I have recently discovered this wonderful site where you celebrate the people in your life write about them for 365 days (I will have to narrow it because I know a LOT of people and have met a LOT of people in my online community) and I’m akin to writing short posts on them as opposed to writing heavy-duty stuff sometimes. There’s a post a-brewin’ in me drafts that’s a bit draining so let’s move onto some other things. (Note: I did not say “random” because I overuse the random)

With that said, The Random:

If my parents were to ask me as a little girl what I wanted to drink I would automatically say “milk”. Not Kool Aid or pop (mostly Coke) and definitely not water. I still hate the taste of water but that Metro Mint Water is pretty darn good. However, I’ve discovered through some gaseous afternoon times when I am shutting the door to my office so as not to offend that I am, indeed, lactose intolerant. It’s the kind of offend that requires three syllables and said with a southern accent: o-fay-und. This is my new love, though. It’s nummy. If the company kills baby marmosets and uses them to make milk cartons or something, don’t tell me.

When my superhero, Grace Davis, calls? Well, I come running. And I do kegel exercises all the way. Even though a few of the guys would like to join, they are just not equipped with the uhh… equipment. Need a reminder: Squeeze. Hold. Release. Repeat. Her first message on my Ning page after telling her that I’d get my mother to join Kegel For World Peace was:

Your mother? From whose pelvic floor you once tucked into for 9 fun and amniotic filled months? I can’t even Kegel, I’m that stunned and overwhelmed.

How can I repay Angela Pudding? Let me count the number of shoes we could online shop together…

Watched a great movie this weekend. Something forced me to watch it THREE TIMES IN A ROW. All I can say is that if you are looking for a sweet, stupid-free, surprise of a movie then go with Dan In Real Life. The acting is effortless, the dialogue realistic (example, when Dan says that he’s messed up as a father: I’ve hurt my kids. His mom: Then go un-hurt them.) the music is calming and makes me want to create a cheese tray full of cheddar cheeses, figs, pears, red seedless grapes, kalamata olives, and edamame. Also pancakes. Can I also just say that Juliette Binoche gets more and more ethereal as she ages? I can and I will! Don’t try to stop me!

The bulk of conversations around here tend toward whatever is going on at school for my sons so right now let’s just say that 7th grade health has finally gotten around to the Our Bodies segment and everything is about eggs and fallopian tubes and periods and no one is more worn out from talking about this with my 13 year old than me. There is the possibility, however, that I did learn a thing or two about my inner girl parts which is fine because that’s better than my outer ones. Nothing is more down my list of Things To Discuss With 13-Year Old Boys than my sensitive girl hole. My junk can be broached in a conversation with the girl child, but going over 30 minutes in a discussion of my lady parts is a bit much. This, after Kegeling for World Peace, I know. (Kegel, eveyone! Right now!)

It’s been hard to watch all the great stuff that went on at BlogHer Business because I was asked to be on the panel with Stefania since we caused a ruckus last year, but she did me proud and I followed with interest. However, I have just been asked again about speaking at BlogHer San Francisco this summer and I plan to drag along my mother and my daughter with me. Help me convince them, would you?

As soon as I get my post done for Going Green I’ll let you know. Surely you are tired of hearing it and are all WRITE IT OR SHUT UP, LADY and I couldn’t agree with you more. In fact, I’m hoping I just shut up already. I get so sick of me. But remind me to tell you how after a phone conference I irritated the irresistible head of Alpha Mom and the owner of glorious, luxurious hair Isabel Kallman and then had an email exchange and a phone call that ended with my crying and her encouraging me and now we are going to paint happy faces on each other’s fingernails and drink chocolate milk while reading Tiger Beat. You probably don’t need to know more than that. Except that I learned a great lesson in emailing people and I’m not too old to learn. Nor am I too old for Tiger Beat.