What is that smell? Good grief, the Queen left her fresh mait out the entire time I was gone?
I know Fenicle did not write "F*ck You" in nail polish on my bed! Well, at least I'll have another good story to add to my own bed's history... although it still can not rival that of Mrs. Mustard's.
And what is this scattered all over my desk? Playgroupie's rough drafts of thank you notes for some truly hideous baby clothing, meticulously edited by my favorite wordsmith, Dr. Bolte?
Maybe I can get Christine to use her freshly-dusted-off schmoozing skills to sweet talk Poot and Cubby's little Elliot into cleaning up this mess.
We can make a party out of it! JJ throws the best Truth or Dare parties, which would have been the best game to play while getting to know Sara rather than just drilling her over cups of coffee and cider. Really, could you be friends with a non-coffee drinker? It's a challenge, but she's so flattering, I keep her around.
Speaking of flattering, if you ever need a self-esteem boost, let me tell you, have over a slew of guest bloggers. What generous compliments these girls were throwing around! I should do this all the time (in fact, see the bottom of this post...). I should also ask who I need to contact regarding payment on all of these $5 words I apparently use. Is there like a minimum dollar amount I need to hit before they cut the check?
If I were a real writer (as ya'll suggested a couple of times), I imagine I would meet my $5 word quota much faster, by the way. I am, in fact, not a real writer. Writing thousands of words and writing thousands of words read by thousands of people who pay you thousands of dollars are two very different things.
I'll take the compliments, though. Any day.
Not only will I take them, I'd like to hand them out myself for a moment. At the end of August, I was nominated for the Nice Matters Award by Nell at meanwhile..., then again by Poot and Cubby, and finally by temporarily me, one of the best new (to me) blogs I've found lately. I loves me some blog awards, and I love them even more when they come in three's!
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...
I'm still waiting on the "Bad-Ass Nice" button (tap... tap... tap... ahem.), but fortunately Poot and Cubby and temporarily me both snagged a cool button for the interim, made by Something Baby Blue. Here's where I hand it out to the nicest bloggers I know: my Guest Bloggers!
“This award is for those bloggers who are cool people and awesome blog friends - those who bring tingly feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you’ve been awarded, please pass it on to 7 others who you feel are deserving of this award.”
How about 9?
Mrs. Mustard from Cheeze Whiz and Mustard wrote a hilarious account of the history of her girlhood bed (and by "girl," I mean, well, not "innocent young lady") and made me miss my own old twin and all of its own "funky" stories.
The Queen of Shake-Shake offered up An Illustrated Guide to Exercising Fresh Mait Authori-tay, which was exactly what her story of boob-grabbing fresh mait demands needed.
Christine from Watch me! No, watch me! wrote a post about reclaiming your optimistic self, the one willing to schmooze an old man for his sake and not necessarily yours, that just blew me away. If I quoted every line I loved, I would be rehashing her whole post. Here's just one:
And I'm stunned, wondering when exactly it was that I switched from that girl who found joy and fulfillment in a ragged old man's smile to the one who was annoyed by his bitterness.
Maybe it was the same time that my optimism gave way to being worn-down, when happy stopped being my baseline, when I stopped laughing at jokes if I already knew the punchline.
Fenicle deserves an award just for her patience. When accepting her offer to guest post, I called her "Nicole." Three times. Good Lord. I swear, I know the "it's French for Nicole" is a joke, I know the story behind it, and yet my decongestant-overdosed brain just farted out on me and spit out "Nicole" as her name when I emailed her. Ugh. Nevertheless, she wrote a hilarious post about her best shining moment when her own brain was firing on all cylinders and she was able to deliver the ultimate comeback on cue.
Sara from Suburban Oblivion wins the flattery award. I think I'm going to print out her post and carry it around with me. Even better, she pulled out the big guns and shared the story of the first time we met. Insert dramatic romantic cheese music here. I love the heart strings stuff, add a few compliments on how big my brain is (I'm laughing), and you had me at hello.
Jennifer from Playgroups are No Place for Children hid some of her dirty laundry here and revealed that she is not, in fact, a fan of camouflage for baby girls. Um, no. And for the record, I was hoping for some cussing! I was aiming for an increase in my foul-mouth authority, based on your kind letters to Walgreens. Damn. Oh, and for the record, I do think she is an "amazing writer whom I emulate and envy."
If you weren't a fan of Dr. Bolte before, how could you not add is there a doctor in the house? to your Google Reader after her solid mini-dissertation on her continual pursuit of the mastery of words? A girl after my own heart. And she mentioned that she still writes letters. Real letters. On paper. With a pen. I'm in love. Write me a letter, Carrie. I promise I'll write back.
JJ from Gaining Balance then lightened the thinkyness factor and threw a Truth or Dare party! She explored the party atmosphere that blogging creates, the bond and camaraderie unique to our community. Oh yeah, she also handed out beer and weed. What more could you want? Note: I am a total fuddy duddy and have never smoked weed, but had a strange attraction to people who did in high school... no surprise that I let another one into my house. (wink wink) Okay, she might not really smoke it herself. Man, this feels like a hole I'm digging.
Finally, Andi from Poot and Cubby wrapped up this little Squatters Fest with an offer to hire out her toddler for a variety of uses. Having seen quite a few pictures of wee Elliot, I would be happy to take her up on her offer of a wacky party commenter. Her post had me laughing out loud, a welcome return gift after my wonderful vacation.
* * * * * * *
Huge thanks and compliments to all of my guest posters! Ya'll rock! Sure, my blog could have survived my absence, but that's no fun. Whether it was getting to know new-to-you bloggers or seeing new sides of some of your old favorites, it was a lot of fun for me and hopefully for you all, as well. In fact...
If you are interested in Squatting with the Thread-Bear sometime, drop me an email and we'll set up a time for you to mark your territory at Velveteen Mind. You'll get the fun button (handiwork of Jules at Everyday Design) below as well as a featured link on my new permanent page: Squatters.
Ya up for it? Can you bring the funk, the stank, the funny, or the smahts? 
Depending on the interest, I'll begin featuring a new Squatter every other Saturday. To start it off right, I'd like to send a personal invitation to Nell at meanwhile... and Tempting Mama at temporarily me to be a couple of the first Saturday Squatters!
Who else is ready to pop a squat with me?
Writer. Mother.
