Saturday, February 28, 2009


I had no idea it would be painful to see my book for sale on Amazon, listed as "used".


Friday, February 27, 2009

Eight little babies, all in a row.

The Octuplet mom thing? Is kind of getting to me.

This woman is my age. She has fourteen children.

I'm ashamed to say how much news coverage I have watched of this woman lately. I watched both days of the Dr. Phil special on her (thank you TiVo) and I was so struck by so many things about her:

2) She has a lot of excuses for what she did, but no real plan for how she's going to support all those kids.
3) This gal is getting a degree in counseling, apparently. I am confused as to who she thinks will want counseling from someone who has pretty obvious mental issues.
4) Bless her heart.
5) Bless all those children's heart.
6) Bless her mother's heart.
7) Good God.

I had two babies at the same time, and no husband. My parents, my older brother, and my sister and her now-husband were all around me and all helped me feed a baby, change a baby, and play with a baby. They gave me a break so I could have a bath. They made sure that I had time to do things. Important things like use the restroom and eat.

Did I have all the support I wanted and needed? No. Of course not. But I had a heck of a lot less kids than this mom and, seemingly, a lot more support.

And I almost lost my mind.

There were times that I could not do anything but lay on my face and cry. There were times that I seriously thought, "I cannot get through this day". There were times when I would achingly wonder how I had gotten to the point I was at and what I was going to do next.

And I only had two. Twelve less than this mom.

I know people hate her. I know she is a very polarizing figure. I know that people are furious about what she has done. She gets death threats. People wish her uterus would fall out and her babies would die.

I don't think what she did was right, at all. I don't think she made good choices. I think she didn't think it through. I think she was selfish and focused on what she wanted and wasn't thinking about those kids she already has and hasn't been able to support. And? I think she had babies because she wanted someone to love her.

That being said:

I didn't make good choices in my life. I married someone I knew didn't love me. I have been so selfish and so desperate for a child that I was willing to put my own life at risk and potentially leave my two children without a mother, because I wanted it so badly. I had two children when I had no husband, no job, and no education. And? I had a baby (well, two) because I wanted someone to love me.

So. There's that. Judge not lest ye be judged and all that.

I don't know. I just don't know.

There are so, so many things wrong with this situation. It's seriously scary and awful and I feel my chest tighten up whenever I think about it. And yes, I think about what she's done wrong and all of her bad choices, but I also think about how desperate and scared and lonely this poor woman must have been, to do these things. And God yes, she's selfish. Ridiculously so. But how could someone be so lacking? So needy? What on Earth could drive her to this point?

I don't know. But I do know I feel sad for those 14 little children. Who, unwittingly were born to be their mother's saviors.

It's a hell of a burden to put on a kid.

And I know that much to be true.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Way behind.

I'm on Goodreads now. So friend me up or whatnot.

Also, there are two copies of my book up for winning. Check out the giveaway page. And tell a friend if you think they might like it.

Thank you and so on!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Father knows best.

My aunt has cancer. Ovarian cancer. I hear that it's a particularly horrible form of cancer, one that you can't do much about. It might take her life and that horrifies me.

I saw her on July 7th, 2007. The date of my other aunt's wedding. It was a beautiful, wonderful day. A day that the love in the room was like it's own separate being. There was true joy that day, not just from the bride and groom, but from so many of the people there. It was a good, good day. I wish we could have more days like that day. Days when we get together with the people we love and don't see very often. Days that are not sad occasions like funerals, but good days. Happy days.

I saw her again when my great-grandmother died. My great-grandmother was on my mom's side and my aunt is on my dad's side. My parents have been married so long that their families have sort of meshed. They all know one another.

I think that is so beautiful. My children used to call all three of my grandmother's "The Grandmothers". As though they all belonged together.

Those days I spoke with my aunt as much as I could. She is always in good spirits, despite her illness. She laughed off the bad things and made excuses for the others. She smiled so many times that I remember being amazed at how well she was handling everything.

Or maybe she's just pretending.

She's always been my funny aunt. She was so fun. She was young when she had my cousins. She's still young. A mother of five and a grandmother of five. A kind, loving soul.

I imagine she's also tired. Worn out with just the business of life. I understand how she feels, to some extent, because lately? It's exhausting just going through the motions. Some days it feels almost impossible.

My dad called me last night. He hadn't heard from my aunt, his sister, in a few days. He finally was able to get ahold of her. And she had a message for me.

She had my book.
She loved my book.

Her life has not been easy lately.
My life has not been easy lately.

Her life? Much, much harder than mine.

She wanted me to know that my book had given her a lift. She was down and she needed to laugh and it made her laugh.

The reality is that I might lose my aunt. Her children might lose their mother. Her grandchildren might lose their grandma. My dad might lose his sister. The reality of that sucks so much that I can barely even type it here. I feel like, to this point, my family has been lucky. None of my parents sisters or brothers have died. None of the children in our family have died. Both of my parents are living. The people in my family who have died have mostly been older. They've had a chance to live their lives.

I don't feel like my aunt has had enough time. I want her to get better. I want her to see her grandchildren grow up.

It is such a small, small comfort that I could make her laugh.

I don't know how my dad knew I needed to hear that. That I've been so down and, yes, feeling sorry for myself. That I needed a smack in the face to bring me back to reality. To remind me that no matter what is going on in my little bubble? What's happening in other people's lives is so much harder and more painful. I don't know how he knew.

But he did.

And I'm so grateful he told me.

Sometimes I think my dad and I have more in common than I ever knew.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

What doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger.

Sometimes I feel like the strongest person alive.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Neither here nor there.

I feel like a failure.

There, I said it.

For the past...year or so I've felt like I haven't been able to keep it together. Not even close. Yes, I've gotten up in the morning and went to work. Even when I felt like I wanted to crawl in my bed and pull the covers over my head and just sleep and sleep...I've managed to get up and go. I maintain as positive and cheerful of an attitude as humanly possible. I've kept my house clean and I've made sure my children and husband and puppy had food to eat. I even wrote a freaking book and got it published.

Still. I feel like a complete and total failure.

I've hurt people that I love. People I never meant to hurt. I feel like a huge buttface. A jerk. A boil on the anus of society.

People in my own family don't like my book. Don't think it's funny. Don't really get me at all. Some of my friends don't like it either. Think it's not funny. Think it's sad.

Think that my life is sad.

And that's okay. I expected that. I'm not everyone's cup of tea. I'm not even my own cup of tea all the time. I can't even stand myself.

But it still sucks.

So what do you do when you recognize that you suck and you don't know any other way to be? Where do you go from that?

I don't know.

I'm closing comments. I don't need them. I just wanted to get this out.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

All about me! Except the parts about him.

I totally stole this from my homegirl Badgergirl. Because she's funky fresh. Or some crap. I don't know.

Anyway! This one is fun. When you answer, you are answering for you and your significant other. Let me know if you try it.

What are your middle names?
Jason's is Paul. The one I was born with was Jo. Yes, I know. My mom hated me.

My drivers license has a different middle name now. I'll just let you guess about it.

How long have you been together?
We got together in December 1999. Jeeze Louise. We've been married for almost six years.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I did not know him before we went out. I had spoken to him online and on the phone.

Who asked whom out?
He asked me. Aww.

How old are each of you?
As of February 15th we are both 33. I'm four months (exactly) older.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
I dunno...we're pretty tough. Probably the whole our-income-went-down-$27000-this-year-let's-not-freak-out thing.

Did you go to the same school?
We did not.

Are you from the same home town?
I grew up in a small town in Tennessee. He grew up in the wealthiest county in the country. That would be a big fat no.

Who is smarter?
I think we are pretty equal, but our strengths are in very different areas. For example, he can do math in his head and I avoid math at all costs. He couldn't write his way out a wet paper bag and I just had my first book published. It all balances out and we're pretty even during our daily Jeopardy competitions.

Who is the most sensitive?
Oh God me. I can hardly stand myself most of the time.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
As a couple? Just the two of us? That happens like, twice a year. If we're lucky. Usually it's Naples once and The Chop House the other time. We don't eat out a ton as a family but if we do? We like to go to small, local places.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?

Who has the craziest exes?
Have you read my book? Me.

He probably has larger quantities of ex's though.

Who has the worst temper?
Me. Unless someone is mean to me and then Jason becomes the BullDog in the Alley.

Who does the cooking?
Jason is a much, much better cook than I am. I do most of the cooking though.

Who is the neat-freak?
There are many things "freak" about me, but "neat" is not one of them. I often come home and Jason is cheerfully vacuuming the rug. You decide.

Who is more stubborn?
We are both extremely stubborn and both like to be right. Fortunately we also listen to each other pretty well.

Who hogs the bed?
I'll give you a hint. This morning I referred to Jason as "Patrick Star". If you are not familiar, he's the starfish on Spongebob Squarepants. Imagine a starfish laying on your bed.
There you go.

Who wakes up earlier?
Me. The latest I'm ever up is 6am. Usually I'm up around 4am.
Jason has to be at work at 8:30am so he's up at like...8:18am.

Where was your first date?
We went to a Ragazzis which no longer exists in that location. Then we went back to his condo and watched The X-files, which he had on video.

Who is more jealous?
Neither one of us is very jealous, but if I have to pick I would say him.

How long did it take to get serious?
Um, I don't know? I think we both knew the very first night that we had something special. He told me a few years ago that he knew on the first date that we would always be together. I didn't know that first night, but I knew I really liked him. We seemed to work well together.

We started dating in December and he told me he loved me in February.

Then of course there was that whole dumping me for another girl thing. I won't dwell on it.

Who eats more?
Him. By a lot.

Who does the laundry?
We each do our own laundry. One of us gets quite testy about it (and his name rhymes with Kason).

Who's better with the computer?
Me. Jason is not completely computer inept, but he's not good with it either.

Who drives when you are together?
Usually him, unfortunately. Driving with him is generally pretty hurltastic. But you know how I like excitement. And nothing says excitement like holding on for dear life.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

That post about the gas station?

In which the guy at the gas station in the big red truck pulled into a parking space? And then he got out of his truck and raised the hood? And then he got back in his truck and started it up? And then he backed up? And then, without lowering his hood at any time, he tried to pull back into the parking space?

It was much more interesting last night when I wrote it in my head.

Or maybe not. Could have just been the fumes.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Hot date tonight!

Me + Him, here.

As an added bonus? We're both coming down with colds. Sex-ay!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

See. Frank knows who I am.

And here's the proof.

I sincerely hope all radio interviews are as fun as the one I had with Frank and Kim.

In other news, I have an interview with a magazine and a newspaper tomorrow. That should be fun. I'm not even nervous at all.

And in completely unrelated news, I love how my 10 year old son talks. I mean, he talks and talks and talks and TALKS (and I have no idea where he gets that particular quality), but I love how it's just one big random unbroken sentence with him with absolutely no breath taken in-between.

For example, this morning as he was sitting on the floor next to the dog:

"Mom? What's the weather supposed to be like today? Do you know? What channel is the weather channel on? What time does the weather come on? The sevens or the eights? Good grief, Ginger smells like ass. Do you know if it's going to rain today? Because I might need my umbrella."

So. My life still rocks. In case you were wondering.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

What might have been.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had just said no.

If I hadn't waited and had faith. If I hadn't believed that you were the one...even when all signs pointed to you not only NOT being the one but to you not even knowing what the words "the" and "one" mean separately, much less together.

But I held on. To you and to us.

What would have happened if I didn't?

Would I be here now? I don't know. I might still be in North Carolina, and you might still be there too. I might have married someone else...someone who doesn't pronounce car like "cahhh". I might see you, sometimes, at Kroger. Getting your gallons and gallons of water. And your cigarettes, because God knows you have to cancel out all the health benefits of the water.

I might see you with someone else.

I might wonder if you are happy. If she is right for you, the way I was right for you. I might look up your picture on Facebook. Look at all your friends. Wonder...and hope.

I might hope you are happy.

I might be happy, with someone else. I might worry less about their health and their job security. I might have moved to Tennessee anyway and I probably would have written a book, but you would have a much, much larger part in it.

Because you have a much, much larger part of me.

I might have been okay. I might have lived my whole life without dancing to the Bee Gees while dinner is in the oven. I might have survived perfectly fine without daily Jeopardy competitions during which I have to be reminded to not answer before Alex finishes asking the question. I probably would be able to go the rest of my life and never know how it feels to feel your arms around me when you think I'm asleep and you are trying desperately not to wake me up. I imagine it wouldn't really kill me to know how it feels to laugh so hard that you physically hurt and to love someone so much that when they are in pain you want to go stab the person who hurt them while holding their hand and making it all better.

I imagine I would have been perfectly fine, no matter what.

But thank God I don't have to wonder.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Fame is an ugly mistress.

I was at the gym this afternoon running through my usual routine when a young girl that I am friendly with came into the ladies only room.

Okay, to be totally fair? Friendly might be a bit strong. She's very sweet and always chats me up when she's there and she talks a lot about her husband and Jesus and how she and her husband love Jesus. So I'm not going to be rude to her or anything because I'm in pretty good with Jesus these days and I don't want to make him mad.

But anyway. That's not important.

She came in and said hello to me. She got on the treadmill next to me and started chatting. About Jesus, I think. I wasn't paying that much attention because I had ramped the treadmill up to 4.2 and I was trying not to die.

And yes, I know that makes me lame. But I'm fat and not good at running so 4.2 was hard. So sue me.

ANYWAY. That is also not important.

What IS important is that there were several other people in the room and one of them was an older lady who came over to my treadmill and said:

"Didn't I hear you on the radio?"

AND YES! I was on the radio! And YES! Oh my sweet Lord! People are recognizing me!

I was so excited but trying desperately to be cool so I said, "Yes, that was me!"

And then she said, "Yes! You are Jennifer!"

And seriously. I'm not kidding. I still thought she meant me because people call me Jennifer all the time, so I said, "No, I'm Stephanie".

And she said, "No. Your name is Jennifer. You are on that B97.5.

That's not me.

Did you ever see that episode of Spongebob in which Spongebob is in a commercial for The Krusty Krab? And it airs on late-night television? And he stays up late to watch it? And you can see the corner on his head for about 2 seconds? And the next day an old man sees him and says, "I saw you on television last night!" and Spongebob gets really excited? But what the man actually saw was a box of cereal, which is the exact same shape as Spongebob?


It's not fun being a box of Bran Flakes.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Recent Awesomeness.

Check out this craziness!

CAN I GET A WHAT-WHAT? Oh yes I can!

I said to my friends, "I can't believe I'm on a list of books with Gone with the Wind!" and my dear friend said, "Forget Gone With the Wind! You're on a list with Twilight!"

I love my friends.

Also? Sorry Margaret Mitchell.

There is also this, which is cool. I'd love to see your thoughts.

People keep asking me how it's going and I keep enthusiastically telling them, "I HAVE NO IDEA!" Because I don't know. I try not to obsessively watch my Amazon rank or ask people to many times to write a review (because I'm not trying to be a douche). No one in my family has disowned me that I'm aware of. My husband told me I sounded good on the radio and believe me. If I didn't? He would have told me that too.

So I guess I'm good.

Thanks for asking.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Someone call Wilford Brimley!

Jason wanted a milkshake today.

So we went to a local ice cream shop and he ordered a mint chocolate shake with extra chocolate chips.

It was approximately the size of my rear end which is, sadly, considerable.

I don't know how he's not puking, I really don't. Not that it wasn't tasty...I'm sure it was. But good Lord. That's a lot of sugar.

It was his birthday, though. I guess turning thirty-three deserves a milkshake.

And, you know, Type 2 diabetes.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

What really matters.

Today at the grocery store, Girl Child said, "I'm sure daddy will get you something nice for Valentine's day!" Because she's ten and she still believes in things like Santa Claus and romantic men.

I said, "Oh, no. Probably not."

She couldn't believe it.

I told her, "We just don't really celebrate Valentine's day".

Boy Child said, surprised, "YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN VALENTINE'S DAY!?!?!"

Yes, we believe in it. We know it exists.
Celebrate it? A different story.

We are not romantic people. And? Jason's birthday is tomorrow and early in our relationship I decided the stress of shopping for not one but TWO gifts was just way more than I could handle.
But this year? I said, "Why don't I make us a nice dinner?" So I bought steaks at the market and made a really lovely red velvet cake in the shape of a heart. And Jason came home with this:

And this:

Which was really sweet, right?

And then he told me, proudly, "I spent less than $11!" Which was my favorite part of the whole thing because I'm all about value. He said he would have bought a card, but they were picked over and I said, "That's okay. It would mean more if you would just write me a note with your feelings".

He said, "I heard that's the thing that women want most for Valentine's day".

A while later he came back and proudly presented me with a small, white card:

And on the inside?


If you missed it yesterday!

Here you go!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Frank. For the love of God.

This morning? Best. Time. Ever.

As I have noted before, I love Frank Murphy. Also? I love Kim Hansard. Seriously, I think we might have been seperated at birth. She was fun and genuine and we were immediate BFF's.

Overall? I rate this morning twelve pounds of awesome in a 10 pound sack.

Thursday, February 12, 2009


Tomorrow I will be on Star 102.1 with the delightful Frank Murphy to talk about my book. And probably crap like love and stuff since it's so close to Valentine's Day.

(And, eerily enough, it will be Friday the 13th. Which is awesome and more closely resembles the dating experiences in my book)

You, yes you, can listen live if you so desire. Just go here and click to listen at 8:15am (EST).

The morning show hosts (Marc and Kim and Frank) are all awesome, so it should be a fun show.

I wonder if I can say crap on the radio? If not, I might have to work on that. What do you say instead of crap? That's not worse?

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Inappropriate parenting: Day 3980

Last night I heard the Girl Child laughing.

It's a nice sound. One I hear pretty frequently and never get tired of.

But she kept laughing and laughing and laughing. And suddenly? She was crying.

"Girl Child? What's so funny?"

She was reading my book.

Girl Child, age 10, was reading my book.

She was reading the chapter called, "Nipples".

Apparently? Nipples are HYSTERICAL when you are ten, almost eleven.

Soon it was time for her to go to bed and she came to kiss me goodnight and said, in her sweet little way,

"Mom? I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to buy your book. I's just GOLD mom. It's GOLD. It's a winner".

So I thanked her and as I was thanking her, she asked,

"So mom? Does Boom-Booms mean breasts?"

I assured her that yes, in this particular situation that's exactly what it meant. And she said, happily:

"Oh good. That wasn't a typo".


I'm probably not really going to Hell. Right? Not really.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


Dear Person who was oh so wrong,

Person, you might want to check your facts before you tell everyone and their brother that I'm wrong. Because, actually, you were wrong. And now you look even more stupid. So, you know, congrats.


Dear Girl on the elliptical at the gym,

Listen hon, I want to like you.

Despite the fact that you weigh like three pounds and you are ridiculously cute and you have really pretty hair and never, ever seem to break a sweat even when you are working out like a mo-fo. Seriously. I want to like you.

I would like you a lot more if you didn't TALK THE ENTIRE TIME YOU SEE ME.

Actually, if you want to talk that would be okay. We can talk about politics. The weather. The state of the economy. We can even talk about cheese. I love cheese. Any of these would be okay.

I do not, however, want to talk about:
1) How your heart rate is really high and you aren't even sweating at all.
2) Where your boyfriend is taking you to dinner.
3) How beautiful your boyfriend's eyes are.
4) Your mom and them.

Okay? I don't know you and these things don't interest me. Except the first one, which makes me want to hit you.

Also? There are exactly two ellipticals in the women's only room. One of them has the arms that move. The other doesn't. Please. For the love of God. Do NOT get on the one that has the arms that move and stand there NOT USING THE ARMS. I want to use the arms. Currently when my own arms move fast they make a REALLY HORRIBLE SLAPPING NOISE. I would like to make that stop. Please use the other elliptical.


Dear places that are selling my book,

Please. For the love of God. Stock the book.

Love you!

Dear Lady who just had eight babies,

Dude. What the crap? I can't keep fourteen plants alive, much less fourteen kids.

I know you like Angelina Jolie and are trying to look like her and be like her and whatever, but she's got a lot more money than you. And probably a lot more money than, say...all the citizens of the state of Virginia put together. Okay? So she can afford such things.

So. Um. Think about that.


Dear My Butt,

Please shrink.


Dear This Awful Day,

I'm glad you are almost over.

See ya never,

Monday, February 09, 2009

The benefits of growing up.

I've always considered myself a person who was just cool with who people are. There are people in my life and even in my own family that I don't always agree with. But I love them and I respect their choices (even when they don't necessarily respect mine). I feel like everyone should be allowed to make their own decisions about most things, providing what they decide to do isn't hurting defenseless children or animals.

Lately though, I find myself trying to change people's minds about things.

I know a girl (I wouldn't call her a friend, although at one point in my life I might have) who is in a miserable, miserable marriage. Not just a normal marriage which ebbs and flows and sometimes is fabulous and sometimes sucks butt. I mean she's in a marriage in which every single day of her life she's unhappy. Every single day of her life she has to look at the stoolwad of a man she's married to and wonder why it all went so horribly wrong and why he just didn't turn out. Every day of her life she's out working, two jobs, and supporting him and their children while he sits at home, wasting his life and being unproductive and not even caring for all the children he fathered.

It makes me absolutely, 100% insane.

I want to shake her. I want to shake him. I want to understand what makes someone's self esteem so low that they think that it's okay to be treated that way. That it's acceptable to be a part of a charade like that. To watch someone as they waste time and waste their life and the lives of their children. To watch as those kids watch. Those kids who think that this is the way that men treat women and that there is no teamwork at home.

And it's absolutely none of my business.

I know it's none of my business, which is why I stay out of it. But I fight the urge to call her and scream at her. I fight the urge to call him and scream at him. I desperately want to adopt those children who, to my knowledge are not being beaten or slapped, but are, without a doubt, being emotionally neglected in a dirty little apartment.

It's none of my concern. It's her choice. I don't agree with it, but it's her choice.

My husband, also, has been making me take pause lately about certain things. He and I generally agree on issues (we don't talk politics anymore though), but lately he's been holding back in dealing with some things. Things which, honestly, don't have anything to do with me anymore, but which he is still trying to champion for me.

I don't need him to do this. I'm ready for him to move past it.

I can't make him move past it.

I encourage but don't push him. I give my opinion and I want desperately to respect his.

But I don't. Not on this.

I suppose I've been self-centered. People have their say and it's their right to have their say. Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean you are wrong, but at the same time, I'm just going to sit in the corner and think about things that pertain to me.

Or maybe I realized a long time ago that I can't right all the world's wrongs.

Or maybe, just maybe, I see myself in these people who are hurting and desperate and lonely. I see myself ten years ago as a little girl with two little babies and no one to hold her hand. I see myself as someone who didn't know how to forgive and couldn't handle the harsh reality of what my life actually was and probably would have continued to be.

I don't know.

I just know I don't like this growing up crap.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

News to me.

I love newspapers.

Something about them...I don't know what it is. The feel? The smell? I don't know. It doesn't matter. I just love them.

In particular? I love the little, local, hometown papers.

You know what I mean. The ones that have news stories like:

Willis Riley from Booger Creek had the experience of a lifetime last week when he went with his cousins Beulah Mae Ray, Helton Ray, Susie Jo Ray, and Helton Ray II, to Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, TN.

"It was real fun," Willis has been quoted as saying. "I kept hearing the banjo's as I rode The Splash Mountain until I puked up my funnel cake".

Helton Ray II confirmed that Willis vomitted several times but it was still, "real fun".

And engagement announcements that say things like this:

Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Wayne Johnson announce the engagement of their daughter Sharandara LeeRaye Johnson to Mr. Allen Wayne Wilson Jr. son of Mr. and Mrs. Allen Wayne Wilson Sr. The wedding will be at the Beaver Creek United Methodist Church of Holiness on Beaver Creek at 2pm on Saturday. No other invitations will be sent and bring a covered dish down to the VFW for the reception.

And there's always a picture of Sharandara (who appears to be eighteen and is wearing her winter formal) and Allen Wayne Jr.(who appears to be about 30 and is wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and a shirt that says, "I'm with stupid!") which they had made at the Wal-Mart Supercenter.

I. love. things. like. that.

I can't help it, I always have. I love little local news stories about people. I love weddings like that...where the preacher is someone you've known since you were born and he baptised your grandma and your momma and you. Where everyone brings a hot dish and you eat cake that the bride's sister made and you kiss the bride and her baby as you go through the receiving line.

I can't help it. There is absolutely nothing about those papers and those articles that I do not love.

When my publisher asked me for local news contacts that I might be interested in, I was excited. I'll admit it. I'm lame. It doesn't take much with me.

And I giggled at the thought of one of the papers, the smallest paper by far, that would reach my relatives who live out in a place where I can't even get cell phone coverage. And dude. I get coverage everywhere.

The newspaper? The one that seriously, not kidding, for real, prints stories just like the ones that I mentioned above?


They weren't interested. Not in me. Not in my book. Not in my life.

I have never, ever laughed so hard. Ever.

I love my life. Even if it isn't news-worthy to Allen Wayne. Or his lovely wife. Or their baby.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

Notice you, noticing me.

People are work are starting to notice I'm losing weight.

Okay the real truth is? One day all my pants were dirty and I didn't feel like doing any laundry so I dug around in my closet and found an old pair of pants, which were smaller, and I wore those to work. So it became obvious I am losing weight because they are tighter than the clown pants I usually sport.

So they are noticing.

Anyway, as we often do, we were discussing weight and losing weight and one of the ladies I work with asked me how I'm losing weight. She's tried everything and nothing works and what's my secret?

So I told her, "Here's what you do. Sign yourself up for something hard and ridiculous and impossible. Like a 39 mile, two-day walk for breast cancer. Establish a deep sense of shame. Then your ass will be in the gym every day."

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Seriously. I don't want to humiliate myself.

I suppose that motivation is as good as any, right? Because this weight loss crap? Thinking about this weight loss crap? Becoming a better person and a healthier person and so on, blahdy-blah infinity? Not. So. Much.

I got this really sweet email from a lady who had read the first four chapters of my book online and then said "Thanks for giving overweight people a voice in the world of love". And I was like, "Aww. That's so nice. I totally didn't mean to".

Because, really? I totally didn't mean to. It's a happy accident, I suppose, but that really wasn't my intent. I didn't intend to give single mom's a voice, or people who met online a voice. I just had these funny stories and I wanted to tell them. That was it.

I don't think ahead, apparently.

I guess I hadn't thought much about any of this before, but honestly? I know I'm overweight and I know I need to lose weight, but I swear to God it hadn't occurred to me since probably high school that it would impede me from finding love. (And as I get older and my children barrel towards high-school? I am more and more convinced that no one needs to bother trying to find love in high-school. But maybe that's just my own hang-up).

Maybe I'm deluded. I don't know. It never seemed to be a problem. I never felt that men who I cared to go out with treated me any differently. And this is coming from a woman who had a man moo at her like a cow, so that's saying a lot.

I guess anyone who I would want to be around and want to have a relationship with...any kind of relationship, not just romantic, would be cool with me and who I am. My big hair and my habit of waving my arms around when I talk. My sarcasm and my inability to say no. Me. No matter what the stupid bastard scale says.

Anyway. Heavy stuff.

Literally and figuratively, I suppose.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Other things that go on in my house.

Stephanie: Girl Child? GIRLLLLLLL CHILLLLLLLLD? Where are you?

Girl Child, sticking her head out of the closet: Here I am!

Stephanie, startled: What are you doing?

Girl Child: Reading!

Stephanie: In your closet?

Girl Child: Yes!

Stephanie: Girl Child. There is no light in your closet. It's not a walk-in closet. There is not even room for you to sit down in there. Why on earth would you read in your closet?

Girl Child, gleefully: I have no idea!

Stephanie: Well. Okay then.

Jason, from the hall: Jesus Christ Stephanie, were you as weird as that when you were a kid?

Stephanie, reflecting: Maybe.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

What goes on at my house.

Stephanie: Hey Jason? Guess what? I'm going to be on the radio on the 13th. With Frank!

Jason: That's great. Who's Frank?

Stephanie: You remember!

Jason: No, not really.

Stephanie: YES YOU DO! Remember the Blogger's Night at the KSO? Remember? He saw us downstairs and he recognized me? And we had this entire conversation before? Remember?

Jason: Oh yeah! That's great babe.

Stephanie: Thanks.

Several moments later.

Jason: Hey babe? Perhaps you could NOT act as though you are socially inept this time?

Stephanie, sighing: I'll try.

I really will try y'all.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009


It has come to my attention that I didn't answer all the questions that I was asked recently because some of them were on other posts. So, I included those folks in the drawing also and will eventually answer those questions. Someday!

Roxanne you are the winner of my book giveaway!

Please email me your address at:

And let me know if you want me to write anything special in your book.

Thanks for playing!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Happy BookDay to me! Kinda!

It's just nobody has it yet, you know? It's on the way, just not there yet.

I have my copies, but no one else does. So I guess the real celebrating will be done when everyone else gets their own copies and I'm not the only one holding all the secrets.

Maybe then I can sleep. Because this crap of sleeping TWO NON-CONSECUTIVE HOURS and not killing people? It's really hard. I'm cut out for many things, but not sleeping is not one of them.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Because, really. What else do you expect?

Boy Child: Is one of those books for me, mom?

Me: Sure.

Boy Child: Thanks. I'm going to read it now.

Me: Well, um. Maybe you should just save it. And read it later.

Boy Child: Why? I want to read it now.

Me: Well, that's fine hon, it's just...I don't know that you'd understand it now.

Boy Child: Why?

Me:'s just maybe over your head a little.

Boy Child: I'm not following.

Me: I just don't think you'd understand honey.

Boy Child, rolling his eyes: MOM! Duh! That's WHY I want to read it NOW. I'll understand it when I get OLDER. I don't want to read it then!

Of course.