

Until then, looks like Snaggle is rockin' out his bad under bite at our house for the next little bit.

Four dogs. Help us. We think we may be crazy.

April, queen of corny, laments his heartworms but acknlowdges how brilliant Snaggle is...for worming his way into our hearts.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

I win.

2009-08-22T17:31:00.003-04:00

April and I have this thing...

If we're both lying in bed and there's a light that needs to be turned off or a door that needs to be closed, the ONLY thing that keeps either one of us from being the one who has to get up is...

The poodle. Jean Paul.

If his sweet little gray self is nestled in between your legs, all you have to do is arch your brows, point, and say:

"Aw, I can't. I gots the Poodle."

Whomever is poodle-less growls, snarls and grunts about having to get up, but there is no arguing once the poodle-trump-card has been played.

I'm not going to lie, this usually works out in my favor. Not sure why the poodle prefers to sleep with me, but it's saved me many a night.

However, last night, the poodle opted for Apes. He snuggled down, rolled around in her camo blanket, and closed his eyes.

April smiled.

Me? I had Snaggle in my lap - the stray dog we found a few weeks ago. We're still fostering him and learned from his recent vet trip that he's healthy, save some treatable heart worm issues.

There we were, lying in bed, and our remote wasn't working.

"Can you please get up and go push play?" I asked, batting my blue eyes.

A grin spread across Ape's face.

She pointed to the poodle.

"I can't. I gots the poodle! YEAH! I got the POODLE!"

I stared.

"Um, well I have the stray with heart worms."

I actually saw April deflate.

"DAMN IT! How can I compete with that? Shit. Fine. I'll do it."

But she was smiling.

Hey, she knows when she's been beat.

At least she's gracious about it...

Completely Random Update

2009-08-19T19:43:00.003-04:00

My brain is thinkin' in bullet points today...

+ Here's what I've learned. When you haven't really had to multi-task in a long time, being thrown into a job where you get 22 emails during your two-minute bathroom break can be alarming and requires some serious adjustment.

+ April (still) doesn't understand why I run my space heater all the time. I believe her exact words are: "You're KILLING me." She argues I should just turn down the air conditioner. I could, but that doesn't solve the problem. My feet are USED to hot air blowing on them. When there is no hot air, my feet feel lonely. Ergo, I need the space heater.

+ An awesome storm blew through town today. I worked by lamp and candle light, feeling all cozy and content.

+ For grins, I routinely pull out my autographed copy of Are You There God, It's Me Margaret. I can't help it. It makes me feel special.

+ I got really lucky the other day. I met Apes for lunch and when I returned home, I found a candle still burning on my office desk. BIG NO NO. Like I said, I got lucky.

+ I'm going to see the movie Julie & Julia this weekend. I can't wait!

+ Last night while playing doubles tennis, I did several pirouettes. It sounds impressive but looked ridiculous. No room for pirouettes in doubles tennis. Especially if you don't even come close to hitting the ball.

+ Our resident "stray" dog thinks he's entitled to my spot on the bed. The turf war has begun. I hope I win.

Daily peek

2009-08-16T13:51:00.000-04:00

We spent the morning spring cleaning. Now, tennis. Later - grocery.

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Hygiene Handbook Says....

2009-08-16T09:31:00.004-04:00

This morning, Apes rolled over, all lazy like, her hand sort-of brushing the left side of her face.

Before she even spoke, I followed her hand movement, looking to see if there was anything stuck on her.

"Do I have something on my chicken?" she mumbled, eyes barely open.

"On your CHICKEN?"

"Stoooop," she whined, batting her hand in my direction. "My brain got stuck between cheek and chin!"

Of course it did. Happens all the time.

We all have to make sure nothing is stuck to our chickens. Page four of the hygiene handbook.

Lotta Love in Four Years.

2009-08-15T08:23:00.012-04:00

Yesterday, August 14th, was my fourth anniversary with Apes.

I still want to pinch myself. Often I pinch her...just to make sure she's real. She screams and I know she is.

We agreed that this year, instead of buying gifts for each other, we'd purchase a large item together.

Football season is nearly upon us, so our decision shouldn't surprise anyone.

FLAT. SCREEN. TV.

I'm thinking we might be the only couple on the planet who doesn't yet own one. In fact, the television sets in our house right now are so old we could charge admission to small children and show 'em how people used to watch TV in the olden days.

We (read: Apes) are still in the research phase of our flat screen purchase, so we hit up Best Buy last night before our annual anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot. Remember this from two years ago?

Although we weren't doing individual gifts, we did do small "I love you" surprises for each other.

April excels at these small, "I love you," gifts.

Before I explain what she did, there are two things I should review:

1) If you don't know the significance of the #38 in our lives, please read THIS before continuing on.

2) Apes and I are quite, um, competitive. It's why we have our own separate Fantasy Football teams instead of a joint one. It's also why I've teased her throughout the course of our relationship about reaching the 4-year mark. She's had several four year relationships."Well, you know," I'd tell Apes, "you have me for at least four years and one day...just so I will be your longest relationship." I have no doubt it was of great comfort to her. I have also been very clear with her that once we reached the four year mark, we'd need to discuss my plans for re-upping versus becoming a free agent (usually met with an eye roll on her part).

Back to last night.

April came down the stairs carrying this:

She handed me a card, sections of it repeated below:

"Your rookie contract has expired. I'd like to negotiate a long-term deal to ensure you stay part of the Dillow team!"

"If you agree and re-up, I'll let you keep the #38 and we'll retire it."

Next she handed me this, explaining that I reminded her of a stick of dynamite (her little "dynamo").

Laughing, I unwrapped the stick of dynamite to find a contract. A LONG-TERM Relationship Contract.

Already signed by Apes, the contract stipulates that by signing, I agree to love, comfort, honor and protect her, forsaking all others. It also requires I be faithful to her for as long as we both shall live (future reincarnations will be subject to renewal of contract).

Of course, I signed.

The moment I did, Apes slapped a Detroit Tigers hat on my head and explained that for me, the "D" stands for Dillow.

I've never been so happy to be owned. Seriously.

Taxi Cab Smart

2009-08-12T22:39:00.000-04:00

Ed drove the beat up cab that delivered me to the airport last Friday.

Somewhere in his seventies with skin the color of dark chocolate, Ed had a head of gray curls, wrinkled skin that hung off his arms and black eyes that SAW me.

I can't explain it, except to say, the moment I sat down on the ripped seat and inhaled the pine air freshner scent, our eyes met and this man saw straight through me.

I've never experienced anything like it. His eyes flickered and turned soft, just as the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile so sweet I nearly cried.

It was like he knew I was exhausted, missing home, feeling a little lost and in need of a friend .

He wanted to know where I was from, why I was in Atlanta and at some point, he asked how I lived my life.

"What do you mean?" I asked, startled by the question.

"I've been driving this cab for 51 years," he said, tapping the steering wheel and catching my eye in the rear view mirror. "I've hauled many a person in my cab, seen things I wish I could forget, heard stories of sadness and joy, been respected and disrespected. I've learned a lot about people, driving this cab, and I think life is like a cab ride."

Now I was smiling.

"How so?" I asked, just as we pulled into the departure drop off at the airport.

Ed turned to look at me and said, "All you can hope for is that you arrive in one piece. My dear, at least for today, right now, you have. We're here and it was my pleasure."

Ed was pure grace in a taxi cab...Atlanta's best kept secret.

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I need a home!

2009-08-10T19:45:00.000-04:00

If there's a stray dog within a hundred feet of me, I'll find it.

Apes and I found this adorable mutt running down the middle of the highway.

He's got a massive underbite that makes me giggle and yes, I've kissed those teeth.

He's grown on us, but we can't have four dogs. So which one of ya'll is gonna step up and love him?

He's leash and potty trained, loves to snuggle and is good with other dogs.

Don't disappoint me blogging buds!

Help Kamikaze find a home! (What else would you name a dog that runs in traffic?)

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How I've missed thee

2009-08-09T11:43:00.001-04:00

You have no idea how much I've missed blogging! I feel so out of touch!

I am going to be working for an Atlanta based non profit for the next several months, requiring quite a bit of travel between home and the office.

I just spent two weeks in Atlanta getting brought up to speed on the goings on of the marketing/branding department and while I had a great time in the big city (finally got to meet Shannon and Sweet Melissa!), I really really missed Apes, home, the dawgs and having time to blog.

Apes picked me up at the airport and shuttled me to the river for a weekend of serenity. No cable, no internet, just us, the dogs and the water. We're still here...I'm blogging from my cell phone because I couldn't resist.

Corn ball Apes is at it again (I'm not complaining, I've missed that too!)

First, you have to know we have nicknames for all our dogs.

Rosie can be: Ro, RoRo, Ro-ster, Pidge or Rosie the one eyed wonder.

Jean Paul can be: Poopsie, the Poo or Jean Paul the Poodle Pope.

Stewart can be: Stew, Stewie, the big dog or Dude.

This morning, after rolling over to hug Apes and tell her (again) how much I've missed her, I scooted down toward the edge of the bed to love on Stew, the big dog.

"You know," I said to Apes, looking over my shoulder, "The Dude wasn't as happy to see me as I thought he'd be. He just sniffed me and walked away."

"Aw, honey, its not personal," Apes said, joining me to love on Stew. "He's just getting older and has been more subdude than normal."

It took less than five seconds for her to be proud of herself.

"That's perfect!!! Did you get it? Sub-DUDE?!!"

I had gotten it and thought it was just as funny as she did.

We hee-hawed together, rolled around with the dogs some more and I realized, again, how good it is to be home.

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whoa doggy

2009-08-04T19:10:00.001-04:00

Work is kicking my butt! I miss ya'll! I fly home this weekend - see you then if not before!

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Best Facebook Status EVER

2009-08-01T18:36:00.000-04:00

My friend Tracy just posted:

Sent my naked son to his room to get dressed and he came back out wearing winter gloves and a reflective bracelet...

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You Choose.

2009-07-31T22:36:00.003-04:00

The second I walked out of my hotel this morning, sticky air smacked me in the face.

"Gross," I spurted, immediately irritated.

Sighing, I threw my 400 pound computer bag over my shoulder and began the four block walk to the office.

My new shoes rubbed my heels raw, I could tell sweat was beginning to stain the underarms of my shirt and my decision to stay up half the night to finish watching the Hannah Montana movie didn't seem so wise.

Yes. The Hanna Montana movie. Shut it. I actually liked it.

Stumbling into the building, I entered the elevator behind a beautiful, full figured African American woman. Dressed in bright colors, she had an infectious smile and an energy that I swear made her glow.

Before I could stop myself, I smiled back at her and thought:

"Self, this woman deserves a medal for breaking through your grump-a-pot-o-mus mood."

I met her eyes and said:

"With a smile that big, you have to be thrilled it's Friday."

She nodded and said:

"Yes, I am. It's also my last day of work."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, about 1,600 of us are getting laid off today."

"Wow. I, uh..."

I didn't know what to say. It didn't compute. Her smile. Her energy. Her mood.

She couldn't be HAPPY about being laid off.

Could she?

All of these thoughts must have registered on my face.

Just before the elevator doors opened up to the sixth floor, she said:

"I have a choice. I get to choose."

"Choose what?" I asked, mesmerized by this woman.

"My mood."

With that, she stepped out onto the sixth floor, the floor getting ready to hand her a pink slip, and she waved.

And winked.

Hateway

2009-07-29T18:41:00.000-04:00

Years ago, I laughed hysterically when my pal Amanda referred to her Gateway computer as her Hateway.

At the time, I found it clever and even filed the term in my memory bank for future use.

I wasn't expecting to use it in relation to the Hateway laptop I inherited from Apes.

Nothing like a laptop that decides not to turn on.

Kaput. Done.

Stupid Hateway.

And karma.

I never shoulda laughed at Amanda's pain...
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