Velveteen Mind

Double Doozie: Blogging Less to Write More

I quit one of my writing gigs.  Why?  Because I couldn't bring myself to post  here at Velveteen Mind when I knew I owed a post elsewhere.

I told a friend today that it felt like calling in sick and then being caught shopping at the mall, wandering around with a Diet Coke and a Double Doozie from Great American Cookie, a satisfied grin slapped on my smug little face.

What I am saying is:  my plan is to start posting here at the ole joint with the tattered book more like 3 times a week, rather than the usual 3 times a month.  Hence, the cutting back of distractions.  And if I don't?  You can call me on it.

Mrs. Fussypants certainly already does call me on it.  So does Missives from Suburbia.  And damn Jennifer from Playgroups are No Place for Short Blog Titles.  If she suggests one more time that posting frequently is a great way to build a good blog, I'm going to poke her in the butt with a fork.

Um, so yeah, I know I should post more.  I totally get that.  (I'm planning on memorizing Jennifer's Blog Tip Sharing series.  I see that she has up a post about maintaining uncluttered Sidebars.  Good Lord, do I even want to know?  Jennifer, side offer:  if you will come over to my blog and critique it, I will offer you my butt's ability to warm a bed for 3 nights at BlogHer.  You in?)

The irony is that while you may think I've fallen off of the blogosphere, the reality is that all I have been thinking about is blogging for the last month.  I'm talking about Blog Nosh Magazine...  again.  I keep mentioning it because a lot of work is going into that project and I am not only inundated with emails every day from bloggers and editors, but I am also flooded with pride and a fiery passion for all that we are banging out and building up.

Not to mention The People's Party.  And, yes, I will be mentioning BlogHer a few more times (insert laugh here) in the next few weeks.  I'll try to do it without annoying those of you not going, but talk about a huge project!  And worth every second.

So while you have been seeing no new updates at Velveteen Mind, I have been thinking about you for hours every day.  Thinking of how to best promote your work on Blog Nosh Magazine, how to entice the most click-through to your blogs, how to let you shine.  I've been thinking about meeting you at BlogHer, helping to make you feel welcome, introducing you to our sponsors who are interested in you, plotting ways to keep you entertained and engaged, all the while taking into consideration how to include those not attending the conference.

Speaking of you broke folk (holla!) and shy peeps not going to BlogHer:  Don't forget to send me your bloggy business cards for distribution at The People's Party if you are unable to attend.  Just email me for my address.  And you absolutely have to tune in to the live feed of the party (details soon), call your friends-in-attendance and encourage them to make fools of themselves on camera while giving you a shout-out, and see that, "Hey, I should go next year because it's not that big of a deal."

(and if this isn't the most arrogant post ever, I don't know what is---  just bear with me, because I am trying to convince myself that I can pull my weight despite my traffic currently being dismal  --post more post more post more-- and my patient readers growing impatient...  hey, look!  another cookie distraction!)

One more thing:  Jennifer from Playgroups are the Longest Blog Name in History also says that all of our posts don't have to be long and eloquent.  She encourages us to keep it quick and dirty. 

If anyone has a needlepoint that I could hang over my computer that says "Keep it quick and dirty," I'd love to have it. 

 

*Double Doozie photos via the flickr page:  turbo binge

(**Consider this fair warning:  if you visit turbo binge, you will immediately gain 5 pounds.  Man, I am hungry.  Starving.  mmmmmmm....)

...........................

New Here? Sign up for free delivery of new posts via RSS or email.

Please share on or Twitter with the Tiny URL for this post:  http://tinyurl.com/6dtu5f 

Follow me on Twitter! and

 

Blooming Marvelous Easter 2008

Ooh, where ever did you come up with such a cute idea for Easter cupcakes, Megan?
*** Why, from my Blooming Marvelous ditto sister, Annie!

I have a feeling they don't look anything like what Annie had described, but my family utterly adored them.  A new Easter staple, I am quite confident. 

Thank you to everyone who sent in Easter cupcake recipes, however, I probably should have mentioned that anything requiring more than, say, three ingredients and four steps is too much for this Domestic Dumb Bunny.  This is why Annie's recipe was spectacular:  3 ingredients and 4 steps!  She is a genius and she knows me very well.

Now, on with the rest of our quick illustrated guide to my family's Easter...

Goose says, "What?  You got a problem with my egg dipping by hand?"
Megan thinking, "Wowza!  My kid is the next Jackson Pollock!"
*** Pants doesn't do normal poses.  Crazy only, thank you.
And notice not a drop of egg dye on those 3 year old fingers.
I live the perfect illustration of the Birth Order Theory.
*** Holy Hidden Eggs, Batman!
Pants takes Easter egg hunting seriously.
*** Hey!  There ain't no candy in this egg!  What am I supposed to do with this?
Goose takes Easter egg hunting for the crock it really is.
***

Finally, a glimpse into our family on Easter night, on the jagged edge of the sugar high comedown:

Listen closely and you can hear my dad say, "You wanna see mine--  I'm gonna crazy myself into the bar and watch some Westerns."  Classic.  And, yes, my folks have a full bar in their house.  Welcome to a Mississippi Easter.

Hope you had a happy Easter, ya'll!

New Here?  Subscribe to Velveteen Mind or have it delivered via email.

Good Friday. Pure. Home.

You know how we didn't have a computer for four months, more or less?

That also meant no internet and no television.  We were in a self-imposed technological dark age.

That's how I missed this:

I don't care how hard-hearted you are, that is a beautiful thing.

And I don't care how many times you've seen it, watch it again.  For me.

Because it's a Good Friday.

~~~

I'm not a YouTube kind of girl, but I am loving watching the nominees for the YouTube Video Awards this morning.  Watch all of the nominees and then check out the winners. 

~~~

Speaking of Good Friday, I got into this YouTube-watching-timesuck because I was looking for recipes for Easter cupcakes and deviled eggs.  I have a new cake plate and carnival glass deviled egg dish I want to use, so the eats has got to be pretty.

Aah.  That dish is my grandmother.

I want to make something like this:

 

But I have a feeling that the best I'll be able to pull off will be something like this:

 

 

Any suggestions for Easter cupcakes?
What about your mama's deviled egg recipe?

Our first Easter in our new home, so it's time to warm this place up with some new family traditions.

What are your family Easter traditions?
Help me make this house a home...

 

...........................

Please share this post on or so others can find us, too.

New Here?  Subscribe to Velveteen Mind or have it delivered via email.

   

100th-ish Post. 100 Things. Sex, Drugs, and Satan Detectors.

There's a party in my blog!  So yummy!  So yummy!  (That's right, I am insistent that Yo Gabba Gabba! is a rockin' show for the drunk toddler in you.  Do you still dare to defy me on this?)

Happy 100th post to me!  Or 101st post, but whatever.  Blogging Rules state that I am now obliged to post 100 things about me that you didn't know, didn't want to know, could care less about, and will probably skip with the hope that I'll stop posting about Bill Maher, boobs, and get back to regular posting soon.  Well, first of all, don't tell me what to do, and second of all, I'm not posting tomorrow, either.  Nope, it's the first day of my Saturday Squatters and I've got one of my favorite bloggers lined up, so you and Bill Maher can both suck it.  ;)

Do you like how I make it to 100 posts and start talking serious smack to my loyal readers?  And then my loyal readers mutter, "Start talking smack?  She's got to be kidding."

And now, because I fully expect many of you to skip this post (who doesn't love memes?  come on!) despite the fact that I am about to talk about such things as Barbie doing Ken and Satan detectors implanted into brains, I'm dropping my 100 things into the "continue reading" link and leaving you with this final thought on the magic that is Yo Gabba Gabba!

Biscuits and Beer

I look good in BCBG Max Azria clothes.  Particularly the dresses.  So good, in fact (this is me, tongue in cheek), that I thought I would pack an incredibly cute one for our beach vacation with our favorite college-friends couple, Heather and Jarrod. 

This dress is darling, let me tell you.  It's a knee-length sleeveless number, in lightweight chartreuse material with a slight sheen that totally compliments the 1960's housewife cut, complete with two open front pockets.  Almost like an apron, only smashingly darling, with a fitted waist and A-line skirt.  Looks faboo with chunky Bakelite jewelry, finishing off the retro vibe quite nicely.  Perfect for a patio dinner overlooking the Gulf of Mexico over drinks and good conversation about how crazy we were in college.

Someone forgot to mention to me that three toddlers would be attending this dinner.

Three little boys, ranging in age from 1-3, do not mix with easily wrinkled, easily stained dresses.  They also do not mix with scenic dinners overlooking the water, unless you don't mind a lot of negotiations over meal choices, bites to be taken of those damn chicken fingers that you swore you wanted you little booger, and an endless acrobatic display of bending over to pick up toys dropped (or thrown, thank you Goose, you are hilarious) onto the floor.

Fortunately, I don't mind such dinners.  I just forgot that those would be the kind we would be having.

I'm not sure who exactly I thought would be babysitting our crew of dudes while the four of us went out together.  Swept up in anticipation of time with our old friends, I just overlooked that small detail.  And then I packed that cute dress.  With cute shoes.  And cute jewelry.  None of which were to be pieced back together during the mad dashes to grab anything clean out of the suitcase on the way out to The Crab Trap with purses laden down with "busy toys" rather than powder and lipstick.

Our lives are so different now.  Sometimes I do get caught off guard by how different.  I love it, but I also miss the old days.  I miss drinking with my friends while jockeying for position in front of the mirror, getting ready to go out at 10:30 at night.  Now, if I'm not in bed by 10:30, I want to cry.  I miss grinding with boy-friends on the dance floor, our feet sticking to spilled drinks on the ground, until we shut down the place.  Now I grind my teeth to keep from overreacting to the nth spilled juice drink of the day, making my floor a sticky mess that I'm supposed to clean up.  So different.  Good.  Wonderful.  But different.

A few days into our vacation, Jarrod said, "I don't feel like my vacation has even started."  I hear you, brother.  I don't know what I was expecting, as this was our first vacation with the boys, let alone our first vacation with another couple and their boy, but it in no way resembled what I used to think of as a "vacation."  I truly loved every minute of it, but it wasn't like vacations pre-offspring.

Particularly as a stay-at-home mom, our vacation felt more like every other day at home, except with sand.  And more noise.  And lots more water. 

It's not like the boys took a vacation from being toddlers.

The best difference was that these vacation days I had someone with which to commiserate.  Someone who met my overwhelmed sighs with a knowing smile and a mimed "let's strangled them, huh?" across the room.   I love Heather.

I think Heather and I were better prepared for this not-quite-vacation than the husbands were.  At least we knew how to make it through a day full of negotiations, tantrums, and messes.  Picture a day of negotiating with Donald Trump.  Now make him be drunk.  Then put him on the beach.  With a water gun.  And no nap.  That was our vacation.

Maguire and Jarrod were the Apprentices.  In this reality show, however, they wanted to be told, "You're fired."  Ha ha.  Very funny, man-boys.  But you aren't getting off that easy.  Our contracts here state that you will remain on the show until cancellation.  Those contracts being marriage contracts and cancellation being death.

So we adapted.  We lowered our expectations.  More specifically, we changed our expectations.  And we laughed.  A lot. 

And our vacation finally began.

After some serious negotiations with our own drunk adult Donald Trumps, Heather and I broke out for a girls' night out.  Because I like to stick with what works, we went to see SUPERBAD and then out to dinner, just the two of us.  The next night, we gave the men "Get Out of Jail Free" cards and, because they like to stick with what works, they hit Hooters.  Niiiiice.   Chicka Chicka YeYeah!

I used to revel in vacations replete with pastries and mimosas.  Now I relish vacations crammed with biscuits and beer.  And I love it.  And I love Heather and Jarrod for inviting us along.  Pants talks daily about "his new friend, E" and is clearly disappointed each and every day when I have to tell him that we won't be seeing them today.

We are absolutely looking forward to our next vacation as a family.  Hopefully, again, as an extended family.  Because it's after 9am and I could really use a biscuit and beer.