the would-be writers guild

I have many things to say, many feelings to express, and many elaborate and humble thank-yous to acknowledge, but I am unfortunately racing yet another deadline while trying to put together the details of our new home.

I plan to be back in the blogging saddle next Monday with pictures and details and everything! For now, thanks for all of your well-wishing and great advice. If I had to say one quick thing to let you know how it’s going in general, I would say that in every way (other than getting my internet connected) we have been pleasantly surprised.

See you Monday!

Did I forget about my giveaway? No, sir.

On Sunday I gathered a pen, post-it notes, a large bowl, and my ten-year-old son to conduct a random, un-biased drawing for my giveaway. Christian stirred the entries and pulled out none other than Becky of What It Is…XO! Congrats Becky!

Hey, Becky, want to know what you won? Well, I don’t know exactly, but the theme will be revolving around Things I Love From Utah. Please send me an e-mail with your mailing address!

And now for some quick, random updates from Moving Central:

1. Why didn’t anybody tell me that dogs get freaked out when your house is full of moving boxes and strange people? Frankie says relax, Lucy.

2. The person who estimated the size and breadth of our crap belongings probably should go back to Estimator School. Not even close, people.

3. Having people box my stuff up is weird. It also makes me sweat.

4. I have developed the ability to cry at random times and places.

5. The downside of having good friends is that leaving them sucks like a Hoover.

6. We heard yesterday that our cars arrived. They’re doing fine. Allegedly they’re planning a welcoming party for us. Such sweet cars we’ve got.

That’s all for now! I’ll try to post as time, energy, and Wi-Fi allow.

Last night we had a going away party, which turned out to be a wonderful cross between a wedding reception, a funeral, and a pool party cookout. People were wishing us luck, congratulating us, and expressing sympathy to our families. Kind of trippy, but in a really warm and fuzzy way. Plus, there was potluck, and if there’s one thing I truly believe, it’s that the best parties have potluck.

I am realizing that one of the great benefits of moving away is the chance to feel a swell of love and support from your home base. I remember DeDe telling me something similar when she moved back from Phoenix, something to the effect of not realizing how much you really are loved until you are leaving.

So, my advice to you is to either move far away, or tell everyone that you are moving far away and then sit back and reap the flow of love until your cup runneth over.

I went to bed last night tired and sore, but instead of sleeping I laid in the quiet dark and thought of each and every person at the party. I tried to remember everything that was said and everything that I felt. And even though I wanted to sleep, I thought of them all again. And then again. And then one more time for good measure.

I was overwhelmed with a few simple thoughts:

I am rich with incredible, interesting, and generous friends. And I am rich with family who are my also some of my dearest friends—kind, fun, ready to help, and ready to let go even when they’d prefer not to.

Then eventually, before I finally gave way to sleep around 4:00 a.m., I thought about how I bought hamburger and hot dog buns for the bring-your-own-meat, grill-your-own-meat part of the party and realized that I have 62 hamburger buns left over. Which means that I am also rich with hamburger buns.

Hey, I just got an idea about what to use in my giveaway!

I am loving your moving advice. I’ve read and re-read. I’ve made notes. I’ve made plans. You all should get together sometime and write a book together about moving, because the advice is just that good.

If I ever write a book about moving, it will be short. It will only take one page to write, “Don’t do it. It’s exhausting. Stay put.” I guess technically it would be a pamphlet.

So, I know some of you are holding out on me. I know you have even more great advice for me and my family and you just need a nudge to share it. Consider yourself nudged. Pour your wisdom upon me. Make a comment here and bask in my eternal appreciation. Plus, you’ll be eligible to win a prize that will knock your socks off. I still don’t know what the prize is yet, but this post is not about my chronic procrastination. It is about your moving advice. Give it here. Now.

We’ll talk about my procrastination issues later. Much, much later. I swear.

{Another re-run for you from August 2006. Warning: This post is rated PG-13.}

The highlight of Back to School Night was the moment I was sitting at Christian’s desk, listening to his teacher talk about her ideas and plans for the year, and noticed the picture he had lovingly drawn and left for me.

It took a minute to figure out that it was a portrait of Ryan and me. (I only figured this out by looking at the other kids’ desks and their portraits of very happy parents sitting on beaches, underneath trees, and in front of houses.)

The border was nice, just like the other kids’ pictures, and the color scheme was good. However, there was one key difference between Christian’s picture and the others. The other kids’ parents were WEARING CLOTHES!!!

When this occured to me, when it really sank in, I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head at the paper, searching for some sign that I had missed a pair of dockers and a nice sweater set and string of pearls somewhere. When I couldn’t find them, I began scanning for anatomy and was somewhat relieved to find that we were just vague peach and tan figures, proudly nude on our son’s third grade desk.

I took the picture with me when we were dismissed, shoved it behind the other papers and quickly thanked his teacher for her time. When I got home, I planned to calmly take Christian into the living room and ask him about the picture, and then explain that (even though we constantly walk around the house naked) it’s important that he draw us with clothes on for any future school projects.

“ARE WE NAKED IN THIS PICTURE?” I asked when I walked in the door and saw him in the kitchen.

He looked at me with a puzzled frown.

“No.”

“It looks like we don’t have any clothes on,” I said.

“You don’t like my picture?” he said.

Woops.

“It’s a great picture. I really do like it. My hair looks great, I love the border, and overall it’s just a great picture. But why didn’t you draw any clothes?”

“I’m not very good at drawing clothes.”

“Then draw bad clothes next time. Please.”

When Ryan got home that night, I told him the story and asked the man with the psychology degree for his analysis of the situation. Keep in mind that this comes with over 10 years of higher education, countless hours of clinical work and case formulation: “Our kid doesn’t like drawing, so he didn’t pick up another color to draw any clothes.”

Yeah, right. And to think he’s supposed to graduate next year…

Today Ryan and I signed the papers to close on the sell of our houses. That’s right, we had not one but TWO houses to sell during the worst housing crisis in decades. What can I say? We love a challenge.

If you felt something strange around 1:30 p.m. mountain time, it was probably the breeze from the collective, exhausted sigh of relief exiting from our pair of weary lungs.

And after we sighed, we looked at each other and laughed. The relief was tangible. We reached out and hugged it, lifted it up into the air, spun it around, and kissed it on its brilliant forehead. Oh, Relief, if we didn’t adore you so much and enjoy your company we could be really ticked that you took so long to show up.

So, now let’s celebrate. Remember when I won Mindi’s fantastic giveaway? Ever since, I’ve felt the need to keep the good karma flowing with a giveaway of my own. Shall we, then? Let’s.

What am I giving away? I have no idea. But I can tell you this—it will be good. It will be worth your while to enter to win.

And how do you enter to win? Leave one comment with a piece of your advice for me, my family, and our impending move. I’m sure you have lots of great ideas for making the transition from here to there without personal injury, divorce, or a trip to the psych ward.

I will use a very scientific and fair method for selecting a winner, so load me up on advice and make bank. (I’d love to hear from some of you blurkers, too. Like you, Romina. And Brandon. And Trisha. And Rosco. And Oprah.)

Enter before midnight on August 8!

OK, so Ryan and I are not the only ones leaving U-town. This peach of a kid is Ryan’s nephew, Parker, and he is leaving this week to hang out for two years in Lima, Peru. He’ll spend his time serving people, teaching people, and learning to ask very specific yet polite questions about the local cuisine before he eats it.

Good luck, Parker! We miss you already!

And a note to all you single ladies out there—mark August 2010 on your calendars now.

Seriously.

Our cars left this morning as passengers on a cross-country drive. Oh, the places they’ll go! Oh, the things they’ll see! Oh, the bugs their windshields will encounter!

To be honest, it made us both a little nervous to send them off, but all we can do now is rely on the fact that we’ve taught them right from wrong.

The weird thing? As soon as they drove away, I thought of at least six places I need to drive.

Hey! Wait!

{Life is crazy, busy right now at the home office. We move exactly two weeks from today. Tomorrow we put both of our cars on a big, flatbed truck and wave goodbye to them. They’re the first to go. But don’t worry—I made them promise to write.

Anyhoodle, I probably won’t be a good blogger for a while, so I’m bringing back some re-runs for your summer reading pleasure. I went back to August 2006 and found this one about Ryan’s grandma and thought it was appropriate. It was about this exact time in August 2007 that we lost her. I have a feeling she’s enjoying herself now seeing how it’s all turning out.}

I used to be afraid of the lady in this picture. I’m not kidding. She was the first person over 85 years-old I’d ever met who used used the term “hell” out of biblical context.

“Oh, hell!” she’d say, “We’re going to run out of water if people keep having suh many babies! There’s too many people in the world.” I’d be staring at the floor, wondering how to disappear and free up a little more water.

I didn’t grow up with grandparents. All of mine died before I was very old, and the memories I do have are of their final days in care centers when they were oblivious, toothless, angelic rumples of soft skin and thin white hair. So, I didn’t really know much about grandparents, and I certainly didn’t know that they ever felt the need to profane.

But Ryan’s grandma, Grandma Rees as we call her, has taught me a lot. She doesn’t fit a stereotype. She’s a fantastic riddle. She can bake like Betty Crocker in one moment and carry on a meaningful conversation about Jennifer Aniston in the next. She switches the TV channels between QVC and Nascar. She bakes pot roast and buys Diet Coke by the case. And don’t get all cocky and think you can beat her at video games, because the lady knows her way around a Gameboy. Seriously, have you ever met anyone like that?

She reads everything she can get her hands on and knows more about the world and pop culture than any former piano teacher and Relief Society president in the history of the world.

“That Oprah’s gay, you know,” she said not too long ago. “She and that Gayle are lesbians. And that Steadman is just a figurehead!”

Wouldn’t most of you pay money to have that conversation with your grandma? Ryan is so lucky!

But don’t think you’ve got her figured out. When Christian plays the piano for her during our visits, she beams so brightly, I fear she’ll burst open into pure sunshine. She hugs him and tells him that he’s wonderful. And when Max pushes her around the kitchen in her wheelchair eighty-seven thousand times, she happily shuffles her feet along and says, “Oh, he’s just fine!” when we try to pry his grip.

Her body is old and most of the time she is in pain, though she doesn’t mention it very often. Ryan asked her one time if she wanted to die, to be free of the pain.

“Well, of course I do,” she said.

Ryan looked her in the eye.

“No you don’t,” he said smiling and shaking his head at her.

“You’re right,” she said, “I want to see how it all turns out.”

Oh hell, I want to be just like that when I grow up.

I couldn’t be happier that I chose to do this exercise right now because I am entering full-force into Phase 387 of Moving Across The Country, which includes All The Insanely Minute Details That Must Be Taken Care Of Before Moving Across The Country. Such fun. You should totally do it.

Here are some more answers:

New friend Shannon asked, “What will you miss most about Utah?”

Here are a few ideas off the top of my head: Family within driving distance; friends and neighbors; fry sauce; Hip & Humble; Eat-a-Burger apricot chicken sandwich; the landscape dotted with Targets and chapels; the temperature of Utah’s summer nights; the mountains; Silver Lake; boating with family; Snoasis snowcones; lunch with friends; swimming pool afternoons with Alison; shopping Dillard’s clearance sales with family; Cafe Trio; Tsunami; Whimsy; and driving around looking at Christmas lights.

I’m sure I’ll have a much more vivid/heart-wrenching list in about six months when I’m rocking in the fetal position and wondering what in the hell I’ve gone and done.

Shannon also asked, “What will you miss least about Utah?”

You know when you watch those movies about two people who haven’t always got along and then suddenly one of them is on their deathbed and the other one is suddenly at their side, grasping their hand and forgiving every former tresspass? Well, that’s sort of how I feel.

Forget everything I’ve said before, Utah. I love you for exactly who you are. Even though you have way too many Chili’s restaurants.

Darci McFarcey asked, “You refer to your teen years as traumatic. What do you contribute this to?”

They were. I contribute it to the fact that at age 14 I turned down a boy who was seriously mentally ill. He made it his life’s goal to make my life miserable, and he did an amazingly effective job for about four years. You can read the whole sad story here. But I’m warning you, you will be overwhelmed with the urge to hug me afterward. And Ryan too.

Darci also asked, “How have you overcome it?”

Well, there is probably significant data to support the idea that I haven’t entirely overcome it. (I bet that last sentence totally got my scientific-minded husband totally hot for me!) My most obvious scar is that I have major anxiety meeting new people and making friends. Good thing I’m not MOVING ACROSS THE COUNTRY WHERE I DON’T KNOW ANYBODY.

Don’t get me wrong, I have overcome it in a lot of ways. I no longer foster the urge to cause bodily harm to my bully. I’ve even sort of bought into the idea that kids can be terribly cruel without realizing the impact and that my bully was the way he was because he had some significant personal problems that led him to behave the way he did.

But I’m also hoping to get me some real bona fide therapy as soon as we qualify for an employee discount.

Darci’s last question: “How will you prepare your children?”

You know, I’m not sure I have a specific answer to this. God forbid they have to endure anything similar. (Imagine I said that last sentence with a thick Indian accent.) I hope I am instilling in them The Golden Rule, the idea that we should treat everybody the way we want to be treated. I’m also trying to create a strong communication bond, so that if or when there’s trouble, we can talk about it and work toward a solution together. I had my parent’s full support during that time and it was a great strength to me.

Jesse asked, “What about your new house are you most excited about?”

This is kind of funny because the memory of my new house is getting so foggy at this point. By the time I see it again, three months will have passed. But if I had to say one thing, it’s this—I’m excited about moving in and making those little changes that will transform it from somebody else’s house into ours. And by that, I mean keeping a thin layer of Baked Doritos on the kitchen floor.

Jesse also asked, “I know you’ve always been much more into West Coast rappers, will this change when you live on the East Coast?”

Tee hee hee.

Jesse finished up with, “Are you excited to live in a slightly different culture, and to go from being a part of the religious majority to a religious minority?”

To put it simply—yes. One of my favorite quotes in the world is from Mark Twain who said, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” I love that idea and think it is so important. I get incredibly uncomfortable with the Mormon Majority mentality of some Utahns. The idea that because we constitute the majority, we have the right to do things exactly as we please and the minority can deal with it or leave. That idea makes me very, very sad and I don’t believe in it even a little bit.

I hope that suddenly living in a religious minority will be the refreshing and interesting experience I expect it will be.

(And remember how I just said that I love Utah for exactly who she is? I still do. It’s just some of her houseguests that can make me frown and furrow my brow sometimes.)

That’s enough for now. If you still want to ask a question, leave a comment here and I’ll answer.

OK, here’s some answers to your burning, itching questions:

Mindi asked: “What is your favorite or dream vacay?”

My favorite vacation was my first trip to New York City, age 21, newlywed and totally broke. Somehow our lack of funds didn’t take away from my enchantment with the city—someplace totally and completely different from anything I was used to. The energy and memory of that trip never faded. I think it’s always a good idea for a young adult to go visit somewhere totally different and realize that the world is so much bigger than what they have known. At least it was good for me.

My dream vacation is Europe. I really want to go so that I can stop watching all those PBS travel shows.

Mindi also asked: “What is your favorite song ever? Band?”

This question causes me almost as much anxiety as “What’s your favorite color?” because I have never been able to narrow any of these categories down to one defining song/band/color. However, I can tell you some of my favorites and you can decide whether or not I have any excuse owning an iPod.

Songs: Okay, so I just pondered this for ten entire minutes and sprained my left frontal lobe. I don’t think I can do this. I really, really love music and tend to glom onto one song that fits a period of my life and really wear it out. I have a vague memory of deciding at one point that “Falling of the Rain” by Billy Joel was going to be my favorite song, so I will stick with that for now.

Bands: Billy Joel was my first musical love and his music will always be the soundtrack of my childhood. As I grew up, I was influenced by the musical tastes of my forefathers—or, rather, my forebrothers and foresisters. (Technically, my five brothers and two sisters.) I remember one summer vacation to Lake Powell when I first heard the Indigo Girls and fell in love with folky–indie–alternative sounds. I love me some singer/songwriters. I’m going to nurse my previous favorite-song-brain-sprain and randomly name five bands I love right now: Feist, Regina Spektor, Bright Eyes, Wilco, and Kalai (my favorite local).

Mindi followed up by asking, “Thing you love most about your man?”

Continuing with a theme here, I am unable to keep this succinct. Some days my favorite thing about him is the way he makes me laugh. We have always been able to find humor in the midst of some pretty un-funny times. Some days I am most fond of his wisdom. He is always able to look at situations from every position and make good decisions. Some days I am won over with the way that he cares for our kids. Other days I am in love with the way he makes me feel so smokin’ hot. Some days I am overwhelmed with the way he accepts people without judgment. Other days I am smitten most with his devotion to enjoying life. Some days I am most appreciative of the way our family is always more important to him than furthering his career. But I bet if you took an average, most days my favorite thing about him is that he is—and has been for almost two decades—my best friend in the entire world. We talk about everything. We share everything with each other (except for clothes and deoderant). He supports me and believes in me. He’s the Gayle to my Oprah.

Mindi also asked, “What blog post are you most proud of?”

I am probably most proud of this post, in which I explain how blogging became a borderline unhealthy addiction of sorts earlier this year. I am not necessarily proud of the writing, but proud of the way that it seems to have helped a few other people who have struggled with this new and strange medium of self-expression and community. Wait a minute—this blog might have actually helped someone? Now that’s borderline unhealthy.

Tiburon asked “Are you ascared to move across the country?”

Yes. But also excited. Why do excited and scared almost always go together?

Tiburon also asked, “What is something you are ashamed to admit?”

In no particular order: that I never sent out Thank You cards from my wedding; that I cannot properly identify all fifty states on an unmarked map; that I know very, very little about American or World history; that I hate returning phone calls; that I can hold a grudge; that I have a hard time watching an infomercial for anything without feeling extremely compelled to purchase it; that I’m not doing enough to help our planet; that I can say mean things without realizing the impact; that I don’t read near as many books as I would like; and, finally, that I do not weigh what I stated on my drivers license.

Tiburon finished with, “What is your proudest accomplishment?”

Going back to school and finishing my degree while working full-time and raising my kiddos. (Please don’t ask my GPA.)

Angie asked, “What historical/cultural/iconic American spot do you want to see first when you get back east?”

I’m excited to discover all the history-laden treasures of Philadelphia. And I’m equally excited to visit Washington D.C. for the first time and take my kids to the museums. I’m also extremely excited to do some serious Amish-watching.

Suzie asked, “What is your favorite or most current book project/idea that you have in mind?”

I’ve never written anything longer than a short story, but I have a new idea rolling around in my head that is barely more than ten pages long at this point. I would love to be able to turn it into a book. (Oh dear, did I write that out loud?) I would also also love to be able to grow four inches taller and have long, shiny auburn hair grow out of my head, just in case the Universe is listening.

The narrator of my story is a little boy. Here is an excerpt, but please only read it if you intend to be kind:

The only time I ever went to church was for Britt Snyder’s funeral. Britt was in my second-grade class, and one day after school he dropped over dead. OK, that was sort of a lie, but for some reason I like to say “dropped over dead” better than the real story, which is that he ran out in the road, got hit by a car, spent three weeks and four days in the hospital in a coma, went brain dead and got unplugged three days before his eighth birthday. See? “Dropped over dead” sounds better and doesn’t change any important facts.

Problem solved.

OK, there you have it. Maybe mentioning this story here will propel me to get things moving along. It has been set on the back-burner during The Agony of Selling My Home, but hopefully I can get to it in the near future.

Suzie also asked, “What do you contribute Stephenie Meyer’s success to?”

I don’t really know what to say here because I am not qualified to have an opinion on this matter. I think writing a book that is technically geared toward a younger crowd, but is still interesting to an older crowd is a good formula for success. I think they call it crossing categories or something like that, but it’s basically the same reasoning behind the success of Harry Potter. And Dolly Parton. And string cheese.

Suzie also asked, “Would you consider writing a screenplay with a middle aged Happy Valley half crazed mom? (me)”

Yes. It will be an awesome indie cult-classic which will blow that little twerp Juno out of the water. Just kidding, I love Juno.

And finally, Suzie asked, “What is the full/complex meaning of Would-Be Writers Guild?”

The Would-Be Writers Guild is named after a writing group that I started in my neighborhood in summer of 2002. I had been enjoying the writing-and-sharing aspect of my creative writing classes in school and wanted to start something that would continue beyond a semester. I didn’t feel qualified in any way to call myself a writer and lead any such group, so I felt that “would-be writer” was a much more appropriate and forgiving title. I added the “Guild” part to sound really official, and in order to write off the paper plates and cups on my taxes.

Up until June 2008, that group met every month at my house and it was one of the all-time best experiences of my life. In fact, on several occasions, I have started a blog post to express to the members of the WBWG just how much they have meant to me. It’s apparently too emotional of a subject right now, because I just can’t put it all together. But it’s coming.

OK, that’s enough for now. More to come later. If you have a question to ask, leave a comment here and I will answer.

I just finished reading Tib’s Q&A session and thoroughly enjoyed it. And since I don’t have any time to write, nor any ideas to not write about, I’m stealing the idea (again) and turning the time over to you—ask me anything you want. I’ll work on some answers over the weekend!

Blurkers, bliends, and blamily welcome!

Lots of fun was had last night at Blogger Home Evening. Fun to meet new friends. Fun to meet old friends (you know, the ones I’ve known for like six months now). Fun to see internet people in 3D. Kind of makes it all feel less creepy, no?

But the best part? When every single one of these ladies promised to fly out to Delaware for the next blogger meeting! Now that’s true bledication. OK, so they didn’t promise that. However I did ask them, upon their next meet-up, to have a wonderful time but to write about it as if it was kind of disappointing.

Sigh.

If you haven’t already done so, please add “ride in a hot air balloon” to your Life’s To-Do List. I can’t imagine that you would regret it.

These pictures are from our Saturday morning balloon ride, which was the rain-checked portion of Ryan’s graduation gift from me. We floated high above the Heber valley at sunrise. No offense to Ryan’s profession, but it was like therapy to me.

It was equally peaceful and exhilarating, even though there was a really lurpy guy on our flight making lame jokes about landing in Oz. After we threw him overboard, it was perfectly enjoyable.

So, I read today that I have been awarded a “Brillante Weblog” nod from the fabulous Arianne over at Little Pink Houses. Maybe it’s because I was busy proofing my latest work that I immediately noticed the typo. (Did you notice, too?) Regardless, I am completely and totally HONORED to accept! And this nomination will inspire me to reach even higher levels of Brillance.

Actually, the fact that anybody is still reading this since my life (and writing) became hi-jacked by the crappy real estate market is a surprisingly wonderful mystery. So, I thank you all for continuing to read. (And for those of you who read and roll your eyes, but refrain from snarky comments, I thank you too!)

Okee doke, part of my responsibility in accepting this award is to adhere to the following instructions:
1. Please put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
3. You must nominate 7 fellow bloggers for this award.
4. Add links to the recipients.
5. Leave a comment so the recipients know they have received an award.

So, without further ado, here are my nominations for Super Brillante Weblogs:

1. Emily of Something Shiny! is the queen of saying something clever, witty, and intelligent in an amazingly brief way. Seriously, most of her posts are one fantastic paragraph. I want to learn this skill!

2. Jim of Voice of Reason is not only a long-time family friend, but a new blogger who totally and completely cracks me up. And please–don’t let the title fool you. I suspect that you will find very little reasonable reading, which is exactly why I love to read it!

3. Hillary of Mckayart. I met Hillary when she was five. She is now fifteen and blossoming into an amazing writer and photographer.

4. Angie of Addy G is also new to the Bloggerhood, but a new found must-read. I especially love her “Week in Review” posts each Friday. (Fun trivia: Angie and I founded the Jack Amish religion together. As it turns out, we are both quite inactive in our membership. But, I guess that’s exactly what’s to be expected)

5. Becky of Here She Goes Again is otherwise known on my site as Mrs. Smith. We have experienced many fun adventures together over the past few years and I begged her to start a blog. I knew I would need her blog when we were suddenly 2000 miles apart.

6. Robin of RedRobinLand is somebody I’ve never met, but fully admire. She is thoughtful and artistic. I love her photos and her lovely observations.

7. The Look for Less is another favorite. Look here for links to incredibly affordable knock-offs of uber-expensive clothes and shoes. I am but a mere blurker on this blog, but a daily reader.

Congratulations to the nominees, and to all of you others who deserve to be on this list! You are all Brillante in my book!

It’s time, once and for all, to replace all raisins everywhere with craisins. I’m sorry, raisins, but we’re going to have to let you go.

I make AMAZING punch. There, I said it.

I’m the Punch Master. Queen of Punch. Snoop Punch. David Punchuleta. I bet you didn’t know this about me, but I seriously rock the punch bowl like no other.

I invented one very special recipe that I’m about to share with you. And I have to tell you—you’re really lucky because all you have to do is read the recipe, buy the stuff, put it together, and serve it at a party and have everyone tell you that it is the best punch in the universe.

Whereas I had to create, puzzle, reflect, and ponder the recipe in the first place in my special Punch Laboratory. I had to contact chemists from ivy league universities to perfect the chemical makeup of this recipe. I had to search the globe for the exact ingredients. I had to throw out hundreds of thousands of batches of lesser punches on my quest to attain the ideal ice-to-punch ratio.

But now that I’ve arrived at Punch Perfectdom, it’s hard for me to contain it and keep it to myself. I feel that I owe it to the world to share. You all have been so nice to me lately, and I feel so intoxicated with goodwill, that I am ready to freely give you this recipe for the betterment of mankind. If the war suddenly ends, I will know that The Punch has done its job.

OK, are you ready?

The Punch

Ingredients:
1 can frozen pina colada concentrate, thawed (Bacardi makes a good one)
1 can frozen orange pineapple juice concentrate, thawed
4 liters of diet lemon-lime soda (That’s two 2-Liters for the mathematically challenged.)
1 bag of pebble ice (You can buy it at Sonic Drive-In or at most grocery stores in the deli or meat departments.)
1 bag of frozen raspberries

And now for the directions:
*Pour the thawed concentrates into your punchbowl and stir.
*Use one of the empty cans and fill it with water four times and add it to the mixture. Stir.
*Add your diet soda to the mixture. (You can use regular sugar-filled soda if you want, but I think it gets too sweet and you will also feel guilty when you fill your glass for the sixteenth time. Which you WILL.)
*Next, add about half your bag of pebble ice.
(NOTE: Please do not insult The Punch by using crappy ice cubes from your freezer. The Punch will hate you forever.) (ANOTHER NOTE: Please do not screw up the order and add the ice before the soda. You will get an ugly foam at the top of your punch bowl.) (ONE MORE NOTE: I’m sorry if it seems like I’m micro-managing this recipe. It’s just that I have already suffered bad punch experiences so that you won’t have to. I micro-manage because I care.) Let’s see….where were we? Oh, yes. We’re ready for the crowning ingredient…
*Add your frozen raspberries to the top.

Viola! You have just created the Mona Lisa of Punch!

Your punch should be a lovely dark yellow at the bottom of your punch bowl, light lemony yellow in middle, almost white on the top, and then bright magenta on the very, very top! So pretty!

And then, when you start serving the punch with a ladle, it all mixes together and becomes this dreamy pink color.

And then, when you lift the punch bowl to your lips when it is almost gone to swallow the last few drops of punch, it is an even darker pink because the raspberries have really mixed in.

And then, when you pass out on the floor because you tipped the punch bowl too far and lost your balance, falling backward to the floor with the punch bowl hitting you square in the jaw—you will see lots of lovely yellow stars and magenta raspberries floating above your head.

Go now. Make Punch.

OK, here’s the deal: Our house officially went under contract this morning. This is quite literally the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh hour of our window of opportunity to sell. I wish I could feel overwhelmed with excitement right now, but there are a few little things that still have me nervous with the buyers. Like the fact that the husband doesn’t really like the house.

I’ve spent the last few days calling upon my support system, asking for help—good thoughts and prayers—that this will come together and be settled in time for our move. And since you are part of my support system, I’ll ask for yours, too, if you don’t mind. I promise to return the favor any time you ask.

And by the way, a big shout out to my wonderful parents, who showed up last night to help put out a few small fires and do what they do best—show us rock-solid support. Thank you!

This is a picture of me with my mom and two sisters, the full representation of estrogen from my childhood home.

Things to notice, consider and guess:
1. Hey—I am not tilting my head! (Who says people can’t change, huh?)
2. The girls in my family are quite short.
3. The boys in my family are actually pretty short, too. (Please don’t tell my brother Justin. He feels very tall.)
4. Two of the four people in this photo were born with naturally curly hair. Can you guess?
5. One of the people in this photo used to steal the socks of another person in this photo.
6. The person whose socks were frequently stolen is not showing any teeth.
7. The person who used to steal the socks would like to bloglicly apologize. She hasn’t stolen socks in twenty years at least.
8. One of the people used to sit cross-legged in front of a tall skinny mirror in her room each day to do her hair with a knitting needle and apply peach Clinique eye shadow.
9. One of the people in this photo begged her older sister to play every day. One day, the older sister suggested a game of “Cowboys and Indians” and tied the little sister to a tree. And then left to play with her own friends.
10. One person in this photo used to date a boy whose last name was Butts.
11. One person in this photo used to date a boy whose last name was pronounced “Fairy.”
11. Two of the people in this photo are blind as bats.
12. Seventeen children call these people Mom.
13. In one month from now, these four people will live in four different states.
14. One of these people owns chickens. On purpose.
15. One of these people has had a secret desire to be Rachael Ray’s best friend for several years now.
16. One of these people used to sew amazing outfits in record time for the three other people in this photo.
17. One of the people once dove head-first into a lake to save her child. The water was two-feet deep.
18. One of these people was accidentally left at a gas station in Las Vegas when she was three-years-old. She did not remember this event until one of the other people in the photo told her about it two years ago.
19. One of the people in this photo has spent the last two years in therapy to process the trauma of being left at a gas station in Las Vegas when she was three-years-old.
20. One of the people in this photo stared at this picture for forty minutes on Saturday because she loves the other three people so much and was so happy to spend a few rare hours together.

{Answers: 4: Me & April; 5:Me; 6: April; 7: Me; 8: Leslie; 9: Mom; 10: April; 11: Leslie; 14: April; 15: Leslie; 16: Mom; 17: Mom; 18: Me; 19: Just kidding, still saving for therapy; 20: Me}

Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for your attendance. I’d like to cover a few items before you all punch out for the weekend.

Of course, I’ll begin by updating you all on the relocation project. Although we haven’t yet sold our current home office building, we are doing everything we can to attract a buyer. We still have a few days before we take the building off the market and pursue a lease option, so in the mean time, please do everything you can to help the cause. My plan is to nervously pace the floor, stare blankly into a black void, and continue to flush red envelopes filled with dirt from the yard down the toilet—as (sort of) suggested in a Feng Shui book. If you would like to join me, I begin every day at 7:35 a.m. and wrap up around 11:30 p.m. each night. As usual, at 3:00 each afternoon I’ll be hosting a round table discussion called “I Don’t Know, Do You Think It Will Sell?” in the break room. Feel free to stop by.

I probably shouldn’t even mention this, but there is an interested buyer who is coming to see the building for the third time tomorrow. I’m not sure what we can do to convince them to seal the deal, but I’m considering a couple of options I read in a guerilla marketing book. One of them sort of involves holding the people against their will until they agree to make an offer, which our legal department has advised me against. Another idea involves me hiding behind a door, lunging at them from behind, clinging to their ankles and begging for their mercy, which, again, has been discouraged by the fuddy-duddy, narrow-minded, stone-hearted suits in legal. They keep trying to convince me that these two options are basically the same thing, to which I reply that they should talk to the hand.

In other business, I would like to congratulate Christian and Max from the IT department for reaching the final level on the Lego Indiana Jones Wii Project. These two have been putting in a lot of overtime on this project and I think it’s obvious that their efforts are paying off. I think we could all take a page out of their play book on this one—particularly the page that talks about the importance of giving up some simple luxuries (i.e., daily baths and warm meals) in the short term to reach a long-term goal. I’d also like to thank Gogurt for sponsoring the project, because our team couldn’t have done this without portable food in a convenient, disposable tube.

Oh! I almost forgot! I’d like to give a warm welcome to our new temp employee, Tina. Christian was gracious enough to offer her some cubicle space while she handles some odds and ends here at the office. Basically, I’ve assigned her to take care of all the Sitting Around as well as some of the Blank Staring that I haven’t been able to get to. And I’d like to just say for the record that she’s been doing these tasks at a surprisingly quick pace. Congratulations, Tina, on a job well done!

Before we go, I’d like to thank you all for your patience. I know that I haven’t been very easy to work with (and for) lately and I commend you all on your ability to bite your tongues and successfully roll your eyes without me seeing. I realize that I underestimated the emotional toll the relocation project would take on me. And I promise that if we ever relocate again, I will fill the break room vending machines with Valium capsules and my pockets full of quarters. You have my word.

Thanks again for your hard work and commitment to our company. As a management team, we know that we owe our success to you. You make coming to work each day a joy, and we are proud of the careers that you are fostering here.

Now pat yourself on the back and take off a few minutes early. You know, unless you’d like to stick around here in the conference room to ruminate and brood with me. It’s completely up to you.

I won’t think of you as less-dedicated if you don’t.

I mean, I’ve always said that the company that aches together makes bank together, but it’s not my place to tell you what to do with your weekend.

Go on now, I’ll be fine.

“I’m gettin’ lots of offers, but none of ‘em are good.”

“Spendin’ my time writin’ about cookies I cain’t eat.”

“I’m plannin’ my own goin’ away party.”

“Always dealin’ with dirty laundry.”

“My computer screen is cracked and so are my heels.”

“Lookin’ for a good man to fix the leaky faucets.”

“Why am I askin’ the questions you shoulda asked already?”

“Drivin’ around town on a near-empty tank.”

“I’d like to do some sit-ups, but it’s easier not to.”

I’m sure you all read about it here, but I was the big winner of Mindi’s Hawaiian-themed giveaway. Today, I checked the mailbox and was thrilled to find that this package had arrived.

Note that Mindi sent this Priority Mail. I am glad to know that I am such a priority in her life.

Right on top was a sweet note and a gift card to P.F. Chang’s. I know this will surprise those who know me best, but I have never eaten at P.F. Chang’s. I was destined to win this prize.

The next thing to discover was my flower lei and coconut bra. Again, this must have been an act of fate because just last week my old coconut bra had an accident with the garbage disposal.

Thanks for the vote of confidence in sizing, Mindi.

Next for me to discover was a box of a little something I like to call Celestial Bliss.

Because it had spent some time in the warm weather on its way to my house, the chocolates were a bit melty. But that just made them easier to chew. Mmmmm.

Finally, at the bottom of the package was this lovely piece of home decor—an island-inspired purple orchid. It has already found a permanent spot on my island. (Get it? Island!)

Now listen up: If you haven’t already checked out Mindi’s blog, you must do so now. She makes me laugh every single day. No, I take that back, she makes me GUFFAW! I guffaw all the time whilst reading her blog. But maybe that’s because I have a special connection with Mindi the Gangsta Housewife. You see, many moons ago, I was known on the dangerous streets of downtown Salt Lake as Lil’ Goober.

Seriously, I was a warlord of a major gang. I once killed three chickens and a rooster in a spork fight. But listen up, kids, I have put those days behind me. I found religion and European cars and my life is on track now.

OK, truth is that I raided my ten-year-old’s closet for this picture.

But, anyway, back to The Giver of All Things Awesome. She is hilarious. Begin reading now and get in touch with your inner hooligan.

Seriously, Mindi, thank you! I can’t wait to meet you this month and get your autograph. I was thinking that after dinner we could go to Olan Mills and have our portrait taken together. No?

{P.S. I’m feeling the love so strong, I’ll be dreaming up my own giveaway. I think I’ll call it Surviving the Real Estate Vortex Prize.}

As we were driving to our first of two family parties on the fourth, we stopped at a light next to a McDonalds. Sitting with a tray of mini red velvet cupcakes in my lap (Alyssa’s recipe, of course), I looked over and saw a family entering McDonalds.

“How sad,” I said. “That family is eating lunch at McDonalds on the Fourth of July. They don’t have a family party to go to.”

And before the light turned green, I said, “OH MY GOSH, THAT’S GOING TO BE US NEXT YEAR!”

Needless to say, I spent the entire day soaking in all the family and friendly familiar faces that I could.

{P.S. Alyssa, you’re planning on spending the Fourth of July with us next year, right? RIGHT?}

I’m not really into tags, but this one speaks to my inner child. You see, on every person’s birthday in my childhood home (and remember there were TEN! of us), we sat around at dinner and recounted memories of the birthday person. Hands down, the person who enjoyed this tradition most was my dad—he practically shot sunshine out of his ears as we each took a minute to share a funny and/or touching memory of each other.

And now with my own little family, we have carried on the tradition of memory sharing. My kids especially like to recall the time I ripped a melty-sticky cookie from Max’s hands and yelled unintentionally like the Soup Nazi, “NO COOKIE FOR YOU!”

See how fun this is? I’m humiliated already!

Here are the directions:

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn’t matter if you knew me a little or a lot, if we’ve actually met in person or not, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. If you don’t want to play on your blog, or if you don’t have a blog, I’ll leave my memory of you in my comments.

Welcome to this chapter of my life entitled Riddled with Anxious Desperation. (Which, by the way, was also the title of my life in fifth grade when I had a major crush on a boy named Gabe.)

We’re down to the wire now with our move and our house still hasn’t sold. We’ve had some showings and we’ve received a few offers, but they were all contingent on the sale of another home. What we need is a good buyer who doesn’t have to sell a home, and my Magic 8 Ball assures me that this person exists….it is decidedly so.

I’m trying to keep things light here, but the level of stress Ryan and I feel right now is off-the-charts intense. I am pretty sure that I have no more stomach lining and on several occasions I have found Ryan beating his head against the wall to dull the pain. Seriously, we are no fun at all.

Then today I had a brilliant idea.

It crossed my mind that maybe you fabulous people in Bloggerville know a mysterious buyer with excellent credit who needs a newish four-bedroom home! Or, even if you don’t know them, they read your blog. Or, even if they don’t read your blog, they read the blog of somebody who reads your blog. Or, they read the blog of the sister of the friend of the person who reads your blog.

So, here’s where you all come in. If you’d like to do me the grandest favor in the world, please post a little something about my sweet little abode on your blogs (feel free to use these pictures) and include the link to my listing (found here).

I know I’m biased, but this is a beautiful house in a very nice West Jordan, Utah neighborhood (a western suburb of Salt Lake City). And because we’re incredibly motivated to sell, we’ve dropped the price to $339K which is (by a conservative estimate) about twenty thousand below its market value. Which means instant equity for our wonderful buyer!

Now, what’s in it for you? Well, you’re about to benefit from the fact that it is nearly impossible for me to ask a favor without some kind of reciprocal act of kindness. If my buyer finds my house (well I guess their house) thanks to your site, I will reward your kindness by giving you a $250 gift certificate to Amazon.com—my favorite place to buy stuff that isn’t sold at Target!

I’m hoping that you will take a few minutes to do this, and I don’t care if you do it because you love me and care about my mental well-being or because you are a greedy little bugger. I will love you for eternity regardless.

So, how do you claim your stake? Leave a comment here with your name and e-mail address to let me know that you’re in, and then I’ll make sure we ask each and every person who sees the house how they heard about it. If they buy it and you’re to thank, then the $250 is yours the very day we close.

And just in case you’re wondering, you have my permission to invite all of your readers to participate too! Just refer them to this post to make sure they comment! And remember, time is of the essence (which is the most romantic phrase found in all of real estate). So post soon!

Can the blogosphere sell a house? I have no doubt at all. In fact, my Magic 8 Ball says that you absolutely will. My thanks in advance!