Inside the Non-Actor's Studio

I have finally accepted the sad fact that James Lipton is never going to invite me to be a guest on his show (Hey, it's HIS loss, right?)...

But, just in case he DOES come to his senses and invite me to be a guest, this is how I would answer his questions. I provided several answers for each question because I'm far to complex to be encapsulated in just a few words.

What is your favorite word?
Momma, Mommy, Mom (you get the idea)
Pontificate
Encapsulate
Profundity
Freakin'
Facebook

What is your least favorite word?
Stool
Moist
Panties
Bowel-Movement
Literally

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Everything about my husband.
Being accepted.
Being told that I've made a difference.
Comments on my blog (not that I'm dropping hints or anything).

What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Apathy.
Someone rolling their eyes at me.
Smelly smells.
Being sweaty.

What sound or noise do you love?
My kids laughing.
My husband playing his guitar.
Hope playing the piano.
Jack (my two year old) eating a banana.
The words "Previously, on Lost..."

What sound or noise do you hate?
Whining (adult or child).
The sound wet noodles make when being stirred.
Loud chewing.
Someone gulping water.

What is your favorite curse word?
I could list a few but I'm striving for a family-friendly blog.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Writer.
Astronaut.
The person who counts the Oscar ballots (I love the idea knowing who the winners are before anyone else).

What profession would you not like to do?
The person who drives the shuttle from the airport to the offsite airport parking lot.
An employee at Starbucks (just the idea of having to remember the names of high maintenance and neurotic coffee drinkers tires me out).
Cole Miner
Anything that makes you famous (life is hard enough without people hiding in the bushes waiting to get an unflattering picture of you, writing mean stories about you and going through your trash)

What would like you to hear God say when you reach the Pearly Gates?
I'm proud to call you My child.
I love you.
I'm happy to see you.
Your Mom is here and she can't wait to see you. She just baked a white cake with white frosting and is all ready for a chat.
I'm sorry for creating Dora the Explorer and The Backyardigans. Thomas doubted that I could create something that would be completely irritating; Peter was in denial too - so I had to prove them wrong.

Okay - your turn. How would you answer these questions?

My Vice. Well, one of them...

PEEPS!

My love for them is limitless.

I love them fresh.

I love them stale.

I really love them microwaved (no more than 5-8 seconds or you'll have a wicked nasty mess on your hands).

I love them with hot chocolate.

Truth be told, I love almost every kind of Easter candy out there.

But I love Peeps the best.

I'm even an member of the official Peeps Fan Club. I don't hold an Officer's position yet - but it's only a matter of time.

Sigh...

I just love them.

Don't know what ya got till it's gone...

My remote has gone missing.

I appreciate your support during this stressful time.

Beauty from Pain

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. She would have been 63. For those of you who don't know, she passed away in 2002 from ovarian cancer.

Whenever I talk about her - I always talk about what a close relationship we had. And we did - we really did... But it wasn't always like that.

We struggled for a long time.

We spent a lot of years not understanding each other.
...not appreciating each other.
...fighting with each other.
...hurting each other.

I had many wonderful years with her too...

Years that were spent really getting to know each other.
...learning how to understand each other.
...laughing (and sometimes crying) together.
...loving and forgiving each other.

In the years since her death, I have spent many sleepless nights regretting our earlier years together.

Asking myself why I couldn't see that our time together was a gift.

Why did I choose to be so selfish with my choices? If I had chosen differently, those years would now provide me with good memories instead of bad ones.

But I've learned something...

I’ve learned that I wouldn't trade those earlier years for anything.

I’ve learned that I’m thankful for all of the years we spent together. The good and the bad.

Those years, and the experiences they provided, made me the person I am today.

They serve as a constant reminder that the time we have is fleeting and once it's gone we can't get it back; so we shouldn't waste any of it.

They remind me that the love I have for my family isn't always obvious to them. It has to be demonstrated - constantly - especially where my kids are concerned.

They remind me that whenever I choose to do one thing - I'm choosing not to do something else.

They remind me of what’s important – and what’s not.

They’ve shown me that I have foolishly labeled a lot of things as “important” while neglecting what’s truly important.

They've brought me to a place where I'm actually thankful for the pain we experienced because I can finally see the beauty that came from it.

51 Seconds of Brilliance

Overheard

Jack (who is 2 years old) was playing in his room and I overheard him say,

"I'm sorry, officer."

Hmmm...

I won't lie - I'm a little concerned.

This is inspirational. No.... It's Poetic.

My friend Brandi sent this to me on Facebook and I felt compelled to share it.

I found it to be incredibly awesome.

ShamWow Song (lyrics from Vince Offer) @ Yahoo! Video

Put on Your Big Girl Panties and Deal with it.

(Many of you know this story, but I have been asked to blog about it anyway - so here goes. Also - if you're uncomfortable with the word "panties," you should just skip this post...)

First - let me set the stage for you.

I was just over 8 months pregnant with my daughter Hope.

So just for the record, I didn't look like this pretty, little thing when I was pregnant.



No-no.

I looked more like this "pretty, little" thing when I was pregnant.



And I just need to say something here.

Now I'm sorry if I offend anyone with this statement (and - it has NOTHING to do with how I feel about my children), but I hated being pregnant.

That's right, I said it. I hated it.

Nothing about me was glowing.

There was no cuteness to my waddle.

Nothing looked good on me.

And I couldn't roll over in bed w/o my husband thinking there was a freakin' earthquake.

I was just big, sweaty, smelly and gross.

One thing that amazed me about being pregnant was the number of stupid things people would say to you.

The comment I heard the most (beginning when I was a whopping NINE WEEKS along) was - "WOW, you sure you only got one in there?"

My all-time favorite occurred when I was 5 months along. It came from a gentleman who said

"Hey, that baby's gonna come any minute now, huh?"

To which I quickly retorted, "no - but it looks like yours is!"

I'm not proud of that.

Well, actually I AM proud of that, but I probably shouldn't be.

And of course, there's the time that I wore a new dress to church and one of my non-pregnant friends said to me, "Oh you got a new dress. It's too bad you couldn't find anything flattering."

That one still makes my ears smoke a little...

Oh and let's not forget the whole strangers groping your belly thing - which for me is a BIG problem what with my personal space issues and all.

But I digress.

Getting back to the point of my story...

So I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and my maternity underwear was stretched to its breaking point.

I had to face facts.

I had to deal with the harsh reality.

I needed...... bigger panties.

So I heaved myself into the car and headed to a store that shall remain nameless...

... and began looking for the queen-sized maternity section.

I searched and searched for underwear in my size and finally found a boxed set of them on the bottom shelf. I assyned it was on the bottom shelf because they were concerned that shelves might buckle under the weight of these enormous panties. That - and the fact that the other shelves weren't big enough to hold a box of this size.

I plopped them into the cart and quickly scattered my other purchases on top so that no one would notice that I was buying panties that were big enough to pass as parachutes.

I gathered my courage and headed to the check out line.

I quickly surveyed the scene, and prayed that I would spot a female checker.

At that point, I needed to use the restroom - and given the fact that I was 500 pounds, it took me a little time to get from point A to point B - so I had to hurry and get this done otherwise I wouldn't make it.

There weren't any female checkers who had less than 5 people in their lines.

The only checker that was open was a teenage boy.

Perfect.

Trying to act natural, I put all my items on the belt - with my enormous underpants being last.

Beavis the checker scanned every item without saying a word.

He reached for the box of large-marge panties. He lifted them up toward the ceiling with both hands as though he was trying to guess how much they weighed.

Without making eye contact he said in his squeaky, pimply-faced voice,

"Dude. Those are some big panties."

Thank you, Beavis.

I tried to think of something to say - but came up with nothing.

I left the store without even using the restroom (which proved slightly catastrophic on the way home).

I never saw him again - which was good because I probably would have strangled him with a pair of my big panties.

But I learned something that day.

Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart...

Or the thin skinned...

So if you're pregnant, or planning to become pregnant - keep that in mind.

Now go out there and...

Saturday night - we lose an hour of sleep. Is there no justice in this world?

Don't they know that I get precious little sleep as it is? Do they really have to take one of my hours?

Sigh...

So anyway... Don't forget to move your clocks forward on Saturday night.

If you hear weeping and gnashing of teeth off in the distance, don't be alarmed. It's just me shaking my fist at the heavens in a futile attempt to win back my precious hour.

Prayers for a family...

I generally keep my blog pretty silly. I enjoy laughing – and I want to share that with other people.

But today I want to share something that has been heavy on my heart for several weeks.

Blogs are funny things because they can pull you into someone’s life – without you ever knowing that person. That happened to me with Joel and Jess McClenahan. I’ve never met them – but I came across their blog several weeks ago – and they have been on my mind and in my heart ever since.

They lost their 10 month old daughter to cancer. Her name was Cora. Her battle was fierce – and very fast. She passed away three weeks after the doctors discovered the disease.

She died in early February.

Today is her birthday.

Please pray for this couple. They have an unimaginable faith in unimaginable circumstances.

I’ve been so touched by this family’s journey – in so many ways. Here is the link to their blog.

http://themcclenahans.blogspot.com/

Please keep them in your prayers.

Valentine's Greeting Gone Terribly, Terribly Wrong...

I Think it's Perfectly Normal; Part XX

Ever time I walk through a toy department I walk up and down every aisle pushing the buttons on every single toy that makes noise.