Velveteen Mind

BOSSY is the new Dooce.

Ever played Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon?  Well, we're going to play Two Degrees of Dooce.  Yep, that's right, I'm going to connect myself to Dooce in two degrees.  Here we go:

Megan loves Bossy.
Bossy loves Dooce.
The end.

Impressed, right? 

Wait, did you not know that Bossy loves Dooce?  In fact, there is a movie about it.  It's fabulous, sure to win some kind of blog award this year.  Watch it right now.  Bossy Loves Dooce.  The Movie.

So Bossy was looking for some well-deserved Dooce love.  I don't know if she ever got it, but I offered her some Megan Love, which I affectionately refer to as Mooce Love.  But Bossy deserves better than a little Mooce Love in Bossy's comments.

If you aren't reading Bossy, you should.  Right now.  I've been hooked on her since the first time I stumbled into her site.  Now I hope with each new Bossy post that Bossy might some day think of Megan when she mentions her readers reader.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that Bossy might reserve her nods for the readers reader who leaves comments.  Unfortunately for Megan, Bossy's readers are almost as funny as Bossy is, so Megan is usually too hesitant to leave a lame comment that would pale in comparison to Bossy's hilarious comment stack.

This is where I make up for that lack of commenting thing.

In the fanatic style of Pink is the new Blog readers, who send in photos of themselves holding up signs that say things like "Pink is the new College Tour" or "Pink is the new Vatican City," as well as photos of themselves in different situations sporting a Pink is the new Blog bumper sticker, I present to you... my ode to i am bossy.com...

Bossy is the new Dooce.
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BOSSY is the new Morning Routine.

BOSSY is the new Full Monty.

BOSSY is the new Ride to School.
BOSSY is the new Early Morning Beach Mama.

BOSSY is the new Early Morning Beach Beverage.

BOSSY is the new Baby Entertainment.

BOSSY is the new Land Yacht Pimp Mobile Interior.


BOSSY is the new Hurricane Camille Relic.  *The photo with me in it was taken by a random Harley biker, thank you very much.  Bossy brings bikers and stay-at-home moms together.
BOSSY is the new Make the Most of What You've Got Left.

BOSSY is the new Carcoleptic.
BOSSY is the new Knee Licking Ride Home from School.
BOSSY is the new Space Monkey.
BOSSY is the new Toddler Van Gogh. *Pants's take on what a "bossy person" would look like.
BOSSY is the new Paparazzi Shield.
BOSSY is the new Toddler's Dream Sand Castle.
BOSSY is the new Horseshoe Crab Meet-up.

BOSSY is the new Inability to Follow Simple Directions like
"Hold this sticker, Goose."
BOSSY is the new Fine Dining Experience.  Waffle House.  Holla!
BOSSY is the new Tongue-Poking Inspiration.

Megan loves Bossy. Fo' evah evah.

*You, too, can create your own ode to Bossy with your very own i am bossy.com bumper sticker.

Related Posts:

BOSSY is the new Marlon Brando or And Then BOSSY Yelled "Stella!" (the one where I meet BOSSY)

Indignation and Defiance. A Bad Ass and a Donkey Butt.

During the week, I usually try to stick to non-meta blogging stuff and avoid too many memes and awards.  You know, just ride my high horse.  ;)  However, I've been having a little fun with my blog lately (as opposed to the pure torture it usually is?), posting my 100 Things milestone post and ranting about Bill Maher being a big flabby boob.  I've been using words like "dildo" and "masturbation" and not thinking a thing about it.  This is my home, right?  I can not shave my legs or clean under the fridge all I want.  Right?  I'll certainly clean up if I'm expecting company, but until then, let's just relax.

I forgot that I invited some company over. 

Said company poked their head in, saw the mess up in this joint, and left me a smug note on the door to let me know that they were here and did not approve of what they had seen.  In fact, they told me that the "quality" of my work was not up to par with the rest of their "resyndication network" and I could keep my "Satan detectors in the loony bin" talk to myself.  Thanks for playing.  Buh-bye now.

Oh haaaaeeeelllll no.  I know they di'nt!

Okay, they didn't actually say all that, but they did say something about "quality" and it wasn't that I was rocking it.  Granted, it was a form letter for their rejections, but still.  Apparently, I had submitted my blog to them for resyndication and forgot about it.  My name came up last week, they stopped by to check me out and see if Velveteen Mind was suitable for their network, and they found a bunch of off-color posts.  Oops.

I probably never stood a chance.  I failed to notice that they prefer posts that are "100-450 words in length."  Yeah, I might want to hang that one up.

Nevertheless.  I was denied.  Shut down.  Rejected.  Ouch.  But then...

Last time I checked, I don't write for the satisfaction of ass hats.  Nor for their approval.

All ass hats are now welcome to show yourselves out.  This is my house, mofos, and I won't be denied or rejected in my own house.  Okay, apparently I will, but I won't sweat it.  Okay, I will sweat it, but I won't internalize it.  Ya ass hat.

Now let's play some more.

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Remember a while back when I talked about being surprised at receiving the Nice Matters Award from Nell at meanwhile..., then again by Poot and Cubby, and finally by temporarily me?  I relayed the following conversation:

When I first saw it, this is what I told Nell:

Hey! Thank you! I am rarely called "nice." Too much attitude creates a force field around me that sort of makes that adjective just bump right off. I'm glad someone thinks I can be nice!

Nell's response, which I am totally holding her to:

I do think you're nice. But not in that goody two shoes way, more of a bad ass kind of nice. Maybe that's what the button should say...

Aaaawwww yeah.  She made the button.

Please tell me that doesn't rock?  I am Bad Ass Nice. 

Seriously, though, Nell is the Bad Ass Nice one.  Did you read her Saturday Squatters guest post?  The girl is a kick ass writer.  Love her.  So, Nell, I am officially bestowing my Bad Ass Nice button right back atcha!  You are one Bad Ass Nice blogger and I hope you display this button proudly.

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I also received another cool award a while back from Jenny at Absolutely Bananas.  She has mad Photoshopping Skillz, too, and pulled the following award out of her butt...  Her Donkey Butt, apparently.

An award "for blogs that rock your world.  Hard."   I loves me some Absolutely Bananas, so this was a real treat.

My world is currently being rocked by a blogger that I just recently found.  Total mom crush.  Total blog crush.  Total crush happening here at Velveteen Mind on moms are for everyone!

First of all, if I could look like Emery Jo for just one day, I think I would be happy.  Then her son's name is Ezra, which reminds me of our old neighbor in New Orleans who used to play in a band called Better than Ezra, so warm fuzzy feelings there.   Her husband looks like someone I would have dated, so yeah, more crushing.  Her blog looks like something I wish I had.  More crushing.  And her writing is not short but is sweet, in a sweeeeet! kind of way.   You know I love long blog posts.  Oh, and I can't forget that she has an eBay store featuring vintage clothing.  Ya'll, we are BFF already.   She just doesn't know it, yet.

She's also a singer-songwriter.  But I just found her, so I can't tell you if she sucks or not.  ;)  I'm betting not.

Emery Jo, you rock my world.  Hard.  Your blog kicks donkey butt.

Isn't it fun finding a new crush?  I found mine on cre8buzz, by the way, along with a couple of others, one of which I plan to write about this weekend, so stay tuned.  Cre8buzz is about to go live, too, so ya'll let me know if any of you want an invitation.  I'll be writing about it more next week, but I am absolutely loving it so far.

************

Until then, that's a wrap on my party for today.  Continue raising hell in the comments.  Tell me about some of your new crushes.  Don't be shy...  do you have a crush on me?  Have you been lurking but afraid to come out?  Come on, tell me...  I'm a good kisser blogger, you'll be glad you did...

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*I reserve the right to pull these awards back out of my blog bling arsenal at any time I damn well please and pass them on to bloggers I want to recognize.  I still haven't given my nominations for my Thinking Blogger Award from a million years ago.  Ooh, and still have an awesome new Rocking Blogger button to pass around.  If there are some kind of crazy rules attached to these awards, you'll just have to deal.   Man, I better get crackin'.  And who has an "I (heart) Your Blog" award, because I so want one of those.

I Am a Have but I Happen to Have Not

{Audioblog} Listen to or Download 'I Am a Have, But I Happen To Have Not' read by the author

My husband considers himself lucky because I am not into spending money on clothing, makeup, shoes, or other material possessions.  Particularly after Katrina, I am in no hurry to put our money into anything that can go *poof* and simply disappear. 

Rather, I research interest rates of money market accounts online, study the bios of companies whose stock I'm interested in buying, and listen to Clark Howard on talk radio with an avid interest I used to reserve for BOP articles about Corey Haim.  As much as I might like, deep down, to spend a huge chunk of cash on a new wardrobe from Saks Fifth Avenue, I just can't get all fired up about it.  I can get all fired up about earning a 10% return on the cash that would buy that wardrobe, though.

This is an easy, responsible financial approach to take for me because, well, I don't really have any money.   Therefore, I don't really have any temptations.  Not right now, anyway.

Due to a combination of factors that came simultaneously crashing down on our heads after the storm, we find ourselves in the position of living, more or less, month to month.  This is remarkable, given that we still don't have a home again, yet.  Fortunately, due to a combination of factors that have simultaneously lifted burdens from our shoulders, we are currently sitting on the precipice of hopefully never living month to month again.  It has taken two years, but we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

And it has been a long tunnel.

For superstition's sake, let me now say, "Knock on wood," for this entire post.

People comment to me all the time that our family will be stronger, and is stronger, for the obstacles we have overcome together.  I have been told that marriages dissolve over less frustrating circumstances than we have survived.  Quite frequently I hear, "I don't think I could have made it through what you have and you seem so fine."  This isn't talk about Katrina, but rather about money, career, and sacrifices.

My response to speculations about our financial situation is always the same.  I am not my money.

I don't define myself by how much money I have in the bank or how stylish my clothes are.  I don't see myself in how impressive my house is or by the model of my car. 

This is fortunate, because my bank account is anorexic, my clothes are from the outlet mall, my house is my parents' guest house, and my car is my dad's old Lincoln Town Car, a magnificent shade of Pimp's Suit Emerald Green, right down to the Florida Retiree's Emerald Green leather interior.

But these things are not me, they are just my circumstances.  And my circumstances don't begin to scratch my surface.

Despite my circumstances that suggest that my life is a bit in shambles, I am confident.  I am confident in who I am and in who I will be.  I am confident in my past decisions and my future plans.  I have faith and I have hope.

I am a have in this world, but I just so happen to have not. 

More than anything else, I hope I am teaching this perspective to my family.  We are not our money.  We have no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed when I have to pick Pants up in my bright green land yacht of a car.  We don't need to hesitate when we have to tell people that we live in my parents' guest house.  We are not here because of something we did wrong.  We are making the most of the cards we have been dealt and we will be stronger for it.  We have been given opportunities that the catastrophe-less around us may never glimpse.

And yet, it sure is easy to make these grand, noble, sweeping statements when I have no temptations before me.  I couldn't be a GAP mom right now if I wanted to, let alone if I tried.  Sure, I can be a GAP Outlet mom, but that still doesn't include the great car.  No, when you are broke, you decide to make the most of what you have.  You just deal. 

But then what happens when your circumstances change from mental fortitude toward financial strength?  The temptations of the GAP mom will rear their ugly heads and what keeps you from folding?  What keeps you from succumbing to the power of the Volvo wagon and the day spa?

I fully intend to succumb to the powers of the Volvo wagon and the day spa.

The difference is that when I have money again, when my circumstances change and I can breathe again, I want and plan to remember one thing:  I am not my money.

As much as I don't define myself by my circumstances now, I do not want to define myself by my circumstances later, no matter how glossy and glittery. 

If I do anything right as a mother, I want to raise children who view the world from the same financial perspective.  We are not what we have materially.

The guest post by Nell from meanwhile... reminded me of this objective.  While reflecting on how her daughter Matilda has become friends with Taylor, the daughter of a materially-focused, perfection-minded mother, she wrote:

Matilda and Taylor have become friends. I like to imagine them hanging out when they're older, like when they're fifteen. I imagine Matilda being jealous of how perfect Taylor's family seems, like a TV family. And I imagine Taylor being jealous of Matilda, of how wild and crazy her family is, of how she can make her own choices and be whoever she wants to be. And I know Matilda is getting the better end of that deal.

When Pants and Goose are older, I would love nothing more than for them to be able to seamlessly blend into groups of both the privileged and the struggling.   While hanging out with a kid whose home is a trailer, it would be great if that kid wondered, "Which trailer park is Goose's?"  While hanging out with a kid whose home is a beach mansion, it would be wonderful if that kid wondered, "Which manse belongs to Pants?" 

I had friends like that and I was usually more impressed by the ability of the kid in the mansion to conceal his wealth than by the kid in the trailer.  Perhaps this is because I think it is sometimes easier to cope with our circumstances when they are difficult or challenging than to defend ourselves against complacency when our circumstances are auspicious.

If I can raise my boys to define themselves with perspective and to see beyond the material, whether that be an excess or a dearth, I will have done a fine job.  If they can recognize what truly matters in this world and that recognition not include a glimpse of the latest fill in the blank trendy toy, then I can exhale.

When it comes to the things that matter, we do "have."  We are the greatest of haves in this world full of bitter have nots. 

We have tread the waters of the deep sucking divide between the haves and have nots and we have come out on the other side stronger.  I'll be damned if we are sucked back to the other shore, as all that we have experienced would have been for naught.

Related posts:

Victor Vito

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