This ain’t no Oprah’s book club

Besides working and mothering and wife’ing – I try to have some fun. Just a little bit. Because I’m a frustrated English major deep inside, I’ve been talking to a few of my ‘hood moms about starting a book club. We talked a lot about starting it. For months we talked. But nothing happened. Then one of these marvy women suggested we join a club already in progress. One started and run by a group of responsible women who actually do what they say they want to do. Cool concept right?

So we dove in. Kind of. Work, kid stuff, and personal marital commitments (such as trying to see my husband for 5 minutes every night) got in the way. But I finally made a few meetings. And it was great.

The women who started this group are, ahem, seasoned. They’ve lived through divorce, remarriage, kids in college, retirement and multiple health issues.  There’s a mix of life stages – women with young kids, older kids, grandkids and no kids.  We rotate houses every month – this is my favorite part about the club, access to new peeks into how people live. If there was a club called just-go-see-how-other-people-live-every-month I’d so join it. I’d be the president of that club.  And by the way, I am not interested in judging. I’m just extremely curious. inquisitive. Nosey.

Admittedly, all the books we’ve picked have been a bit morose – but the conversations have been anything but!  Here’s a short list of what was covered in the last few meetings:

  • A second chance romance and love story by the host of the night that involved the Italian countryside and sangria
  • Did you know you can get a tummy tuck paid for by insurance if you partner it with a hysterectomy? True story.
  • No matter how Kosher you are, take a xanax if you need to. I don’t know what this means but there was a lot of time spent on it.
  • A field trip to a master bath that featured a bidet toilet seat cover combo (heated with a remote control).
  • Baby daddies, the Philadelphia public school system and wars started because of false religious beliefs.

We fit in some books too…

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Here’s a synopsis of what we thought -

  • 10 year olds shouldn’t get married.
  • spoiler alert – the pajamas were actually a concentration camp uniform
  • you don’t need no stinking man when you have a horse.

Can’t wait for the next meeting!

Happy Birthday WMEP

I’m one.

Just a baby blog. Not even a toddler yet.

I started the blog to get me through my first year of 40. I decided I needed a hobby (that wasn’t watching TV).

I thought I’d write about family, work, life. Nothing heavy. Maybe write about my travels, maybe write about food. No real rules.

I graduated college with an English Ed degree. There were several years of my childhood where I was convinced I’d be a writer. But then I wasn’t.

I wanted to write a post a day. That did not happen.

I wanted to write about my family. I have to get back to that.

I wanted to write about my husband’s family. I still plan to do that.

Some days I dreaded the empty post page, other days I couldn’t wait to get to it.

One of my blogger buddies told me not to sweat it. If I only wanted to write a line or two – that’s what I should do. And some days that’s what I did.

I love photographs – so I posted many.

I haven’t upgraded the site. There’s no jazzy pages or plug-ins. Maybe when I’m a tween.

I told you all that I started the blog because I’m nosey and I hoped that you were all nosey too. Turns out, you are. Lucky me.

I’m not sure if I should even be celebrating turning 1. I should be cooler than that and just move on. Pretend like it’s any other day.

But I’m not cool. I’m excited to make it this far. 269 posts and counting.

Thanks so much for tuning in. Let’s see what the terrible twos bring!

 

 

Bard Books

I went to go visit the cutest little baby on the Upper West Side of NYC. I would show you a picture but his parents are normal, private people that don’t need to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram every waking moment of their new baby’s life. Instead they are living in the moment and off the social grid. Freaks.
Look at these books I found for the babe. Forget “Goodnight Moon” – cool babies read these…

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I went with the fish tale…

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They also had Romeo and Juliet…but that’s just crazy.

Peace out 2012

It’s been a year hasn’t it?  I won’t go into a list of resolutions (because I don’t have any) or  tell you about the happy, tragic, ridiculous things that have happened in the world this year.  You can google those.  But personally, for me and my fam, this year has been full of change. We leapt into high school, turned 40, let a teenager join Facebook, agreed to let a 9 year play football, saw the Eiffel tower, mended some broken fences (literally and figuratively), discovered gel manicures, skipped Fall Ball and did not feel guilty about it, and oh yeah – started a blog.

I  needed a hobby, something besides eating. Last year, around this time, I started thinking about WMEP.  In all honesty, I started the blog to write about event planning. After all, it’s what I do, it’s what I love. But then I began thinking about blog titles – and defining myself as just a planner didn’t fit. Something was off.  I read a few blogs on how to start blogs.  Then, like the true spaz that I am, I read blogs on how to blog successfully. What kind of blog did I want to be? Funny? Informative? Personal? Lots of pressure. I didn’t tell anyone about it at first, but eventually I owned up to my husband.  I told him that in order to make it interesting – I may have to put some personal family stuff out into the universe. With photos. Because I’m convinced people need a visual. Or is that just me? He told me to go for it (with a few caveats).  And so I did. It took me a few months to get my act together, to get back to writing, to do something that was literally just for me.  And I loved it. I love it.

In the beginning I wrote every day – or tried to. It’s been harder the last few months, work and stress and life seem to be taking up all my time. But it’s the start of a new year, I’ve been writing since last April. 178 posts. Over 16,000 views. Almost a 1,000 comments. I’m hooked!

So maybe I will make a resolution for 2013. I resolve to blog every day. Or at least every other day. Every week at the latest.

I resolve to write something in 2013 at some time.

See how tough I am?

We toasted the New Year in last night with shrimp and champagne. Hope you were toasted too.

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Rear View

There are literally thousands of blogs out there. Maybe millions. Topics include politics, religion, love, family, you name it and there’s a blog about it.

Bloggers write for many different reasons. Some write to vent or complain. Others write to educate or entertain. Still others write as a form of connection to the world. When people ask me (all 5 of you) why I write, I never have a clean answer. I dunno. Maybe I feel the need to over communicate. Maybe I’m a frustrated English grad. Or maybe I just needed a hobby, and I’m certainly not jogging.  Those same people then tell me how they could never write a blog, what would they write about? Why would anyone care? They probably won’t. But who cares!

Here’s why I blog.

 

This is what I saw when I stopped at a light yesterday. What do I do with this picture? I blog it.

Girl, Uninterrupted

Yesterday was “International Day of the Girl”. Did you know that? I didn’t. I thought it was “International Day of the Conference Call”.

CNN.com asked some of the most impressive women in the world what they’d tell their 15-year-old self. I won’t tell you how many times I tried to link that article to this post and failed. Just know that I tried.  WordPress is getting under my nerves. I digress.

Here’s what I would tell my 15-year-old self if I could:

  • Even though they are driving you crazy right now – your family will be the most important thing in your life.
  • Although you’ve been plotting to get the hell out of Pennsylvania – in about 20 years you’ll be back – and love it.
  • Be kind to everyone. You have no idea what they are going through.
  • In 4 years you’ll meet the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with. Sorry. It won’t be David Canfield. You’ll do much better.
  • Go get your eyebrows waxed. Today. Now.
  • All the reasons you think you’re goofy, dorky and weird will be all the reasons why people love you. Lighten up.

Not as eloquent as Melinda Gates or Oprah – but there you have it.

I couldn’t find a picture of myself at 15 – but here’s one that’s close enough. Yes, that’s a maroon velvet vest I’m wearing. There may or may not have been a matching skort on the bottom.

The Isle is full of…

Dear Olympic Opening Ceremonies,

Where do I begin.  I’ll start where you started. Sheep. Actually you started with a short film, but I have literally nothing to say about it. I stuck with you for almost 5 hours.  The sheep were cute. How very English of you. Then began a mixed up, jumbled, mess that included everything from Kenneth Branagh reading Shakespeare (that part I liked) to the Queen jumping out of a helicopter with James Bond.  The only person more bored than me was Daniel Craig.

I really wanted to like it. I didn’t expect China. I didn’t even expect Sydney, Greece or Atlanta.  I even forgave the NBC commentary – oh sorry, that’s a lie – Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera were awful.  And Ryan Seacrest interviewing athletes? What did we do to deserve that? Was Bob Costas tied in a closet somewhere? Could we not find one person actually connected with sports?

Back to the actual ceremony.  I’ll skip complaining about the historical lesson via redecorating the stadium and go right to the worst part.  This may be because I’m bitter about our national heath care – but an entire 45 minute production about how much you love your medical plans seems, I dunno, batshit.

Then – to add to the creepiness – giant, scary balloon type monsters appear to herald all the great literature of England?? What?  No Alice, No Harry or Hermione.  Just Mary Poppins in all black.

Oh Danny boy…

By hour 3 I had given up and given in. I tried to tune to another channel – but I couldn’t do it. I had to watch the whole hot mess.  David Beckham in a speed boat without a speedo on? Of no use to me people. Flying/bicycle riding monkeys, musical mash-ups, and then finally – a predictable, flat-line performance of “Hey Jude”.  Why that song? So the audience could sing along? We are big Beatles fans in our house (huge) and even we were rolling our eyes.  By “we” I mean me. I was the only one hanging on by then. Everyone else had smartly gone on with their lives.

Sorry to be a pisser, as you say. Let me end with some positives.  I loved all the random shots of Wills and Kate. I could have watched an hour of them watching the ceremonies.  I loved the shots of the Queen during the singing of the National Anthem – frowning and wearing pink sparkles. Lovely. Mr. Bean was funny too. And expected. And welcome. And that’s about it.

Please note that this will in no way deter me from tuning in every day until the end. Then I’ll give you another chance with the closing ceremonies. By then I will have watched gymnastics, swimming, archery, beach volleyball, and fencing. I will have forgotten all about weirdo kids jumping on beds and the big multiculty statements you tried to make.  Lucky for you – like most of the world – I have terrible short term memory.

So thanks for the effort.  You didn’t earn a medal and I’m sure you know you screwed up, but we love you anyway.

Best,

Crabby blogger from the U.S.

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