BlogHer: True To Their Word

"BlogHer creates opportunities for more than 25 million women who blog and their readers to gain exposure, education, community, and economic empowerment."



When I discovered blogging 16 months ago, it was like the scene in Alice in Wonderland, where Alice finds the cake that says "Eat Me," and eats it, where she finds the drink that says "Drink Me," and drinks it.

I couldn't get enough.

Blogging was like those 100 calorie snacks that are so good, and only 100 calories each! So good that you have about eight of them.

Who cares if that turns out to be an 800 calorie snack attack.

They're just that good, and you want that many.

The same with blogging. Who cares if you're going nights without sleep, the blogs are just that good, and you want to read that many.

Blogging has been that great for me, and so much more.

A community that I quickly developed a daily habit for was and is BlogHer.

I met bloggers through the discussions and forums there, I learned the things I needed to know about social media through their Tech section.

I was encouraged by their mission statement of creating opportunities, so I submitted my posts in hopes of syndication by BlogHer.

LesbianDad 's sincere, authentic words in her post calling for 2011 Voice of The Year submissions made me feel we all stand a chance.

We have to just try.

And be led by our passion.

I have found my passion. 

And BlogHer has provided the opportunities for me to pursue this passion of mine; blogging - that has turned my life into one that I had dreamed of.  I get to write, and I get to read, and I get to interact with others who love to read, and write in the same borderline obsessive manner that I do.

Yesterday, BlogHer announced  the Voice of The Year presenters for its BlogHer '11 Conference in San Diego. The judging committee for Humor has stunned me and left me feeling light headed in the same way that taking an anxiety med ahead of schedule does.

I have been chosen to be a BlogHer Community Keynote presenter/Humor at this year's conference.

I am honored and in head shaking disbelief to find my name listed alongside so many others that I admire and enjoy.

Thank you so very much, BlogHer, you are true to your word: you create opportunity, and empowerment.

You also make dreams come true.

Thank you.
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If you haven't joined the community at BlogHer yet, I hope that you click over and take the 40 seconds to register. To become part of the awesomeness they offer, take the BlogHer Community TOUR here.

Follow them on twitter, too.

And please stop by the BlogHer'11 Voice of The Year Honorees and Presenters Party and say hello! I would love to meet all the people I have come to count on in my life.









SEE YOU IN SAN DIEGO!!!

People's Restroom Habits

 

"Just a minute, you need to use the papers!"

Had you gone through my mother's white clutch purse in the 70's when I was growing up, you would have found something like this.

A snap case containing EMERGENCY toilet seat covers. I can see the case so clearly in my head and still hear its crinkly contents being unfolded as if it were yesterday.

Not a single butt of any of my mother's six children had EV-ER touched a bare toilet seat.  There was always a film of safety between our behinds.....and what we imagined microscopically lingered on the surface.

Alighting on this germ-laden environment, with no protective layer, we could promise you, would result in the worst case of dogscoot ever.

Durn dogscoot.

On any outing, with six of us in tow, it wouldn't be long before one of us (nine out of ten times, me) would announce, "I have to go to the bathroom!"  and off to the races it was, with my mother digging around in her purse for the bright blue package to hand us, shouting orders in her thick Spanish accent, "Rrrrememberrr tooo pooot down dee paperrrrrs! Dere arrrre sooo manies off dee gerrrrms! Make sure tooo help your leetle seester! Pongan el papel!!"

And so we would place our onion skin papers down, a ritual that had become as natural as setting a table, because we knew she was right.

If, per dreaded chance, there were none of "dee papers," well, then, instructions were clear and never to be broken. No toilet seat was to be sat upon bare nekkid. By ANY one by ANY part of the body.

You were to hover. You were to coat your hands with miles and miles of paper towels and do the hiney-hover.

By age six, I had developed killer triceps that would make any yogi master seethe with jealousy.

Whatever you have to do, do it! Just don't for the love of all that is holy touch that toilet seat!

Even if we'd all be out for a walk, and no one would have the need to relieve themselves, if my mother were to pass a sign--anywhere, gas station, storefront, restaurant--that read "CLEAN RESTROOMS," her eyes would grow wide as if she had just been blessed with a  holy vision and the paper passing would begin. "It's a clean bathroom, we must go! GO! GO!"

A clean bathroom.

I had learned to accept what my memory has filed away as "eccentricities" of my mother.

But I am now that woman. The one that is always in search of the ever elusive clean restroom.

I can't even begin to describe the level of cleanliness that a public restroom must meet,  before I will use it or allow my children to use it.

We will look and search and hunt until the color of our eyes turn yellow to find a clean bathroom before we squat or stand before a filthy toilet.

Forget gas stations.

Pffffffffffft to grungy diner rest stops.

Ain't gonna happen.

The back of an old supermarket? Puh-leez. A-1 best quality untouched by any germ butts here.

I have learned to be a bathroom snob. I can appraise a bathroom in less than  a second, and give it a raised eyebrow, or pursed lip, or sharp gasped evaluation. Based on how many huffs and puffs, or one or two eyebrows up, the children know whether to proceed or not.

We will dance the jig of leprechauns on St. Patrick's Eve and hold it like Beckham before we enter a dirty bathroom.

And Port-A-Potties?

That's when mama counts on her BFF,  StadiumGal.

Wire me up.

Finding The Moments That Count

Have you ever paused your life to step out of the hustle and bustle to pray or meditate or just rest? 


This is the question posed by Jdaniel4's mom, in her series, "Pause Life For a Moment."

I get to answer that today, as the guest post on her site.

I hope you'll join me as I tell how a split second decision on my part, changed the morning for my 16 year old son.

I appreciate your support, and encouragement, of my writing.

Tremendously.

Thank you.

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I hope you'll click over, and meet Jdaniel4 's mom, and think of your own "Pause Life for a Moment."

Mama Wants This!

Alison and Monkey of MamaWantsThis!

See these two sweet faced angels here?

Beautiful, aren't they?

The taller, older one started a blog this past March.

And she has become a force of nature.

You see her everywhere, tweeting, RTing, commenting, posting, encouraging, supporting. Being a love to all she has met.

I am honored to be her Guest Blogger Interviewee today.

I so enjoy a good self indulgent interview.

How else can we moms get any attention, like, ever?

Please join me at Alison's blog, Mama Wants This. Click over and meet her, and see for yourself why Alison's loveliness of spirit is the reason she has a growing community, quickly building around her.

Love you lots, and thank you for the lovely visit, Alison.

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COMMENTS CLOSED. Please come visit at Mama Wants This.

Sunday Best - Funny Papers Hero

Bil Keane Had It Goin' On

Many of you will immediately recognize the above cartoon, Family Circus, and think of its creator, Bil Keane. Do you remember the ghost pictured here, named "Not Me"? "Not Me" was often accompanied by his partners, "I Don't Know," and "Nobody." One of these three ghosts were always present at the site of broken vases, spilled juice, or alongside footprints of mud that had been tracked into the house.

As a child, around the age of eight,  I'd read Family Circus in the comic section of the Sunday paper. The bright colors of the strip, along with the guaranteed quick read in a few sentences always caught my eye, but each time I'd read it, I'd think, "Lame. lame lame lame lame. Lame." I'd then announce to the closest person, sometimes just to the air, "Family Circus is so dumb." Heavy emphasis on the last letter "m," followed by an eye roll.

Ah, Life.

Last week, while on our weekly trip to the library, our youngest son came across the Family Circus Treasury, what you could call the bible of Bil Keane's work. He had found the book on the shelf, while looking for the cooler, hipper comics, like Foxtrot, and Calvin and Hobbes. The cool hip stuff was out, like much of the rest of cool hip stuff in life usually is. In their stead, our son picked up the Family Circus, drawn to it by its' simple glossy white cover and  large bold sketches outlined in black. He had never heard of it. We took it home.

Feet up on the coffee table, relaxed on the sofa, he flipped through the large volume quickly. At book's end,  he pronounced it, "lame-o, lame-o, lame-o." It fell to the side of the coffee table.

Later that day, I picked the heavy book up from the floor while cleaning. I leafed through it. I began laughing. Like hard laughing. It had been at least ten years since I had looked at Bil Keane. I called to my husband, "you have to see this, remember?" He recognized the trademark "family in a circle," and reminisced, "Oh, yeah, him. I always thought that cartoon was so dumb."

We sat together and read. We sat together and read in a new light, no longer as little children. And we laughed. Family Circus was wasted on the foolish youth we were. Oh, you sophisticated wit, Bil Keane. We have matured into an appreciation for Family Circus. How we now hang our heads in shame --  you were light years ahead of us, Bil, you wrote your comics in preparation for the parents we have now become.

While cleaning up the kitchen tonight, my bare feet landed on sticky ketchup that had been left on the floor, right in front of the refrigerator, the red splotch visible to anyone. Anyone. "Who spilled ketchup all over the floor?!," I shouted, expecting no answer back. I had become the crop cut dark- haired Mom on Family Circus. All three of our boys came running, and right on cue, they began down the line, from tallest to shortest. "Not me," said the oldest, blaming Not Me, straight out of one of Bil Keane's panels. '"I Don't Know," is who middlest placed the blame with. "Nobody," was accused by the youngest.

Bil Keane, consider this my public apology here to you, today, in front of all who read this. Bil Keane, you were not lame! As a matter of fact, you rocked at this parenting gig. You handled it with humor, grace, and joy.

And to Family Circus, to quote the Na'vi in Avatar, "I see you! I see you!"

*Bill Keane is now 87 years old, and happily living in Arizona, enjoying the heck out of the children of his five children. I emailed him a copy of this post, and his family graciously accepted my humble apology, on his behalf.
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This blast from the past originally ran here May 2010. I should check up on Bil, see how he's doing.

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