I Wrote My Readers A Love Letter (Sort Of)

I've had 96 page views today. That surprises me for two reasons. One: I haven't been writing that much lately, so there's not much new content to be enjoyed. And two: the only reason I came here today was to show you that I wrote you a love letter. Sort of.

Have a splendiferous 8 days, ladies and gents. I know I will! Peace out!

The Day I Almost Lost My Leg To An Evil Sea Monster

A few days ago, I finally got to enjoy the first beach day of the summer with gal pal, Arielle. It was a gorgeous day--clear blue sky, warm but breezy, and sunny enough to get a jump start on our tans. It was a perfectly normal, perfectly wonderful, perfectly unexceptional day at the beach.

After a few hours of sunbathing, we decided to head down to the water for a quick swim. As we approached the ocean, we noticed a small group of women yanking their children out of the shallows, waving their arms around and shouting at one another in warning. Curious, Arielle and I headed over to find out what the commotion was all about. A rather buxom woman in a pink bikini told us she'd just seen a sting ray on the bottom. And according to her, it was the biggest sting ray ever seen on the East Coast.

She stretched her arms so wide, it was as if she was made of silly putty.

Now, before you panic, there are 2 things you need to know about the South Carolina coast. Number one: the water isn't crystal clear. In fact, it's so silty you can't see anything beneath its surface. That means that you're swimming with the fishes without being able to see the fishes, which is both alarming and comforting at the same time. Number two: yes, sting rays can be pretty big. However, the children were playing in water that was about ankle deep. And in all the years I've been swimming in the Carolina oceans, I've never seen a sting ray. (Not to say that I'm a marine expert. I'm not. I'm sure there are a bazillion sting ray sightings in any given summer. I'm just saying I've never seen one.)

Also, it should be said that rarely does a sting ray ever grow to the size of a school bus,
 which is what pink bikini lady was leading us to believe.

Undeterred, but erring on the side of caution, Arielle and I walked several yards down from the sting ray sighting, and plunged into the waves. The water was deliciously chilly, and we spent the next half an hour floating, and laughing, and splashing. 

We ♥ the ocean.

In the middle of a particularly funny story, a wave took me under and swept me away from Arielle. I wanted to hear the punch line, so I started walking toward her. And that's when I stepped on something that was clearly NOT the sandy bottom. And how did I know that, you ask? Well, readers, it moved. And I reacted thusly:

In case the picture isn't self-explanatory...ahem...."AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH."

Arielle was still several feet away from me and could not hear my distress howl over the sound of the waves. All I knew, in that split second, was that there were two major objectives that needed to be achieved, and quickly. One: get the hell out of dodge. And two: warn my friend of the impending doom beneath my feet. So I did the only logical thing.

I launched myself at Arielle and latched around her neck, legs kicking behind me.

She was utterly confused.

"What the.....?" she asked.

"Wiggle...slimy....trying to eat me...," I sputtered.

"WHAT?" Arielle shouted.

"STING RAY!!!!!!!!!!"

That got her attention. And the frantic paddling for shore began. Neither of us would let our feet touch the sand, which led to hauling ourselves up on the beach like seals. We were safe, our toes uneaten, and butts unstung. 

And somewhere along the coast of South Carolina, the elephantine sting ray of death swims evilly beneath the surface, with an Abby-sized footprint on its back.

...I Don't Need Anything Else, Except This Lamp...

Vacation.


That word, in and of itself, is enough to send me into the happy dance.


Just say it with me, readers. Enunciate. Feel the syllables roll around on you tongue.


"Vaaaaa-caaaaa-tioooooon."


Isn't it titillating??


For the first time in 3 years, Brian and I are actually packing up, hitting the road, and going somewhere (that is not here) for an extended period of time. The key part of that sentence is that we're going somewhere (THAT IS NOT HERE.) As in, we're leaving home. As in, we're going away. 


The last time we were away from home for any stretch of time was when Brian was in the hospital. It's true that neither of us had to work during that long, emotional week. But sleeping on a fold-out chair is far from a vacation. In fact, the last REAL vacation we took was February of 2010. So, I'm a little rusty when it comes to the planning, and the preparing, and the packing.


Let me just put it out there, friends. My OCD is in overdrive right now. My house is COVERED in lists. From my desk...

To my office.

The dry-erase board in the kitchen that is usually reserved for my weekly meal plan has been taken over by the sudden need to jot down a list of supplies we need to pack, since Dizzy (our diabetic kitty) is making the trip with us.

And not even the bathroom mirror is immune. (Anyone recognize the shower curtain from "This Morning, I Became An Assassin"?)

All the post-it notes you see above, and they don't even begin to cover all the lists I've got rolling around in my head right now. (I may or may not already be planning my wardrobe for the week in question. Maybe. I wouldn't admit to it if I was...)


The funny thing is that we don't leave until Tuesday. I have a WHOLE WEEK to figure out what suitcase to use, which socks to pack, and whether or not to take my bathing suit. (We're staying with family. They don't have a pool. But you never know when a pool might present itself, am I right?)


And if I pack a bathing suit, I have to pack a cover-up, beach towels, sunscreen, and my floppy hat. 


OMG...where IS my floppy hat??


Ooh, that reminds me, I need to make sure I find Brian's water shoes. I'll bet my hat is near them, buried in the depths of my closet. That makes sense...they're both aquatic necessities. 


I should probably pack my giant water bottle, too.


Ok, maybe I don't need to take the floppy hat. I mean, it's a little old fashioned. And I only wear it at the beach to keep the sun off my face. I don't need the hat. Or the water shoes. But I definitely need the bathing suit. 


And the sunscreen. 


And the beach towels.


Sigh. Even my blog isn't immune from my list-making. So I'm going to succumb to the need, drink another cup of coffee in my awesome unicorn mug, and continue making lists until the sun goes down.

Yeah. That's the coolest coffee mug, EVER.

PS: For those who didn't get it, the title of this post comes from my favorite scene in the movie "The Jerk," starring Steve Martin. For the curious, click here.

Conversations with My Husband: The Omelet That Never Ends

As I mentioned in my last post, Brian is on summer vacation from school. Which means he's home 4 days a week, from dawn to dusk. It's been three whole weeks of no school, and I've enjoyed every second of having him home.


So much so that I'm afraid I've already been spoiled by his constant presence.


Because even though Brian doesn't have classes right now, he still works on weekends---three 12-hour shifts, Friday through Sunday. And even though I always look forward to my Gilmore Girls Marathon on Friday morning, by Friday evening, I'm desperately lonely.


Which leads to conversations like this one, which we had last night while climbing into bed:


Abby: "Don't go to work tomorrow."
Brian: "I have to."
Abby: "No, don't. Stay home with me. You know you want to."
Brian: "Of course I do. But I have to work because we need money."
Abby: "P-shaw. Who needs money?? I'll pay you to stay home."
Brian: "And where are you going to get the money to pay me to stay home?"
Abby: "My bank account."
Brian: "You mean our joint bank account?"
Abby: "Well, yeah."
Brian: "Uh huh. And what do we do when we have to spend that money on groceries and there's no more money left in that joint bank account for us to survive off of?"
Abby: *grumble grumble whine sigh grumble*

It continues on like this, logic versus relentlessness, until it becomes obvious (to me, anyway) that only bribery will work.


Abby: "Soooo...if you stay home tomorrow, I'll make you breakfast. Anything you want in the whole wide world."
Brian: "Oh yeah?"
Abby: "Yeah. And then we'll go to Disney Land and have lunch with Tinkerbell. And then we'll go on a cruise. In outer space. It'll be awesome. You really should stay home."
Brian: (long pause, then) "Well, alright. I'll stay home."
Abby: "REALLY?"
Brian: "Yeah, sure."
Abby: "Awesome! So, what do you want for breakfast?"
Brian: "An omelet."
Abby: "Just a plain omelet?"
Brian: "No. An omelet with sausage. And onions. And peppers."
Abby: "Ok, I can do that."
Brian: "And tomatoes. And cheese. It's not an omelet without cheese."
Abby: "Naturally."
Brian: "I also want scratch-made biscuits. And pancakes."
Abby: "Gee, you're planning on being really hungry tomorrow morning."
Brian: "Yep. Pancakes from scratch--no mix. And organic syrup."
Abby: "Wow...."
Brian: "And also, apple-wood smoked bacon."
Abby: "Are you sure you want to eat so much before your first trip on a rocket to outer space? You might be sick."
Brian: "Yep."
Abby: "So let me get this straight. You want an omelet with sausage and onions and peppers and tomatoes and cheese, scratch-made biscuits and pancakes with organic syrup..."
Brian: "Scratch-made pancakes, no mix."
Abby: "Right, scratch-made pancakes, no mix, with organic syrup, and apple-wood smoked bacon. Did I get that right?"
Brian: "Yep."
Abby: "Gee. I'm going to be cooking all day."
Brian: "But if you're cooking all day, we won't have time for Disney Land, lunch with Tinkerbell, or the outer-space cruise."
Abby: "I know."
Brian: "So I guess we better cancel all those plans, huh?"
Abby: "Yeah, probably so."
Brian: "That stinks. Maybe another day?"
Abby: "Maybe."
Brian: "Don't worry. We can go Monday. I'm off all day on Monday."
Abby: "Okay."


We open our prospective books and read in silence for a few minutes. And then...


Abby: "Wait, what kind of cheese do you want on your omelet?"
Brian: (without missing a beat) "Goat."
Abby: "Goat. Got it. So you want a goat cheese omelet with sausage and onions and peppers and tomatoes with scratch-made biscuits..."


And we both collapse into giggles. Because we are awesome. And I am not above bribing my husband with the omelet that never ends in order to spend a few more hours with him. Any day.

I'm Not Dead, I'm Just Thoroughly Enjoying My Summer Vacation

Up until about 3 weeks ago, my daily schedule looked something like this:


7:45-8:55: Wake up, coffee, shower, dress for the day
8:56-10:00: Work stuff
10:01-12:30: Write, illustrate and publish blog
12:31-5:00: "Abby Time" (ie: internet surfing, writing stuff other than Abby Gabs, house work, TV catch-up time, etc.)
5:01: Close up shop
5:02: Celebrate because Brian is FINALLY home, even if his nose is in a book. Again.
5:03-bedtime: Spend as much time as possible with Brian, because he'll be gone all day tomorrow.


However, Brian finished up with school for the summer about 3 weeks ago. So now, my daily schedule looks more like this:


8:20-8:56: Wake up, scramble to shower and dress for the day.
8:57-9:30: Work stuff
9:31-bedtime: Hang out with Brian.


We've managed, in 3 weeks, to watch 3 seasons of Doctor Who. It's just another reason why working from home is totally beneficial when it comes to finding plenty of time for entertainment. We've also see The Avengers twice in the theater, been to the zoo in Columbia, and spent plenty of time with friends and family.


Needless to say, I'm totally in heaven.

This is the most time we've gotten to spend together in 18 months, so we're enjoying every minute...which explains my lack of posting recently. Quite honestly, my head is completely drained of anything other than how to best fill my hours with my husband. For the first time since Abby Gabs' creation, I honestly haven't thought much about blogging in the past 3 days. In fact, I can't remember a time when I haven't posted a blog until a Thursday of any given week. 


This may be a first. I'd have to check my archives to be sure.


I'm not so sure how the summer will go, and I won't make any promises here that I'll try to keep, will fail miserably at keeping, and will feel guilty for not keeping. Instead, I will just say that I'll post when I have something worth posting. And I'll keep enjoying Brian as long as I have him home every day. 


But don't worry, readers. Come August, he'll be going back to school to finish up his last semester, and I'll be all lonely and needy again. And when I'm lonely and needy, I photoshop pictures of myself with Donnie Wahlberg to make me feel better. And that's all the blog fodder a girl needs to post daily. Am I right?

How An Electronic Device Has Made My Life Exponentially Better (IE: I Might Write Sonnets & Song Lyrics In Its Honor)

Up until a few days ago, any time I wanted to watch TV, I first had to round up a gaggle of remotes. (I'm not sure just how many remotes constitutes a gaggle, but suffice it to say, it's more than two but less than 10.)


There was a remote for the cable box. Another for the PS3 (which we use as a DVD player as well as a game console.) A third remote was used solely for the purpose of changing between HDMI and AV (I have no idea what that means, only that HDMI2 means I can watch Buffy on DVD and AV2 means I can play Just Dance 2 on the Wii.) And then, there was the teeny, tiny, easy-to-lose sound remote. It's only job was to turn on the sound. I could have all 3 big remotes but without that little jerk, watching TV turned into a digital game of charades. 

Please let me reiterate my disdain for the teeny tiny surround sound remote. I hated it from Day One, which was approximately 2 years ago (read: around the same time that Brian started nursing school.) My begging started during that same time frame.


Abby: Honey, can't we please just buy a universal remote?
Brian: I mean, I guess...what's wrong with 4 remotes?
Abby: Seriously?
Brian: We just need to find somewhere to put them, so they're always there when we need them.
Abby: *crickets chirping*
Brian: You know, like a basket, or a remote caddy, or a special drawer.
Abby: *crickets still chirping*
Brian: Hey, what about that basket your Mom gave you for office stuff? That would be perfect! We'll put it right in front of the TV so we won't forget.
Abby: *you guessed it. More crickets.*
Brian: It'll be GREAT!


Needless to say, Brian's ingenious idea only worked about .64% of the time...which is to say that the only time all 4 remotes found their home in their comfy new basket was when I was cleaning up the living room for company, and they all got put there at the very. same. time. Inevitably, the cable remote stayed nearest to my coffee mug. The PS3 remote would wind up in a drawer on the other side of the room. The TV remote was most often found under the entertainment center.


And the teeny tiny sound remote? Who knows. It's been lost no less than eleventy-billion times.


After two years of begging, and pleading, and cursing the teeny tiny sound remote, my dreams finally came true. Brian drove to Best Buy, acquired a new universal remote, and programmed that bad boy to perfection. And guess what----it does ALL THE STUFF!!

HOORAY!!!


I've never been so in love with a device that runs on batteries IN MY LIFE. (Except for my cell phone. Although, we've been on the outs for a while now. But it's still a love/hate relationship.) One little green button is devoted to turning on the TV. The other little green button turns on the cable box. The handy-dandy INPUT button switches between HDMI and AV. 


And my favorite new button on my favorite new remote??? The AMP button. Why? 

BECAUSE IT MAKES THE TEENY TINY SOUND REMOTE OBSOLETE!!!

If I haven't adequately put into words how I feel about this universal remote, let's try an Abby Gabs illustration instead:

*Artist's note: I may or may not say that quote every single time I pick up the remote, in a deep falsetto. And I may or may not swoosh the remote through the air like it's flying, singing the Superman theme song all the live long day. Maybe. It hasn't been recorded for posterity, so you can only take my word for it at this point.*

I would take a second to be slightly embarrassed about my obvious infatuation with a piece of plastic. But I'm too busy hugging it and kissing it and calling it George.

A Day At The Zoo (In Pictures)

I don't pretend to be a professional photographer. I'm really not. I barely consider myself an amateur. But I love taking pictures, especially when I can point my lens at something relatively interesting. And a rainy afternoon at the Riverbanks Zoo was just the excuse I needed to go all Ansel Adams on you guys. 


And so, I present to you my very first photo gallery, hosted by Abby Gabs. Enjoy.

Sri Lankan Fishing Cat

Meerkat

African Elephant

Juvenile Giraffe

Hamadryas Baboon

African Lion

Grizzly Bear

Red Kangaroo

They turned out great, didn't they? But it wouldn't be a true Abby Gabs gallery without a few candids...am I right?

Our zoo pals for the day, Steven and Arielle.

Abby and Arielle, finding shelter from the rain.

Steven feeding some very hungry Lorikeets.

My favorite picture of the day. Brian = Buffet.

Hanging out by the elephants, enjoying a frosty beverage.

Well, I may never be a paid professional photographer, but I try. Somehow I'm not surprised that the funny pictures turned out just as good (if not better) than the serious ones. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all.

Even if we were emptying rainwater out of our shoes by the end of the day.

Is there anything more comical than huge white trash-bag ponchos bearing the silhouettes of zoo animals? I think not.

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PS: Gold! Diamonds! Money! None of these things are the grand prize for winning your vote in the Yeah Write challenge. In fact, we really only win bragging rights. And pride. And the rights to strut around for approximately 24 hours after the votes are tallied.  But your vote would still be greatly appreciated.  Head on over to Yeah Write to check out some awesome bloggers, and leave your vote by way of checking the little yellow star next to my entry, "Mood Swings." Make sure you vote for 4 others as well---you won't have a hard time finding blogs you love. They're all fantastic!!

Mood Swings

Restless. Like the pounding of the sea in that ancient rhythm. The ebb and flow of my life leaves me wanting more. My soul is itchy beneath my skin, desperate for meaning. I look to menial tasks to make me feel like I've accomplished something in a day where my only duty is to answer the phone, answer the email, answer the same question over and over. There's no logic to it. There's no real reason to feel this way. And yet, I do. I need to get out. I need to get away. I need to bury my feet in the sand, lift my face to the sun, and purge discontent. I am restless.

Content. Like wrapping hands around a steaming mug of fresh coffee. It spreads its warmth up through my chest, wrapping me in an embrace as familiar as time. I prop my feet up on my husband's lap, cover us both with the gray-green afghan, and sink into gratification. There's nowhere to be tonight. No deadlines to meet, no tests to cram for, nothing requiring our immediate attention. Brian rubs lazy circles on my calf with his thumb and my eyelids begin to droop. As the moon rises in the sky, I feel my heart fill with unrestricted, absolute love. I am content.

Listless. Like every muscle has turned to water and any spirit once perceived has now dissipated. Lifeless, limbless, I am so much flotsam on a lazy sea. I have no desire to move, no desire to breathe, no desire at all. I float on an air of laziness. The only energy spent is that of the solitary tear drop that ekes from my eye. Questions bounce around in my brain: When is it my turn? When will life stop being so hard? What did I do wrong? A thunderclap outside and all I can think is finally, the weather will match my mood. I am listless.

Hopeful. Like a gull on the edge of the wind, soaring up, up, up into the blue. I place my hands on my belly and close my eyes, imagining what it will be like to feel life move beneath them one day. In the deepest parts of night, I lie awake, eyes barely focused on the popcorn ceiling, and pretend I can hear her cries for me, wailing through the gloom. I can almost trace the swell of her cheeks, the curve of her elbow, the slope of her nose, as if it were my own face in my mind's eye. Hair, thick and dark; eyes the color of rain clouds; fingernails minuscule and translucent: I can see her. How I dream for her. How I wish for her. Knowing that she is still within me, somewhere...I am hopeful.

Hurt. Like a child sent to bed without her supper for no reason she can understand. I am bewildered, rejected, discarded like so much trash. I reexamine everything I ever said, everything I ever did, to deserve this treatment. I turn to those I can still trust, those who love me for who and what I am, those who don't judge me for my misgivings. And still, it is there, in the back of my mind. Each word a weapon, and the silences that are deafening. They seem to go on forever. I've wished for a chance to understand. But I do not. I cannot. And I have to stop trying. For my own sake, for yours. I will retreat to my corner now and lick my wounds. Self-preservation is the only avenue I know now. I am hurt.

Optimistic. Like the very knowledge that the storm will eventually blow over. The bits and pieces will be picked up and put back together again. I will find a way to move past the others and be victorious. My life may not be perfect, but my life is my own. I will live it to the fullest, find a way to dull the aches and overcome the pains. I will revel in my love, my family, my friends. I will write and write and write, peeling away a layer each time I hit "publish." I will laugh too loudly, love too fiercely, and live too largely. I will be okay. I am optimistic.

I am linking up with Yeah Write today,

because it's not very often that I'm in a serious 

mood, and so it should be recorded

for posterity.

Unicorns and Rainbows

I read a lot of blogs. A lot a lot. But there are only a handful of blogs that I read on a daily basis. One of those in my "top five" is Late Enough, written by fellow blogger and zombie aficionado, Alex. She's a planner, she's delightfully funny, and she's a Super Mom (i.e., the kind of Mom I hope to be one day.) And did I mention that her husband is always enthusiastic about participating in her blog? (Hint hint, Brian...)


In short, I am a major Late Enough groupie. It's true.


One average, run-of-the-mill Wednesday back in March, I was enjoying my daily dose of Late Enough humor with a blog post titled "What I Did Instead of Writing A Thoughtful Post." I smiled. I recognized a few of my own best procrastination techniques. I even giggled a few times. But it wasn't until I got to the bottom of the posts and read the tags that I literally laughed out loud. 

Alex never misses a chance to draw a laugh out of her audience, even if it happens in the tags (which, let's face it, most people don't bother to read.) I, however, try to create silly tags for my own posts so I always read them. And this one has to be, hands down, my favorite tag, ever. And so, in true worshiper fashion, I left Alex a comment.

I laughed when I read her response, totally assuming that she was just being her witty self again, even in the comment form. I went about my day, occasionally picturing unicorns dancing in my head, but never putting much more thought into her request for an Abby Gabs Photoshopped graphic....


....Until she called me out on Twitter a few days later.

Needless to say, I was thrilled beyond belief that Alex wanted to collaborate with me on a Late Enough project. Naturally, it had to be PERFECT. So I spend a couple of days choosing the right images, deliberating over the perfect fonts, reworking the wording of the selection.


After about a week, Alex and I had come up with a graphic we both loved. And just a few days ago, that graphic was released for purchase, worldwide, on Alex's Zazzle shop.


That's right, readers. You can now own your very own Late Enough/Abby Gabs t-shirt, coffee mug, or bumper sticker!!

T-Shirt Terrificness

Coffee Mug Coolness

Bumper Stick Awesomeness

I truly couldn't be more excited about this if I tried. Getting to work with Alex was so much fun, and I'm secretly keeping my fingers crossed that she'll think of another graphic idea that she wants soon. I am her slave in the Photoshop world. 


In the meantime, if you love unicorns and sarcasm, this might just be the graphic for you. Feel free to visit the Late Enough Zazzle Shop in order to tweak your design. You can choose different t-shirt styles, colors, and fits. You can also choose between a plethora of different coffee mugs. 


It's everything that is awesome about Late Enough and Abby Gabs, all smooshed into one picture. After all, what could be better than unicorns, sarcasm, and pretty colors? Well, I'll tell you. A coffee delivery system with unicorns, sarcasm, and pretty colors, that's what.

A Glimpse Into the Thought Process of That Gabby Abby

Yesterday was one of those days. You know, the kind where I watched the clock, waiting not-so-patiently for 5:00, so I could race to the door, lock up, and officially end my day of hell work. At 4:59, sharp, I flipped the sign on the door to "CLOSED," grabbed my keys, and headed out to park the golf cart for the night. (Yes, I have a golf cart. I swear, it's not as exciting as it seems.)


As I walked outside, I noticed that the wind was beginning to pick up. I'd looked at the radar a few hours earlier and watched the progress of the storms blowing in our direction. I took a deep breath in, and hoped for a thunderstorm. They always cheer me up.


I climbed onto the cart, put my key in the ignition, and put it in drive. Off I went, the last step in finishing my workday.


As I turned the corner, a gust of wind smacked me in the face, blowing my hair in all different directions. Suddenly, there was an itchy, tingly feeling on my left ankle. I reached down and scratched, never taking my foot off of the accelerator. 


Another gust of wind, and that weird itchy feeling came back almost immediately. My first, immediate thought was, "Crap on a cracker, I bet it's a spider."


I pulled up to the unit door where I'd be parking the cart, put on the parking break, and glanced down at my ankle, heart pounding, expecting to see an eight-legged demon hitching a ride on my leg. Instead, I saw this:

I tried to take a picture. Apparently, that's as difficult at this angle
as actually hitting this spot with my razor.

Now, I've been shaving my legs every single day since I was 12 years old. No joke. I can't stand the feeling of stubble, and so every morning, I dutifully lather up and shave my legs. And somehow, I'd managed to miss a spot. But it wasn't just a small, stubbly spot that had been missed for a day or two. This was a patch of hair, each one approximately an inch long, that was blowing in the breeze like Farrah Fawcett in a wind tunnel.


Seriously. They were long enough to braid. 


I was immediately concerned with my own lack of attention to detail. Clearly, I'd been haphazard in my daily shaving. I checked my other ankle, and it was smooth as a baby's butt. So, it was just my left ankle that was proving to be a difficult place to reach with my razor.


As I walked into the office to finish my paperwork, I wondered to myself what would happen if I continued to miss that same spot over and over again. And then it hit me.

May the fourth be with you.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my thought process often leads to posts here on Abby Gabs. (And yes, the idea of Photoshopping Chewbacca onto my ankle really did pop into my head. I'm not fibbing.)

A Princess Party for Two

Reason number eleventy hundred and twenty one why I adore Twitter---it gives me the opportunity to talk to other bloggers. Case in point: about a week ago, I was perusing my Twitter feed when I noticed friend and fellow blogger, Laverne, from Kindred Adventures, was tweeting about a somewhat boring experience at a child's birthday party. I jumped in, hoping to give her a reason to giggle. 


And our conversation led to this blog post.


And so, without further ado, I'm thrilled to give you my very first co-blog, written by Laverne and illustrated by yours truly. Please enjoy!

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White mock-vintage mirrors hung on the purple walls. A table in the middle of the room held china place settings, ready for a tea party. A small stage in the back of the room waited to be filled with 5-year-olds dressed as princesses. Rock-n-roll musical chairs, Justin Bieber, hip-hop-hokey-pokey and Taylor Swift pulsated continuously. Smiles painted their faces and rosy cheeks, glitter and giggles and screeches showed their happiness. A room holding racks of princess dresses, rows and rows of bedazzled shoes, pails of crowns and containers of wands waited to transport the girls from a birthday party to the world of princesses.

I sunk into the yellow paisley embroidered couch. My daughter didn't want me to leave. (I had planned on dropping her off and then heading over to a coffee shop for some "me" time.) I was here at the Princess Party for the duration...two long hours. Sigh. The smell of bubble gum perfume, children's lip gloss and nail polish saturated the room. The music intertwined with the eardrum-piercing screeching left me of thoughts of my own. I took out my phone and began to tweet. 

I tweeted some more...and still, nothing.

Then, there she was...Abby.

Now it was my turn to smile.

"How are you? What are you up to?" I was happy to find a friendly face that might help make the time fly by.

"Just finished a great run. All good here! How are you?" she happily replied.

"I'm at a princess party right now and hopefully soon, a few beverages, some dinner, and bed!" I shared.

"Aw, man!," Abby tweeted giddily. "I wanna have a princess party!" 

My imagination began to drift. Suddenly I felt like I was with Abby in one of her drawings. Just what would it be like if our life was like a Princess Party?

Of course, the hardest thing we'd have to do in the morning would be just to get out of bed. Our hair, nails, and makeup would be done for us.

Too much glitter and enough sequins--enough to blind a person--would be all the rage. The second hardest thing we would do would be to decide which of the rows and rows of sequins, puffy, fluffy layered dressed we wanted to wear that day.

Our day would be spent twirling in our dresses and hanging out with other princesses, doing what princesses do best.

"Mommy....Mooommmyyy......MOMMY!"

My daydream crashed around me. "Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go potty."

Sigh.

It was glittery and sparkly and wonderful.....while it lasted!

*     *     *     *     *     *     * 

Princess dresses, tiaras, and Jose Cuervo...you guys KNOW I had a blast working on this project with Laverne!!! I hope you'll check out her awesome blog, co-written with best pal, Shirley. And I hope that one day soon, Laverne and I will be able to have a real life Princess Party...without Justin Bieber. (Just sayin'.)

Today we're linking up with Yeah Write.

Because we have a feeling that there are some

other closeted princesses out there in the

blogosphere that might like to join us for

a royal margarita...or two...