Pick Me! Pick Me! I Can Aim Low!

Blogging, little as I understand it, has become my thing.  I am a big starter and a so-so finisher.  I’ve been blogging for nearly three years, which is HUGE for me.

Blogging walked me through the adoption of our son from China.  I started following a few adoption blogs from the agency’s yahoo group.  As I followed, I gained the courage to hold the course through the uncertain nature of adoption.  I started my own, in hopes of sharing my story for those who’d walk that path.

One day, I saw a “blogs I follow” list.  Too new, to know a niche or that I had wandered away from camp, I found this blog. I laughed until I snorted and tears ran down my cheeks.

I stay home with my kids.  It can get lonely.  In December 2009, Jennifer posted to a meme at that blog.  Since then, we have built a friendship that I care about as much as some of my dearest IRL friendships.  She has encouraged me, mentored me, laughed when I laughed and cursed when I could only cry.  Like the finest friends do.

Blogging saw me through the adoption, my husband’s miserable job situation, walked with me through some health issues and realizing what a mid-life crisis is.  I think there were a lot of laughs, along the way.

I found Aiming Low several months ago.  They sound like how I speak in real life, except I can’t use the the eff word. I  do think it.  Remember, I am homeschooling two (2) 15 year-old girls.

Aiming Low has a Non-Conference.

The first time I saw the ad…

I peeked.

Yep, it’s what I think it is.

The next time,…

I took a longer look.

It’s not that far away.”

Then, when all my blogging crushes role models went to BlogHer, I got serious.  I looked at the cost to stay at Callaway Gardens,

“…and done.”

From then on, I diligently looked from references to Non-Con.  It wasn’t expensive.  On the contrary, it’s quite reasonable.  It’s just that in recovering from our season of going without food so the company owner could vacation in Hawaii economic recession, we need to plan for  things that come next–Christmas and extra-curricular activities.

Then, I saw it…

Simply Sassy Media Wanted to Send Me to Aiming Low’s Non-Con.

I wanted to write a sassy post.  I wanted to write a clever post. But the truth is…

I’ve nearly imploded in the last three years.  The blog probably saved my life.  Now, it’s time to build a soapbox to stand on to tell my story.  If there is one thing I am, it’s smart enough to know from whom I like to learn and for whom I’d like to fetch coffee.  Non-Con is “slam-packed” with the kind of stars I’d like to hitch my wagon to.

That’s, All Y’all.

Tell, Ree, if she’s of a mind to take the weekend off, I’ll bring rolls.

 

Thanks to Simply Sassy Media for the challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Slip This Into the Anglo-File

You know, I’m susceptible to the charms of English culture.  If we were into labels, we might call me an Anglophile.

In the early 90s, I used to sit in the wingback, sipping tea.  While BBC on PBS laughed at itself on TV, I could watch the dirty, little city washed in slow rain through the bay window.  The children took all that quiet time on Saturday night away.

I like tea (For awhile it was a big deal.  Like tea rooms and throwing “teas” instead of showers, receptions, or brunches.). It’s some comfort in a cup.

Add in boy bands, li’l divers, and Olympic coverage.

Add We-only-got-an-episode-and-a-half-of-Downton-Abbey-before-the-end-of-the-season-Whatemahgondoo?

Add That Great Movie We Saw On Our Anniversary.

And this:

Creative Commons Images: Flikr

Sherlock Holmes. Set in “Of the moment” London, some of the original titles and a multitude of details of the original stories are included in edge-of-your-seat, hour-long mysteries.  The final episode of the second season is to be continued…  IN 2013!

There is a sleek, post-modern, coldness about the visual.  Probably intended to convey some theme-driven effect.  Whatever.  The stories are engaging.  The twists and turns, totally unpredictable (Mostly).  This is the first time I’ve seen Benedict Cumberbatch, who plays Sherlock, but my girls were familiar with his work(???).   Dr. Watson is played by Martin Freeman, who’ll play Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit.

It seems there is controversy about Cumberbatch’s appearance.  Some think he’s handsome and some don’t.  Initially, I found him unattractive.  But he just kept talking.

And talking.

It’s an extremely sexy show.  Not because stories are about sex (except the one, amazing, do-NOT-let-your-children-watch-it episode*), but because the script is razor sharp.  It takes my logophilic breath away.

“What did he say? Go back!Go back!Go back!Go back!”

Yes, the family gets tired of my shtick.  But it’s so…

Smart.

Brits!!!  What makes them so terribly…just so?

All the tea?

What are you looking forward to the next season’s shows?

 

*there is another episode where there are short moments of snarling dogs.  I’d use caution with allowing smaller kids around the TV.  They won’t be getting story, but the images might disturb.

The story about sex has a scene where the actress is completely naked, shown from behind or from the front, seated and placing her riding crop strategically.  Our most conservative friend enjoyed it.

Today’s Burning Question

Yesterday, while I was getting ready for the day, I saw an old Martha Stewart magazine on the shelf.  One would not guess by looking at my home, but I went through a short-lived obsession with her, in about 2005, at the height of her over-exposure.  Back to the magazine on the shelf.  I grabbed it and thumbed through.  I thought, “Wait a minute.  Is she the most brilliant living American?”

mindbodygreen.com

Since WWII, advertising has sold us everything from automobiles to household appliances with ease, convenience and time-savings as the buzzword. “Less work for me?  It must be good. Let me pay you more than it would cost to do it myself.”

But wait.  Where was our attention when Martha snuck up and built an empire off selling American women (mostly) “Doing It the Hard Way and Paying More For It”?

My grandma ran a tasteful home where people wanted to be.  She grew her vegetables and her beef.  It was considered turncoat to eat chicken.  She did her tasteful home decor herself.  She preserved food for the future.  She cooked and hosted and considered it an achievement to have more people than last year.  She passed along those skills to her daughter, my aunt. I sneaked them when no one was watching.

Martha’s way is always harder and more expensive than Grandma’s way. Grandma’s way makes my people feel loved in a way that Martha’s way couldn’t.  Grandma’s way is free; every time I do it Martha’s way, she gets a cut.

Is homemaking (or keeping) a lost art?  Does a generation who may have come up without seeing Thanksgiving dinner made (or the sheets changed) need someone impart to them skills that used to be handed down in the family?

money.cnn.com

Or is she just selling back to us what used to belong to us by rights?

Who taught you to take care of your home?  Mom?  Aunt?  Grandmother?  Dad?

What is your cleverest homekeeping trick?

Durn It, Ree.

Nine years ago, I was in an email discussion with an online friend with whom I shared an fascination with the tough gals of the old west, who did the same job we did, without the benefit of indoor plumbing and electricity, to say nothing of telephone and television.  Which is how I found myself searching for photos of the Pioneer Woman Statue in Ponca City, OK.

The second or third result yielded a “blog” (whatever that was) of a gal who had moved from the big city to the “isolated” country somewhere.  I rolled my eyes, thought,”kwitcherbitchin'”, and moved on to locate the object of my search.  The “real” Pioneer Woman.

I didn’t tell anyone about it.  Didn’t read all that much of it and didn’t think of it again until last Saturday, when I got my birthday present.

Shut up.

I have always been the girl who bucked the trend.  If someone said, “You have to…”  I would say in my snotty little heart, “Do I?”  I still haven’t seen the movie, Titanic.

So I get way down in the middle of memorizing every word reading my shiny new cookbook, and she tells about the day a few years ago when she started her blog.  Oh.  That Pioneer Woman.

Shut up.

Ree Drummond got the life I wanted.  Ranch, cowboy, basset hound ( I don’t want hers; I want my own.). I am from Oklahoma and I knew I wanted the dream life when Ree was in L.A. spending too much on shoes. She also happens to have collected on my current dream.  Her little simple blog grew to the point that when she published her cookbook, her fans went out and made it a #1 bestseller.  And demanded more.

Worst of all, I couldn’t find a single thing to criticize about the book.  It’s great.  I am a cookbook snob. I spent the entire weekend trying to find something to dislike.  There was nothing*.  It’s like she wrote it for me. Thanks, Pioneer Woman.

*Nothing I wouldn’t ask of every cookbook ever published. Is there a law requiring that every cookbook ever published include a recipe for artichoke dip?  I mean it; I need to know.

Yeah, and no, I am not being paid for an endorsement.  Or a review. Duh.  There is just not really anyplace but the blog where you can say you love someone you want to hate (ya stalker) and someone somewhere will go, “I’m cool with that.”



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