Yesterday I was eavesdropping chatting on Twitter and I saw that my friend michaelsownmom was talking about how her little boy waved and shouted a greeting at a woman who was walking down the street, but the woman didn’t respond. And understandably, that bruised his feelings just a little.

I replied to her that my six-year-old does the same thing – if someone is walking down the sidewalk in front or behind the house, he’ll stop what he is doing and holler Hi There! and wave with his hand high in the air, sometimes until they are clear out of sight.  I added that I really have to fight the urge to stifle him, but really, why?

MichaelsDaddy chimed in that he sometimes feels like he needs to protect him from the rejection of those who won’t respond in kind.

I think every parent can relate to that, the overwhelming urge to protect our babies from the hurts and rejections of the world.

If I am to be honest though, I think one reason I want to temper Sean’s enthusiasm in shouting greetings to all who pass is because, for reasons unbeknownst to me, it’s a little embarrassing. We tend to not do that kind of thing much these days and our world is probably a little darker for it.

But like MichaelsDaddy, also known as Tom, I too want to protect my baby from those who won’t acknowledge him or respond in kind.

But the cold reality of life on this planet is that there will always be a steady stream of rejection to be had.  So, from a practical standpoint, why not start practicing now?  Why not get used to rejection from complete strangers so that way when he grows up and is on Twitter and gets notice of 14 unfollowers, it won’t hurt his feelings. As much.

But immeasurably beyond that, to stifle him would be to counter the exact thing I’m trying to teach him – always reach out, always extend kindness to others,  even when it is not acknowledged or returned.

Friday night I drove far far far FAR away from my home to have dinner with Screwed Up Texan and Amy who writes Living Locurto.

I had never met either of them before, but chances are, if you read someone’s blog, you probably know more about them than people who really know them know about them — it’s just that you’ve never actually met them.  Diagram that sentence, I dare you.

Anyway, we had a delightful time sharing stories and chatting about all things blogging and everything else.  We discovered that we are all three artists and photographers, share a similar world view and we all three have children about the same age.

I also thought it was interesting that if you round up a smidge, we are all just about 10 years apart –  30, 40 and 50 — interesting but insignificant.  That’s what I love about the internet — it neutralizes the usual barriers like age, race, region, religion, economics, education and all the other silly ways in which we divide ourselves.

I’ve done a number of blogger meet-ups in my four years of blogging and I always come away feeling like I’ve found some long lost members of my tribe, that I’ve found people who understand why I do what I do.  Some of those gals whom I’ve met through blogging, and you know who you are — they  are some of my best buds. I know I can count on them.

I think that is just an amazingly cool thing, to connect with awesome people whose path you would never cross in real life.

Screwed Up, Loco Locurto and Crazy Old Lady

I was glad when I uploaded the pictures and discovered they were actually blurry and it wasn’t just that one itty bitty glass of wine I had with dinner.

This is what photographers do when they go to dinner.

Aren’t they cute? Go read their blogs.

Yesterday my friend Lysa TerKeurst was in town to do a taping at a local television studio.  In the afternoon, before the taping, I popped over and met her and Holly at their hotel for coffee, although there wasn’t any coffee. Lysa is off coffee and has managed to go on with her life in a meaningful way, but I am not.  And I could have used a pot cup. I was in my afternoon slump.  But I do want to report that I did not lie down and curl up on the sofa in the hotel lobby, even though I sorely wanted to.

Okay, so then later that evening, my friend Donna at Way More Homemade (who is super on top of things and not only knew about the taping but scored us some tickets) and my other friend Jennifer (that’s four friends I have if you’re keeping tally) and I went over to the studios to be part of the audience and watch Lysa be interviewed and talk about her book.

And she was compelling as always and funny and talked about the kind of stuff that stirs up unnamed things in your heart.

At the end of the taping the host asked if anyone in the audience had any questions for Lysa, and my friend Donna popped up out of her seat.  Not to say, “Please Lysa, tell me more about Jesus” but “Where did you get those shoes?!”

And in fact, Lysa did have on the cutest blue shoes you ever did see that matched her sweater exactly and it was not lost on anyone of the female persuasion in the viewing audience.  But her shoes in no way took away from her message because when we look at Lysa, we see the Lord. And then her awesome shoes.

Everyone in the audience received a copy of Lysa’s latest book What Happens When Women Say Yes To God. And since I already have a copy, I had Ms. TerKeurst autograph my copy so I could give it away to you!

And it just so happens that Jennifer and I are reading through this book together over here (or click on the little gal with the Yes heart in the right sidebar). We are only on chapter five, so if you’d like to jump in that would be awesome and you would be so welcome.

If you would like to win this book, which I love even though it is challenging me and giving me unrest on some issues (in a good way) leave me a comment telling me what you are saying yes to today.

I’m saying yes to doing less so I can experience more in a more meaningful way – God, my family and my friends in particular.

I’ll draw the winner at the end of the day so I can get this off in the mail to you tomorrow.

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We got a winner! Kay Sisk ~ commenter #58, writer of romance novels and self-described small town Texas gal.  Congrats Kay!

After judging her Write Away contest for the month of April, Scribbit, the loveliest of all Alaskans,  asked if she could interview me.  I am powerless to say no to Scribbit. And couldn’t seem to resist the opportunity to navel gaze a little bit.  You may read the interview here if you would like.

While you are there, check out her new eBook “Blogging in Pink”  written especially for women bloggers – and it’s free.  She also has a fantastic newsletter, also free, that is loaded with lots of good stuff that you won’t want to miss.  Scrib is all about giving and I love that about her.

Last week, one of my readers commented on this post that she had three boxes of fast food toys in her garage and that it would make her very happy if I would take them off her hands.

After a few email exchanges, it turns out that she is practically a neighbor, so we met at local park on a beautiful spring day to make the exchange.

But even better than that, she has a delightful little boy just about Sean’s age and they played and played and had the best time ever.  And that makes my heart sing to see my child enjoying the company of kind, polite and well-mannered children.

Thank you so much Ann for the toys and for going to the trouble to get them to me and for bringing along your little sidekick!

Sometimes this old internet thing is a good deal.

And there is even a prize!

Scribbit, my favorite Alaskan, asked me to judge the entries for her April writing contest.  I’m especially honored as the topic is “Mom”.

Click over for the low down on the rules and the fun prize and then get busy writing about something “mom”.  I would like to read at least 50 entries, so hop to it!

Need some ideas to get the wheels churning?

good moms, bad moms, your mom, your mother-in-law, your grandmother, teen moms, my favorite -  ANTIQUE moms, pioneer moms,  cave moms, space age moms, modern day moms, immigrant moms, a day in the life of a mom,  famous moms, infamous moms, the best part about being a mom, the worst part about being a mom, the truth about being a mom, what you wish for every mom, motherhood in 2099, motherhood in 1899, mom fashion, This wasn’t on the on the syllabus for motherhood, motherhood – an open book test, a day in your motherhood you would like to do over, a good/bad day of motherhood is when…, What I really want for Mother’s Day is…, What I really don’t want for Mother’s Day is…, If I weren’t a mom, I’d be …, Changing the world one baby at a time…, how another mom helped me, how I helped another mom, mentor moms, moms in the Bible, playground moms, PTA/school moms, mom politics, the mom I’d like to be…, what about being a mom was harder/easier than you thought it would be…  (I’ll keep adding as ideas come to mind.)

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As a judge, what will I be looking for?  Creativity! Motherhood is so very ordinary. It’s been done. Yet, everyone’s experience is unique. Look for an angle on the condition of motherhood that is uniquely your own.  Don’t just tell the facts of the story, but invite me as a reader into the scene with well-chosen and lively words.  And finally, edit, edit, edit! If a word doesn’t contribute to the telling of the story, take it out.

Good luck and have fun!

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Several have emailed me and asked if they can still participate in the contest if they don’t have a blog and the answer is Yes! Simply send Scribbit an email with the essay attached in some form or fashion.

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Dawn and I are at the Photoshop World Conference in Las Vegas learning all about photography and Photoshop from world class geeks professionals.

Tomorrow (7/31) Oprah is re-running a segment featuring my friend Lysa TerKeurst and her amazing story of an unlikely adoption.  If you haven’t seen it before, you won’t want to miss it. Check your local listings.  If you happen to miss it, you can find it on her blog.   She’s also written a book or two or eleven in case you didn’t know.

I am not a person with long-range goals.  I do not have a five-year plan.  I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I don’t even know what I want to eat for dinner tonight.  I have learned not to look too far ahead.

And I’ll tell you why.  The universe likes to take my goals, roll them up into a nice tight little cylinder and then use them to shoot spitballs at me, right between the eyes.  When I get up in the morning, I do so with the full understanding that I have no idea what’s going to happen that day, that anything could happen that day.

For example.

Today, my plan was to meet Word Girl and Ortizzle for lunch.  I had been looking forward to meeting them for a couple of weeks and today was the big day.  I had housekeepers coming and a babysitter.  I was going to go to lunch with grown ups and then come home to a napping child and a clean house.  Short term goals.

But then my child woke up with the wheeziest wheeze that ever wheezed.  So I cancelled the housekeeper’s appointment and made one with the pediatrician instead. And off we went to see about de-wheezing our boy.  After a breathing treatment and $50 in prescriptions, I made it home just in time to open the door for the babysitter. 

At least I still had plans for lunch.

I drove 20 miles towards The Hunan Garden only to find out that when I printed out the Google directions, I had left the last page on the printer. At home. That would be the critical last page that detailed the route to my final destination.

But I’m nothing if not resourceful.  I ducked into an Office Depot to take a look at a Mapsco.  However, I did not have my reading glasses with me and could not hold the dang thing out far enough to read the small, small, very small print.  But since I was at Office Depot, I bought some pretty paper, because why waste a perfectly good trip to Office Depot and an opportunity to spend money needlessly?

When I went through the checkout line, I confessed to the cashier that I was lost. She took pity on me and called up the manager who looked up the address for me on the Mapsco that I had so graciously restocked in the pretty paper department and then he gave me some detailed verbal directions.  I am one step away from being a little old lady that boy scouts help across the street.

So, I found my way to The Hunan Garden and lo, it had gone asunder.  The Garden of Hunan was no more.  Unbeknownst to Mr. Google, the knower of all knowledge, it had become for a brief shining moment in time, some sort of classy night club with a sign that was spray painted on a piece of plywood.  But now it was not even that.  It was boarded up tight and in need of a good mow.  And! Next door to the restaurant formerly known as The Hunan Garden was a discount funeral home. But I’m sure that is totally coincidental.

So I called Ortizzle to apprise her of the situation.  About that time she pulls up, and although I had never met or seen her before, I figured a woman talking on a cell phone at the now defunct Hunan Garden must be she. And it was.  And oh how we laughed. Then off we went in search of Word Girl and a good stiff drink.

We ended up at Papadeaux’s and enjoyed a lovely lunch of wine and non-stop conversation and to me that is far better than any day at the spa or even coming home to a napping child and a clean house.  It recharges my batteries to spend time with bright, witty, thoughtful and intelligent women.  The time flew by too quickly.  And part of that had to do with the fact that my watch had stopped. And maybe the glass of wine.  I kept looking at my watch thinking it was only 1pm, when in fact it was 3pm.  Drat.

As we left the restaurant, a mighty wind blew up and heavy gray clouds closed in.  So we said farewell for now and see ya around the blogosphere.

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I returned Ortizzle to the discount funeral parlor where she had left her car and I headed towards home.  Not the day I had planned, but nice. Very nice.

On the way home, the rain started in hard and steady, but oddly enough, only on the other side of the highway.  I drove along savoring being on the sunny side of the road, and life, for as long as it should last.

Because who knows what the rest of the day will bring?

One recent rainy Saturday, I had the opportunity to meet Veronica Mitchell who writes Toddled Dredge.

I found Veronica’s blog shortly after she started writing it back in March of 2006 and have been stalking her admired her ever since. I have no idea now how I even found her blog. I think it was listed on someone’s blogroll and like many of you, I wondered what in the heck is a toddled dredge? So I toddled over to find out.  I still don’t know.

As Antique Daddy and I were driving to meet Veronica and her husband Az for lunch, I started getting a little nervous because, you know, meeting a blogging buddy in real life for the first time is kind of like a blind date — a study in awkwardness. Then to make matters worse, I recalled a post she had written last year:

“Authors are apt to be disappointing in conversation. The written word is deliberate, but conversation is unrehearsed. You could get your favorite authors together for tea only to discover that the poet can’t stop talking about Kobe Bryant, the Pulitzer prizewinner snorts tea out her nose when she laughs, and Salman Rushdie? He spends the afternoon staring at your breasts?

I spent the rest of the drive saying to myself, Don’t stare at her breasts, don’t stare at her breasts, don’t stare…

In spite of pelting rain, missed highway exits, sweaty palms and fussy children, I think it went well. I didn’t stare at her breasts, snort any beverages out my nose or blurt out anything terribly inappropriate. All in all, I found Veronica to be pretty much exactly as she portrays herself on her blog – she does in fact have curly hair. The only disappointment on my part, was that we didn’t get to visit longer.

Here are some fun facts I learned about Veronica over lunch that are totally true. Totally.

She plays the accordian.

Shania Twain is her second cousin.

She speaks fluent Portuguese.

She and Az teach polka dancing at the local YMCA.

She once had dinner with Ralph Nader.

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If you haven’t been reading Veronica, by way of introduction, here are a few of my favorite posts:

Another SAHM Talks About Linda, Subtitle: One More Fart in the Effluvium

The Christian Smart Ass or Why Nobody Wants To Sit By Me In Heaven

The Circus and The Strong Man

Ex Substantia Matris