This probably isn’t a very good confession, but I’ll go ahead and admit it: for the last week and a half I have been late to work every single day. It’s because I stay up far too late and watch the Olympics and I tell myself, “Ok, go to bed after this event.” Forty minutes later I say it again, this time with much more force in my voice (these are all aloud): “What are you, crazy? Go to bed NOW.”

Since track and field is one of my favorite events I know that tonight will be a late night again. It’s the only sport where someone is waiting on the sidelines to hand you the flag of your country to wear as a shawl (a shawl? yes, a shawl) while you pose for the cameras. What about those people who don’t win? Are the shawl-bearers watching them come in 7th place and do they quietly tuck the flag into their bags hoping that no one will notice their embarrassment?

Just some thoughts going through my head.

Something just occurred to me while writing this: shoes. It’s like a sickness, I swear. But if you want to win a $500 shopping spree to Zappos, go confess your parenting secret here. One of my favorites:

“My son threw up on the carpet last night and I left it there hoping the dog would eat it.”

My confession to win shoes:

In order to get my son to give up his “blankie” I told him that we needed to lay it down in the backyard and let the Blanket Fairies come get it to take to the forest animals. Then, I snuck outside and retrieved it only to put it away in the closet. When he whined for it I told him to stop being selfish. Those forest animals get COLD in the winter and he had a sweater and a furnace so DEAL WITH IT.

Confess, my child. You’ve got parenting stories, too.

Sometimes when the phone rings you just have to answer it, you know? It might be a long lost friend inviting you over for cocktails and a cheese tray with that kind of cheese you’re too scared to buy at the grocery store because you think it might be the bad stinky kind of queso.

Sometimes it’s the good stinky type of molded mass of pressed curds so take a chance once in a while.

Last week during my giveaway (whose idea came to me in a flash and within minutes of posting I had three people emailing me offering me MORE STUFF) I realized that I needed to slow down, embrace my inner 1985, and groove out with some Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. That’s a pretty good destination for one of many Happy Places. Last night I had to go there again after getting worked up about this stupid makeover series (not ONE Black woman! Hey, NBC! DO YOU EVEN KNOW ANY BLACK WOMEN?). The whole thing irritated me enough to write them last night. Again. Do you suppose they have me on some list where when I write them they stop the office, invite everyone into the conference room, and laugh and jeer at my email which they display on the wide-screen while yelling, “Oh! There she goes again! Ha ha ha! Man. She’s SO stupid.” ? Do you? I am sort of hoping they do.

I’m looking at you, too, ABC. Your GMA track on “the worst hair in America” featured four women, three of whom were ethnic and had frizzy hair who needed to be fixed by straightening their hair. That’s THE WORST HAIR? That’s YOUR SOLUTION?

Well, thanks.

I don’t know where I get that complex about my hair. NO. CLUE.

Let’s move on because I could talk hair all day and there’s free gas to give away and I’m getting so worked up again that I am heading to the corner of my closet to rock myself in the fetal position as I chew on my hair and listen to Lisa Lisa croon at me some more.

Complete aside here (yes, I’m taking full advantage of my Close Proximity ADHD) (there is no medicine I could take to help with this) (you either think this is annoying or charming and I like how you’re thinking!): I loved all those comments from yesterday and I didn’t get to read all of them until just now because yesterday was such a busy day.

I’ve just now

1) chosen a category for this post

2) hit “Save”

3) hit “Preview this Post” and read it aloud to myself

4) wondered if anyone thinks that I’m taking my granny’s prescription medication because I sound completely whacked out

You still with me? Good, because I want some good comments today after last week’s “Hi! Enter me!” ones left me feeling sunk. How will I ever visit all those blogs? I don’t have time to change my own sheets right now.

Another aside: thanks, Mom, for coming over to cook last night and thanks for the plantains you’re going to cook for me today. (I hope you remembered)

Let’s get to gas, shall we? I figured I could make some fart jokes since the inner adolescent boy in me can’t stop letting one go near my kids and then swiftly leaving the room OR simply uttering, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry for this.” and letting them discover on their own that I busted a grumpie.

It’s hard to make fart jokes when there is the seriousness of premium petrol to be discussed. I’ll break down my test driving of the Premium 93 Invigorate from BP for you by giving a glimpse of what my brain did.

First, the gray matter was just excited to get some gas for free. Then, it wondered if the “truck light” (that’s what my car is classified as, though I’d just call it a “small SUV”) would reject good gasoline since it’s been drinking the cheap Kool-Aid for so long. Finally, it let in some memories of when I first got my driver’s license in and we all remember what that was like.

You must prove to the world entire that you can drive fast and also like an idiot, preferably at the same time.

The idiot driving notwithstanding, I was on highway 55 right outside of Chicago when I decided to floor it and pass several cars (right before all the construction, I swear) (there is an abundance of parenthetical statements today for which I’m truly sorry). Normally, Trudy (that’s my car’s name) sounds like the tranny’s dropping and she takes her time to actually speed up but this time SHE KICKED INTO GEAR AND STRETCHED HER LEGS.

“Nu uhhhh” I said to my mom who was in the passenger seat. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah. That didn’t do that thing it normally does.”

So, you see? I had a witness and she makes fantastic fried plantains so you must believe her even if you’re skeptical about me.

The point is this: it was a really smooth drive and I could actually FEEL a difference in Trudy. It’s like using cheap shampoo your entire life and then trying out something with some conditioner and your hair feels better. As a performance result, yes, the BP Invigorate worked much better on my car and I don’t need to get technical in explaining that my driving experience was good while using it.

God love you if you’re still reading and also if you’ve picked up your phone book to find me some psychiatric help after this post, but you probably want some free gas from BP, so here’s what you have to do:

Take me back to the 80s and leave me a comment about your favorite songs from way back in the day because I’m looking for music to introduce to my teenage sons who haven’t experienced such magnificent music.

Four winners will be chosen to get $25 Gas Cards from BP and I will mail them out next week so you can remember your teenage driving days.

I hope your car has a name. If she does (like ships, cars to me are all girls) let me know her name, too.

(How did I start out writing this about answering phone calls and move on to cocktails and end up with music from the 1980s? It’s a mystery, I tell you.)

*Comments Closed! Good Luck!*

Summer, in all its glory, is slipping through my fingertips. Sun rays slide down my window pane leaving me to wonder when is too soon to put away that tankini and those sarongs I’m so fond of wearing.

Tomorrow is my first day back at work as Big Important Assistant Principal (I resisted the urge to write Big Important Ass because I’m a grown up). I will long for warm sun rays and ice cold lemonade as I sit in a new air conditioned office waiting to welcome students, parents, and teachers as we usher in a new school year. Missing the eccentricities and fragrant fruit and flowers at my local Farmer’s Market (as well as the all the characters you meet there). My hope for waking up late and turning on the news as I enjoy a delicious daybreak cup of coffee will end and be replaced by either getting a pot of coffee started as I style my hair or rushing into a drive-through coffee hut. All of my favorite things of the summer are leaving me to do the very hard work of educators.

What better reason to giveaway a Prize Pack full of what I’ve come to cherish this oh-so-wonderful Summer of ‘08?

Giveaway #1: A copy of Beverly Donofrio’s book which I read this summer and related to so well that I actually started writing my own memoir of being a teen mom.

Giveaway #2: Some goodies from the extra crap I carted home from The People’s Party. JUST FOR YOU. Ok, so I really liked some of the things in there and donated the rest, but I have $20 in gift cards to Land’s End. They’re currently having a sale which is one of my favorite things NO MATTER WHAT TIME OF YEAR.

Giveaway #3: Being such a Shoe Lover I have also become somewhat of a Foot Worshipper in that I must take care of my tootsies by using insoles and such. But this year I found Dr. Scholl’s Rub Relief Strips to be my dearest friend. The small design of the packaging makes it easy for travel as well.

Giveaway #4: Coffee is always in fashion. How’s about a $20 gift card to a big giant conglomerate?

Giveaway #5: Sometimes I wish I were smart enough to find out what the demographics of this site are to see what kind of people read it. Are you exercise gurus? Vegans who secretly like to add chicken broth to your mashed potatoes? Clown college graduates hoping to recruit me? With that said, I think mostly women read me though I know of several male bloggers (and a few male readers in general) who visit as well. Still, a Bath & Body Works certificate in the amount of $20 is a nice prize.

Leave a comment in this post until Friday August 1, 2008 at midnight (or email me directly if you’re having trouble or you’re JUST THAT DIFFICULT and no, I won’t hold that against you in the random drawing) to be entered.

Best of luck! To both the winner and to me. I might need it more than you.

*Edited to add that this Giveaway is linked to Bloggy Giveaways*

Comments Closed

The votes are in and this was hard. Extremely hard. I had to run an extra 3 blocks just to sift through the information in my brain just to come up with the Primo Water Winners. Six, in particular, helped spur me to write but I finally wrote their names and picked from a hat. But, you’re all Primo in my book. Even you readers in Bombay and Indonesia. Yeah, I see you peeking at me.

They were all such great suggestions that I spent much of this weekend just writing. Trying not to think too much or too hard about it, just writing. Even though she wasn’t chosen, I have to give a shout out to Natural Mel who gave me such a great iDea for keeping my iPod dry by putting it between 2 sports bras. Genius! Added bonus is that the girls are super protected, though I couldn’t breathe easily while running this morning.

So, the following folks need to email me with their addresses and Primo Water has agreed to deliver a case to your doorstep:

Beth who wrote this thing that is now on a post-it note on my bathroom mirror: “That moments of stupidity are inevitable and that they are hopefully fleeting and that education - whether it’s giving them something tangible or creating for them the tools to survive - is what keeps all of us going.”

Lisse who rarely comments, but once wrote of my favorite things in my angry letter in Catharsis. She wrote: “I’m always impressed with how someone else’s bad behavior jumps right out at you, and you go ahead and call it what it is.” I don’t know why, but her words stayed with me long after I read them.

Tricia who has a large family and could use the extra water bottles for a trip to the beach! She has 8 kids. I’m fatigued just writing that, but everyday she gets up to be a good mom and a great partner and both take an amazing amount of work. I’m going to squeeze the pee out of her at BlogHer. It’s ok, she’ll be replenished with all that water.

Remember when I said I’d been working on some freelance writing? Well, one of those pieces is up over at Alpha Mom. If you’re a Chicagoan or you plan on visiting sometime this summer, I wrote about 50 Things To Do With Kids In Chicago that hold special places in my heart. Hop on over and leave some comment love or add your own in the comments if you so desire.

I have all these irons in the fire with my writing and that has terrified me because I have to keep reminding myself that I WRITE, THEREFORE I AM A WRITER. I don’t have a MFA and I was never a Fellow and I didn’t become a Teacher’s Assistant when I was in college, but I like putting down words. There’s something freeing about taking memories and laying them down on paper. My mom recently gave me Beverly Donofrio’s book Riding In Cars With Boys and I commented how her words could have been mine, her experiences were close to mine (except the drugs, but that’s because I’m a wimp and perhaps that makes me smart or lucky or something) and then I thought, “Kelly! THIS is the summer! Write your book! Do it!”

So there’s that.

I’m also playing host to my 8-year old nephew and the energy alone is quite a buzz. He lets me say goofy stuff to him and just shakes his head. One of his prized possessions is a wooden sword that he wears in the back of his shirt AT ALL TIMES even when we were eating dinner last night. We were play-fighting yesterday and I shouted, “BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL” and my He-Man reference was lost on him, but he giggled nonetheless. He’s one of those old souls and he is an only child who mostly eats chicken nuggets, but I’ve promised his mom that I won’t starve the poor kid. I did kick his butt on a marathon bike ride yesterday but had to stop at Culver’s and get him food halfway through. We sat there and talked like we were 80 years old, that kid can really hold a conversation. I expected him to tell me to hurry up already because he needed to get to his Mah Jong game with Murray and Sylvia.

If I’m slow to post in the next few weeks, just bear with me because this book seems to be spilling out of me regardless of what my own agenda is. That’s frightening to admit because I’ve just made that public and you might hold me to it. It’s why I don’t ever post about trying to lose weight for fear of periodic comments like, “How’s the diet going?” and “Did you work out today?” and “Did you really eat that ice cream? Tsk. Tsk.”

It’s so hard to keep mum on this huge writing project I was asked to participate in and I feel like I’m taking my own hands and covering my mouth to stop myself from blurting it out. But remember that scene in that horrid movie “Pretty Woman” (I’m critical of movies, no joke. Don’t ask me about that new Sex & The City movie because I’ll probably just burst your Carrie Is A Goddess bubble.) when Julia Roberts goes back into that store on Rodeo Drive and tells the woman she’s made a huge mistake?

“Big. Huge.” You know, with emphasis. “BIG. HUGE.”

That’s the size of this thing I’m trying not to tell anyone. Not to irritate you to the point of exhaustion with me, but you will know sometime next month.

Until then I’m off to battle with my sons and my nephew and probably get the crap kicked out of me. Wish me luck. Greyskull is on my side.

I have spent much of today getting some writing done for three publications other than this place. Anyone who’s ever written for someone other than themselves knows this is a feat done best in the cliche cafe while wearing a beret and smoking French cigarettes. Mostly, though, I just listened to my iPod (which is stuck on a new playlist I was creating to go on my marathon bike rides and I went on one yesterday wearing shorts without pockets so I stuck it in my sports bra and it has boob sweat on it - I can’t wait to take it in to get fixed: Tech guy or gal: Ok, so what happened to it? Me: Oh, it’s drenched in sweat from my boobs. Can you fix it?).

Finally, I just left the house to get a passion fruit iced tea and sip it while I let the ideas come to me.

I’m going to slap the Cover Girl off the next girlfriend of mine who says, “Don’t be nervous! Just write! You write every day!”

Then I’m going to crawl into her lap in the fetal position and ask her to rock me to sleep.

So, I’m looking for inspiration. I mean, I have ideas and all, but I seem to write impassioned things when I just happen upon them and it strikes me.

Right now, all I have going for me is a tiny daughter who can’t reach the cereal on the top cupboard (hidden there from her brothers who EAT BOWL AFTER BOWL OF CEREAL WITHOUT STOPPING TO BREATHE). Would you like to see?

What’s on your mind, dear gentle readers? Give me some inspiration, would you? Actually, on second thought, anyone who inspires me the most will win something. I should probably have something to give away because you don’t want me going over to my junk drawer and pulling out expired coupons or pink paperclips with butterflies on them.

Oh! How about some water?

No, seriously. I got some Primo water which uses bottles NOT made from crude oil, but from renewable resources, like corn. Don’t believe me? Watch this video. You’re skeptical, I know. Why should I offer Mocha inspiration for a case of WATER? Because! You’ll be doing something good for the planet! You’ll be helping the environment!

It’s either water or a broken boob-sweated iPod. You want the water.

*EDITED* Votes have been tallied and winners have been chosen. Next post will announce the winners.