Not many interesting things have been going on lately which is why you have been spared from another blog post from me. But now I'm back but sadly, there's nothing real earth-shattering to talk about.
First, the Oscars. Loved 'em. I thought Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin were hilarious! Of course, I love them both anyway - although Alec may be clinically insane; not sure - but I thought their little quips were silly and fun.
I was expecting all of the people who won to win so there weren't any real surprises. I do think that Meryl Streep's performance carried her movie, so I wish she could have won. But I will go on record and say that I am actually happy Sandra Bullock won. For those of you who know me, I have a list of women in Hollywood that everyone seems to like that I do not. She's on it. I have to say that I have always kind of liked her because I have read numerous stories about her generosity and about how she treats crew members and everyone as equals. What I don't like about her is that she seems to choose roles that are specifically designed to make her look cute and I find that really annoying. She's cute, we get it. She seems to have substance off the camera, so why not choose roles that showcase that? In recent years she has and she was rewarded for it last Sunday. I think I'm gonna have to take her off of my list. That's fine. I'll Kristen Stewart put on it in her place. I've been meaning to add her and her pouty little face for a while now anyway.
Author's Note: I just misspelled the word "recent" so horribly that the spell check's recommendation for a correct spelling of the word was "Rosamund".
I was also very happy for Jeff Bridges. Crazy Heart was a great movie with terrific music. Glad he got a win.
Then, I had a coworker lose a childhood friend to cancer. A battle the friend had been battling for four years. She was a year older than me. Sure seems like more and more people are being diagnosed at a young age. It's just awful how many lives are lost to this horrible disease. I thought again about the Oscars. Makes you wonder why actors (even though I love them) get paid millions of dollars and are universally worshipped and emulated when there are people out there trying to find a cure for cancer.
Anyway, I was talking to my friend about the loss of her friend and she had said that the attitude of her friend had been so inspiring to people around her. She had basically said that for so long she was trying so hard to get past the cancer so that her life could begin anew. Once she had accepted that she may never beat the cancer she told my friend, "Instead of waiting on the storm to pass, I believe I'll just have to dance in the rain".
What a beautiful attitude and one we can all learn from. Instead of saying, okay, I'll be happy once I have this or that, she chose to be happy in her present situation - which was certainly darker than what most of us face. I have a tendency to think that there are certain things I need in order to be truly happy or fulfilled. Why do I do this? I have an incredible life: great husband, great kids, great family and friends... I need to celebrate what I have instead of waiting for an event or a purchase to complete the picture. When I look around, I have EXACTLY what I need.
This girl was 38 years old. I am a year and a half away from that. That is frightening to think about. My mind feels younger than that and in my mind I'm still an awkward teenager. My body certainly feels older than that. I'm grumpy, lazy and tired all the time. I sleep with a heating pad most nights. Next thing you know I'll constantly be reeking of Ben Gay...
I was talking to another coworker earlier in the week and I asked her how old her son was. She said he was almost 34. She shuttered when she realized she was old enough to be my mother. To me, she is my work buddy. It never dawned on me that she is closer to my parents' age than to mine. It is because she is young at heart. Plus, at work, age sort of dissolves. I'll never forget my first week at my first real job - calling people "ma'am" and "sir" and realizing that these people were now my peers.
So, I guess age is kind of what a person makes of it. Look at Betty White. At 88, she is about to become the oldest host in Saturday Night Live history. My grandmother, whom we lovingly referred to as "Gannie", was 94 when she passed away in 2005. It used to really irritate her when people would refer to her as "remarkable". To be called remarkable at 94 was, I guess, a constant reminder that she had already lived longer than most people do. She viewed it as patronizing. Kind of like a compliment that starts out like this:
You look so nice today.
And ends up like this:
Why at your age, it's just impressive that your undergarments are not on the outside of your outfit...
Gannie also told me one time a couple of years before she died, that she had been to the eye doctor and had thought it odd when he said, "See you next year". She said to me, "I thought that was awfully optimistic". Gannie was hoot! Not because she was in her mid-90s and still sharp as a tack at the end of her life, (which actually was remarkable) but because you could have a conversation with her without sensing her age. I've written before about her view of life which was Happiness Is Wanting What You Get. It really is true. Another quote I like is, Be present where you are. Wherever you are, be fully engaged in that moment. if you're not, you could miss something special or poignant or interesting.
I haven't had this stupid blog as year now and I'm already repeating myself with the happiness is wanting what you get idea - but again, I just had a couple of reminders this week to cherish the life you have right this minute even if there are things out there you still may think you need. I seem to have surrounded myself with people who teach me valuable lessons everyday. My coworker's friend who lost her cancer battle this week taught me a lesson without ever having met me. I hope her family knows that this if this is her legacy with me, her life to those who knew her was truly a blessing.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Ask Maggie Vol. 1
So, I have already had to abandon my Lent promise to exercise at least
four days a week. Last week - the first week of my new commitment, by the
way - I only got on the treadmill twice. So, I've decided I'll just go
with the old standby and give up fast food. I will, however, have to go
an extra day beyond Easter before I can eat it again because I had Zaxby's
on Ash Wednesday. I suck.
Not much that is blogworthy going on here these days. Seems like a good
time to start a new Random Ramblings feature. It's called Ask Maggie and its premise is this: I will read and respond to a printed question in a trashy women's magazine like Glamour or Cosmopolitan. I have wanted to
have a self-help column for a while now because of some of the ridiculous
things people actually take the time to ask about. My favorite was a
question I read in Cosmo several years ago.
My sister and I were in line at the grocery store when she and her husband
(pre kids, so this really was a while ago...) were living in Cary, NC. I was flipping through it and saw this question and just had to read it aloud. It basically went like this:
Dear Cosmo Health and Body Expert Something or Other,
I constantly think about food. I eat a lot of fattening foods and then
feel bad about myself for the rest of the day. I don't tell my boyfriend
all of the candy bars I eat during the day for fear he'll call me fat. I
go to bed thinking about food and I wake up hungry. Sometimes I gorge
myself and then make myself vomit.
Then, the last sentence read - and I am not making this up:
Could I have an eating disorder?
When I read this out loud, the man standing behind me actually starting
laughing along with us. First of all, did this person writing the letter know the definition of an eating disorder? Because she pretty much cited it exactly in her
letter. Second, why would she ask this question to a magazine writer and
not a physician? Third, what an idiot.
That's where I come in. I would now like to respond to inquiries like
this one the way they should be responded to. With a healthy dose of
sarcasm! I just really don't like these magazines. All of the airbrushed
models, the "easy" tips to getting fit at work (note to Cosmo, I will not
clinch my butt cheeks at my desk five times a day), the "how to make your
man beg for more" articles, and the stupid "how inhibited are you"?
quizzes - it's all such CRAP. And women and girls just eat it up. This
magazine will solve all of my problems and make me attractive! I don't
like these magazines because they give off the impression that they want to help women find themselves, but really they end up stunting women's growth by placing value on superficial things and outward appearances.
I realize that the way I write would lead people to believe that I am a
complete hag. I'm really not. (Wait, what if I am?!!) I just have for a
long time now been free of the pressure to look a certain way and be a
certain way and project a certain image of perfection. How is it that I
am free? I freed myself by not caring and only investing in people who
also do not care. That's not to say I don't care at all what others
think. I think a healthy dose of concern for that is probably good. As
an example, I try to look decent when I leave the house. I don't want my
kids to have dirty faces or clothes (but I do admit that I am not a
nose-picker and so they normally do have boogies on display) when we go
somewhere. But if they do, I don't apologize for it and I don't let it
worry me. Because at the end of the day, I want my character to be
judged; not the house I live in, where my kids go to school, what size I
wear, etc.
Am I reading too much into these magazines? Absolutely. But I do think they
send a bad message and I am on a one-woman mission to relay a better
message. So, with that said, here goes my first attempt at doling out
advice to the youngsters.
Here is a letter taken from the Single John section of glamour online. It can be found here. Here is the letter:
I've been dating this guy for a year and a half. He is in the military, currently stationed in Japan. We'd been seriously talking about getting married and had even gone to look at rings. He’s been overseas for three months now, and all of sudden he went from wanting to get married to being scared of marriage and telling me it was just too difficult to have a girlfriend while he was over there--that he barely had time for himself let alone time to think about anybody else. It wasn't that he didn't love me or care for me, the distance was just too much. He said he’d be open to getting back together when he's done, which is about a year a half from now. Can someone please explain to me why he is acting this way?
Um... yes, I believe I can.
First of all, you are asking a guy who calls himself "Single John" and works for Glamour magazine. You know that Single John is probably some 40 year old divorced woman, right? Anyway...here's my response.
He is acting this way because he no longer is in love with you. Thanks for your question.
Regards, Ask Maggie
So, there's my first Ask Maggie column. I think it's going to be successful.
four days a week. Last week - the first week of my new commitment, by the
way - I only got on the treadmill twice. So, I've decided I'll just go
with the old standby and give up fast food. I will, however, have to go
an extra day beyond Easter before I can eat it again because I had Zaxby's
on Ash Wednesday. I suck.
Not much that is blogworthy going on here these days. Seems like a good
time to start a new Random Ramblings feature. It's called Ask Maggie and its premise is this: I will read and respond to a printed question in a trashy women's magazine like Glamour or Cosmopolitan. I have wanted to
have a self-help column for a while now because of some of the ridiculous
things people actually take the time to ask about. My favorite was a
question I read in Cosmo several years ago.
My sister and I were in line at the grocery store when she and her husband
(pre kids, so this really was a while ago...) were living in Cary, NC. I was flipping through it and saw this question and just had to read it aloud. It basically went like this:
Dear Cosmo Health and Body Expert Something or Other,
I constantly think about food. I eat a lot of fattening foods and then
feel bad about myself for the rest of the day. I don't tell my boyfriend
all of the candy bars I eat during the day for fear he'll call me fat. I
go to bed thinking about food and I wake up hungry. Sometimes I gorge
myself and then make myself vomit.
Then, the last sentence read - and I am not making this up:
Could I have an eating disorder?
When I read this out loud, the man standing behind me actually starting
laughing along with us. First of all, did this person writing the letter know the definition of an eating disorder? Because she pretty much cited it exactly in her
letter. Second, why would she ask this question to a magazine writer and
not a physician? Third, what an idiot.
That's where I come in. I would now like to respond to inquiries like
this one the way they should be responded to. With a healthy dose of
sarcasm! I just really don't like these magazines. All of the airbrushed
models, the "easy" tips to getting fit at work (note to Cosmo, I will not
clinch my butt cheeks at my desk five times a day), the "how to make your
man beg for more" articles, and the stupid "how inhibited are you"?
quizzes - it's all such CRAP. And women and girls just eat it up. This
magazine will solve all of my problems and make me attractive! I don't
like these magazines because they give off the impression that they want to help women find themselves, but really they end up stunting women's growth by placing value on superficial things and outward appearances.
I realize that the way I write would lead people to believe that I am a
complete hag. I'm really not. (Wait, what if I am?!!) I just have for a
long time now been free of the pressure to look a certain way and be a
certain way and project a certain image of perfection. How is it that I
am free? I freed myself by not caring and only investing in people who
also do not care. That's not to say I don't care at all what others
think. I think a healthy dose of concern for that is probably good. As
an example, I try to look decent when I leave the house. I don't want my
kids to have dirty faces or clothes (but I do admit that I am not a
nose-picker and so they normally do have boogies on display) when we go
somewhere. But if they do, I don't apologize for it and I don't let it
worry me. Because at the end of the day, I want my character to be
judged; not the house I live in, where my kids go to school, what size I
wear, etc.
Am I reading too much into these magazines? Absolutely. But I do think they
send a bad message and I am on a one-woman mission to relay a better
message. So, with that said, here goes my first attempt at doling out
advice to the youngsters.
Here is a letter taken from the Single John section of glamour online. It can be found here. Here is the letter:
I've been dating this guy for a year and a half. He is in the military, currently stationed in Japan. We'd been seriously talking about getting married and had even gone to look at rings. He’s been overseas for three months now, and all of sudden he went from wanting to get married to being scared of marriage and telling me it was just too difficult to have a girlfriend while he was over there--that he barely had time for himself let alone time to think about anybody else. It wasn't that he didn't love me or care for me, the distance was just too much. He said he’d be open to getting back together when he's done, which is about a year a half from now. Can someone please explain to me why he is acting this way?
Um... yes, I believe I can.
First of all, you are asking a guy who calls himself "Single John" and works for Glamour magazine. You know that Single John is probably some 40 year old divorced woman, right? Anyway...here's my response.
He is acting this way because he no longer is in love with you. Thanks for your question.
Regards, Ask Maggie
So, there's my first Ask Maggie column. I think it's going to be successful.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Goal During Lent
I am writing this on Ash Wednesday. The day after Fat Tuesday. The worst day of the year for me. For, this is the first day I must give something up for Lent. It's not really that I must - I'm not a particularly religious person. I just like to observe Lent because I think it's good to challenge yourself every once in a while - to get out of your bad habits and start some new, good habits. I used to lose weight every year during this time because of all of the junk food I would give up. One year I actually successfully gave up fast food, sodas,
chips and sweets. I lost about 8-10 pounds that year. I found that being healthier in one area kind of spills over into other areas. Since I was getting results eating well, I decided to start exercising as well. If memory serves, all of that came to a screeching halt on Easter Sunday.
The first year I can remember giving something up as an adult, it was fast food which included ordering pizza for delivery (restaurant pizza was okay). I did that for several years with pretty good success. But then I
wised up. One year, I gave up fast food but kept pizza in the rotation. One year, I gave up fast food but not Subway and other sandwich places. My reasoning was I'd give up fast food in favor of healthier fare - like a
meatball sub from Subway. Finally I decided to give up fast food unless I just had to eat it (like on a road trip) in which case I couldn't get a hamburger, but had to get a chicken sandwich. At first I ate the grilled
chicken sandwiches, but don't you know the fried sandwiches just tasted sooo much better.
Then, just to shake things up a bit, I decided to give up potato chips (really, all kinds of chips - Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns, etc.). The one chip I didn't give up was the tortilla chip that you are served in a
Mexican restaurant. The reason being, I don't normally snack on those or make a meal out of those. The challenge was to not gorge myself on chips every day at lunch and dinner. So, tortilla chips were not the
enemy. Of course, people debated whether or not they should have been included in my definition of a "chip", but I prevailed.
Giving up chips was no good at all. I lost a lot of weight that year and began other healthy eating habits. Clearly I needed to amend my Lent commitment a bit. So, the next year I gave up chips that did not include
tortilla chips (I actually ate tortilla chips and onion dip at a baby shower that year. I'm pretty sure that violated my resolution but I digress...), and added that I could still eat chips that were good for you.
Sunchips for example. As if. There is no chip that is good for you. Sunchips are merely less lethal.
Last year I didn't have the energy to give anything up. Lent snuck up on me and then by the time it started, I had already eaten everything I would have given up. So I just decided to give up Lent for Lent.
This year, I wanted to go back to giving something up. The trouble is, I didn't really want to give up anything. I thought about giving up chips, but I had just a few days ago bought a bag of kettle cooked ranch flavored
chips. I just had to eat those. No way I could have waited until Easter.
I considered giving up fast food again, but fast food is simply too easy to feed to my children. And if I'm already there, I should probably go on and get a big, juicy burger for myself. I thought about giving up red meat but that's simply preposterous. I live for red meat! Should I give up red wine? Well, no. I have people coming in town over the next few weeks and I want to be able to drink it up with them. So, no can do.
I could give up cursing, but there's no way in hell (oops) I could do that. Plus, if I gave up cursing, I'd just use a new word in place of a bad one and then be one of those nerds who says things like, "Sugarfoot!".
I'm not willing to do that. I considered giving up complaining, but who am I kidding? What would I do if I wasn't complaining? My whole personality would change! That's all I write about in this blog. It's all I do with my coworkers. It's mostly what I do with my friends. The Maggie McCallie people expect is the one who is sarcastic and complaining all the time. And, damn it (oops), I have to give the people what they want.
So, if I'm not going to give anything up, I guess I have to add something healthy or good for me or others to my routine. Community service? Sure, it's a great thing to do, but I am too lazy. I can't balance the few
commitments I already have. I can't add another one where people would be relying on me to contribute something of value. No fried foods? I can't do it. I just can't. I should, but I can't. What's the best way to eat
chicken? Fried. When does a potato taste best? When it's a french fry. How should we all eat pickles? Fried and smothered in ranch dressing, of course. If my stomach wasn't coated in oil, it wouldn't understand what
was happening. I couldn't do that to my trusty stomach.
I could cut out the occasional nap I take. On my days off, if I've had a rough night or one of the girls has been up in the night, I'll shut my eyes for about an hour or three and it is just what I need to keep me
going. I think I'm a better wife and mother on the days I get more than 12 hours of sleep. So, giving up my naps would punish others; not me.
So, I guess I'll just have to add regular exercise to my routine. Ugh - anything but that! Actually, I've been thinking since last weekend when Mike ran a half-marathon that I should really get back to running. I think I ought to be in good enough shape that I could run a 5K at any given time. That means, I have to run consistently on the treadmill. I can't run regularly outside because it hurts my knees and legs so much. But I can get pretty good at running about four to five miles on the treadmill. That will equate to a little over three miles on the pavement when the time comes for a 5K. So, my goal during Lent will be to run/walk four days a week for at least 45 minutes.
There. It's been decided. I will add exercise. Hopefully once again this will spill over into other areas of my life and I can be a healthier person for a few weeks. Any little bit helps, I suppose. So, now that I'll be running, I should probably open that bag of Doritos in my pantry. Since I'll be running, I'll sweat those calories out. I should probably check out the new fried pickles at Zaxby's too. It would have been bad before, since I wasn't running regularly. But now that I will be, I can eat with reckless abandon. What a great Lent this will be!
chips and sweets. I lost about 8-10 pounds that year. I found that being healthier in one area kind of spills over into other areas. Since I was getting results eating well, I decided to start exercising as well. If memory serves, all of that came to a screeching halt on Easter Sunday.
The first year I can remember giving something up as an adult, it was fast food which included ordering pizza for delivery (restaurant pizza was okay). I did that for several years with pretty good success. But then I
wised up. One year, I gave up fast food but kept pizza in the rotation. One year, I gave up fast food but not Subway and other sandwich places. My reasoning was I'd give up fast food in favor of healthier fare - like a
meatball sub from Subway. Finally I decided to give up fast food unless I just had to eat it (like on a road trip) in which case I couldn't get a hamburger, but had to get a chicken sandwich. At first I ate the grilled
chicken sandwiches, but don't you know the fried sandwiches just tasted sooo much better.
Then, just to shake things up a bit, I decided to give up potato chips (really, all kinds of chips - Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns, etc.). The one chip I didn't give up was the tortilla chip that you are served in a
Mexican restaurant. The reason being, I don't normally snack on those or make a meal out of those. The challenge was to not gorge myself on chips every day at lunch and dinner. So, tortilla chips were not the
enemy. Of course, people debated whether or not they should have been included in my definition of a "chip", but I prevailed.
Giving up chips was no good at all. I lost a lot of weight that year and began other healthy eating habits. Clearly I needed to amend my Lent commitment a bit. So, the next year I gave up chips that did not include
tortilla chips (I actually ate tortilla chips and onion dip at a baby shower that year. I'm pretty sure that violated my resolution but I digress...), and added that I could still eat chips that were good for you.
Sunchips for example. As if. There is no chip that is good for you. Sunchips are merely less lethal.
Last year I didn't have the energy to give anything up. Lent snuck up on me and then by the time it started, I had already eaten everything I would have given up. So I just decided to give up Lent for Lent.
This year, I wanted to go back to giving something up. The trouble is, I didn't really want to give up anything. I thought about giving up chips, but I had just a few days ago bought a bag of kettle cooked ranch flavored
chips. I just had to eat those. No way I could have waited until Easter.
I considered giving up fast food again, but fast food is simply too easy to feed to my children. And if I'm already there, I should probably go on and get a big, juicy burger for myself. I thought about giving up red meat but that's simply preposterous. I live for red meat! Should I give up red wine? Well, no. I have people coming in town over the next few weeks and I want to be able to drink it up with them. So, no can do.
I could give up cursing, but there's no way in hell (oops) I could do that. Plus, if I gave up cursing, I'd just use a new word in place of a bad one and then be one of those nerds who says things like, "Sugarfoot!".
I'm not willing to do that. I considered giving up complaining, but who am I kidding? What would I do if I wasn't complaining? My whole personality would change! That's all I write about in this blog. It's all I do with my coworkers. It's mostly what I do with my friends. The Maggie McCallie people expect is the one who is sarcastic and complaining all the time. And, damn it (oops), I have to give the people what they want.
So, if I'm not going to give anything up, I guess I have to add something healthy or good for me or others to my routine. Community service? Sure, it's a great thing to do, but I am too lazy. I can't balance the few
commitments I already have. I can't add another one where people would be relying on me to contribute something of value. No fried foods? I can't do it. I just can't. I should, but I can't. What's the best way to eat
chicken? Fried. When does a potato taste best? When it's a french fry. How should we all eat pickles? Fried and smothered in ranch dressing, of course. If my stomach wasn't coated in oil, it wouldn't understand what
was happening. I couldn't do that to my trusty stomach.
I could cut out the occasional nap I take. On my days off, if I've had a rough night or one of the girls has been up in the night, I'll shut my eyes for about an hour or three and it is just what I need to keep me
going. I think I'm a better wife and mother on the days I get more than 12 hours of sleep. So, giving up my naps would punish others; not me.
So, I guess I'll just have to add regular exercise to my routine. Ugh - anything but that! Actually, I've been thinking since last weekend when Mike ran a half-marathon that I should really get back to running. I think I ought to be in good enough shape that I could run a 5K at any given time. That means, I have to run consistently on the treadmill. I can't run regularly outside because it hurts my knees and legs so much. But I can get pretty good at running about four to five miles on the treadmill. That will equate to a little over three miles on the pavement when the time comes for a 5K. So, my goal during Lent will be to run/walk four days a week for at least 45 minutes.
There. It's been decided. I will add exercise. Hopefully once again this will spill over into other areas of my life and I can be a healthier person for a few weeks. Any little bit helps, I suppose. So, now that I'll be running, I should probably open that bag of Doritos in my pantry. Since I'll be running, I'll sweat those calories out. I should probably check out the new fried pickles at Zaxby's too. It would have been bad before, since I wasn't running regularly. But now that I will be, I can eat with reckless abandon. What a great Lent this will be!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Please Bare With Me
At what point does an actor decide her or she will be naked on film? And I'm not talking about porn "actors", either. That's a head-scratcher (no pun intended) on so many levels I wouldn't even know where to begin. I'm talking about regular actors like Halle Berry, Gwyneth Paltrow, Julianne Moore, Kate Winslet... These people don't have to do it for the money. Their movies do well without them having to get naked. The whole thing just seems so WEIRD.
Think about it. These people go to work like you or I. Think about your coworkers. Sure, their coworkers are other beautiful, famous people whereas yours and mine are dumpy and acne-ridden or at best, average like you and me. Can you imagine walking into the break room Monday morning and meeting a new person you'll be working with:
"Nice to meet you, Tom. I understand we'll be dry-humping each other on Thursday. I'll look forward to working with you."
THAT'S WHAT THEY DO!!
Maybe they don't refer to it is dry-humping (does anyone anymore?) but they simulate sex with people they work with and IT'S THEIR JOB TO DO SO. Is it me or is that completely bizarre??! Sure, people all over the place have office affairs (which I also cannot comprehend) but that's something they choose to do as an escape from whatever boredom their life has become. It's not a pre-planned, well-rehearsed job duty. (At least it shouldn't be. That's illegal.)
But getting back to porn "actors" again. What makes them decide that that's what they are going to do to earn a living? Do these people have parents?!! Grandparents???!! When they do get the job (no pun intended), what do they tell said parents and grandparents? How does that conversation go?
"Hello?"
"Hey, Dad! I've got some news!"
"What is it, dear?"
"Well, I'm going to be in a movie!"
"A movie? That's terrific! What's it about?"
"Well, um, I play this girl - she's a virginal freshman away from home for the first time and she orders a pizza with extra meat for her sorority sisters. Then, well, there's um, this kind of bizarre hazing ritual and...um, you know what, never mind. Just... forget I brought it up (no pun intended)... it's uh, it's not really a big (no pun intended) deal and, uh, the acting isn't really very good... and... say hi to mom for me. Gotta go."
It's just hard (no pun intended) for me to wrap my brain about that one. But to already be a famous, successful actor and now you're going to allow all the world to view your bare hiney???!!! I don't know about you, but I spend most of my waking hours trying to mask all of my many imperfections. I think if anyone other than my husband ever saw me naked I would just have to kill myself. Can you imagine writhing around on another person completely - or even partially - naked, cameras rolling, and knowing that at any time anyone can view this? YIKES!
I'm sure you are wondering what prompted this post. I was watching a movie recently with Gwyneth (to clarify - I wasn't watching the movie with her; she was actually in the movie...). It was called "Two Lovers". In it, there is a scene where she stands in front of the window and flops a boob out for Joaquin Phoenix and the rest of the world to see. I realize that any men who were reading this are now scrambling to get to their Netflix queue but for those of you still reading, why does she do this? She has enough clout and enough acclaim to not have to do that anymore. Nudity should be reserved for those people trying to make it (no pun intended) in the movies and think that there is no better way to do so.
Anyway, it just struck me as odd that part of an actor's job (no pun intended) could potentially be to be nude in front of their coworkers. Sure, I'm grateful that it has been part of Daniel Craig's job (N.P.I.) and hope it will be again. I'm just sayin', I think it's weird. Hard to grasp (N.P.I). Perhaps I shouldn't concern myself with the comings (N.P.I.) and goings of these people. I guess when I start pondering something, it's kind of hard for me to just sit on it.
No pun intended.
Think about it. These people go to work like you or I. Think about your coworkers. Sure, their coworkers are other beautiful, famous people whereas yours and mine are dumpy and acne-ridden or at best, average like you and me. Can you imagine walking into the break room Monday morning and meeting a new person you'll be working with:
"Nice to meet you, Tom. I understand we'll be dry-humping each other on Thursday. I'll look forward to working with you."
THAT'S WHAT THEY DO!!
Maybe they don't refer to it is dry-humping (does anyone anymore?) but they simulate sex with people they work with and IT'S THEIR JOB TO DO SO. Is it me or is that completely bizarre??! Sure, people all over the place have office affairs (which I also cannot comprehend) but that's something they choose to do as an escape from whatever boredom their life has become. It's not a pre-planned, well-rehearsed job duty. (At least it shouldn't be. That's illegal.)
But getting back to porn "actors" again. What makes them decide that that's what they are going to do to earn a living? Do these people have parents?!! Grandparents???!! When they do get the job (no pun intended), what do they tell said parents and grandparents? How does that conversation go?
"Hello?"
"Hey, Dad! I've got some news!"
"What is it, dear?"
"Well, I'm going to be in a movie!"
"A movie? That's terrific! What's it about?"
"Well, um, I play this girl - she's a virginal freshman away from home for the first time and she orders a pizza with extra meat for her sorority sisters. Then, well, there's um, this kind of bizarre hazing ritual and...um, you know what, never mind. Just... forget I brought it up (no pun intended)... it's uh, it's not really a big (no pun intended) deal and, uh, the acting isn't really very good... and... say hi to mom for me. Gotta go."
It's just hard (no pun intended) for me to wrap my brain about that one. But to already be a famous, successful actor and now you're going to allow all the world to view your bare hiney???!!! I don't know about you, but I spend most of my waking hours trying to mask all of my many imperfections. I think if anyone other than my husband ever saw me naked I would just have to kill myself. Can you imagine writhing around on another person completely - or even partially - naked, cameras rolling, and knowing that at any time anyone can view this? YIKES!
I'm sure you are wondering what prompted this post. I was watching a movie recently with Gwyneth (to clarify - I wasn't watching the movie with her; she was actually in the movie...). It was called "Two Lovers". In it, there is a scene where she stands in front of the window and flops a boob out for Joaquin Phoenix and the rest of the world to see. I realize that any men who were reading this are now scrambling to get to their Netflix queue but for those of you still reading, why does she do this? She has enough clout and enough acclaim to not have to do that anymore. Nudity should be reserved for those people trying to make it (no pun intended) in the movies and think that there is no better way to do so.
Anyway, it just struck me as odd that part of an actor's job (no pun intended) could potentially be to be nude in front of their coworkers. Sure, I'm grateful that it has been part of Daniel Craig's job (N.P.I.) and hope it will be again. I'm just sayin', I think it's weird. Hard to grasp (N.P.I). Perhaps I shouldn't concern myself with the comings (N.P.I.) and goings of these people. I guess when I start pondering something, it's kind of hard for me to just sit on it.
No pun intended.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I Hope You Have Wine...
... because this post will be full of cheese.
Yes, the family and I went to Walt Disney World for the first time last week and I have to admit - it was magical! This was my first trip (how un-American are my parents?!!) and the first trip for the girls. Mike had been a couple of times when he was younger and was not exactly overly excited about going. I just thought it would be a glorified county fair or something - cheesy and tacky at every turn. I was stunned to realize how great it was and how much fun we had as a family. Watching my girls respond to everything around them was truly a beautiful thing.
See? I told you this post would be cheesy. The thing about it is that Disney sucks you in. Yes, it's commercial. Yes, it's ridiculously overpriced. Yes, there are people roaming around that would make Wal-Mart patrons look smokin' hot. But this place does tourism like no other. They have managed to turn it into an art form. And even a sarcastic cynic like myself was able to be completely taken in by the magic. And the crazy thing is, I am DYING to go back and experience it all again.
I watched Kate, who turned four while we were there (more on that in a minute) react to seeing the princesses, Mickey and his friends, the evil stepmothers, etc., with the kind of wonder and awe that only comes from a child. It really was innocence in its purest form - captured right there on her face. To her, it really was Snow White. It really was Cinderella's castle. That really was Goofy even though he was enormous and never did anything other wave and give her high fives (he never uttered his catchy "Goarsh!").
On her birthday, she wore a button that said Happy Birthday and a park employee wrote her name on it. All day, everywhere we went in the park people said, "Happy Birthday, Princess". Being the bashful girl she is, she would bury her face into her father or me, but she secretly enjoyed it. She was treated like a little princess all day.
And for the record, I hate princesses. I was never a girly-girl (shocking, I know) and I swore that my kids would NEVER be into the princess crap. Fast forward four years and that's all they can talk about. Kate even told me the other day that her Daddy was her Prince Charming. Four years ago, I would have vomited in my purse if that sentence was uttered. Now, her saying it reduces me to tears.
Meg also enjoyed it but on a different level. Being that she's two, everything is still kind of a new and exciting adventure for her so this was just like stimulus -overload. She started out the week being so excited to see the characters, but if any of them came anywhere near her, she'd flail her arms to cry and scream for them to go away. By our last day there, she was running around dressed as Tinkerbell high-fiving everybody and kissing Mickey's face which was bound to have every communicable disease known to man right there in one convenient location.
She enjoyed the rides and the ice cream and all of the merchandise that we swore we'd never buy yet of which somehow we came back with five bags. We stayed in the park all day each day which meant that we had to forgo her nap. She passed out in the car on the way back to the condo every night except for the one night when she passed out inside the park and Mike had to carry her listless body about a mile to the car with her legs dangling at his sides.
We've been home for a week now and neither girl can stop talking about their trip. I cannot stop either. I'm sure I've told 50 people how great it was and they're probably all thinking what I was when people used to tell me about Disney - I'd rather lick the floor of a public men's room than ever go to that place.
So, enough blathering on about this whole experience. This blog is supposed to be about useless rambling, not anything of substance - and to my loyal readers, I do apologize for being cheesy and sentimental. My advice on Disney would be this:
If you have kids, take them. Especially young kids. That innocence won't be there forever and it is something you really have to see. Go in January. There were barely any lines and the weather was just perfect. On second thought, don't go in January. You'll just crowd up the rides and then I will have to wait. Don't try to do it all the first time you go. Feel your way around the park and let your kids decide how the week should play out. Get past the touristy stuff and buy into the magic of the experience. I'm so glad I did. It was truly one of the best trips I've ever taken and one which our family will talk about for years to come.
Okay. I'm done with the cheese and effusive prattling. You may now commence vomiting in your purse.
Yes, the family and I went to Walt Disney World for the first time last week and I have to admit - it was magical! This was my first trip (how un-American are my parents?!!) and the first trip for the girls. Mike had been a couple of times when he was younger and was not exactly overly excited about going. I just thought it would be a glorified county fair or something - cheesy and tacky at every turn. I was stunned to realize how great it was and how much fun we had as a family. Watching my girls respond to everything around them was truly a beautiful thing.
See? I told you this post would be cheesy. The thing about it is that Disney sucks you in. Yes, it's commercial. Yes, it's ridiculously overpriced. Yes, there are people roaming around that would make Wal-Mart patrons look smokin' hot. But this place does tourism like no other. They have managed to turn it into an art form. And even a sarcastic cynic like myself was able to be completely taken in by the magic. And the crazy thing is, I am DYING to go back and experience it all again.
I watched Kate, who turned four while we were there (more on that in a minute) react to seeing the princesses, Mickey and his friends, the evil stepmothers, etc., with the kind of wonder and awe that only comes from a child. It really was innocence in its purest form - captured right there on her face. To her, it really was Snow White. It really was Cinderella's castle. That really was Goofy even though he was enormous and never did anything other wave and give her high fives (he never uttered his catchy "Goarsh!").
On her birthday, she wore a button that said Happy Birthday and a park employee wrote her name on it. All day, everywhere we went in the park people said, "Happy Birthday, Princess". Being the bashful girl she is, she would bury her face into her father or me, but she secretly enjoyed it. She was treated like a little princess all day.
And for the record, I hate princesses. I was never a girly-girl (shocking, I know) and I swore that my kids would NEVER be into the princess crap. Fast forward four years and that's all they can talk about. Kate even told me the other day that her Daddy was her Prince Charming. Four years ago, I would have vomited in my purse if that sentence was uttered. Now, her saying it reduces me to tears.
Meg also enjoyed it but on a different level. Being that she's two, everything is still kind of a new and exciting adventure for her so this was just like stimulus -overload. She started out the week being so excited to see the characters, but if any of them came anywhere near her, she'd flail her arms to cry and scream for them to go away. By our last day there, she was running around dressed as Tinkerbell high-fiving everybody and kissing Mickey's face which was bound to have every communicable disease known to man right there in one convenient location.
She enjoyed the rides and the ice cream and all of the merchandise that we swore we'd never buy yet of which somehow we came back with five bags. We stayed in the park all day each day which meant that we had to forgo her nap. She passed out in the car on the way back to the condo every night except for the one night when she passed out inside the park and Mike had to carry her listless body about a mile to the car with her legs dangling at his sides.
We've been home for a week now and neither girl can stop talking about their trip. I cannot stop either. I'm sure I've told 50 people how great it was and they're probably all thinking what I was when people used to tell me about Disney - I'd rather lick the floor of a public men's room than ever go to that place.
So, enough blathering on about this whole experience. This blog is supposed to be about useless rambling, not anything of substance - and to my loyal readers, I do apologize for being cheesy and sentimental. My advice on Disney would be this:
If you have kids, take them. Especially young kids. That innocence won't be there forever and it is something you really have to see. Go in January. There were barely any lines and the weather was just perfect. On second thought, don't go in January. You'll just crowd up the rides and then I will have to wait. Don't try to do it all the first time you go. Feel your way around the park and let your kids decide how the week should play out. Get past the touristy stuff and buy into the magic of the experience. I'm so glad I did. It was truly one of the best trips I've ever taken and one which our family will talk about for years to come.
Okay. I'm done with the cheese and effusive prattling. You may now commence vomiting in your purse.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
A Week of Whoa!
Yes, it has been a woeful week. First, my beloved Conan O'Brien was informed that he was losing the Tonight Show. True, this really doesn't affect me, but I hate it for him. I really like him. He's a genius, but apparently too goofy for the mainstream. I started watching his Late Night show early on after seeing clips of it on another hilarious show, Talk Soup.
What piqued my interest was a sketch he and Andy Richter did where they played a practical joke on an oscillating fan. They actually placed it into a walk-in freezer and then sat back and commented on how this fan must be wondering why in the world it was in a freezer. The sketch was reminiscent of TV's Bloopers and Practical Jokes where Ed McMahon and Dick Clark would provide a voice-over while the practical jokes were taking place. During the fan incident, Conan and Andy would remark things like, "this fan has NO idea why it's cooling off a freezer!" It was absolute lunacy. And I thought it was the greatest thing I had ever seen. And don't get me started on one of my favorites from his Late Night days - Country Cuckoo Clock Codpiece Zulu Warriors. Seriously, don't get me started. I will sing the theme song ad nauseum.
Conan will be okay, of course. They'll pay him millions of dollars to leave NBC. I hope he'll be able to start a new show. I have the DVR set every night to record him. Once he goes off the air, I'll really miss my CoCo. The girls will, too. They love his crazy dancing around the stage. Who knows what the real story is, but Jay Leno sure seems to be the common denominator in both this and the David Letterman Tonight Show mess. I don't think I like him. I'm on Team Conan!!
Second, I lost the previously-blogged-about photo contest. I didn't lose it, per se. I just came in second. Lost to my neighbor. On her blog, she informed her readers that she "smoked the competition". That would be me. Smoked. Toasted. Squished. Obliterated. Ground into a million tiny pieces then flushed down the toilet. In other words, I got second place. I thought I made it clear in my post that she didn't deserve to win - what with her cute hair and great personality. What part of that didn't my readers get?! Oh well. Second place isn't so bad. Let's all remember Suzette Charles if we need to be reminded of how awesome a second-place finish can be.
What? You don't know who she is? I find that pretty hard to believe, but if you really don't know, she was the first runner-up to Vanessa Williams in the 1984 Miss America pageant. After it was discovered that Vanessa Williams had posed for some tawdry photos, Suzette became Miss America. So see? The same thing could happen to me!!! I'm not saying that Amber has any of these kinds of photos on the web. I'm just saying that it wouldn't surprise me if she did and I think it should be investigated. I mean geez, her photo that won the contest was a picture of her topless baby. Where do you think he learned to pose like that?
Finally, I rounded out the week with a lovely bout of the horrendous stomach bug that is going around. I should have known better, but I have previously bragged about how my family seems to have a pretty strong constitution. I mean, every time there is something going around it seems like all of my friends pass it around their entire family. That just hasn't happened in the McCallie household. Until now. And what a bug to catch for the inaugural communicable illness!
It hit Meg first, but at the time I did not recognize it for what it was. She vomited once Tuesday night, but it wasn't very much and she seemed to feel okay, so I thought maybe she had just overeaten. Then, she vomited twice more (low volume) on Wednesday morning. Then nothing. No other symptoms. I thought we were in the clear. Fast forward to Sunday evening when I'm in Birmingham for a quick, overnight visit because my sister and her kids were in town. I was drinking wine on the couch around 7:00 p.m. and I began to feel a little queasy. Then I began to feel REAL queasy. Then, I was begging for death.
I won't go into the gory (and I do mean gory) details, but I was completely empty after about 6 hours. I finally was able to go to sleep around 1:00 when the agonizing pain in my stomach subsided only to be awakened at 1:30 by the sound of Kate crying and the scent of vomit wafting in from the next room. I dashed into her room and was quickly reminded that she had been served spaghetti for dinner and had, for once, eaten a good amount. I got her all cleaned up and sprayed as much room deodorizer as I could find leaving the room smelling like freshly squeezed lemon-vomit.
She threw up one more time (no diarrhea, thankfully, however, I was not so lucky) and we both managed to get a few hours of sleep. By the time I arrived back in Chattanooga on Monday, it was beginning to hit Mike. The tally climbs, however, because my parents informed me tonight that they were both visited by this nasty little bug in the wee hours last night. This thing is just the gift that keeps on giving! I am keeping my fingers crossed that I don't get a phone call from my sister telling me that we've infected her household. I've never had a stomach bug before and this one was a doozy. The best way to describe it is to quote a friend of mine, Victor, who went through something similar years ago when we worked together. Upon his return to work, he said very little about the effects the stomach virus had on him. He simply summed up the experience by saying, "I've got a lot of laundry to do".
So, there's my week in review. The "poop" if you will. (Couldn't resist the pun, sorry!) Here's hoping you are having a good week and that next week finds me with lots less laundry.
What piqued my interest was a sketch he and Andy Richter did where they played a practical joke on an oscillating fan. They actually placed it into a walk-in freezer and then sat back and commented on how this fan must be wondering why in the world it was in a freezer. The sketch was reminiscent of TV's Bloopers and Practical Jokes where Ed McMahon and Dick Clark would provide a voice-over while the practical jokes were taking place. During the fan incident, Conan and Andy would remark things like, "this fan has NO idea why it's cooling off a freezer!" It was absolute lunacy. And I thought it was the greatest thing I had ever seen. And don't get me started on one of my favorites from his Late Night days - Country Cuckoo Clock Codpiece Zulu Warriors. Seriously, don't get me started. I will sing the theme song ad nauseum.
Conan will be okay, of course. They'll pay him millions of dollars to leave NBC. I hope he'll be able to start a new show. I have the DVR set every night to record him. Once he goes off the air, I'll really miss my CoCo. The girls will, too. They love his crazy dancing around the stage. Who knows what the real story is, but Jay Leno sure seems to be the common denominator in both this and the David Letterman Tonight Show mess. I don't think I like him. I'm on Team Conan!!
Second, I lost the previously-blogged-about photo contest. I didn't lose it, per se. I just came in second. Lost to my neighbor. On her blog, she informed her readers that she "smoked the competition". That would be me. Smoked. Toasted. Squished. Obliterated. Ground into a million tiny pieces then flushed down the toilet. In other words, I got second place. I thought I made it clear in my post that she didn't deserve to win - what with her cute hair and great personality. What part of that didn't my readers get?! Oh well. Second place isn't so bad. Let's all remember Suzette Charles if we need to be reminded of how awesome a second-place finish can be.
What? You don't know who she is? I find that pretty hard to believe, but if you really don't know, she was the first runner-up to Vanessa Williams in the 1984 Miss America pageant. After it was discovered that Vanessa Williams had posed for some tawdry photos, Suzette became Miss America. So see? The same thing could happen to me!!! I'm not saying that Amber has any of these kinds of photos on the web. I'm just saying that it wouldn't surprise me if she did and I think it should be investigated. I mean geez, her photo that won the contest was a picture of her topless baby. Where do you think he learned to pose like that?
Finally, I rounded out the week with a lovely bout of the horrendous stomach bug that is going around. I should have known better, but I have previously bragged about how my family seems to have a pretty strong constitution. I mean, every time there is something going around it seems like all of my friends pass it around their entire family. That just hasn't happened in the McCallie household. Until now. And what a bug to catch for the inaugural communicable illness!
It hit Meg first, but at the time I did not recognize it for what it was. She vomited once Tuesday night, but it wasn't very much and she seemed to feel okay, so I thought maybe she had just overeaten. Then, she vomited twice more (low volume) on Wednesday morning. Then nothing. No other symptoms. I thought we were in the clear. Fast forward to Sunday evening when I'm in Birmingham for a quick, overnight visit because my sister and her kids were in town. I was drinking wine on the couch around 7:00 p.m. and I began to feel a little queasy. Then I began to feel REAL queasy. Then, I was begging for death.
I won't go into the gory (and I do mean gory) details, but I was completely empty after about 6 hours. I finally was able to go to sleep around 1:00 when the agonizing pain in my stomach subsided only to be awakened at 1:30 by the sound of Kate crying and the scent of vomit wafting in from the next room. I dashed into her room and was quickly reminded that she had been served spaghetti for dinner and had, for once, eaten a good amount. I got her all cleaned up and sprayed as much room deodorizer as I could find leaving the room smelling like freshly squeezed lemon-vomit.
She threw up one more time (no diarrhea, thankfully, however, I was not so lucky) and we both managed to get a few hours of sleep. By the time I arrived back in Chattanooga on Monday, it was beginning to hit Mike. The tally climbs, however, because my parents informed me tonight that they were both visited by this nasty little bug in the wee hours last night. This thing is just the gift that keeps on giving! I am keeping my fingers crossed that I don't get a phone call from my sister telling me that we've infected her household. I've never had a stomach bug before and this one was a doozy. The best way to describe it is to quote a friend of mine, Victor, who went through something similar years ago when we worked together. Upon his return to work, he said very little about the effects the stomach virus had on him. He simply summed up the experience by saying, "I've got a lot of laundry to do".
So, there's my week in review. The "poop" if you will. (Couldn't resist the pun, sorry!) Here's hoping you are having a good week and that next week finds me with lots less laundry.
Monday, January 11, 2010
A Battle to the Death (of my dignity)
I am embroiled in a battle. It is not a battle of wills or a battle of wits, thankfully. But it is a battle just the same. And I want to win.
A photographer in Chattanooga is holding a contest the winner of which will receive a free 16x20 portrait or $150 off of a future session. She is using her favorite photo from each of the sessions she had in 2009. The one she chose from her session with us is a sweetly beautiful picture of Kate outside holding onto the handrail in our backyard. She looks so gentle and innocent. You would never know by looking at her face the way it was captured what an imp she can be. There is an opportunity to vote between now and January 15th. So, those of you who read this blog and are not in the running, please go and vote: www.dianasimpson.com (then click on her blog, then vote for my daughter).
This contest is not really about whose kid is the cutest. I will tell you emphatically that mine is, of course, but that’s not the point. You’ll go to the website and you’ll see other adorable children. It’s not really about which picture is the best. All of the pictures are good and worthy contenders. The picture of Kate is simply and truthfully one of several very good pictures of a very cute child.
What the contest is about, since we’ve established it should not be based on merit, is the fact that I want to win the prize. Do I want it for the bragging rights? Kind of, I guess, but that’s not my main motivation. Do I view it as a popularity contest? Sort of, I suppose. He (or hopefully “she” please oh please oh please) who has the most friends willing to vote will win. Do I want a 16x20 portrait for free since the pictures are so freakin’ ridiculously expensive? YES. I do. And I’m not ashamed (though I probably should be) to admit it. Nor am I ashamed (though I definitely should be) to tell you why you shouldn’t vote for my friends and neighbors whose photographs are also in the running.
First, there’s the Charapata photograph. A really good one, by the way. Probably better than the one of Kate. Amber is the subject’s mother and my closest friend in the neighborhood. Her boys are big buddies with my girls. She’s a great girl all the way around. That’s just the point - she is very pretty, she has beautiful hair, she has tons of friends, she has a really cute figure, great clothes, magnetic personality… she doesn’t need this. Plus, she’s a lot younger than I am. She has more time to win things in the future.
Then there’s the Cobb photograph. It’s one of my favorite photos ever of a kid that is not mine. Noah looks so sweet coloring in his room. It’s a great picture and Noah is a great kid. I love his mom, Denise. She lives right across the street and we used to get together with them a lot when the weather was better. She is hilarious, pretty, has the haircut I want but would look awful with, is in great shape – great figure, is very intelligent and has really great style – clothes, jewelry, shoes, everything. I can tell you that she already has quite a few pictures on her walls from her session with the photographer. I simply don’t know where she would put another 16x20. It would probably stress her out to have to find a place to put it. Clearly, she’s not the best choice.
Finally, there’s the Blackiston portrait. It’s a great one and was actually used as their Christmas card. It has the whole family (all 5 and growing) on the bed with a gift wrapped in pink to indicate the newest addition they expect next month. Very sweet picture of a beautiful family. And Steph, the mom, is a beautiful girl inside and out. She is tall and thin (save for the current baby-bump), is always smiling, and has the most gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair I’ve ever seen. She does more with her day than I do with a month. She home-schools her three boys, she cooks, she has a blog that has a bazillion readers, she is outgoing, positive, creative, and spiritual. What could she possibly need with a win? Her whole life is a win.
Which brings us to me. I am frumpy and disheveled most days. I only shower about 4-5 days a week. I lose my patience frequently with my kids. I use questionable tactics to try and win contests. AND I am clearly a horrible friend (as evidenced by the previous three paragraphs). Will I be happy for my friends if they win? Yes, I will. Do I want things to go in their favor? No, I do not.
Okay, I don’t deserve it. That’s clear. But don’t think of it as a vote for me. Think of it as a vote for Kate. Sweet Kate.
You know she was born 10 weeks early right?
Only weighed 2 lbs, 10 oz.
But if you want to vote for someone who was born full-term, please don’t feel guilty.
Here’s one more tidbit for you: At the end of our session, the girls were playing in the backyard on the swing set while the photographer was loading up her equipment. At the same time, she and I turned around and watched helplessly as Meg, my sweet two year old, fell off of a ladder she was climbing to get to the top of the slide. It was so scary! She fell on her neck and then flopped over. My first thought was that she could have cracked or broken her neck. Meg and I both cried for about 30 minutes after it happened. Such trauma. She’s okay, thankfully, but it really was a harrowing experience watching her fall from that height and then seeing her body go end over end. I don’t want you to feel pressure to vote for us simply because of this mishap, I’m just telling what happened. You can let your conscience handle the rest.
So there it is – my plea for votes. I know it is shameless and I really do feel bad about it. But this is war. War is ugly. What are you gonna do?
To vote for Kate, please go to www.dianasimpson.com and click on BLOG. The contest is at the top. Kate is midway down the last under “McCallie”. You can vote as many times as you like.
To vote for someone else’s kid, please find another contest.
A photographer in Chattanooga is holding a contest the winner of which will receive a free 16x20 portrait or $150 off of a future session. She is using her favorite photo from each of the sessions she had in 2009. The one she chose from her session with us is a sweetly beautiful picture of Kate outside holding onto the handrail in our backyard. She looks so gentle and innocent. You would never know by looking at her face the way it was captured what an imp she can be. There is an opportunity to vote between now and January 15th. So, those of you who read this blog and are not in the running, please go and vote: www.dianasimpson.com (then click on her blog, then vote for my daughter).
This contest is not really about whose kid is the cutest. I will tell you emphatically that mine is, of course, but that’s not the point. You’ll go to the website and you’ll see other adorable children. It’s not really about which picture is the best. All of the pictures are good and worthy contenders. The picture of Kate is simply and truthfully one of several very good pictures of a very cute child.
What the contest is about, since we’ve established it should not be based on merit, is the fact that I want to win the prize. Do I want it for the bragging rights? Kind of, I guess, but that’s not my main motivation. Do I view it as a popularity contest? Sort of, I suppose. He (or hopefully “she” please oh please oh please) who has the most friends willing to vote will win. Do I want a 16x20 portrait for free since the pictures are so freakin’ ridiculously expensive? YES. I do. And I’m not ashamed (though I probably should be) to admit it. Nor am I ashamed (though I definitely should be) to tell you why you shouldn’t vote for my friends and neighbors whose photographs are also in the running.
First, there’s the Charapata photograph. A really good one, by the way. Probably better than the one of Kate. Amber is the subject’s mother and my closest friend in the neighborhood. Her boys are big buddies with my girls. She’s a great girl all the way around. That’s just the point - she is very pretty, she has beautiful hair, she has tons of friends, she has a really cute figure, great clothes, magnetic personality… she doesn’t need this. Plus, she’s a lot younger than I am. She has more time to win things in the future.
Then there’s the Cobb photograph. It’s one of my favorite photos ever of a kid that is not mine. Noah looks so sweet coloring in his room. It’s a great picture and Noah is a great kid. I love his mom, Denise. She lives right across the street and we used to get together with them a lot when the weather was better. She is hilarious, pretty, has the haircut I want but would look awful with, is in great shape – great figure, is very intelligent and has really great style – clothes, jewelry, shoes, everything. I can tell you that she already has quite a few pictures on her walls from her session with the photographer. I simply don’t know where she would put another 16x20. It would probably stress her out to have to find a place to put it. Clearly, she’s not the best choice.
Finally, there’s the Blackiston portrait. It’s a great one and was actually used as their Christmas card. It has the whole family (all 5 and growing) on the bed with a gift wrapped in pink to indicate the newest addition they expect next month. Very sweet picture of a beautiful family. And Steph, the mom, is a beautiful girl inside and out. She is tall and thin (save for the current baby-bump), is always smiling, and has the most gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair I’ve ever seen. She does more with her day than I do with a month. She home-schools her three boys, she cooks, she has a blog that has a bazillion readers, she is outgoing, positive, creative, and spiritual. What could she possibly need with a win? Her whole life is a win.
Which brings us to me. I am frumpy and disheveled most days. I only shower about 4-5 days a week. I lose my patience frequently with my kids. I use questionable tactics to try and win contests. AND I am clearly a horrible friend (as evidenced by the previous three paragraphs). Will I be happy for my friends if they win? Yes, I will. Do I want things to go in their favor? No, I do not.
Okay, I don’t deserve it. That’s clear. But don’t think of it as a vote for me. Think of it as a vote for Kate. Sweet Kate.
You know she was born 10 weeks early right?
Only weighed 2 lbs, 10 oz.
But if you want to vote for someone who was born full-term, please don’t feel guilty.
Here’s one more tidbit for you: At the end of our session, the girls were playing in the backyard on the swing set while the photographer was loading up her equipment. At the same time, she and I turned around and watched helplessly as Meg, my sweet two year old, fell off of a ladder she was climbing to get to the top of the slide. It was so scary! She fell on her neck and then flopped over. My first thought was that she could have cracked or broken her neck. Meg and I both cried for about 30 minutes after it happened. Such trauma. She’s okay, thankfully, but it really was a harrowing experience watching her fall from that height and then seeing her body go end over end. I don’t want you to feel pressure to vote for us simply because of this mishap, I’m just telling what happened. You can let your conscience handle the rest.
So there it is – my plea for votes. I know it is shameless and I really do feel bad about it. But this is war. War is ugly. What are you gonna do?
To vote for Kate, please go to www.dianasimpson.com and click on BLOG. The contest is at the top. Kate is midway down the last under “McCallie”. You can vote as many times as you like.
To vote for someone else’s kid, please find another contest.
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