funny in the 'hood

Book Clubs!

2012-02-03T06:37:00.001-06:00

Last month, I was thrilled and honored to be the featured guest at two book club meetings. The first was at the Principal Financial Group, a financial services company in downtown Des Moines. I used to work there and my husband still does; he's been there since the ink was barely dry on his college degree. He was the one that told the book club about On the Island, and I was thrilled when he said they had selected my novel for January.

I drove downtown over my lunch hour to join them and I was kind of nervous. It's not like I'm shy or anything, and - hello! - I'm a talker, but this was my first book club and I wasn't sure what to expect. I needn't have worried. Stefanie met me at the reception desk and from the minute I walked into the conference room I felt at ease. I signed some books and they asked me lots of questions about the writing process. I also talked a little bit about Covet (the book I'm working on now) and explained the difference between contemporary romance and women's fiction. They were all so nice and they made me feel very comfortable; I had a blast. I did, however, forget to take a picture of them and didn't remember until I was on my way back to work. *face palm*

The next book club meeting I attended was with the members of A Novel Idea. Linda had read the book and then pitched it to the other gals. Linda and I used to work for the same company and we'd once been in a meeting together although I have no memory of this for several reasons: one, it was 13 years ago, two, our tenure at the company overlapped by only a short time, and three, I was suffering from a horrendous case of the PREGNANCY STUPIDS. This is the same affliction that caused me to jump on the wrong shuttle bus when the shiny new park and ride system opened during the final month of my pregnancy. I spent a lovely 15 minutes touring downtown Des Moines until I finally shouted at the bus driver, "Hey, that's my building. Stop!" He let me out and probably wished I had taken another bus (the short one, I bet).

Anyway, I showed up at the book club meeting the other night and Linda said, "We weren't sure you were coming. I saw your tweet. Didn't everyone in your house just have the stomach flu?"

Um, maybe?

Curses! Foiled again by social media. Must remember what I've announced and who might see it.

Me: Oh yeah. We're totally over that. I went back to work yesterday and everything (possibly sparking a company-wide flu pandemic). I brought crack dip (great! flu-girl shows up with food). The members of A Novel Idea weren't scared off by a little recent norovirus so they ate the crack dip and said it was awesome (and so are they).

We drank wine, I signed more books, and we talked about On the Island. They also shared some of their previous book club selections and talked about next month's pick. And this time, before I left, I remembered to take a picture.

I had a wonderful time with both of these groups, and I sincerely appreciate that they selected On the Island and invited me to join them. Writing is a solitary endeavor and sometimes I need a little incentive to put down my laptop and get out of the house.

And an excuse to make crack dip, of course.

Readers Are The People I Care About

2012-01-15T10:06:00.000-06:00

I know, I haven't blogged in a really long time. Things are crazy right now, and I have half a dozen posts in draft stage that I just haven't found time to finish. But I need to write this one because I have some things I really want to say.

For those of you not familiar with the publishing world, huge changes have occurred in the way books are brought to the marketplace. With the explosion of e-books and the advent of self-publishing programs like Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing and Barnes and Noble's Pubit!, it is no longer necessary to have an agent or a publishing contract in order to make your work available to readers. With this change has come controversy. Who will be the gatekeeper of the tsunami of self-published crap that will surely flood the marketplace? Who will vet the work and make sure it's good enough? Writers who are traditionally published, who worked hard to obtain an agent and a publishing contract, might not be happy that writers are allowed to bypass this vetting process. Self-published writers may view this differently and appreciate that just because they don't have an agent or a publishing contract, doesn't mean they didn't write a good book. Writers are lumped into one group or the other and assigned all the characteristics, positive or negative, of whichever group they fall into. And honestly, the arguments for both sides have merit.

However, this debate is something many readers simply aren't aware of and probably wouldn't care about if they did. Readers want one thing: books they can fall in love with. People are so up in arms warning everyone how they should feel about how books arrived at the marketplace, that they've forgotten all that matters is that the book is enjoyed by the very people we write them for: readers. If a story resonates with a reader and they tell their friends or post a positive review, that's a wonderful thing. If someone mentions how much they love a book on Facebook or Twitter, or they feature it on their blog, that's the kind of feedback that makes a writer's day.

I've had the good fortune to connect with an increasing number of readers in the past two weeks, and I'm still on cloud nine because of it. I've interacted with some phenomenal folks on Twitter and Facebook, and I'm blown away that many of them took the time to leave positive reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and their blogs. I've messaged back and forth with people who live in India, Germany, France, and Scotland. How totally cool is that?

Does everyone like my book? Of course not. That comes with being an author and putting your work out there. It won't resonate with everyone and not everyone will embrace it. But the readers are the game-changers now. Their opinions matter and to try and tell them they won't be able to find anything to read because they have to wade through all the millions of horrible books out there is ludicrous. Readers don't have to wade through anything (unless they truly enjoy the hunt). They rely on reviews and word-of-mouth. They're active on Goodreads and they follow book review blogs. If readers in other countries can find On the Island, everyone can.

Most of my reviewers won't see this post, so my heartfelt thanks may not reach the people who deserve to hear it the most. But I'll say it anyway. I want to send a huge thank you to those who have supported me on my publishing journey by buying On the Island, leaving positive reviews, and recommending it to others. I am truly humbled by your kind words. You, the readers, are the people I care about. You are the people I write for. No one else's opinion in the publishing world carries the weight that yours does, at least not to me.

The future of publishing belongs to the reader. I think it would be wise for everyone to remember that.

Crack Dip

2011-12-12T06:34:00.000-06:00

Every now and then, I look at my blog diagnostics to see the search words and phrases that bring readers to funny in the 'hood, read by approximately 30 people each day (and I LOVE you folks, by the way).

The two most popular words that are leading people to this blog, at least in the last eight weeks, are CRACK DIP.

I'm not surprised. I've blogged about crack dip before, in this post. And since the holidays are upon us, everyone probably wants to take the dip to their office potlucks and holiday parties. My co-worker, Jess, made a batch the other day, just for the hell of it, and we decided crack dip made a fine breakfast indeed. If you've never had crack dip, don't judge. If you have, you're probably nodding and thinking, "Yeah, I could totally eat that for breakfast."

If you want to make crack dip, here's what you need:

Go to Super Target and buy their Archer Farms brand habanero and roasted pineapple dip (it's in the same aisle as the pickles and olives). Buy three or four jars so you'll always have it on hand. Dump the whole jar into a medium-sized bowl.

Next, add two packages of Philadelphia brand cream cheese. Leave it out for a couple hours so that it's very soft. Really mix this together well. You don't want big chunks of cream cheese, and sometime it helps to use the back of a big spoon to smooth them out.

Use the reduced-fat kind if you want (it won't affect the awesomeness of the dip).

Do not, under any circumstances, use the fat free crap because I'll be notified telepathically, my head will explode, and zombies will eat my brain. So don't do that, okay?

After you've combined the cream cheese and the habanero and roasted pineapple dip, add an 8 ounce package of shredded Kraft sharp cheddar cheese. Mix well.

This next part is important. You're going to add diced red onion, but not too much (start with a few tablespoons and add from there). I once thought that if a little red onion was good, a whole lot would be better but all it did was overpower the dip and I had to throw it away and start over which made me cry. So be careful. You can always add a little more, but you can't take it out once it's in there.

Mix, cover, and refrigerate for at least an hour.

Serve the dip with Ritz crackers. I am partial to the festive snowflake-shaped version during the winter holidays.

No matter where you go, if you bring this dip people will love you. They'll stand around the bowl raving about it and you'll have to give everyone the recipe. My friend Wendy gave it to me back in 2008 and I've been making it ever since. Occasionally, someone will turn their nose up at crack dip when you tell them what's in it, but after you force them to try it anyway, they'll be the one parked next to the bowl shoveling in dip-covered crackers like it's their job. I guarantee it.

My friend Bethie texted me the other night to ask what kind of salsa you need for the crack dip. My BlackBerry was dead or in my purse or something and I didn't get the message in time. I knew she wanted to take crack dip to work the next day and I felt bad because even though I texted her back the next morning, it was probably too late for her to make the dip. No worries, though. She texted back that if you google Tracey Garvis Graves crack the recipe comes right up.

*Excellent*

So do me a favor. Make the dip and then come back to this post and leave a comment letting me know if you liked it.

Happy holidays and enjoy!

Tracey

Happy Release Day for Amanda Bonilla's Shaedes of Gray!

2011-12-06T06:23:00.000-06:00

I met Amanda Bonilla last winter on The Twitter when we were both participating in an #askagent session. She took the time to answer one of my questions and when I checked out her profile and noticed she lived in Idaho (which people are always confusing with Iowa), I felt an instant kinship.

Over the course of the next six months, Amanda and I began to chat on Twitter and we started following each other's blogs. We became friends on Goodreads and we corresponded on Facebook. Amanda's friend Cassy was the very first person to like my Facebook fan page and I got to know Cassy a lot better when she started guest posting on Amanda's blog Swords, Boots, and Shadows. I'm a major fan of both Amanda and Cassy and one of these days I'm going to have drinks with them.

Today is the day that Amanda's debut novel Shaedes of Gray is being released. I bought it as soon as I fired up my laptop this morning and I'll be reading it at lunchtime and after work. I really need to read about Tyler and Xander, and I will more than likely read this book straight through and be exhausted on Wednesday, but I don't even care.

If you like urban fantasy and want to buy Shaedes of Gray, click here.

Happy release day, Amanda.

xoxoxoxoxox,

Tracey

My Favorite Things

2011-11-11T11:20:00.003-06:00

Like Oprah's list, only way more awesome and a heck of a lot cheaper.

1. Fuggs. These are fake Uggs from Target and since I'm not a pretentious suburban poser, I have no problem wearing them. In the interest of full disclosure, I have a pair of real Uggs but they're not waterproof and since winter in Iowa is snowy and wet, wearing them outside is like ripping a twenty dollar bill in half each time I step into a slushy pile of whatever Mother Nature has dumped on us. Fuggs aren't waterproof either, but they're cheap enough to be almost disposable when spring arrives. Lately, Lauren has been asking for a pair of real Uggs. My response? "Oh, hi. You're eight. No."

So, Fuggs. Get some.

2. No-chip nail polish. You know I love getting my nails done (despite what happened to me back in 2002. I mean, what are the odds of that happening again? Probably high, but that toenail grew back juuuuust fine). No-chip manicures are the result of a product called Shellac which is guaranteed not to come off for 14 days. That's two weeks of ignoring your nails and doing other things with the time you used to spend at the salon. Plus it dries almost instantly. You can dig in your purse for your keys or accidentally bang you hand against the car door when you leave and there will not be so much as a smudge.

This product, it is revolutionary.

3. Aquaphor - In the wintertime, when the offspring are sick and have chapped lips and cheeks, I tell them the Aquaphor fairy is going to pay them a visit. I sneak into their rooms before I go to bed and rub it all over their faces. Then, I rub it all over my feet and put on super-thick socks because you know what's not sexy? Dry, cracked heels. My friend Karen uses it on her lips and I know of someone else who was fond of applying it to her elbows. It's universal. Rub it anywhere you want.

4. Clinique Superbalm moisturizing gloss. I used to be a cherry ChapStick girl. I had it in my car, my purse, the bathroom, my nightstand, and my makeup bag. Seriously, I had it everywhere. But then Clinique had one of their bonus buy thingies and I happened to be walking by and now I have about 10 tubes of this lip gloss.

Well played, Clinique. Well played.

5. Victoria's Secret Incredible bra. My friend Lisa told me about these. "The straps self adjust!" she said. I was intrigued. According to the product description, it's the most comfortable bra in the universe. Yes, yes it is. Buy one today.

You too, can look like a supermodel.

6. E-readers. Or eReaders. Or ereaders. Or EReaders. I'm not going to debate which one is best *cough*Kindle*cough* because I think the important thing to point out is that you will love whichever e-reader you choose. I know some of you are all, "But I want to hold the book in my hand," and to that I say "blah, blah, blah, save some trees." I turned my friend Kendra into a Kindle lover the other day when I let her take mine on a business trip. She loved it and even though she texted me from DFW to ask, "Can you get People.com on this bitch? I need to know what's going on with Demi and Ashton," and I had to write back and say, "No, ding-dong, it's not an iPad," she's buying one anyway. At around a hundred bucks (or less), the Kindle is a freaking steal. Hey, you can pick one up at Target when you're buying Fuggs and Aquaphor. You're welcome!

7. Starbuck's skinny peppermint mocha. 100 calories for a tall. Tastes just like the regular version. We have a Starbuck's at work, but I don't usually indulge because I drink an astounding amount of coffee every morning when I'm writing and if I had more at work, I'm fairly certain my aorta would explode. But my friend Jen, who sits right across from me, said the skinny peppermint mochas are to die for so one of these days I'm going to buy one, strap on my heart rate monitor, and see just how high I can get my beats-per-minute.

8. Yoga pants. To clarify, I don't do yoga in yoga pants, I write in yoga pants. And the reason I don't do yoga is because it bores me silly. I'd rather spend an hour in my basement on my treadmill or NordicTrack (which is a cross-country ski machine that no one in the entire world owns or loves but me) with my iPod at an eardrum-splitting decibel level than contort my body in a room with a bunch of other people who may or may not be making sounds I don't want to hear. Amy tried to sell me on The Yoga and I went to class with her, but OMG, the time, it stood still. It was way too quiet and I kept looking for a clock which apparently they hide because of people like me.

9. Trader Joe's peeled and cubed butternut squash. I have a great recipe for butternut squash soup, but peeling a squash and cutting it all up is a major PITA and a good way to slice your hand open. Thanks to Trader Joe's, making soup is no more difficult than opening the bag and dumping the squash onto a sheet pan for roasting. I also use an immersion blender because I found out the hard way what will happen if you try to puree a big, hot batch of butternut squash soup in a regular blender. The mess, it was epic.

10. Honda. Okay, so this one might be a bit more expensive than the other items on the list. It's no secret I'm a Honda girl. When your dad owns a Honda motorcycle dealership, and has for the last 44 years, it's hard not to be.

But the real reason Honda made this list is because I am now the proud owner of this:

A Honda CR-V. Mine is black and I got it a couple weeks ago. After driving a full-sized SUV for 9 years, I am very excited to have something a bit smaller. It's not quite as cool as the 5-speed Acura I drove in my pre-offspring days, but it's got everything I need (4-wheel drive, XM radio, and an iPod dock). It also has about 73 air bags and some other important stuff I wasn't paying attention to when the salesman explained it which is why I did something wrong with the defrost the other night. Also, I'm pretty sure a new car means I'm guaranteed to hit an eight-point buck. Any day now.

"I love new cars, and I live in your 'hood."

So, what are some of your favorite things?

Tracey

Look What Happened While I Was Out Having Dinner

2011-11-10T21:15:00.000-06:00

#69 on the Genre Fiction, Romance bestseller chart.

#23 on the Genre Fiction, Action and Adventure bestseller chart.

#16 on the Fiction, Action and Adventure bestseller chart.

It may not stick for long, but I'm having a fabulous evening.

T.

Winners!

2011-10-23T11:22:00.000-05:00

The offspring drew two names this morning and the recipients of a signed paperback copy of On the Island are Jody and Lyn!

Thank you to everyone who shared the news about my book. I really appreciate it!

And to Lyn and Jody - I'll get your books mailed out tomorrow, ladies :)

Tracey

On the Island - Now Available in Paperback!

2011-10-21T06:26:00.000-05:00

Happy Friday everyone!

On the Island is now available in trade paperback.

See the little box above? If you pull up the Amazon listing for On the Island, scroll down a bit and you'll see that underneath the Kindle edition it says paperback. Click on it and it will take you to the listing for the book. Want to head over to Amazon now? Click here.

If you'd prefer to read the book electronically, you can choose the Kindle option. If you don't have a Kindle you can still read the ebook by downloading one of these free reading apps.

If you're a NOOK user, you can by the NOOK book here.

I've got two signed copies of On the Island to give away and Matthew and Lauren are *dying* to draw more names out of a hat. Here's how to enter: share this on Facebook by copying and pasting the link into your status update or by using the little share button thingie, mention it on your blog, tweet it, or e-mail the news to someone and copy me in (my e-mail address is traceygarvisgraves@yahoo.com). You'll automatically be entered to win, but please leave me a comment here or on Facebook so that I don't miss anyone. You have until midnight Saturday night, and winners will be announced by noon on Sunday. Copies will be hand-delivered if you're local, or mailed as soon as the post office opens on Monday.

I also have a new author page on Facebook. If you get a chance, please stop by and "like" me. And if you're on Goodreads click here to send me a friend request. Goodreads is a wonderful place to discover new books and new authors.

I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who has bought the ebook of On the Island. I truly appreciate the outpouring of support I've received since the book was released. I've made a lot of new friends and every time a reader sends me an e-mail to tell me how much they liked the book, ~~I totally squee~~! I count my blessings. I want to give an extra-special thank you to those of you who have chosen On the Island for your book club selection. I am honored.

I'm grateful that so many of you have connected with T.J. and Anna. After spending 18 months with them I'm having a hard time letting them go, but it's getting easier because I've got brand new characters to keep me busy.

Covet. Fall 2012.

What if the life you wanted, and the woman you fell in love with, belonged to someone else?

Have a great weekend everyone, and thanks for stopping by!

Tracey

The Power of an Informative Review

2011-10-13T07:00:00.000-05:00

As a debut indie author, I depend heavily on reader reviews. The more reviews I receive, the more likely a reader is to take a chance on me, especially if the reviews are positive.

A favorable review is a helpful tool for prospective readers. It gives peace of mind and lets them know ahead of time what kind of reading experience they can expect to have. When I buy a book on Amazon, I pay attention to not only the number of stars given, but more importantly, what the reviews say about the book. I want to know if the book is well written, with fully developed characters and a plot that is fast-paced and engaging.

But sometimes I need more from a review. I have an ever-shrinking amount of time to read these days, so if I'm on the fence about choosing a book, I read the reviews carefully, looking for not only the positive attributes of the story, but also answers to any questions I might have. The question is usually, "I'm not sure if I'll like this book due to _______." Sometimes it's because the genre may not be one I usually read, and I'm looking for a review to sell me on it. Maybe it's because I'm not sure if I'll like the subject matter or premise. Sometimes it's because I'm skeptical of the recommendation become I've been burned by the source too many times (I'm looking at you People Magazine). Reading a book's reviews to see if any of these questions are answered will usually make or break my decision to buy it. A favorable review is a wonderful tool, but I've come to realize just how important informative reviews are. This type of review goes beyond whether the reader liked the story, and examines in more detail why they decided to read the book.

I've received several informative reviews for On the Island. One of them was from Raven. She wrote:

"I was hesitant to buy this book but after reading all the reviews I decided to read it. I started reading it last night & read until my eyes wouldn't stay open. I stopped because I didn't want to miss a word of this book. During the night I woke up several times thinking about the book...couldn't get it off my mind. I just finished the book and I can honestly say I haven't read a book this good in so long. What they endured on the island was so real. I loved TJ & Anna. I can't wait for the author's next book although I don't know how she can top this one. If you haven't read this book, read it, you won't be disappointed."

The reason I like this review so much is twofold: for one, it's a wonderful review that brought tears to my eyes when I read it. I didn't know who Raven was, but I greatly appreciated the fact that she read On the Island and then took the time to leave a review. What I also liked was that she was honest. She didn't know whether or not she wanted to read the book (unanswered question: Will I like this book?). She used favorable reviews to help her decide, and she wasn't disappointed. But the other thing I like about this review is the fact that she admitted she wasn't sure if she wanted to read it. She was hesitant. And yet not only did she take a leap of faith and read it anyway, she liked it. A lot.

I know that potential readers who read the product description for On the Island might have some questions. The premise is very easy to have pre-conceived notions about; it's a desert island book with a teacher and her much younger student. They're probably thinking, where in the world is the author going with this? Will I want to go there with her?

I understand this hesitation, and I'm happy to report that those who have read the book know that I didn't take the storyline anywhere they didn't want it to go. They were surprised at how invested they became in the characters. Some of them have reached out to me to ask about a sequel because they want more T.J. and Anna.

I also received this review from heath1005.

"i was very reluctant to read this story, didnt know if i was going to like the premise of the old trapped on a deserted island relationship, especially with the age difference between the characters. i am soooo very glad took the chance though because this story was so much more. i never once thought about the age difference, just the characters. i believed this to happened due to the great amount of detail that went into this book. i found myself feeling as though i was right there with t.j. and anna and felt every triumph defeat and love that they went through during their ordeal on the island. i really loved that it was not all romanticized and perfect especially during the 2nd half of the story. i would highly recommend this story to anyone looking for a great love conquers all story!"

The reason I appreciate these reviews so much (disclaimer: I appreciate ALL my reviews, and I'm grateful to anyone who takes the time to leave one) is because they are answering questions potential readers probably have, too. And they're answering them in a positive way. It's like they addressed the elephant in the room and said, "Yes, the elephant is there but you won't care and you should totally read this book."

Last weekend, Raven reached out to me via e-mail. In her message, she elaborated a bit more on her decision to purchase On the Island. She told me it took her about 3 weeks to finally decide to download it, and she reiterated again how glad she was that she did. She said she wasn't sure if she wanted to read a book about a teacher and a student (which I totally understand, because at one point I thought I was TOTALLY CRAZY for writing one). She said she adored Anna and T.J., and if I hadn't already guessed, she loved the book. Frankly, her e-mail made my entire day.

Raven and heath1005 have done something for On the Island that I couldn't do myself: they've provided a positive and, more importantly, an informative review that will greatly assist other readers in deciding whether or not they want to read On the Island.

As a debut indie author, you can't ask for more than that.

Tracey

P.S. I'm waiting patiently for the paperback version of On the Island to go live on Amazon. I thought it would be out there by now, but it's not. I'll let you know as soon as it shows up :)

Hey All, Get Thee Over To Magic And Mayhem And Meet My Friend Amanda!

2011-09-27T11:12:00.000-05:00

Good morning everyone,

Today my friend Amanda gave me the most awesome shout out on the Magic and Mayhem blog. I met Amanda on Twitter one night when we were both participating in an #askagent chat. She answered one of my questions and her answer was much nicer than the snarky one I received from someone else. I knew instantly she was the type of person I would get along great with and that first impression has proved to be spot-on. She is truly wonderful and supportive and I'm lucky to have found her.

She is also a kick-ass writer and her debut novel will be available in December (don't call me that day because I will be holed up in front of my fireplace drinking wine and reading it). Click here to check it out!

Amanda also has a blog called Swords, Boots, and Shadows (how cool is that title?). You can check out her blog here.

If I've learned anything in my three years of blogging and two years on Twitter, it's that writers are truly a positive group of people. If I need beta readers my blog followers are quick to volunteer. If I'm not sure of the correct spelling of whiskey (or is is whisky?), I can tweet a request for help and receive a helpful answer in no time (majority vote: whiskey).

I've met so many incredible and talented people on the Internet, and it's like having a network of awesomeness I can tap whenever I need an answer to a writing-related question or just a pick-me-up that will be sure to put a smile on my face.

Amanda sure did that today. Because she's awesome.

Tracey

An Open And Somewhat Hostile Letter To My Dipshit Mailman

2011-09-24T07:58:00.000-05:00

Dear dude that delivers my mail,

Are you high?

No, really. Are you? Because I can think of no other reason why you are so completely horrible at your job. I mean, you totally suck at it.

When we built our house six years ago, I was overjoyed to discover that my 'hood utilized a safe and secure clusterbox system for the receipt of incoming mail. Accessible only by key, I'd never have to worry about valuable mail going missing due to the sticky fingers of a random, passing kleptomaniac or a roving band of marauding thirteen-year-old boys who think it's hysterical to steal mail.

However, clusterbox notwithstanding, why the hell are you so incompetent Mr. Postman? I understand that you may have a substance abuse problem but there are plenty of 12-step programs to assist you in kicking whatever it is you're smoking/drinking/huffing while on the job. There are like, sponsors and everything.

And lest you think I'm being a total bitch, let me list the ways in which you suck.

Three years ago you failed to deliver the tax returns that my accountant lovingly prepared. No worries though, you sent them to my neighbor and she was nice enough to walk them across the street to me. Fine. Whatever. At that point I put you on probation, but no real harm done.

However, a few months later a four-figure check destined for me was delivered to yet a different neighbor. I sensed a pattern developing and I WAS NOT A FAN. Luckily, my neighbor is one of my best friends so the check made its way to me safely. I cursed you, but I got over it.

But then, THEN! you misplaced another check a week ago (this one also containing 4 figures) and the only reason I knew about it is because the sender of said check called me up and said, "Yeah, the check I tried to send you just got returned. It says on the front that there's no such address." I expect this bullshit from MapQuest but not you, Mr. Postman, considering you drive by my house and cram a bunch of unwanted mail into my clusterhole every damn day. For instance, I don't seem to miss out on a single issue of the American Girl catalog, therefore ~~Veruca Salt~~ Lauren continues to announce, loudly, upon spotting it: "I want another American Girl doll Mummy and I want it now!" (pretend you read that last line with an English accent. DO IT!). Also, the eleventy-billion requests Discover Card has been sending since 1991 appear on a daily basis as do 47,000 advertisements for car insurance and 97 carpet cleaning coupons. So it's not like you aren't capable of putting my mail in slot #3. You totally are.

And you know what else? I'm tired of getting "Gary's" mail every day. Though "Gary" starts with the same consonant as both of my last names, mixing our mail together all willy-nilly because there are some "G's" sprinkled on it is a quality control fail of the sloppiest kind. I mean, isn't sorting the mail according to our names kind of the number one thing in your job description? You have managed to turn my safe and secure clusterbox into something else entirely. I have given it a new name and trust me when I say I am *not* amused.

So consider this your final warning. I'm watching you, and if I see your little Cheech and Chong mail truck making its way down my street belching little puffs of dooby-smoke, the floor littered with Cheetos and Twinkie wrappers, I will chase you down and stab you with my kitchen scissors thus giving new meaning to the phrase "going postal".

However, if you can straighten up and fly right (and put down the giant bong), I'm willing to let bygones be bygones.

Peace out,

Tracey

Fiction Friday - Virtual Launch Party For On The Island!

2011-09-09T07:04:00.004-05:00

***Edited to add that links are not all clicky. You'll have to copy and paste. Blame Blogger. I have (it's probably my fault, though).

Good morning and happy Friday everyone! My debut novel went live on Amazon and Barnes and Noble this week and I'd like to welcome you to the virtual launch party for On the Island.

Time: Now until 11:59 p.m. tonight.

Place: The Interwebz (Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc...) If you're reading this but we aren't already Facebook friends, send me a friend request! You can never have too many friends (or too much wine, am I right?) Also, are you following me on Twitter? If you'd like to, my Twitter handle is @tgarvisgraves.

Dress code: Island wear, naturally. I know a few of you will probably arrive full of Captain Morgan rum but sans pants but that's okay because it's virtual.

So, how does a virtual launch party work?

Well, first of all, check out the book on Amazon. If you click on the book cover in my sidebar in the upper-left hand corner, it will take you right to it.

Or, if you're a Nook user, here's the link for the listing on Barnes and Noble (sorry, you'll have to copy and paste. Blogger is not letting me insert the link. Or I'm too tired this morning and I'm doing something wrong).

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1105386598?ean=2940012993908&itm=1&usri=on%2bthe%2bisland%2btracey%2bgarvis%2bgraves

There will also be a paperback edition, but it has not been released yet.

So if the paperback isn't out yet, and I don't have an e-reader, how can I read On the Island?

There are several free Amazon apps you can use to read On the Island. This one is my favorite:

***You'll have to copy and paste links. Thanks for nothing, Blogger.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/kindle/pc/ref=kcp_pc_lnd_dtl_3

It's the Kindle app for PC. Before I got my Kindle, I downloaded this app to my laptop and read many, many books on it, sitting in my comfy reading chair. When I got my Kindle all my ebooks transferred to it which was super cool. But if you've been thinking about buying an e-reader now is the time (and not just because I wrote a book you can read on it). You can get a Kindle for as low as $114 and YOU WILL LOVE IT. Here are some links for other devices that you can download free Kindle apps to:

Copy and paste:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/kindle/iphone/ref=kcp_pc_ddp_dtl (iphone), http://www.amazon.com/kindlebb_lnd_dtl (BlackBerry), http://www.amazon.com/gp/kindle/ipad (ipad), and http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html/ref=kcp_red_ddp_dtl?ie=UTF8&docId=165849822 (Android). Personally, I'd rather stab myself in the eye than read a whole book on my smartphone, but that's just me.

There are a whole bunch of free apps for Nook too. http://www.barnesandnoble.com/u/free-nook-apps/379002321/?cds2Pid=28709

Now, back to the virtual launch part of the party. I will be pasting this blog post into my Facebook status update and I'm asking anyone who'd like to participate in the launch to copy and paste my link into their status update, too. That way, all their Facebook friends can check out the book. If you've read On the Island, make sure and mention that, too.

Many of you have already done this and I am so very appreciative. If you have, there is no need to do it again, but I do want you to know that your fabulous PR has already garnered me several sales. And some of the people that have purchased the book have finished it and sent me messages on Facebook about how much they enjoyed it. I don't know if you understand exactly how it feels to get feedback like that. It's surreal, actually, and it makes me so happy I want to cry. Reviews are starting to trickle in and that is the single most important thing you can do to help a debut author. For that I thank you.

And because you have all done so much for me, there will be prizes awarded when the virtual launch party is done.

If you copy and paste my status into your Facebook status, or you tweet about my book, or you link to it on your blog or just WHATEVER, please let me know about it. You can leave a comment on Facebook, include @tgarvisgraves on Twitter, or you can comment on this blog post. I will be putting the names of everyone who participated in a hat and will let the offspring draw two names on Saturday morning (this will include those of you who have already told your Facebook friends - I've been keeping track). There will have to be two winners because the offspring will have a knock-down, drag-out fight about who gets to draw the name because God forbid only one of them gets to do it.

So, what are the prizes? Well, don't get too excited. Dave put the big kibosh on the prize I really wanted to give, so we'll have to settle for two $50 gift cards (one per winner). I'll have plenty of options to choose from and I'll notify the winners on Facebook sometime Saturday (in between drinking beer and watching the Iowa game). So, maybe Saturday late afternoon.

I want to thank everyone again. On the Island has been 18 months in the making and it has been a wonderful experience. Many of you have been so supportive throughout the process and I'm lucky to have such great friends.

So, happy Friday everyone! Let's launch this thing.

Tracey

P.S. Please don't think I'm ignoring anyone today. I'll be at work, so I won't be able to interact on Facebook until I get home. I can use my BlackBerry at lunchtime to moderate blog comments or check tweets, but that's about it. But I'll be there in spirit, and I'll lift my virtual wine glass to you. Cheers!

Fiction Friday - A Cover, Some Jacket Copy, and a Playlist

2011-09-02T06:36:00.004-05:00

Happy fiction Friday (and Labor Day weekend) everyone!

I wanted to show you the awesome cover my blogging bestie Penne made for me (blogger wouldn't let me upload the PDF, so I had to settle for the JPEG. It looks much clearer on my computer screen so I'm not sure why it doesn't show up better here, but you get the general idea). You can also click on it a couple times to make it bigger.

Here's the jacket copy/product description:

When thirty-year-old English teacher Anna Emerson is offered a job tutoring T.J. Callahan at his family's summer rental in the Maldives, she accepts without hesitation; a working vacation on a tropical island trumps the library any day.

T.J. Callahan has no desire to leave town, not that anyone asked him. He's almost seventeen and if having cancer wasn't bad enough, now he has to spend his first summer in remission with his family - and a stack of overdue assignments - instead of his friends.

Anna and T.J. are en route to join T.J.'s family in the Maldives when the pilot of their seaplane suffers a fatal heart attack and crash-lands in the Indian Ocean. Adrift in shark-infested waters, their life jackets keep them afloat until they make it to the shore of an uninhabited island. Now Anna and T.J. just want to survive and they must work together to obtain water, food, fire, and shelter. Their basic needs might be met but as the days turn to weeks, and then months, the castaways encounter plenty of other obstacles, including violent tropical storms, the many dangers lurking in the sea, and the possibility that T.J.'s cancer could return. As T.J. celebrates yet another birthday on the island Anna begins to wonder if the biggest challenge of all might be living with a boy who is gradually becoming a man.

Next up is the playlist I listened to while I was writing On the Island. I used to play "Roll With the Changes" on repeat, especially in my car, and I wanted to use the first verse as an epigraph at the beginning of a certain chapter but you can't unless you pay for the right to do that and, even more daunting, get the members of REO Speedwagon (or whoever owns the rights) to say it's okay (hello? *waves hand* Kevin Cronin? I have a question for you). That sounds like a lot of work and money. So no epigraph.

I wonder if those of you who have already read On the Island could guess where I would have put the epigraph. It might surprise you.

The rest of these songs all have meaning and it's strange how much a playlist can influence the writing. For Covet, the book I'm writing now, I've been in an adult contemporary phase which is weird because you know I'm a 70's girl.

"Long, Long Way From Home" - Foreigner
"Fins" - Jimmy Buffet
"Island Girl" - Elton John
"Sweet Child 'O Mine" - Guns 'N Roses
"Roll With The Changes" - REO Speedwagon
"Coconuts" - Widespread Panic
"Changes In Attitude, Changes In Latitude" - Jimmy Buffet
"Wish You Were Here" - Pink Floyd
"Don't Drink The Water" - Dave Matthews Band
"Don't Let Him Go" - REO Speedwagon
"Have You Ever Seen The Rain" - Creedence Clearwater Revival
"I'll Be" - Edwin McCain
"Ridin' The Storm Out" - REO Speedwagon

I received my ebooks from the book formatter last night and I'll be able to upload to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords on Sunday when there will be a break in our weekend festivities. It will take anywhere from 6-48 hours to go live (although I heard it's usually closer to 24). Next week's focus will be sending everything to Amazon's CreateSpace for the paperback version. I've heard that process can be...difficult. But ignorance is bliss so for now I'm assuming a couple mouse clicks and woo hoo, paperback!

I'm also planning a virtual launch party on Facebook (date: TBD). I am hoping for sometime next week, maybe Friday? A virtual launch party is just a fancy way of asking my Facebook friends to copy the link for my blog post announcing the book's release into their status update so that their friends can check out the listing on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you would like to participate in this launch, please let me know. I'd be honored and I would appreciate it so much. I will be holding a random drawing for some fabulous prizes for those who help me launch. If you'd like to be included, please let me know, either by commenting on this blog, or replying on Facebook.

It's a good feeling having this preparation behind me. After 18 months, I'm ready to move on and immerse myself in the new book.

Thanks to all of you who have helped me along the way. Your kind words of encouragement mean a lot. More than you'll ever know, actually.

Have a good weekend!

Tracey

Hillybilly Handfishin', Y'all!

2011-08-15T10:22:00.002-05:00

Last night I was channel-surfing in bed and I stumbled upon Animal Planet's Hillybilly Handfishin'. I had watched it the week before, but I was ~~drinking sauvignon blanc~~ distracted by my laptop and didn't pay close attention. I paid more attention last night and I'm glad I did. I think I've already proven I like these kinds of shows. And by these kinds of shows I mean the ones that are over the top and show people experiencing things that most of us can't imagine ever happening in real life. Like those clueless baby mamas on TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. Remember in THIS POST when I shared my thoughts about that?

This is a picture of Skipper Bivens, the host of Hillybilly Handfishin'. That's him on the right. My observation? Skipper is one hairy dude. That's his best friend Scooter on the left. I have one burning question: Who the hell named these men? I'm guessing you have to be kind of badass to walk around with these monikers even though I'm pretty sure they're just nicknames. Probably. If someone named Bubba shows up next week I will not be surprised.

The show started off with a tagline: Stick your hand or foot in a hole and you never know what you're gonna find. This is wrong on so many levels. I'm not sticking anything in anywhere unless I know what's waiting for me and that is just good common sense people. And if Hillybilly Handfishin' wasn't a total laugh riot all on its own, in addition to catfish there might be cottonmouth snakes and BULL SHARKS living in those holes. Okay maybe not bull sharks. MAYBE. Plus the water in the stream? river? lake? creek? (or crick if you're a total redneck) looks all brown and poopy, like the catfish live in a giant, dirty toilet bowl.

As most? some? all? of you know, my husband Cowboy Dave hails from Oklahoma. Sort of. He lived there for 8 years and I watched an old videotape of him once and he had an accent which I razzed him about even though it was kinda hot. And being (sort of) from Oklahoma, he knew all about catfish noodling (but swore he'd never done it). I think it's safe to say that all the Oklahoma's been taken out of the boy though because the other night Dave had some wine and watched a pretentious foreign film with sub-titles. Skipper probably drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon and watches rodeo.

The other day a beetle fell out of my ponytail when I was at the pool and I think my lounge chair must have been positioned on top of a nest of spiders because after I spotted the 7th one crawling on me (and drew a bunch of attention to myself by jumping off said chair and doing the spider dance while screaming) I decided I was done with all the suburban wildlife and spent the next day indoors with the air-conditioning and my Kindle. So I am not an ideal candidate for this show (don't let the cowboy hat I'm wearing in my profile photo fool you. I'm wearing it ironically because I am totally not a cowgirl and only listen to 70's music).

But Stacy and Shelli, who were on last night's show, were ideal candidates. They hail from Boston - Stacy's a bartender (with enormous boobs) and Shelli's a personal trainer (with enormous biceps). I tip my cowboy hat to these girls because they exhibited some total badassery and I salute them with a can of Budweiser. But they weren't brave at first. At first they were all freaked out because they found a bug in Shelli's suitcase and then they each found a couple bugs crawling on them and they did the screaming spider dance and I felt a kinship.

There was also a brother-sister duo (Devyn and Tyler) and two cops from Chicago (Dan and Tony).

Shelli (the personal trainer) caught the first catfish. It was either that or arm-wrestle the Chicago cops so everyone could see how tough and fearless she was. She did awesome.

Stacy (the bartender with big boobs) caught the second. You go girl.

Now it's Devyn and Tyler's turn. Tyler thought it would be fun and bonding and meaningful to take his sister noodling. Devyn probably wanted to sit on the couch in her comfy yoga pants sipping a glass of wine and watching season three of Sex and the City. Yet there they were. Maybe Devyn can give Tyler a gift certificate for a Brazilian wax for Christmas and then ask him how his man-parts feel. It only seems fair.

THIS is what happened the last time I went fishing with my brother, back in like '87 or '88. I can't remember exactly when it was because I tend to block out traumatic things.

It was all fun and games and BUD LIGHT TALL BOYS until Georgie hooked me and we had to drive to the walk-in clinic and have a purple Mister Twister extricated from my face with a scalpel which is like the biggest buzzkill ever. And Georgie said he was sorry, and told me he felt terrible, but he does not look sorry at all in this photo. So fishing will probably not be my first choice for a recreational activity that my brother and I can enjoy together. To clarify, first choice would probably be wine-drinking.

Tyler's sister Devyn is so scared to go catfish noodling that she looks like she might poop her pants (which would totally go unnoticed because of the murky, brown, toilet bowl water everyone is standing around up to their chests in). But I'm proud of Devyn. She redeemed herself. Check it out.

If you were paying attention, you might also have noticed Stacy's boobs and Shelli's biceps. Need to watch it again? Go ahead.

So now everyone's caught a catfish except for Devyn's brother Tyler, and Tony and Dan, the Chicago cops. Even though Dan's chest is like 17 axe handles across, and he's super manly, he can't find a catfish to save his life. Neither can Tony. So they're feeling around in all those holes, desperately, frantically, trying to find ~~their balls~~ some catfish and finally, finally they succeed. Tyler does too, and I am odly invested and proud of all of them by now.

I was manipulated into watching - and enjoying - a show I only wanted to make fun of. I cheered at the screen. I want to drink beer and do push-ups and play pool with Stacy and Shelli. I want to get a mani-pedi and see a chick flick with Devyn. And you can bet your Wranglers and your can of Skoal that I'll be watching next Sunday.

So well played Animal Planet.

Well played.

Re-post Monday - My Totally Fictitious, Highly Dysfunctional, And Completely Inappropriate Advice Column

2011-08-01T07:49:00.001-05:00

Happy Monday everyone! I stumbled upon this old post yesterday when I was doing some clean-up on the blog. I originally published it in February of 2009, but I don’t think anyone read it back then. I don't have time to write a new post today, so I hope you don't mind if I recycle this one. Maybe Mondays on the blog can be re-post Mondays from now on?

Here are my totally fictitious answers to totally fictitious problems for totally fictitious people I don’t know because they're totally make believe.

Dear Tracey,

My husband and I recently moved into a new home. The next door neighbors brought us a pie and introduced themselves. They seemed nice enough and they have children the same age as ours.

I am concerned about a few things, however. We invited them over for cocktails last weekend and it got weird toward the end of the evening.The husband gave me googly eyes and then touched my boob when he reached for his drink. He also wanted to know if I‘d show him “where the master bedroom was.”

Meanwhile, his wife had my husband cornered in the kitchen and she was trying to rub her body up and down his leg. My husband said she was purring like a cat and told him she needed to take a shower because she was a “dirty, dirty girl.” I managed to cut the evening short by pretending to pass out on the couch while my husband hustled them out the door.

Before they left they invited us to their home next weekend to meet several of the families that live in the neighborhood. We don’t know what to expect and neither of us is remotely interested in becoming a swinger. My husband and I have a great relationship and he’s not interested in anyone else’s hoo-ha. I have no desire to get up close and personal with my neighbor’s wiener either. How should we handle this unfortunate situation?

Signed,

We didn’t realize we moved to Swingtown.

Dear ‘We didn’t realize we moved to Swingtown’,

Being disease free is very important to swingers, so I have no choice but to recommend that you start a rumor in the neighborhood that you and your husband both have uncontrollable, rampant, super-herpes. It’s the only way. If either of you ever have a really gross cold sore on your lip it would go a long way toward validating this rumor. Please also mention frequently that you are allergic to latex because a die-hard swinger may not be put off by one little STD.

You also need to identify the non-swingers in your neighborhood, invite them over for drinks, and do some serious damage control. They may not believe you don’t actually have super-herpes, but since you aren’t going to try to have sex with them, they probably won’t care.

I believe swingers and non-swingers can peacefully co-exist. If you find that’s not the case, wait until the housing market improves, stick a for-sale sign in the yard, and move to a normal neighborhood. You might want to do a better job of vetting your future neighbors next time. Good luck!

Dear Tracey,

I’m a member of the PTO and I’m working on a fundraising committee with three other parents. There is one mom who is really starting to piss me off. She keeps sending elaborate e-mails with flow charts, Excel spread sheets, and summaries about everyone’s responsibilities and she has suggested “goals and benchmarks” for completing everything. I heard through the grapevine that she’s an out of work former business executive that got fired late last year, probably for being totally annoying.

The other moms and I are not her “minions” and I don’t appreciate her trying to turn this fundraiser into the social event of the year. We are supposed to be organizing a bingo game, bake sale, and a raffle so we can raise money for new library books. I’m about ready to tell her to shove her ideas about “swag” and “black tie only” up her butt. And seriously, if she asks me one more time about the dress I’m wearing to the fundraiser, I will throttle her. I’m wearing jeans and so is everyone else.

Signed,

Drama with another mama

Dear 'Drama with another mama',

Working on a committee is never easy, especially when someone has decided to use the fundraiser to fill the empty void created by losing their job. She is probably wishing she had an excuse to get dressed up again and hasn’t been able to get used to the fact that wearing sweats every day is perfectly acceptable.

Remind her of the common goal to raise money for books. And since it might help to make your suggestions in a language she understands, why not put everything into a nice PowerPoint presentation so she can feel like she’s at work again.

Then, ask her to come to your house and discuss the fundraiser over margaritas. Show her how awesome it is to drink on the job when you’re not getting paid and can’t get fired. Get completely hammered and make fun of anyone working on the fundraiser that you don’t like. Then drunk dial her old boss and hang up when he answers (remember to *67 first, natch).

My prediction is that you’ll be BFF’s in no time and the fundraiser will be a smashing success.

Dear Tracey,

My life sucks. I got fired from the insurance company where I’ve worked for ten years because the cute, blonde receptionist they hired didn’t like me. Since she gives my boss a hummer every day at lunchtime, she has become the most powerful and influential employee in our department and she got me canned.

Then my boyfriend Jason broke up with me because he’s in love with some whore named Terry. I ran into Jason and Terry the other day when I stopped at Kum and Go for a bottle of wine and a Slim Jim. Terry has an Adam’s apple, a five o’clock shadow, and was holding Jason's hand. Terry is also way prettier than me and acted like he’d never seen someone at Kum and Go in pink flannel pajama pants, purple Crocs, and yesterday’s underwear.

I’ve also gained some weight so in an effort to lose a few pounds I started taking Alli, the over the counter weight loss drug that Wynona Judd recommended. I had one ill-timed cheeseburger from Sonic and crapped my pants in the car on my first date with a hot guy I met on Match.com. Now he’s got a big orange stain on the upholstery of his passenger seat and I’m (surprise!) still fucking single.

Lastly, I had to spend money I don’t have to sign up on eharmony.com because word’s gotten around at Match.com that I’m a “shitter”.

Signed,

Should I just give up?

Dear 'Should I just give up',

When life hands you lemons, grab a cocktail shaker, sugar, and vodka and make yourself a lemon drop martini as big as your head. Consume. Repeat. Consume. Repeat. Consume. Black out. Problems, poof!

And seriously, wouldn’t you rather know you and Jason both liked boys sooner, rather than later?

I know jobs are scarce in this economy but try to look at your recent firing as a good thing. Treat this as an opportunity to switch careers and only accept offers from companies with butt-ugly receptionists.

As for Alli, taking a drug that makes greasy, orange poop leak out of your butt is never a smart move. Please listen to me and not that washed up, fat country singer Wynona Judd, and stop taking it immediately.

Trust me, things can only get better. Good luck to you!

Do you have a problem you'd like my help with? If so, leave it in the comments section of this blog post and I'll answer it for you. Remember, no question is too outrageous or inappropriate for me to handle. Just make something up.

I do it all the time.

Fiction Friday!

2011-07-15T11:32:00.000-05:00

Happy Fiction Friday everyone! I hope you are all having a delightful day. I will be spending the afternoon preparing for Matthew's family birthday party that we're hosting tonight. My baby boy is turning twelve (sniff, sniff). Tomorrow he is having two of his buddies over to spend the night, eat junk food, and watch the movie Paranormal Activity (he has been begging me to let him watch it since last fall). "It's your nightmare," I told him. "Just don't wake me up at 3 a.m. when you're scared because I will boomerang your butt right back to bed."

Why yes I am a stellar mom, thanks for asking.

Anyway, as most? some? all of you know, I have decided to self-publish my novel On the Island. I am hoping for a September 1st release and I'm hard at work preparing everything. I will be sending the manuscript to my freelance editor on August 1st, and then I'll do a final line edit and make sure the formatting is correct. The novel will be available for Nook and Kindle users, plus some other e-reader formats, and in paperback as well.

I wanted to share the image I've chosen for my cover. This is an actual beach in the Maldives (which is where my story takes place), and I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. Plus my main character has long dark hair (and often wears blue) so it seemed like a no-brainer. I also love the colors.

Here's a VERY ROUGH mock-up of what it might look like with the title (which needs to be centered properly, and much bigger) and my name. My very awesome friend Penne, who is a graphic designer, is going to help me make sure it looks professional (and not like something I might have, ahem, whipped up on MS Paint), and my super awesome critique partner (who is a traditionally published author) is going to write a blurb for the cover.

So, what do you think? Is it eye-catching? For those of you who have read the manuscript, does it capture the essence of the story? As my friend Elisa and I discussed, it's not very "stranded on an island" but it does invoke (I hope) the romantic aspect of the story. I think it looks very women's fiction-y which is super cool since that's the genre of my book.

Let me know your thoughts if you have a free moment. I'd love to get your input.

Have a great Friday and a great weekend everyone!

Tracey

What Dave Says, What Tracey Says, And What We Really Mean

2011-06-22T15:13:00.001-05:00

The other day I made an appointment with a facial plastic surgeon. I'd already visited him once for Botox, but I decided it was time to try a little Juvederm* because my friend Amy has a theory that women age one of two ways: you're either a wrinkler or a sinker. Wrinklers have crow's feet and horizontal lines across their foreheads. Maybe some laugh lines and other various creases. Sinkers, on the other hand, aren't very wrinkly but they lose volume in their faces which causes grooves, furrows, and other undesirable divets.

I'm a sinker. I'm not very wrinkly, but I have a few areas where there is a noticeable loss of volume occurring, specifically above my upper lip.

I called the facial plastic surgeon's office and the woman I spoke to made me want to jump in my car and drive there immediately. She had tried Juvederm and she loved it.

I knew Dave would probably not understand my desire to have gel injected into the area above my upper lip (the same way he didn't understand my need to have diluted botulism shot into the furrows between my eyebrows). This is akin to the confusion I experience when a man tries to tell me how much better/clearer/superior a television program is when viewed in HD (sometimes, just to mess with my dad, I say, "You're right, that one IS clearer!" except I point to the non-HD channel).

So this is what I said to Dave: I want to try Juvederm but I'm going to wait until my contract job ends because if something goes terribly wrong I'll be super embarrassed if I have to show up at work with a giant trout-pout. What do you think?

This is what Dave said: If it's really important to you then go ahead and do it.

This is what Dave really meant: Egads! How much is it going to cost to keep my wife from morphing into some kind of freaky, troll-like creature? Jesus, by the time she's fifty her face will be a giant clusterfuck of poison and drywall spackle.

Me: So you're cool with this?

Dave: Sure.

Not long after this discussion, the T.V. in our family room stopped working. It's six years old and apparently the lamp inside burned out. Dave started lobbying for a new T.V. right away. "It's been six years, Tracey. Those lamps don't last forever." I agreed that they probably don't and then suggested something really crazy: "Why don't you take it in and have it repaired," I said. Dave said fine, he'd take it in. Unfortunately, not only were the lamps burned out, the color wheel was too. Repair estimate: $400. Dave mentioned that he could get a brand new T.V., comparable or even better to what we had, for $489. We could still repair the old one, but other things might go wrong soon and then we'd have to put more money into it. Since I was really only half paying attention by this time, I said, "Fine. Whatever. Just don't make me come with you to buy it because that shit bores me silly."

A few days later, Dave went on a recon mission to Best Buy and American to compare prices. He cornered me when he came home.

This is what he said: So they have these smart T.V.'s now and you can get streaming netflix, and check your Facebook on the T.V., and pull up websites, and all kinds of things! Wouldn't you love to check your Facebook on the T.V.? You said the other day you wouldn't mind signing up for netflix. And they're only $1200!

This is what I said: Wow, the smart T.V. can do all that? That is amazing. And you're telling me we can have netflix, like streaming right on the T.V.? Technology sure has come a long way!

What I really meant: I will never check my Facebook on the T.V. because my laptop is right over there. And Jesus Jones, I couldn't care less if we owned any T.V.'s at all**. I rarely watch network television, especially in the summer, and if we didn't own a T.V. I'd never have to be subjected to the crap you like to watch (namely Hitler documentaries on the History Channel, old James Bond movies on obscure cable channels, and the constant, insipid dipshittery of Tosh.O and Jackass). And this will be one more electronic item that I don't know how to work. It's bad enough that Matthew had to label the components in the basement because otherwise I wouldn't be able to turn on the Wii or play a CD.

Dave: So you're cool with the smart T.V., right?

Me: Sure.

So that's how it works in our household. Everyone gets what they want, harmony is maintained, and we operate on a strict tit-for-tat basis.

I'm just afraid of what Dave will ask for if I ever get those new boobs I've always wanted.

*Did I like Juvederm? Eh, it's okay. I was very conservative with it so you can't tell I got it which probably means I'm the biggest dumbshit to ever walk the planet.

**Except I'd want to watch Shark Week because that show totally rocks even though they need some new clips because I've seen that one chick get her leg bitten off by that Great White Shark like hundreds of times. It's still awesome, I still think that *maybe* her friends will pull her into the boat in time, and she deserves a medal for bravery because she's completely zen about the whole thing.

Fiction Friday!

2011-06-17T10:35:00.001-05:00

Happy Friday everyone!

I hope you're all enjoying the summer so far. Here in Iowa, we're still waiting for it to arrive, but I'm confident it will make its appearance one of these days. Our 40-degree shifts in temperature, and the incessant rain is making everyone a bit cranky but the roller coaster weather doesn't bother me too much because I am unemployed (by choice) and I'm loving being at home with the offspring for the summer (never mind that I promptly shipped my talkative eight-year-old daughter off to acting camp for the week). I do plan to return to my contract recruiting position in the fall, but in the meantime I've got 8 weeks left to catch up on sleep and work on my tan (and I'm grateful that I'm able to do that).

I have been (slowly) querying my manuscript. I have sent approximately 14 queries, which is a pretty low number, and have not received any nibbles. Basically, no agents have requested the manuscript yet so either my query letter isn't working, or my premise is not something agents are interested in. I have a feeling it's the latter. I did have one agent give me feedback on my first chapter/synopsis (this was via a contest win) and while it was very helpful, and she told me she didn't necessarily feel this way, she said that editors would probably have a knee-jerk reaction to the premise (she didn't say they would drop my query letter and run screaming from the room, but I can read between the lines).

I won't lie; this makes me sad, especially because those who have read it (I think I'm up to 17 readers at this point) have been overwhelmingly positive with their feedback, and have told me how much they loved the story and that they were still thinking about the characters days later). However, my premise IS unique in that it doesn't fall neatly into one genre. Those of you who have read it know what I mean. It's part women's fiction, part romance, and part adventure. I sat down and wrote the book I wanted to write, and I couldn't be happier with the way it turned out, but I do need to acknowledge that I have not written something that is in line with what's selling right now. And probably won't ever be.

Lest you think I've written some porn-y, shocking book, the title is On the Island and it's a desert island book. Think Castaway with two people. Or Lord of the Flies without the killing and savage behavior. I love desert island books, and I'm a big fan of Lost and Survivor (not to mention The Blue Lagoon), so that's what I wrote. I put my main characters in a lot of survival situations in On the Island and they were exciting to research and write. It's set in the Maldives which was a place I knew nothing about. Looking back on it now, this book was so research-heavy that I'm not sure I ever want to do that again. I also know how to build a fire without matches so if you ever want to go extreme-camping, I'm your girl.

One of the hardest things has been receiving form rejections on the same day I receive feedback from someone who has actually read the manuscript. I was reading a rejection letter and at the same time I received a text from someone that said, "I loved your book, I couldn't put it down, and it made me laugh and cry." I texted back and said, "Well that's wonderful because I just received a rejection letter in my inbox." I'm not taking the rejections personally (okay maybe a little). I know that agents reject because they don't think they can sell the manuscript or they don't love the premise. But I won't lie: form rejections will take the wind out of your sails and your confidence will plummet.

I'm at the point where I'm leaning toward self-publishing via Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing program. I could also publish to Smashwords and my book would be available to Nook users as well. For those that don't have e-readers, they can download the Kindle and Nook applications to their desktop, laptop, tablet, or phone. My book will probably be priced at $2.99. I would rather go this route then let the manuscript languish on my hard drive forever. I have contracted with a free-lance editor, to make sure the book is as polished as it can be, and I'm also researching book covers because you do have to provide your own if you self-publish and it can't look like something a demented six-year-old designed and then drew with crayons. I'm connecting with a lot of self-published authors right now, via Twitter and blogs, and their excitement is contagious. There are definite benefits to self-publishing such as complete control over content and distribution, and also the freedom to write what I want. The only deadlines I'll have are the ones I self-impose.

I'm also really, really immersed in my second novel, Covet. I would love to have it polished and ready to publish by this time next year. Will I query it first? Probably. The premise is definitely more mainstream and this book is solidly in the women's fiction genre so that may help. Or I may decide to self-publish that one too. I have no idea at this point, I just know that I'm falling in love with another story and the characters have taken up permanent residence in my head and that is why I write (incidentally, Covet is NOT the book I mentioned in my Shiny New Ideas post. It's an idea that came to me shortly after and it knocked the other idea right out of the running). It explores a similar theme found in On the Island and that's good for building a readership (which is totally putting the cart before the horse, I know, but I'm pretty sure I'll continue writing books so I might as well work toward author branding while I'm at it).

One last thing, if you are one of my blog readers, and I know you via real life or Facebook, Twitter, etc., and you'd like to read the manuscript, I'd be happy to send it to you. I am hoping that those who have read it would be willing to post a link to the Amazon listing if/when I do self-publish (sort of like a virtual book launch) which probably won't be until mid-August. If you are interested, please e-mail me at traceygarvisgraves@yahoo.com.

In the meantime, enjoy your summer!

I hope your weather is better than ours.

Dudes, Louis From Interview With The Vampire Totally Works In My Building

2011-05-19T16:47:00.000-05:00

As some of you know, I work as a contract human resources recruiter for a large mortgage company here in Des Moines (I won't mention the name but it rhymes with Bells Cargo). My work bff Tami and I usually saunter down to the employee cafeteria in the morning for breakfast and gossip and one day a few months ago we were dumbstruck when we saw Louis from Interview With The Vampire standing in line to get an omelet. Or some o-neg. Whatever. It's not important. And I mean Louis as portrayed by Brad Pitt because Louis is totally a fictional character and doesn't actually exist. Anyway, when we spotted him we stood there with our mouths hanging open for a good thirty seconds. We might have also elbowed each other.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to snap a picture of him with my BlackBerry but the zoom function does not work for crap and I couldn't get close enough without, you know, drawing attention to myself and making him think I was a complete whackadoodle. Which I'm not.

This is what he looks like: Long, blonde hair - sometimes in a ponytail, sometimes down - stubble (just the right amount), and sexy vampire-type eyes. He might also be wearing eyeliner but I try not to stare into his eyes in case he tries to glamour me. And he's really skinny. Like I could not get one of my thighs in his jeans if someone was pointing a gun at my head. This does not detract from his looks, I'm simply pointing out that he's tall but very, very lean. Also? He can be wearing anything from a blinged-out hoodie with skinny jeans or a pinstriped, three piece suit from the 19th century (three piece as in vest included). Seriously. And every single woman in the cafeteria is checking. him. out.

But the other day he wore something that I almost couldn't comprehend and how he came up with this wardrobe choice I'll never know. Maybe he woke up and thought, hmmmm.....I work at a large mortgage company in Iowa. What should I wear today? Oh, I know! My long, black, fur coat and a fedora (tipped at a jaunty angle, natch). Chicks! Will! Stare!

That's about as silly as me showing up somewhere in a *poncho, beret, and feather boa, but somehow he pulled it off.

What's even more entertaining is watching women strike up a conversation with him. Sometimes Tami and I like to watch girls fall all over themselves trying to engage him. And by watch I mean totally eavesdrop which is how I know he bought the fur coat in Greece.

So. I just wanted to tell you all about the guy Tami and I refer to as vampire boy or VB for short. People have a tendency to think Iowans have no sense of style and that we walk around in bullshit denim overalls with corn in our hair.

But let me tell you, there's a dude in Des Moines that can rock vampire chic like nobody's business.

*Unless I've been drinking and then it makes total sense. Stylish! Unique! Quirky! (but in a good way).

P.S. I apologize for the plethora of exclamation points. I don't know what came over me.

P.P.S. I also wanted to use the word plethora because it's a great word and I haven't used it in a while.

It's Spring Cleanup Time in the 'Hood!

2011-05-14T10:02:00.000-05:00

We have something known as spring cleanup day here in the 'hood. The city lets you dispose of pretty much anything junking up your garage - except maybe anthrax or dead bodies - and everyone drags all their crap out to the curb and the garbage trucks roll up and make it disappear. You can almost hear the collective sigh of relief as all the detritus of the last year gets carted away.

Dave and our eleven-year-old son Matthew are very interested in spring cleanup day for totally different reasons. Dave thinks he's finally going to emerge the victor in the "battle of the garage" while Matthew has adopted the "one man's trash is another man's treasure" motto as his personal mission statement; you can almost see the little wheels turning in his head. Free stuff! At the curb! He and his buddies, armed with cell phones and walkie-talkies, like to case the 'hood on their bicycles looking for the highest quality garbage. The early bird gets the crap so as soon as those piles start showing up you better get a move on. Seriously, our beautiful suburban 'hood looks like the set of Sanford and Son right now.

The neighborhood to the north of us had their spring cleanup day a few weeks ago. Matthew and his homies were hard at work scooping up the most desirable garbage in the suburban version of dumpster diving. One night while Matthew was out scavenging my cell phone rang. "Hey mom," Matthew said. "It's starting to rain so can you come pick me up?"

I asked him for his location and jumped in the car. When I pulled up to the curb a few minutes later, Matthew was standing next to his bicycle and a waist-high pile of crap. All I could think was, Dave is gonna shit kittens when he sees this. Matthew had found two (two!)stereo tuners, circa 1983, and a turntable. I immediately got a Rush "New World Man" earworm and thought fondly of my junior year of high school. Matthew's expression was one of sheer adoration. He's built himself quite the young man cave in the garage, and I knew just where those tuners were headed. And since the whole point of spring cleanup day is to rid our garage of unnecessary stuff, I knew Dave was not going to like that one bit.

Being the cool mom that I am, I helped him load his bike and everything else into my Explorer and we took off. Thankfully, Dave wasn't home so I told Matthew to get it unloaded and hide it behind the snowblower or something.

Surprisingly, Dave didn't really care but he did give Matthew a deadline: "It needs to be out of the garage by spring cleanup, or I'm taking it to the curb." Matthew agreed, and now one of those tuners is sitting on his dresser and I am not thrilled about that.

Our next door neighbor had a garage sale the other day. Matthew carted the turntable over and slapped a price sticker on it. Someone snapped it up in record time but not before he and Matthew haggled back and forth for a while. Matthew finally pocketed his money and walked away, triumphant. Well played Matthew. Well played.

Matthew mentioned the turntable this morning at breakfast which reminded me of something I'd been meaning to ask him. "Matthew, what did the guy who bought your turntable look like?"

"I don't know. He was about 5'7". Gray hair."

Bingo. I'd put money on class of '79. And my guess is that he carried that turntable to his car humming a little tune.

Something by Rush perhaps.

Fiction Friday - Shiny New Ideas

2011-04-04T11:16:00.043-05:00

I'm feeling a bit out of sorts this week. Now that my manuscript is complete, and I've started dipping my toe in the query pool, I don't know what to do with myself.

After getting up at 5:00 a.m. for the last year, not having to get up and write feels really weird. I'm still getting up early, but now I'm just dinking around on Twitter and reading blogs before I head off to work.

A couple months ago, when I was still polishing the manuscript, Dave said, "You're not going to write another book are you?"

"Oh God no," I said. "I want my life back. I need to catch up on sleep. Start exercising again. Read a million books on my Kindle."

But here's the thing. Now that I'm not writing, I don't know what to do with myself. And I want to write another book. Just thinking about writing again makes some of these angsty feelings go away.

So many people don't finish their first book. They get to the hard part, which - at least for me anyway - is the revision stage, and they get a Shiny New Idea, with Shiny New Characters. And pounding out a first draft with this new idea, and these new people sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than ripping apart the current manuscript and fixing everything that's wrong with it. I never had the urge to abandon my manuscript, though, for two reasons: I was going to finish what I started, dammit, and I didn't have any Shiny New Ideas. And that worried me for a while. Ideas are a dime a dozen, and you can't copyright them, but I was sorta wondering why I wasn't having any. It could have been that I was so immersed in my current manuscript that the part of my brain that would have handled those new ideas was blocked off. At least I think that's what happened because the minute I started querying - you know, all of one week ago - those old characters left my mind and Shiny New Ones started flooding my head. I now have about 37 post-it notes stuck all over the place and I opened up a word doc that I titled New Book Notes.

So Dave? DAVE? Are you reading this blog post? I don't think you are so I'm going to admit something.

I was fibbing.

I fibbed.

I'm a big giant fibber.

Common advice for writers is that the best way to get your mind off the agonizing query process is to start writing something else. Put your manuscript out there, and query widely, but start focusing on a new project and just write.

So I'm going to. My contract position ends at the end of next month, and I'll be home with the offspring all summer. This will be a good time to start writing the first draft of my next book. I want to experiment with point of view and an expanded number of main characters. This book will require quite a bit of research and I've already started on that.

Regardless of what happens with book #1 (and sadly, as a debut author whose manuscript will languish in slush piles all summer long, the odds of getting an agent are pretty slim), it's the writing that I really enjoy. Don't get me wrong - rejections will hurt, but that's all part of the path to publication and there's nothing you can do about it.

Some of you may remember the psychic party I hosted a while back. Dixie is a psychic who has done several readings for me. It's always been just for fun (I don't have her on, like, speed dial or anything), but some of the things she's told me over the years have been right on the money. Anyway, my friend Bobbi and I went to see Dixie for private readings about eleven years ago. As she was talking to me, she said she thought it would be a good idea if I wrote a book someday (and she didn't know I liked to write so when she said it I sat up a little straighter). She didn't say anything about what would happen if I did write a book (and I wouldn't want to know anyway), but she did say, "I just think when the kids get a little older, you'll want something just for you." I thought what she told me was pretty cool and then I forgot all about it.

A few months ago, when I was really in the thick of revising and polishing, Dave and the offspring were giving me a hard time - no one likes it when mom is busy, at least in my house. Dave has always been supportive of my writing time, and I've always been careful to make sure it balances out with whatever he wants to do (and don't forget Matthew and Lauren because Dave and I put them before any needs of our own, as we should). But I was having a bad day, and all I really wanted to do was open my laptop and get lost in some writing. I *might* also have had a bit of PMS. But anyway, I said something about being tired and then Dave said something about me not getting enough sleep, and then I said something about how important the book was to me, and he said some more things, and blah, blah, blah, and then I yelled, "I just want something for me!" And then I went, "OMG." Because I had forgotten what Dixie had said until the words came flying out of my mouth.

Maybe I sound totally selfish, but now that the kids are older I don't feel like I need to spoon-feed everything to everyone in this house (Dave included). And I get up at the ass-crack of dawn to write so that I can minimize (as much as I can) taking time away from my family. I think that it's easy for moms to put things they want on the back-burner sometimes, and I'm definitely guilty of that. I've spent almost twelve years either as a SAHM, or working a contract/temporary job so that I can be home when the kids need me, and I'm eternally grateful that I can do that.

But Dixie was right.

I do want something for me.

P.S. I swear to God I still have a sense of humor.

Fiction Friday Query Edition

2011-04-01T06:30:00.000-05:00

Hey blog readers!

I know it's been a while, but I've been spending what little free time I have on my manuscript, and I'm happy to report that it's been edited, revised, polished, beta read, and polished some more. I'm finally D-O-N-E, done.

I realized over the last few days that I'm just tinkering with the manuscript. I'm moving commas only to move them back when I read the sentences again a few days later, and that means it's time to send the manuscript out into the world.

Here are the final stats:

Word count: 81,000
Genre: Commercial/Contemporary women's fiction written in an alternating dual narrative.
Months to write: 7
Months to revise/polish: 6

I want to send a giant shout-out and thank you to Meira, Trish, Tami, Stacy, Stefani, Penne, Elisa, Heather, Beth, and Taylor for not only agreeing to read the manuscript, but offering their support along the way. I really appreciate it girls!

Now it's time to start sending query letters. I'm excited but also anxious. I remember last summer being envious of all the writers posting about querying their manuscripts on the various writing blogs and message boards I frequent, and now it's my turn.

The query process is a long one, and I'll be sending the letters out in batches of 5-10. Once I've received a certain number of ~~rejections~~ responses, I'll send more. I expect to be querying through the summer, and I'll keep you posted if I get any requests.

Maybe you can cross your fingers for me. Or send alcohol. Both would be greatly appreciated.

Happy Friday everyone,

Tracey

The End

2011-01-24T05:56:00.021-06:00

NO, not the end of this blog, although my infrequent posting may have indicated otherwise.

I typed THE END a few days ago when I finished my manuscript revisions. I fought the urge to change to a fancy font and use a different color, purple or green perhaps, and just typed it the regular way.

And wow, did it feel good.

I thought I'd post some stats for anyone who is interested in what the process of writing a novel was like for me.

Word count: 77,293.
Pages: 366
Number of months to write first and second drafts: approximately 7
Number of months to revise. approximately 4
Number of beta readers (so far): 2
Number of beta readers who are waiting to read the manuscript: approximately 7
Genre: commercial women's fiction, written in an alternating first person dual narrative.

So, I'm done right? No. Now I start polishing. The author who has been beta reading and editing for me has provided a line by line critique (because she's totally awesome) and every time she sends me a batch of pages, I print, 3-hole punch, and put them in a big binder. Her notes are hand-written in the margins. This is now my editing bible. I am going to sit down with that binder tomorrow and read the entire novel from start to finish, making my own notes in the margins. Then I'll do the final editing. I'm not sure how long that will take, but I'm estimating about 5 weeks.

Also, I have lots of good news to share. First of all, it is very slow at work so I requested a change in my work schedule from full-time to part-time. I am a contract human resources recruiter at a large mortgage company and when those interest rates tick up, everything comes to a screeching halt. My boss is super cool and she said no problem so now I don't work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I just changed to the new schedule last week. I couldn't be happier. Four months of getting up at 5:00 a.m. to write was starting to take its toll a little bit so I am very grateful that I have the flexibility to make these kinds of changes. Now I can put the offspring on the bus on Tuesdays and Thursdays and write until they come home at 4:00.

The other great things are writing related. I follow lots of agents and other writers on Twitter. If you're writing a novel, Twitter is where you want to be because there are lots of great chats you can participate in. And unlike Facebook, you can follow just about anyone without them having to "accept" you first. I pick up a lot of great information on Twitter by following people in the writing community. One of the people I follow is agent Laura Bradford of the Laura Bradford Literary Agency. She held a drawing on New Year's Eve and used a random number generator to pick 5 followers (she has 5,000) to win either books, or a critique of their first chapter.

Dudes, I totally won! How freaking awesome is that? Especially because I never win jack.

So anyway, we were supposed to e-mail her to let her know if we wanted the books or the critique. I chose the critique, of course, and told her I'd be sending it on or before the first of March. This is such a valuable prize for someone about to throw themselves into the querying process. Having an agent critique your first chapter, and point out what isn't working or needs to be changed before you start sending the manuscript out can save you from some rejection heartache down the road. I'm super excited.

Another cool thing that happened is Sara Megibow, another awesome agent, hosted a "First Pages" Writer's Digest Webinar last Thursday. It was a 90 minute class, broadcast over the Internet, and she talked about what NOT to do in the first pages of your novel. With this webinar, you also receive a critique from Sara of your first three pages. Squee! So, my pages will be sent this week (my beta is taking a look at the polished version and as soon as she turns them around, I'll send them to Sara). So, having two agents look at your work before you start sending it out is, as I already mentioned, a really valuable thing.

So, that's whats been going on. I still have some work to do but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's been a good ride so far, and I've experienced true joy while writing this manuscript. Writing makes me happy.

And I'm close to checking that item off my bucket list. The one about writing a full-length novel and querying every agent who reps my genre.

And that feels pretty damn good.

Have a great week, blogging friends!

Tracey

P.S. Dear God, I also saw the Eagles in concert a couple months ago and that's on my bucket list, too. I have lots more I haven't checked off so don't be gettin' any ideas, K?

Re-post Wednesday

2011-01-18T08:46:00.025-06:00

So my friend Tay and her friend Ney started a new blog called Oh So Cheesy. You can read it if you click here.

That's right. A whole freaking blog dedicated to the yum that is cheesy pasta. Now that Tay and Ney have started their blog, I'll have no shortage of macaroni and cheese recipes to choose from.

Taylor asked me if she could link to the post where I called Ina Garten the devil. At first I couldn't find it and I was all wtf happened to my Ina post? Then I remembered it had some *cough*yeti*cough* info in it and it was part of the big Yeti purge.

So I found it, edited it, and voila!

Here you go Taylor!

P.S. Everybody make Mac 'n Cheese for dinner, 'K?

The other day, when the offspring and I were browsing the shelves at Barnes and Noble, I noticed a stack of Ina Garten cookbooks. I love Ina, and I love her show on the Food Network, The Barefoot Contessa. I decided to add two of her cookbooks to the already heavy pile of books in my arms because I've been looking for some new recipes.

I noticed when I was flipping through them that she had a recipe for Cosmopolitans. I liked the fact that her recipe was for a whole pitcher of cosmopolitans because I'm lazy and Ina's method seemed preferable to having to mix drinks up one by one.

Anyway, we invited Trish over for dinner last night. We were making baby back ribs on the grill, roasted potatoes, and salad. "This would be a perfect time to try out Ina's recipe," I thought. The recipe makes six and Trish and I can each have three which is a perfectly respectable amount, right? (No, stupid). The ribs take quite a while so I thought Trish and I could sip one or two while we were waiting for dinner to be ready.

Anyway, back to the cosmopolitans and why I think Ina is a drunk.

Usually I just follow the recipe on the back of the bottle of Cointreau (just like Bethenny Frankel of The Real Housewives of New York except I'm not trying to pass them off as my own original drink. Maybe no one else has noticed your blatant rip-off, but I'm onto you Bethenny).

The recipe I follow is 1 part cointreau to 2 parts vodka, cranberry juice, and fresh lime juice. I usually use 1 shot of vodka and a 1/2 shot of cointreau, cranberry juice, and extra lime juice. These measurements keep me from getting totally spun out and doing something stupid. Usually. Most of the time.

Anyway, that's not important. And even though Ina Garten is the devil I am going to admit that I was a complete fucktard for not using any common sense whatsoever. Because I was completely sober when I was mixing up the pitcher, it should have occurred to me that Ina really, really likes vodka. A lot.

Check out her recipe:

Do you notice anything? Like the fact that the recipe calls for two cups of vodka and one cup of cointreau? That's a shitload of liquor, people (I realize this is not a very good scan and the words are kind of blurry but I'm not messing with the scanner anymore because my head still feels like there are little men in there pounding my brain with jackhammers).

Back to last night. I had only ~~drank~~ ~~drunk~~ consumed about half of my first drink when I started having to speak slowly and really concentrate on what was coming out of my mouth. That seemed odd to me. Also my lips felt tingly. Trish said, "Hey, these are pretty good!" I said, "I know!" We moved on to our second round. An hour or two later, after finishing our delicious rib dinner, Dave said "I think you should just have a beer next." And I'm all "Why would I have a beer when I've got these martinis?" Duh.

Dave put me, and the offspring, to bed at 9:00 which is why I've come up with a few other names for Ina Garten's cosmopolitans: Memory Erasers, Hospital Grade Anesthesia Cocktails, and Dude, I Can't Remember My Middle Name.

Consider this blog post a cautionary tale. Others may have recently bought this cookbook and they might be thinking about making what Ina calls a cosmopolitan and what I call fucking rocket fuel. I'm just trying to help others learn from my mistake.

You're welcome.

'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, Twitter style

2010-12-24T11:13:00.023-06:00

Wow, look at this. Two blog posts in two days. Amount of work done on manuscript, however? None.

And before I forget, I actually guest blogged over at Totally Tay yesterday. Why? Because she's awesome and her I Believe posts are awesome too. She's going to beta read my manuscript and I'm hopefully going to meet her in real life when I fly to Arizona in April to visit Stefani and Mindy. She calls me an author on her blog, which is stretching the truth quite a bit, but I love that Taylor believes in me. Click over and check it out.

In preparation for the winter storm all the newscasters were wetting themselves about, Trish decided to spend the night at our house last night. David and I host dad and Debby, George and Stef and their kids, and Trish on Christmas Eve and Trish didn't want to risk driving through the snow to get here tonight. She's a total shit driver when the sun is shining and the pavement is dry so deciding not to risk the snow and ice was probably wise.

She showed up about 4:00 yesterday dragging enough crap to make me wonder just how long she actually planned on staying. The offspring tackled her immediately and Chloe got so excited she peed on the dining room floor. This is typical.

Trish played the board game Sorry with the offspring while I amused myself on Twitter. "Kids, does your mom ever move out of that chair or put down that stupid laptop?" Trish asked.

"No, she's on it, like, all the time," said the smart-mouthed eleven-year-old.

"Yeah, all the time," the sassy eight-year-old said, chiming in.

"For your information, we've spent the whole day together," I reminded them. "We made cookies and I took you to Macaroni Grill for lunch. Most kids probably had baloney sandwiches and you two were sucking down Italian sodas like I'm made of money. I haven't been on my laptop all day."

And their father was at a bar drinking in the middle of the afternoon with Jack and Tom but nobody said anything about that.

I already tweeted our evening but I'm going to re-post my tweets here too because I'm in a hurry and you'll get the general idea of how our evening went down.

Tweet #1 My twin sister just insisted I make her one of my famous cosmopolitan martinis. #happyalcoholidays!

Tweet #2 Just told my twin sister not to spill her awesome martini on my beautiful couch.

Tweet #3 My twin sister just spilled her effing martini on my beautiful couch. It's all of 7:03 CST time and *someone* is drunk.

Tweet #4 My twin sister and I are fraternal. Two different eggs, people.

Tweet #5 Now my twin sister is insisting we watch some bullshit show called Million Dollar Money Drop.

Tweet #6 My sister has a martini in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Say it with me: Double fister sister.

Tweet #7 Now she's pulled my offspring over to the dark side with her. They love Million Dollar Money Drop.

Tweet #8 Just told my twin sister: "Spill martini on my *other* couch, and I'm kicking your ass."

Tweet #9 Twin sister and offspring are now watching Million Dollar Money Drop in the basement. I am all alone upstairs. #yay!

Tweet #10 My twin sister and the offspring are screaming and cheering from the basement like Santa just showed up w/gifts & booze.

Tweet #11 My twin sister just sent my 11 year old upstairs with an empty cocktail shaker. "Aunt Trish wants a refill," he said.

Tweet #12 "Aunt Trish is fun," the 11 year old said. "Tell Aunt Trish she's switching to water after this drink." #buzzkill

Tweet #13 Now my 8 year old is juicing a lime for my twin sister. I give up. #happyalcoholidays #whereismywine?

Tweet #14 All I can say is I hope Santa is getting a load of the shiz going down in my house right now. #totalanarchy

Tweet #15 Oh sweet baby Jesus. My twin sister's totally annoying and pretend southern accent has reared its ugly head. #livedinTx

Tweet #16 My twin sister just busted out a furby. 1999 called. They want their hot toy back. #regiftfail #noonewantsit

Tweet #17 My twin sister just informed me she has Elmo doing the Chicken Dance on tap for someone next year. #Ipeedalittle

The sauvignon blanc was starting to impede the punctuation and spelling of my tweets so I signed off. Dave finally came home from the bar after six hours, we put the offspring to bed, and Trish and I called it a night an hour later.

The kitchen looked like a bomb went off when I came downstairs this morning, but what the hell.

My twin sister and I had a good time.

Happy Holidays!

Have You Ever?

2010-12-23T08:47:00.001-06:00

Laid awake until two in the morning turning over plot points in your head?

Found yourself telling little white lies to people you love? For example, "I'm sorry I can't go to your party/open house/dinner/sporting event/concert because I'm busy" except busy really means you just want to work on your manuscript instead?

Spent upwards of three hundred dollars on ink cartridges and printer paper so you can edit on a hard copy?

Given up newspapers, magazines, and most television shows (except DVR'd episodes of Glee and Modern Family) so you can work on your manuscript?

Sat in a chair with your laptop muttering lines of dialogue out loud so it looks like you're talking to yourself?

I answered yes to all of these questions which is why I haven't posted anything for two months.

Revising the manuscript is the hardest writing I've ever done. I've been revising 50-60 pages at a time and then e-mailing them to my super awesome author-beta. Revising includes adding, deleting, moving things around, making sure each sentence flows, and that every single scene moves the story forward. It's amazing how much my novel has changed during the revision process.

I have about 40 pages left to revise. My progress is slow because I can only work on the manuscript for 1.5-2 hours a day (usually from 5:30 AM until 7 or 7:30). Then I go to my real job. I'm very lucky, though, because I usually have at least one long writing day on the weekend where I can get in 6-8 hours. Sometimes I have to lock the door so Dave and the offspring will leave me alone but generally, they're pretty good about staying out of my hair.

My word count is 80,000, give or take. I don't expect that to change much, even with final editing and polishing. That's the number I was shooting for so I'm happy it worked out.

In February, I'll start final edits which will incorporate feedback from my beta and Trish. Trish has been a wonderful (and totally unexpected) early reader. She paid me a nice compliment when she said she couldn't wait for the next batch of pages. "I want to keep reading and I don't even read books," she said.

Once the manuscript is polished, I'll send it out to 5-6 more betas. I plan on taking a month away from the manuscript to get some distance so while they're reading it, I thought I'd make some changes to this blog.

I am planning on splitting it three ways:

One blog will be funny in the 'hood. Remember when I used to write amusing things on the Internet? I'd like to do that again but because I sometimes use the f-word, I thought it would be a good idea to have a separate blog with posts about my ~~sometimes alcohol-fueled dipshittery~~ personal life.

The second blog will be written anonymously and not linked to this one as I do not wish to be sued by the *jackholes I'll be writing about.

And the third will be my www.traceygarvisgraves.com address. It will focus on fiction writing.

Making these changes will keep me busy during the nail-biting querying process which I'll start in March or April.

So. That's what I've been up to. I've really missed this blog and I appreciate anyone who is still stopping by to check for new posts. Thank you.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas and happy new year. I am off work today and tomorrow and three days next week. I'm looking forward to spending time with my family and getting in a little extra writing.

I hope Santa is good to you all. I heard he's bringing me a Kindle (okay, it's not really Santa, it's Dave) and I can't wait to start loading it with books.

Cheers,

Tracey

* My neighbor Julie came up with jackhole. It's my new favorite word.

Fiction Thursday (or just insert whatever the hell day you want)

2010-10-21T15:10:00.008-05:00

One of these days, it would be nice not to have to start my blog posts by apologizing.

But, sorry.

I know I've been really MIA lately, but after working forty hours a week, and making sure Dave and the offspring have food and clean underwear, I only have a little bit of time to write, and I'm concentrating on manuscript revisions. I am almost to the halfway point, and I am so ready to be done. It's not that I don't like revisions, because I love this part, but revising a novel is much harder than writing a first or second draft, and one of these days, I'd like to get the rest of my life back.

This is just my opinion, and I'm not sure if other writers feel this way, but revising means you have to fix everything that isn't working. You can't say to yourself, "I'm not thrilled with this section, but I'll clean it up during revisions because, um, that would be now.

The wonderful thing, however, is that after the revision stage, you're one step closer to final editing and polishing, and I'm really looking forward to that.

For those of you who will be beta reading for me, expect the manuscript sometime in February or March. I'd like to start querying in April, if possible. I started writing this book last April so if I meet all my deadlines, it will have taken about a year from start to finish. Not too bad considering I worked full time for much of it.

Also, I can't say enough about my wonderful author-beta reader. I am absolutely indebted to her, with no idea how to repay. I am getting ready to send her my next batch of pages soon (on Halloween), and her feedback on the previous installments has been nothing short of spectacular. She is that good.

She paid me the highest compliment by writing this on the last page I sent her "Now I want the next 50 pages right away because I'm definitely hooked. Take your time, of course, but just a kudos, this is where you want the reader."

Feedback like that is why I never hit snooze when the alarm goes off at 5:00 AM. I get out of bed, fire up the laptop, and get one page closer.

Thanks for still stopping by. I really appreciate it!

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-09-17T05:34:00.010-05:00

Good Morning and happy Friday everyone!

Once again, I apologize for blowing off this blog but I have a good excuse.

I got a new job and I started last week.

As some of you already know, I went back to work last year at the offspring's school. I have a degree in business, not education, but there wasn't anything available in my field of HR recruiting (which is what I used to do before having kids). I worked as a teacher's associate in the 8th and 9th grade building and met a lot of nice people and got really attached to the students (and I just went out to dinner with some of my fellow teacher co-workers Tuesday night - we had a great time - I miss them).

Anyway, I decided not to return to the school because I wanted to see if there might be something that, you know, utilized my prior experience, and I was extremely fortunate to find a contract recruiting position at a local West Des Moines company. It happened a little faster than I had anticipated (I'm certainly not going to complain about that), but I still had a relaxing two weeks after the offspring started school to sit down and write (which is how I was able to finish the second draft of my book).

The contract is expected to last anywhere from 6-18 months and that's perfect for me. I am really liking it so far and I can't believe I'm saying this but it's been nice to return to corporate America (but maybe that's because I'm just, shhh, visiting.)

The only drawback to this whole OMG-I-got-a-job-thing, is that it cuts into my writing. I'm getting up around 5:00 and as soon as I'm out of the shower I power up the laptop and try to write for an hour-and-a-half or so. I also print pages and make some edits on my lunch hour.

As I've already mentioned, I finished the second draft and I'm now working on revisions. I also decided to work on my query letter (I've blogged about it before, I think) which is a business letter you send out to agents hoping to entice them into requesting a partial (usually the first fifty pages) or a full (the whole manuscript). If the agent likes it (and, almost as important, thinks they can sell it), they will offer representation and you are one step closer to seeing your book on the shelf at Barnes and Noble. They still have to sell it to the publisher, but once they do, it's time to pop open the champagne.

I posted my query letter in Absolute Write's Query Letter Hell section. In a query, you have to boil down your whole 350 page book into 250-300 words. Think of a query as a pitch, almost like the back jacket copy of a book. It tells the reader (and in this case, agent) what it's about but also makes them want to read the book.

I do not ♥ query letters. I would rather write another damn book then finish this query letter.

The problem I encountered in QLH, is that everyone has a different opinion: Some love the title, some didn't. Some think the second paragraph should have more detail, some didn't. Some thought the query should focus more on the characters, and their motivation, and some thought it should focus on plot.

Seriously, fifty responses later my eyes were bleeding and my brain hurt trying to absorb it all. I decided to pull back, work on revising the book, and return to the query when it's closer to the time I'll need it. But it's really important and it has to be good.

Now, the really cool thing that happened in QLH, was that I got an offer of a beta read from a published author. She provided great feedback on the query and then shot me a private message saying she liked my premise and would I be interested in letting her read it.

Uh, that'd be yes.

And here's the thing about Absolute Write. Published writers, some of them NYT bestselling authors, hang out there. Some of them are anonymous and some aren't. For a huge fangirl like me, this is like the coolest thing ever. . Agents hang out there too but I haven't posted any of my current book online for a number of reasons, namely that after QLH, I know I would receive feedback that may conflict and do nothing more than confuse me. It's a great resource, and I have posted in the share your work forum, but not for this book.

Anyway, I am in the process of revising the book and I am breaking it down into fifty page increments. I just sent her the first fifty pages and she sent me a very nice message this morning that did not say:

OMG, I am putting this in my shredder because you suck!

She liked the dual narrative and thought that the first person POV worked perfectly for two characters. She also said the main characters were likeable which is very important and something I tried hard to achieve. I want everyone to really, really, like these two because I want you to root for them later on and you can't do that if one of them is a total putz.

Anyway, she just started reading and she will be sending the pages back with her feedback and notes. I am still blown away that she would be willing to do this for me and I have no idea how to thank her. I did ask if there might be something of hers she would like me to read (which is kind of like asking a pro basketball player if they want your advice on how to shoot free throws) but she said okay and shot me her latest manuscript.

Hers WILL be on the shelf at Barnes and Noble and when I walk by I'll be all, "Yeah, I totally already read that - it's awesome). Her writing is so, so, good so I know I'm in really good hands.

Wow, this post is getting really long: does anyone want to take a break to pee or get something to drink? Sorry.....

Once revisions are complete, I will be sending the MS to my readers: Taylor, Penne, Gillian, Beth, Amy, and my hairdresser's sister. Oh, and Trish (because she'll be brutally honest).

I know that this blog isn't very funny right now, and that a lot of you have read it because it gave you a chuckle or two, but stick with me. I'm getting closer every day to this whole I-want-to-write-and-query-a-book goal. I've been working toward it for almost six months and realistically, probably have 3-4 more to go but eventually I will return to blogging about my neighbors and my 'hood and all the other things I used to blog about.

And I want everyone to know that I appreciate it when you ask me why the hell I haven't posted because I know that just means you'd like to read something I've written and that's all a writer (published or otherwise) can hope for.

So thanks, and happy Friday dudes!

Peace out,

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-09-03T10:41:00.013-05:00

I'm sorry I haven't been doing a better job of blogging. I really meant to but the house has been so nice and quiet with the offspring in school and I've been trying hard to finish the second draft of my novel.

I finished about an hour ago.

I also wrote the epilogue, which I hadn't yet, not even in rough draft form and it made me cry so I hope that's a good thing. Actually I've cried several times when writing this book and I have no idea if that's normal or not.

I hope it is.

I am feeling pretty good today, now that I've reached this point. The book is not done, it still has to be revised and edited and polished and read by those who have graciously offered to give me feedback, but I am really happy to have made it this far.

I printed it out, all 356 pages. They won't fit in the binder Lauren decorated for me but that's okay.

I'm just glad I have them.

Have a great holiday weekend everyone!

Tracey

Fiction Friday!

2010-08-27T08:25:00.010-05:00

I know, I missed last Friday. It's been crazy around here. The offspring have been busy guilting me into taking them swimming and to the mall and out for fancy lunches and to the place where we painted our own pottery and the zoo and the bookstore and a whole bunch of other places because, "Mom, school starts soon and we haven't done ANYTHING ALL SUMMER! Which, hello? I totally beg to differ because all I've done this summer is drive them all over town bleeding money and don't forget the trip to Disney World that jump started their summer vacation.

Ungrateful little mess-makers.

Seriously, the idea of hiring a nanny next summer and paying her to drive them all over town while I work has crossed my mind.

But! School started two days ago and I.Am.In.Heaven. You know I love the offspring with all my heart but my tolerance for their knock-down-drag-out fighting and whining and yelling is at an all-time low and frankly I'm surprised I didn't start swilling wine as soon as the school bus pulled away from the curb on Wednesday.

I didn't, yanno, in case you were nodding your head and thinking, "Yeah, that totally sounds like something Tracey might do."

I wrote instead. Approximately 2,500 words.

Frankly, I had been a little worried about my WIP. I found it hard to write the last couple weeks of summer vacation. I was tired of snatching two minutes of writing time here, or fifteen minutes there and having my train of thought constantly interrupted. I started to question everything about my novel because I was so used to it pinging around in my head constantly that when it wasn't, I worried I'd lost my focus and might not have what it takes to finish and I've got way too much invested in it to quit now.

Luckily, the one thing I needed to pick up steam again turned out to be SILENCE and I'm thankful for my (now) quiet house. And I'm back in the groove so my head is all crowded again but that's fine with me.

I am still working steadily toward the completion of the second draft. I have about 10-15k words left to write (give or take) and I'll be done with it. Then the real fun starts - revision. I'm actually looking forward to this step because I'll have the major creation of drafts 1 and 2 behind me and will move on to the editing and the tweaking and the polishing. Then my readers will get a copy and then I can start final edits.

I'm in a good place. The three days I've had to write this week have done so much for my confidence and reminded me why I started this project in the first place.

Because I just love to write.

Have a great weekend everyone!!

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-08-13T07:43:00.004-05:00

Happy Friday the thirteenth everyone!

Hey, you know what sucks?

WRITING A NOVEL.

Yeah, it's really hard and I've hit a rough patch. You know how I was all "Oh, I'm just gonna write to the end of the first draft and then start the second?"

Yeah, well, there was a lot of writing left to do. There's a big difference between knowing what's going to happen and actually writing it.

As I mentioned last week, I've been getting up at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM to write before the offspring saunter into the family room demanding that I turn on SpongeBob. The problem is that I'm in such a groove when they come down that I wish I didn't have to stop. And sometimes I don't. I'm amazed at how much writing I can do with so much background noise.

I have no intention of stopping as I'm certain I will reach my goal of finishing a novel and querying agents. I'm just not sure of my timelines anymore. And that's okay because there's nothing worse than an undercooked novel.

But it's kicking my ass right now. I won't lie.

I think the best remedy is a two-day hiatus from writing, a big glass (or two) of Sauvignon Blanc, and reading a novel.

I just started Girl with The Dragon Tattoo. Something better happen soon.

Just sayin'.

Also, Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay comes out August 24th and the offspring go back to school August 25th. Don't call me that day. Don't text me, or tweet me, or e-mail me. Don't ring my doorbell. I'll be on my patio reading to see who Katniss chooses.

*crossing fingers* Please be Gale!

Have a great weekend everyone!!

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-08-06T18:14:00.014-05:00

Happy Friday peeps!

I don't have a lot to report on from the fiction front other than to say I'm still plugging away on my second draft. I've been waking up around 6 AM most days to get in a few hours of writing before the offspring come downstairs and turn on SpongeBob SquarePants and as long as I don't get lured away by the shiny Internet, I can usually meet whatever word count goal I've set.

I read something on Absolute Write that really resonated with me this week. Someone posted about not putting too much stock in critiques of your work done by other fiction writers. Writers all have a personal style and a favorite genre and if your chapter or novel doesn't match up well with either of those things, the critique can leave you feeling dejected and suddenly doubting any word you've ever written. The post pointed out that it's often readers that give the best critiques because they are able to see the story and not get hung up on technique. That's not to say that writers don't give great crits, it's simply a reminder to have a mix of both.

My sister Trish is the only one who has read anything from my novel. I chose her because she ~~has no tact whatsoever~~ will be honest with me and not pull any punches. It was her enthusiasm about my first chapters and my premise that helped motivate me to continue writing and I was very appreciative of her feedback. Trish will probably always be my first reader. Cowboy Dave also fields his share of questions regarding my male main character and whatever he can't answer, my pal Google does. If you pulled up my search history right now you'd be all, seriously, wtf?

Hopefully I'll have something for Trish and my other readers to read by the end of September but if it takes longer than that, well, that's okay. If there's one thing I know it's not to rush the process.

That's all I've got today - Have a great weekend everyone!

Hey guess what? Someone asked me to be a guest blogger again!

2010-08-05T10:42:00.006-05:00

Hey everyone,

My friend Penne over at Little Girl Big Glasses is on vacation this week and I'm not. She asked me if I would guest blog in her absence and I said, "Sure!"

I recycled my I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant Post because I can hardly get new posts written for my own blog and Penne said I could.

Penne is my best friend that I've never met but that's only because we are limited by geographical constraints. She is a fabulous writer and she's hilarious (she doesn't rely on f-bombs to be funny like I do.) She has also graciously offered to be one of my beta readers when my book is done.

So please head over to Penne's blog and check her out and start following her so you don't miss any of her awesome posts.

And thanks again to Penne, my sista from anotha mista!

Tracey

Because who doesn't like posts about twins and mud?

2010-08-03T14:33:00.092-05:00

About a month ago, my twin sister Trish called me up all excited because she won tickets to the Big Country Bash and wanted me to go with her. It was an all day thing and she told me we'd have a blast, listening to country music and drinking beer in the sun.

"But I haven't listened to country music since Garth Brooks was popular," I told her. "Like, since 1991."

"Oh that doesn't matter," Trish said. "Besides, Trailer Choir is going to be there. You like Trailer Choir, right?"

"No, Trish, I've never heard of them, because I haven't listened to country music since 1991."

She then proceeded to ask me if I knew forty-two more country songs, by bands that would be at the Big Country Bash. I answered no, no, no, still no, quit asking me, what part of this are you not getting, no, no, that sounds like a stupid song, no, no, wtf, no, no, Jesus, no, seriously that title is retarded, no, still no, I'll take no for $600 Alex, no, shut up, no, holy hell, never heard of it, etc.....

But, as I think I've already mentioned, they were serving beer so on the day of the Big Country Bash, Dave dropped me off at the concert grounds at noon to meet Trish.

I wore the super-cool cowboy hat I bought at Target. Probably the real country fans don't buy their ten-gallon hats at Target but whatever, mine was cute and cheap.

It had rained in Des Moines the night before the Big Country Bash. A lot. I mean like flash flood watches and stuff. Which I ignore, much like tornado warnings.

Dave warned me it would be muddy but Trish and I didn't realize how muddy until we got to the entrance of the Big Country Bash, henceforth known as the Big Country Mud Bash.

We had to cross a moat made of mud that encircled the grounds. Seriously. Either you go through the mud, or you aren't getting in.

Now I'm pretty sure that one of us is gonna land ass-first in the mud moat and I'm really hoping it's Trish and not me. She's got a bad leg and her back bothers her so my money's on her and once we start making our way across the mud moat it's every twin for herself. I scaled a particularly perilous section and looked over my shoulder at Trish and damn if she's not holding her own. Have I mentioned we're also carrying our chairs and beach bags and we're wearing flip flops?

We made our way closer to the person taking tickets. Not only have I not fallen, My feet aren't even dirty. Then I step in a squishy puddle which completely covers THREE of my toes in mud.

I was horrified, partly because sometimes I act like a total princess and partly because, hello? mud.covered.three.toes. I haven't even gotten in the joint and I'm a mess.

I had two bottles of water in my bag. I snuck them in so that I wouldn't get too ~~hammered~~ dehydrated but I decided to pour one of them all over my foot so it would be clean again. Is genius plan.

Until we get past the ticket taker dude. Then things really got muddy. Trish and I were trying to figure out the whole ID/Wristband/Beer thing and with each step, I struggled to pull my flip-flop clad foot out of the mud. Also, with each step, those flip-flops are spraying the back of my shirt with mud. A helpful man tapped me on my shoulder, pointed at my shoes, and said, "You're gonna wanna take those off."

So now I'm carrying my chair, my bag, and my mud-covered shoes. We still haven't figured out the whole ID/Wristband/Beer thing and I'm blaming Trish and Garth Brooks and the Grand 'Ole Opry for getting me into this fiasco.

We persevered though, and finally sat down in our chairs with a couple beers.

The guy behind us slept through half of the Big Country Mud Bash.

I threw my shoes away when I got home.

I especially like the juxtaposition of my Real Housewife of Dallas County fake fingernails with muddy hands.

Trish has muddy hands too but her fingernails are real (she would want me to tell you that).

I was doing okay until I had to stand in line to get us something to eat. I have no words to describe this other than ewwwwwwww. Kinda makes those three mud-covered toes not seem so bad.

It was shortly after this picture was taken that I had to visit the port-a-potty for the first time. The floor was so slick with mud I was convinced I would slip, my foot would hit the door while my pants were around my ankles, the door would fly open, and I'd give everyone at the Big Country Mud Bash the ultimate money shot. Didn't happen though!

Trish is nice to everyone.

It's going to rain any minute.

The sky cleared, the sun came out, and Trish made me sit in a garbage bag in her car on the way home.

We're totally going next year.

Fiction Friday

2010-07-30T17:27:00.014-05:00

Happy Friday everyone!

Before I get to my weekly fiction update, I thought I'd let you know that my other blog, the one I've spent time working on this week instead of writing entertaining new blog posts for this blog, is coming along. If you see any links posted, here or on Facebook, and the title has a word in it that rings a bell, click on it. It'll be a work in progress for a while but eventually, I'll get everything transferred. Also, the 'hood is a happy place right now because a certain "problem couple" was told by the fine men in blue to STFU and quit calling them. I think the final copper counter was somewhere around 12 with the last 7 calls coming in over a 5 day period(none of the them involving my address, somehow) but geez, it was crazy here in the 'hood for a while.

Ah, revenge is a dish best served ~~cold~~ with alcohol.

As for my novel, I am making great headway on the second draft. I am about a third of the way through it and hoping to have it finished by the end of August. I also wrote my query letter this week. A query letter, for those who may not be familiar, is a business letter you send to agents. Its goal is to get the attention of the agent, tell them what your novel is about, and get them to ask to see more.

The first two paragraphs introduce your main characters and give a brief summary of your plot. After that you give your book's genre and word count and list your publishing credits (hahahahahahah).

At the very end you ask them to contact you if they would like to see the completed manuscript.

Lots of writers feel the query letter is harder to write than the book. I somewhat agree. It doesn't take as long but if it doesn't work, agents won't request your manuscript. Luckily, there are several online query critique options available to help you make it the best it can be.

The next couple weeks will be spent trying to meet my second draft deadline and hopefully, getting some more blogging done.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-07-23T07:18:00.006-05:00

Happy Friday everyone!

Sorry I haven't been blogging much. I really want to but I'm afraid to take my laptop to the pool 'cause I heard they don't work well when you get them wet. It's been so hot in the 'hood that the offspring and I have had to escape to our local aquatic center to avoid melting.

Now that I'm writing my first novel I've been spending a lot of time reading agent blogs. There are a lot of good tips and I enjoy reading them.

Especially this one.

If you have time, read all the entries. They're hysterical.

Tracey

Fiction Friday

2010-07-14T15:29:00.015-05:00

Happy Friday everyone! It will be a busy weekend for us because Matthew turns eleven today and this weekend is all about him with a family party tonight and a sleepover tomorrow. Sniff, sniff, my little boy is growing up!

It's been a good writing week. I didn't get as much blogging done as I wanted but I'm really happy because I finished the first draft of my novel a little ahead of my August 1st self-imposed deadline.

I think I have already mentioned, ad nauseum, that I don't know what the hell I'm doing and I'm learning as I go. And for some reason I got really antsy this week and just started "writing to the end." A lot of the final chapters are only three or four paragraphs (to capture the main idea). I wanted to know where I was with the pacing so even though it bothered me a little to have such a skeleton version of the final chapters, I did it anyway. Then I asked Dave, "what should I do?" Should I go back and expand those final chapters before I start the second draft or should I just start the second draft?

Dave was, as always, worried that it was a trick question or at the very least, completely rhetorical, so he suggested I ask someone else. I posted the question on the AbsoluteWrite.com forums. I got lots of helpful answers, about the methods everyone uses, but it really came down to "You'll just have to figure out what works for you." But, um, I don't know what works for me 'cause I've never done this before.

So, what I decided to do was go ahead and start the second draft. I had things in the first that I already knew were going to be changed and moved around and deleted so I opened up a shiny new document and started writing.

I'm glad I did. When I first started writing this book, I decided to tell it in first person, past tense, from the point-of-view of my thirty-year-old female main character. But about a third of the way in, I decided it would be even better if I did alternating points of view with my other main character, a sixteen-year-old boy. That meant I had some chapters to fill in so I went back through the first draft and, at the top of each section or chapter, reminded myself whose POV I wanted it to be in.

The first chapter is told from her POV but the second is now from his. In the first draft, the second chapter was only 284 words (I inserted one of those paragraphs to remind myself what needed to happen and then I moved on). When I re-vised chapter two on Tuesday, it grew from 284 words to 1,110 for a gain of 826 words. That made me really happy because, not only was it a way to show the voice of the other main character early-on, he was able to provide information that was missing before. I am happy about my decision to do the dual narratives and wish I had thought of it sooner.

The second draft is going to be harder. As I mentioned, not only are there summaries that have to be expanded into whole scenes or chapters, there are also places where I wrote "show don't tell this here" or "use more description" or the even more worrisome "more!" so now I have to do that. I'm also a little worried about word count. The first draft came in around 60,000 (once I added 8k from my "scenes to add" document) but ideally, I want the word count of the final draft to be approximately 80,000 so hopefully all the things I need to add will get it where it should be while also allowing for the words I'll need to cut.

So, that's where I'm at this week. Hopefully I can keep moving forward and also try to get some more blogging done next week. And start that super-secret blog I hinted at because, holy smokes, that story needs to be told.

Have a great weekend everyone!

The Post In Which I Get My Poet On

2010-07-12T06:29:00.000-05:00

How we spent the Fourth of July - A poem by Tracey Garvis Graves

*clearing throat*

For the holiday weekend, we got out of town

To Tom and Amy's lake house, ready to party down

Here's Amy and me, having a smashing good time

Courtesy of a few beers and maybe some wine

Later on in the evening, with the kids tucked in their beds

I received a text that made me scratch my head

I looked a little closer and what did I see

Something that looked quite familiar to me

Son of a bitch, that's our bed, mine and Dave's

And those are my neighbors, giving us a Captain Morgan fueled wave

We gave them our garage code, fools that we are

And now they're treating our bed like a bar!

But it's all good, and all in good fun

And Dave and I thought of something when our laughter was done

So here's a message from us to you

Don't forget, we've got your garage code too

Seriously, how could you not want to live in my 'hood?

P.S. Poetry blows
P.P.S. I don't think I puctuate my poetry correctly
P.P.P.S. I don't really care
P.P.P.S. I used no bad words in my poem
P.P.P.P.S. I can write without using f-bombs
P.P.P.P.P.S. Fuckin' A!
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. *Sigh*

Fiction Friday And Some, Um, Other Stuff

2010-07-08T20:33:00.015-05:00

Good morning everyone, welcome to Fiction Friday!

Today's word count on my first-ever attempt at writing a novel is 47,597 or 7,597 more than last Friday. That makes me happy because it means I'm still on track to finish the first draft by August 1st.

As I mentioned last week, I'm an outliner so I pretty much already know what's going to happen. However, new scenes, or things that can be added to existing scenes often come to me when my mind is idle. When I'm getting my nails done or taking a shower and especially when I'm driving in the car, scraps of dialogue or ways I can improve the overall structure of the book come to me and I rush to write them down before I forget. I have a "scenes to add" document with another 8k words in it that will be woven in during the second draft process. The middle of the night is also a popular time for my mind to turn over things, especially if I've been writing before I go to bed. I used to be the world's greatest sleeper but now I have a raging case of middle-of-the-night insomnia that can only be cured by firing up the laptop and writing down whatever I can't get out of my head.

I've heard about other writers saying things like, "My character demanded that I write more about him or her", or, "a character just refused to act the way I thought he or she should" and I was always all, WTF? Is your keyboard possessed? But this week it happened to me for the first time and it was pretty cool. A character who had, up until now been hanging out in my "scenes to add" document as "blonde girl" introduced herself to my male main character at a party. Huh. I didn't even know she was going to be there. She wasn't due to make an appearance until much later. Then, one of my supporting male characters stole the scene he was in so I wrote him a bigger part. He's been in the book since the beginning and the scene I wrote for him in the final chapter is one of my favorites (it's hanging out in the "scenes to add" folder too).

This is the part of the fiction writing process I didn't expect and being surprised by a character and having a really good scene float into my head is what keeps me going. I'm excited to see what else might come to me when I least expect it.

And I can always sleep later.

Okay, on to some other things. You may or may not have noticed that 13,000 words of this blog are no longer here.

Thirteen-fucking-thousand. It pains me to even write that.

However, Dave and I felt it was best to take some preventive measures so those 13k words are hanging out somewhere else for now.

I think I've made the decision to split this blog in two but I'm not sure how long it will take to do that and I have some technical issues I'll need help with. I'll pass on more information about that when I have it.

The counter is up to 8 (from 4 a couple weeks ago). We were not directly involved in the increase although it is a good indication of how far-reaching the actions of desperate people have become. The 'hood is sitting at a code level orange right now.

And I think I speak for all us when I say we're pretty pissed about that.

Welcome To The First Ever Fiction Friday

2010-07-02T07:38:00.001-05:00

Hey, remember when I used to have Flashback Friday? But then I quit doing it because several of my girlfriends were all, "Oooooh, I'm gonna send you some pictures to use for Flashback Friday but then they didn't *coughAmyandStacycough* and I kinda ran out of funny old pictures of me from the eighties so I just quit coming up with new posts?

Well welcome to Fiction Friday which is really nothing like Flashback Friday except that I'm going to try and put up new posts on Friday (sure, like I haven't said that before).

I've been sitting on this post for a while because I wanted to get my blogging groove back a little before I mentioned the main reason I took the last four months off from posting. I've already said I was a little burned out and busy with the first full time job I've had after being home with the offspring for ten years, and that's all true, but there's another reason I didn't post anything for a while. Remember when I said a few posts back that writing a novel and querying agents was on my bucket list? Well I decided I'd better get started because that book was not going to write itself.

I've been working hard on it and as of today, I'm approximately 40,000 words in which is roughly half of the 80,000 words I need.

What a process.

I am learning how to write a novel as I write a novel, if that makes any sense. I think taking writing classes is great and you can even get an MFA if that's your thing, but nothing can teach you as much about writing as novel as sitting down and writing one.

I spend a lot of time over at AbsoluteWrite.com and cannot say enough about the excellent feedback and assistance I get from the wonderful writers that hang out there. If I'm not writing, I'm over there learning something new.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but the whole reason I started this blog was to have an outlet for my writing, to get it flowing again after years of putting it on the back burner because the offspring needed my attention more than my writing did. And the blog ended up being a blast and I met so, so many cool people who reached out to me and for that I am totally thankful and blessed.

But fiction was always the one thing I wanted to accomplish. And let's face it, I'm not getting any younger. And I know some of you would like it if I wrote a book about the Yeti but that's just a lawsuit waiting to happen (sorry Elisa and Jules!).

Right now, I am totally immersed in getting my first draft written. There are two types of fiction writers, outliners (people that have a pretty detailed outline and know their beginning, middle, and end) and pantsers (who have a general idea but just sit down in front of the computer and start writing, letting the characters tell them where the story is going - flying by the seat of their pants, if you will).

I'm an outliner and the challenge for me now is turning that outline (really just a 5K word summary) into an 80K word manuscript. Once that's complete, I can turn around and rip it apart. Move scenes, improve the pacing and flow, and layer in description.

And edit. Oh my God, the editing. My first draft needs a lot of things to turn it into the second draft and I can tackle that head on as soon as I get the first draft done (self-imposed deadline: August 1st). Then it's on to the second draft which is when it will get really hard but really fun. My motivation to power through the rest of the first draft is the excitement I feel when I think about being knee-deep in the second. About how the manuscript will change and grow and become that much closer to the final draft.

The art of writing is re-writing and there is a commonly held belief over at Absolute Write that you can't revise a blank page so just get it down on paper and go from there. I totally agree.

Do I think it's the next hot best-seller?

Oh hell no.

But what I do believe is that I can actually be one of those writers who finishes the novel they started.

So, that's what I've been doing for the last four months. And I thought you might be interested in coming along for the ride. It'll be super fun. Or filled with rejection.

One of those.

But even if every single agent I send my query letter to rejects me, I can still say I wrote a novel.

And that binder I told you about, that Lauren decorated with the kitty stickers?

It's filling up. And that makes me super happy.

The Post Where I Almost Had To Kick Belle's Ass

2010-06-24T15:08:00.002-05:00

Some of you may know that Cowboy Dave and I took the offspring to Disney World a couple weeks ago. And hello? I don't know if it's the happiest place on earth, but it sure as hell is the sweatiest.

We had a great time and we visited all the parks. Matthew and Lauren loved the Tower of Terror and the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster at Disney Hollywood Studios, Cowboy Dave liked the beer at Epcot, and I loved Animal Kingdom because they have a ride called Expedition Everest. It's a roller coaster and right in the middle, a big ugly Yeti jumps out and scares you. My friend Peggy had told me I'd like that ride but she didn't tell me why. She was right. I loved it.

We also went to storytime with Belle at Magic Kingdom because my friend Keri told me that Lauren would love it and that they select kids from the audience to help act out the story of Beauty and the Beast. She told us where to sit in order to increase the odds that Lauren would be chosen as they usually picked kids sitting up front near stage left.

Lauren was so excited. When they started coming around to choose kids her little hand was up in the air and she had a big "pick me please" smile on her face.

They didn't pick her. She was pissed.

But when it was time to pick someone to play the beast, Belle said, "That man back there, in the grey t-shirt, come on up." Oh yes, grey t-shirt man was Dave. A very taken off guard, WTF you talkin' 'bout Willis (RIP Gary Coleman) Dave.

Lauren was all, "They picked daddy and not me!"

Dave was escorted to the stage and dressed in a beast costume. I was laughing so hard I had tears coming out of my eyes. I was dying. I thought it was hysterical.

Until Belle made the moves on Dave.

She must have been waiting backstage in an air-conditioned room because she wasn't sweating at all. Her hair was smooth and shiny and her pretty blue dress wasn't sticking to her.

I, on the other hand, was rockin' a sweaty ponytail, a serious case of "hat-head", and it looked like I'd pissed myself due to a freak tsunami-sized wave that landed in my lap when we were on splash mountain.

Here's Dave wearing his Beast costume. He's such a good sport. If Lauren can't participate in story time, at least daddy can.

Hey Belle? If anyone's gonna undress Dave it's me ~~as long as he gets his damn self to bed before I fall asleep and then actually he can just take his own clothes off because I'm probably kind of tired and I only have so much energy left~~ .

WTF! I can see you! It isn't nice to try and steal my husband when I'm not exactly at the top of my game, Belle.

You total homewrecking whore.

See the look on Dave's face? This is what he's thinking: Gosh Belle, you're cute and all that and your hair is shiny and you're totally bulletproof against this God-awful heat and humidity but see that girl over there, the sweaty one who looks like she pissed herself? That's my wife and I know she doesn't look too good right now but she cleans up okay and I love her so you and I aren't gonna happen, K?

Belle finally got it through her big fat head that Dave wasn't the cheating type and we went on our way.

So if you're planning a trip to Disney World in the near future, be careful of that Belle.

God knows how many vacationing husbands she's got locked up in her castle.

And The Honest Scrap Award Goes To.......

2010-01-31T11:14:00.002-06:00

Hey guess what? Despite my utter inability to get a single post written in the last two weeks I still have an award to post on this blog, courtesy of Funny Girl Goes Blog . The fact that she gave me the award months ago isn't stopping me from finally fulfilling my award duties though. Hey, better late than never I always say.

I'm supposed to tell you ten true things about myself that no one else knows. Since I've told everyone for more than they ever wanted to know about me in the first place, I'm not even sure I can come up with ten new things. Yet here they are:

1) I am working on my second novel. I submitted two chapters of my first book to an online writer's forum I frequent and while they said my writing was solid and the mechanics were fine, they also told me my chapters were boring and that I needed to structure the book differently.

Ouch.

I took the criticism to heart though and when I read the pages again, I could see what they meant. In the meantime, I had an idea for another book that I liked even better so I shoved the pages of the first book in a folder and started the second. I think I've been able to avoid the mistakes I made with the first book because of the constructive criticism the writers on the forum gave me. I may have 47 crappy unfinished novels shoved in a folder by the time I'm done but submitting a manuscript to an editor is on my bucket list and I will cross it off someday. Oh, and every day I print the pages of my current work-in-progress, three hole punch them, and put them in a white binder that Lauren decorated with kitty stickers because I am all high tech like that.

2) I like Coke versus Pepsi products, specifically diet coke. I will drink diet pepsi if I have to but I won't like it and I'll probably complain. I frequently have the Coke vs. Pepsi debate with my dad and my friend Stefani and so far we are at an impasse because no one is budging. I drink one diet coke a day, always with lunch.

3) I am fascinated by Mt. Everest and the people who climb it. I have watched countless shows about it on the Discovery Channel and I know all the different places the climbers reach on their quest for the summit. I don't want to climb Mt. Everest, but I love watching others do it. I also love the book Into The Air by Jon Krakauer which chronicles the tragic events that occurred in a race for the summit in May of 1996.

4) I don't like to travel because I can't stand sleeping in hotels. This didn't use to bother me but as I've gotten older, I can barely stand it. It doesn't help that I read articles in the newspaper about the resurgence of bedbugs (why media, why?) and I can't help but think about all the people who have done God knows what in the bed I am sleeping in. Shudder.

5) I like to listen to music really loud and I have always had the best stereo system I could afford (except now because I don't want to damage the offspring's ears). I'm pretty sure I already have significant hearing loss in one or possibly both ears. I was working out on an elliptical machine at the gym the other day and I had my 70's super playlist cranked as loud as it would go which is why I didn't hear the guy who came right up to me and grabbed my arm which made me scream. He thought I was his wife. I'm pretty sure I scared the crap out of him and now he can't hear either but it's totally his fault because he shouldn't go around touching other men's wives at the gym.

6) King cobra snakes scare the piss out of me. I can't even watch Rikki-Tikki-Tavi even though it's animated and has a happy ending.

7) I have to wash the outside of all fruits and vegetables, even things like cantaloupe and watermelon, before I will cut them and eat them. When I see people peel the sticker off their apple and eat it without washing it I'm practically apoplectic. When customers at the grocery store put their fresh produce in the grocery cart without putting it in a plastic bag first I stare at them openly and have to restrain myself from going over to them and saying, "You know that grocery cart is a holy fucking cesspool of germs, right? And, just out of curiosity, are you going to wash that before you eat it?

8) I should really have a hair power of attorney because I cannot be trusted to make good hair decisions on my own. If my hairstyle garners any compliments whatsoever, rest assured that, at my next hair appointment, I will fuck it all up by asking my hairdresser to do exactly the opposite of whatever she did that made it look so good, i.e. if it's highlighted I'll make it darker, if it's long and layered and wavy I'll hack it off and wear it all one length and straight.

9) I love watching Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, especially the shark attack files which sounds really morbid but it's not like I have a time machine people. By the time I'm watching Shark Week, these people have already been bitten and/or killed. Unfortunately, I may have accidentally scared the crap out of the offspring because they like Shark Week too and have informed me that they will never, ever swim in the ocean. That's okay though. The three of us can hang out on the beach scanning the waves for schools of bait fish and dorsal fins while Dave and everyone else swims. Discovery Channel? I'm sorry. Ocean swimmers? You're welcome.

10) I like Glen Campbell and have several of his songs on my ipod. I don't even care how unbelievably queer that makes me sound. Glen Campbell reminds me of growing up in the seventies and his music is pure nostalgia. My friend Ivetta and I made up a dance to "Southern Nights" for the school talent show when we were in 5th grade but we chickened out and didn't perform. "Rhinestone Cowboy" will always remind me of my friend Ben because it is one of his karaoke songs and "Wichita Lineman" reminds me of my friend Bobbi because her husband Travis is a Lineman and I have been known to sing "I am a lineman for the county...." when we are having lunch together. I can't help myself. My favorite Glen Campbell song is "Country Boy" (You've Got Your Feet In LA).

Now I just have to pick ten of my blogging buddies and let them know they have received this prestigious award. And to those that I choose? Don't feel like you have to do this immediately, or at all if it's not your thing. I just want you to know that I want to learn ten new things about you. Because I'm nosy.

I will be notifying the award recipients as soon as I compile my list of lucky winners.

Here are the rules for this award:

1. “The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to yourself. It must be shared!

2. The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

3. The recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.

4. Those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given this award.

5. Those 10 bloggers should link back to the blog that awarded them

Hey, Guess What? Time magazine must not think I'm that offensive because they sorta let me be in their magazine

2010-01-15T18:19:00.076-06:00

Last week I wrote a post about TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. You can read it here or you can just scroll down.

I received several nice comments from my blogging buddies and friends. And when I got home on Wednesday, there was one new comment.

Erin G said...
ok this is the funniest thing I have read IN WEEKS. Did you know that Time magazine quoted you today? (that's how I found you.)

Anyway you're hilarious and now I need to go read the archives because I am officially in an AWESOME mood. :)

Um, what? Me, quoted in Time magazine?

I don't think so.

But then I googled and on the Time magazine website I found this (as always, click on any highlighted words and click back to return to the post).

I thought this was really cool. It's one thing to ~~over-share~~ self-publish every random thought that pops into your head but it's quite another to have a publication such as Time magazine quote one of those thoughts. I almost felt like a real writer.

I was so excited I printed the article and decided to show everyone at work. For those of you who are new to this blog, I have been a stay at home mom for ten years but since the offspring are both in school all day, I recently started working in our school district as a teacher's associate which allows me to earn a little money and be on the same schedule as the kids. It's working out well and my only regret is that working doesn't leave me a lot of time for writing. I will have the summer off though so I'm hoping to write more then.

I had not told anyone at school about my blog because it's rife with colorful language, rants about my neighbors, and posts about my love of wine and cosmopolitans. And not everyone likes that kind of thing which is fine because they can choose not to read it. But I really wanted to share this news with the teachers I eat lunch with because I had mentioned the TLC show a couple months ago and now I could tell everyone that, not only did I blog about it, but that Time magazine quoted it.

"Guess what guys? Remember when I was talking about TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? Well, I write this humor blog and I wrote a post about it and Time magazine quoted it!" I pulled out the article and passed it around the teacher's lounge at lunch.

Jill: You should tell our principal so she can send a message out to everyone.

Me: Nooooooooo! I mean, I actually don't want everyone at school to know about it because it's kind of, um, inappropriate.

Hillary had her laptop with her so she typed in the address of my blog so everyone could read the post.

ACCESS DENIED. THIS SITE HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AS PORN.

Son of a bitch!

I just got done telling all the Real Teachers that it was a humor blog and now they were all going to think I was some sort of Internet sex pervert.

"It's totally not porn!" I said. "It's probably being classified as porn because I use the f-word so much." I'm starting to get embarrassed at this point because they probably still think I'm all porn-y and now everyone also knows I swear like a truck driver on my blog. Any legitimacy obtained by being quoted in Time magazine is being summarily eclipsed by my potty mouth and my tendency to write about things that are considered adult subject matter. I'm a bit surprised that my blog would be classified as porn but then I remembered that I did use the word bone in this post. As a verb. Huh.

I'm glad you can't access my blog from school. I have two children in the district and it's good to know they can't pull up anything they shouldn't be looking at while they are on a school computer. And kudos to the district for having a solid barrier designed to boomerang dirty girls like me right back to the seedier side of the interwebs where we belong.

Anyway, I am still feeling pretty good about the Time magazine article. I did decide to moderate blog comments though in case any pissed off pooper/birthers found me and wanted to give me crap about the post. So far I haven't received any.

I did have one comment for moderation but it was somebody thanking me for the information on hydroponics. I have used the word hydroponic twice on this blog but both times I was referring to Trish's douchebag ex-boyfriend and the fact that he wanted to grow pot hydroponically in the spare bedroom of her townhouse. So I'm not sure what the person who commented meant by "providing information".

I'm a little curious about it though. If you read this post, or this post, you might think this is a blog about something other than f-bombs and vampire sex. And I'm starting to wonder if the next publication I might be featured in is High Times magazine.

But that's okay. I wouldn't mind. And I'll always be able to say that Time magazine once quoted me too.

TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant

2010-01-07T06:37:00.002-06:00

The other night I was lying in bed trying to find something to watch on TV and despite Dave's claim that switching from cable to satellite would give us loads of additional channels, my only choices seemed to be either Khloe and Kourtney take Miami or Keeping up with the Kardashians. Personally, I think the Kardashian family jumped the shark a long time ago and I'm not sure why they're still all over the TV but whatever, I was certain I could find something better to watch on one of the other 70 million channels Dave said we now had.

And then I stumbled upon TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. I was so amazed that such a possibility even existed I forgot all about how tired I was and proceeded to stare at the screen transfixed. One by one, women started explaining how they didn't know they were pregnant and they really just thought they were constipated and needed to take a poop and while I watched the show I could only think of one thing:

You have got to be fucking kidding.

As any woman who has ever given birth will tell you, not knowing you are pregnant, during the approximately 40 weeks you are growing a human being means that not only are you unobservant, you might be slightly out of touch with your own body.

I knew I was pregnant even before I peed on the little stick. My boobs were so sensitive just the wind blowing on them was agony. I felt certain that people at work could see them throbbing and would think something was terribly wrong with me. They got bigger immediately and Dave was all, "Wow! Your boobs are getting really big!" and I'd be thinking "Enjoy 'em now loverboy because in a few months you're going to be all, "Wow, your butt is getting really big too."

To be fair, I have two really good friends who did not know right away that they were pregnant with their second children because they had needed fertility treatments in order to conceive their first babies and neither of them expected to be able to conceive on their own. They were both pleasantly surprised when they discovered they were going to be blessed with another child. Yet neither of my friends actually went into labor, delivered a baby, and told everybody later, "You know, I didn't expect there to be a baby, I just felt like I had to poop."

And that's why I'm starting to believe that maybe TLC has gone a bit "Jerry Springer" on me because they know shit like this (heh, heh, I said shit. I made a pun) is going to grab my attention and generate higher ratings and a whole bunch of talk 'round the old water cooler. I mean, who confuses labor with a #2? And then admits it! On TV!

If the women on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant had never been in labor before it's understandable they might not know what it feels like but it's also like they're a little sketchy on the mechanics of poopin' too.

And I may not be as familiar with labor pains as professional baby mama Michelle Duggar, but I've done it twice and both times my main concern was figuring out how Freddy Kruger had gotten inside my uterus because it felt like he was trying to stab his way out with those finger knives every two minutes or so. Never once did I think, "Hey, maybe I just need to take a poop." Yes, your stomach can feel kind of upset during labor and there's the all too real fear of actually crapping on the delivery table but I can still tell the two bodily functions apart.

"Oh hi. You're a baby, not a #2 "

I know I kind of look like shit here. It's 2:17 AM and I just shot a 9 lb. 6 oz. baby out my hoo-ha without the benefit of any drugs whatsoever.

Can you imagine sitting down on the toilet and thinking something is going to come out of somewhere only to discover that something totally different came out a completely different orifice? That's what happened to one of the women on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. She thought she had to go to the bathroom so she sat on the toilet, grabbed the counter and the towel bar because it hurt so bad and her baby plopped out of her into the toilet water and when she tried to get up, she was slammed back down onto the toilet seat because she was still attached to the baby by the umbilical cord! And while she was in the bathroom all confused and laboring and delivering and stuff her baby daddy was sitting out on the couch with the popcorn bowl yelling helpful things like, "Hey, are you almost done in there?"

I mean, did it not occur to her to yell, "Put down the popcorn bowl you dumbass because something that is NOT a turd just came out and oh my God tell the paramedics they better haul ass!"

That's what I would have done.

On the show's website I found the following: We are looking for new stories for new episodes of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. Or, as they probably like to call it, more unaware women who had babies and not number two's and aren't afraid to have it re-enacted on national television.

Oh, and there was a woman on the show one night who didn't know she was pregnant TWICE. Probably you can tell I watch this show a lot. I've seen all the episodes. Some of them more than once.

So, I'm guessing TLC pays these women to go on the show? There's got to be some incentive for admitting you didn't know what the hell was going on.

But in that case, maybe the women are actually pretty shrewd. Maybe they don't care if everyone laughs at how clueless they are.

Perhaps they're even laughing all the way to the bank.

Good for them. Maybe they'll start a college fund for their little miracles.

P.S. Guess what other TLC show I'm obsessed with? My Monkey Baby. Oh my God, how I love this show.

P.P.S. And now I totally want a monkey baby.

P.P.P.S And I want to go to Baby Gap and buy cute little clothes for my monkey baby.

P.P.P.P.S. And I want my monkey baby to sleep with Dave and me in our bed.

P.P.P.P.P.S Dave just saw this and said my monkey baby cannot sleep with us.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S I know Dave will change his mind when I bring my monkey baby home so I'm not worried.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S And then we'll be as happy as these two!

Someone Actually Asked Me To Be A Guest Blogger!

2009-12-17T15:37:00.007-06:00

A little over a month ago I came home from work to find this in my e-mail inbox:

Bonjour,

Just wanted to let you know that my friend Stephanie and I think you are HILARIOUS. We've decided to spend the rest of our work day reading your blog instead of being productive.

Thanks for being funny.

Taylor K

````````````````````````

Taylor took the time to write me the above note to tell me how much she liked my blog and frankly, it made my whole day. I love when the blogosphere sends me new friends because I believe you can never have too many.

This month, Taylor has been featuring posts from guest bloggers called "I Believe." I was honored that Taylor asked me to participate. You can read my list of things I believe in and discover Taylor's awesome blog at Totally Tay.

Thanks for letting me play Taylor! You are awesome :)

Tracey

This is what happens when the Hawkeyes play before noon

2009-12-13T23:44:00.000-06:00

Dave and the offspring and I have been watching a lot of Hawkeye football this season. We especially like when the Hawkeyes are playing at night because we can get together with friends and neighbors and have a few drinks while we enjoy the game.

On Halloween, the Hawkeyes played at 11:05 AM. We invited a few neighbors over to watch with us and thought we'd make a day of it. We had already been trick or treating the night before because, here in Des Moines, we call it Beggar's night and we go out on the 30th. I have no idea why and I didn't make up the rule. But I'm glad we had already gone trick or treating because it left us an entire day to watch football and hang out. It was beautiful here on Halloween, sunny and unseasonably warm which meant the offspring and the neighbor kids could play outside while we watched the game. Following is a semi-detailed account of how much fun we had.

8:00 : Offspring wake up and start stuffing their faces with Halloween candy. I take away the candy and serve them an appropriate breakfast because I am a good mother.
10:30: Go to grocery store for last minute items before neighbors arrive. Mention offhand to Dave that I probably wouldn't drink during the game because it was so early and alcohol didn't sound appealing. Plus, I really wanted to go to the library after the game and maybe run a few errands. But, when I am in the liquor aisle buying beer for the guys, I am mesmerized by all the champagne with sparkly, pretty labels. Maybe one mimosa would be kind of fun and maybe my neighbors will want one too. Can't decide which champagne to buy so I purchase three different kinds with the rationale that I can always save them for another time if no one wants a mimosa.
11:05: Neighbors arrive and Iowa game starts.
11:10: Finish setting out hot wings and vegetables. Remind offspring to eat their veggies. Commend them for choosing broccoli. Am totally a good mother. Encourage them to go outside and play because fresh air and sunshine is good for children.
11:15: Ask Brooke if she wants champagne. She definitely does.
11:20: Cannot believe I forgot how much Mimosas kick ass!
12:20: First bottle of champagne gone. How did that happen? Ask Brooke if I should open another bottle. She says yes. Go outside and point exploding cork toward Yeti and Smokey's house. Laugh maniacally.
1:00: Tipsy.
1:40: Make sandwiches for kids. Use Halloween cookie cutters to make bats and ghosts. Am like perfect Martha Stewart type mother except totally buzzed.
1:45: Dave and the offspring and I morph into completely obnoxious Hawkeye fans. Convinced that our cheering may influence outcome of game. And that players and coaches in Iowa City can hear us.
2:00 Take small break and re-locate to Brooke and Spence's house next door so they can put their kids down for a nap.
3:00 Cork number three? See ya!
4:00 All football games are over. Brooke breaks out her ipod. Appoint myself DJ and look for songs to play that are not sung by 80's hair bands or Lady Gaga. Play all three repeatedly and refuse to let anyone else control ipod.
5:00 Serve everyone crescent roll wrapped little smokies. Decide that they are awesome and wonder why I don't make them all the time.
6:00 Lauren asks if we can make a cake tomorrow. "Of course we can!" I respond.
7:00 Start flirting with Dave. Point to him and mouth the word "You", point to myself and mouth the word "Me" and then make several additional gestures in case he doesn't know what I mean. He totally does. And so does everyone else.
7:15 Tell Dave he can stay for a while longer and that I'll take the offspring home. Read books to Lauren which shouldn't be as difficult as it is considering they are written for the first grade reading level. She accuses me of skipping pages. Finally get her in bed. Matthew asks if he can eat Halloween candy. I tell him yes but advise him that eating a bunch of candy, drinking a big glass of water, and then puking will not be appreciated at all. Lauren comes back out of her bedroom because if Matthew is still up, she's not going to bed either. Lauren sees Matthew eating candy, grabs her trick or treat basket and joins him. Finally wrestle candy away from them and tell them to go to bed. They tell me they aren't tired now. Tell them I will give all their Halloween candy to less fortunate kids if they don't go to bed immediately. Watch them fly up the stairs and go into their rooms.
9:00 Climb into bed to watch TV.
9:01 ZZZZZZZZZZZ..........
11:00 Dave crawls into bed and whispers, "Tracey, I'm home." "Leave me alone," I mumble (followed, according to Dave, by something that sounds like "don't touch me!" but probably was just sleepy gibberish).
11:01 Halloween comes to a close in our household.

The next day, while baking a cake with Lauren, I reflected back on the previous day's activities and thought about what a fun time we had had. I also realized that there are windows of opportunity in our home. Lauren is good at identifying when the windows are open and I'm grateful that she only asked for a cake and not, say, a pony because I do try hard to keep my promises. And even though Matthew ate a ton of Halloween candy, he didn't throw up so I guess everything worked out okay there. Usually Matthew is pretty good at utilizing windows of opportunity to his advantage.

Despite our 17 years together, Dave is still learning.

Google Apps Can Suck It! (Not Jolly Though)

2009-12-05T11:25:00.003-06:00

You may have noticed that funny in the 'hood was missing for awhile. If you typed in www.traceygarvisgraves.com, you saw this chick. I have no idea who she is.

What I found even more troubling was the completely random collection of words to the left of the photo of the chick I don't know. It appears to be a list of topics about baby names but then about halfway down it says IRA and I don't know if they mean the Irish Republican Army or the money in my retirement fund, neither of which has anything to do with naming babies.

What you didn't see when clicking on www.traceygarvisgraves.com was a picture of me FAH-REAK-ING out because my domain name had just expired and I couldn't get it back.

To be fair, some of this mess was my fault. My billing info was incorrect because my bank is all willy-nilly with my account info and keeps sending me letters that say ambiguous things like "your account information MAY have been compromised so we're sending you this new debit card just in case." This means that every time I want to buy something online where I have a customer account (which Dave says is everywhere) I have to edit the card number. But I can't edit it if I'm not given the opportunity to purchase something and that's why this current snafu is mostly the fault of Google Apps and it's because of them that I got all screamy and psychotic. Also, their customer service department is make-believe because every e-mail I sent them asking for help fell into a big black hole in cyberspace, never to be seen again.

I switched my blog from a blogspot domain to a custom one last November, shortly after I started blogging. I'm not sure why I did this because all it did was make me super googleable to prospective employers and my dad and step-mom (who I hope still don't know about this blog because I use the f-word a lot and even though it's not the case, my posts make it seem like I'm drunk all the time).

It costs $10 a year to host a blog on a custom domain name and I knew I was coming up on my renewal. Because we recently changed our e-mail address, I updated my Google Apps account accordingly and waited to receive the renewal link e-mail which would allow me to continue to host this blog on my custom domain address for another year. For some reason, the link was not sent to me and that's when the trouble started. And it turns out that it's almost impossible to get the link once your domain has expired.

I contacted enom.com, the third party that Google Apps partnered with for the original domain name registration. Unfortunately, they only handle the initial registration so they referred me to Google Apps for the renewal. And they were very nice and answered their phone when I called. They also sent me an e-mail so obviously their services are not make-believe and their employees actually exist.

Next, I tried to contact the Google Apps support team. It's like they were hiding from me because I had to spend 15 minutes on my Google account page just trying to find their phone number (which doesn't exist by the way). I finally found an icon I could click on to send them an e-mail so I typed the whole saga out and waited for help. I got an e-mail almost immediately. Apparently, if you e-mail their support team, you will get an e-mail from them with a bunch of help topic links, none of which will help you because they all pertain to domain renewals that haven't expired. Every time I sent Google Apps another e-mail, I got the same computer generated help topic links e-mail. It was at this point that I considered flying out to California, marching into Google Apps headquarters, and kicking everyone's ass.

After I realized no one at Google Apps was going to help me, I decided to switch back to hosting this blog at the blogspot address. I figured maybe I could switch and then just register for my domain name again in a few days. But when I clicked on the "host on a domain name" tab, this is what I saw.

Okay, I get it. Since my name is Tracey Garvis-Graves, and a "grave" is something you bury people in, Google was just being "helpful" when they suggested alternative domain names for me (FYI - www.traceygarvisDEATH.com is still available if anyone wants to snap that one up).

Anyway, I was starting to think my blog would just have to stay at its blogspot address and there wouldn't really be any way to let people know it had moved from my custom domain. But then some dude named Jolly, from Google Apps customer service department, sent me an e-mail so I should probably admit that they aren't really make believe, just incredibly slow at responding to their customers.

Jolly sent me the link to renew my domain name and then helped me transfer my blog back. But since Jolly lives ~~in India~~ in another time zone, he was sleeping while I was awake and vice versa which meant that I had to wait 24 hours between our e-mails which also meant that it took over a week to get my blog up and running again. And I don't know what happened but I lost every single comment anyone has ever left me and that really bums me out because some of your comments were so funny I had actually planned to make a blog post out of them and now I can't.

I thanked Jolly a million times for his help and thought about telling him I loved him but that would have been weird, right? At least I have his e-mail address saved so I feel like my link to Google Apps support is slightly less tenuous and you can bet Jolly will be hearing from me if I ever have another technical clusterfuck of this magnitude.

Now that I'm done spending all my free time getting my blog back, I can start writing and posting again. And that means that I'm pretty jolly too.

Happy Holidays everyone, I've missed you!

Tracey

Are You There Santa? It's Me Again

2009-11-22T16:40:00.054-06:00

Dear Santa,

I hope there are no hard feelings about all the mean things I said about you after you did not bring me anything I asked you for last year. It's not my fault because I think I have Tourette's syndrome and f-bombs and rude comments fly out of my mouth uncontrollably sometimes.

So, sorry.

But anyway, if you're not still pissed at me, I have a few more things on my list this year.

I deserve lots of presents because I have been sorta good. I did get in one fight with a lady that works at my dry cleaners but she started it. Because I am so conscious of saving our planet I gathered up 573 wire hangers because there's a sign on the door of my dry cleaners urging its customers to bring them back so they can recycle them. I was about to throw them all in my garbage can but remembered the sign and brought the hangers to my dry cleaners instead because I am all green that way. The lady at my dry cleaners, who actually looks like a man, was all "Well those hangers are just a big mess" and I was all "Do you want them or not" and she was all "Well I guess I have to take them" and I'm thinking that my environmentally friendly efforts are not at all appreciated and eventually me and man/woman are probably gonna scrap. But I don't care because they aren't a restaurant and no matter how much they don't like me, they can't spit in my food so I win.

Oh, and Santa? I have a job now so that should entitle me to way more gifts. And not just a job Santa. I'm assisting teachers at a junior high which means I am helping 8th and 9th graders learn important things. Mostly it's relationship advice about how to land a decent boyfriend but that's a subject that should have been taught when I was in 8th grade because then I might not have dated so many douchebags before I met Dave.

I'm not sure if you're aware of this Santa but my twenty-five year high school reunion is this summer and I am going to need a lot of help in order to look my best. First of all, I'd like better boobs. I want them to defy gravity and I want to be able to skip wearing a bra if I feel like it. This is a gift you will need to outsource because I don't want any of your creepy elves thinking that they will get to see me without a shirt on. However, if that one elf Hermie is still interested in dentistry, he can assist with some teeth whitening and/or porcelain veneers because that's on the list too. I also ~~need~~ want a nutritionist, a personal trainer, and someone whose only responsibility is to pry the wine glass/donut out of my hand and then yell at me.

Then I want to have all the skin on my face lasered off because I understand that once all the bleeding and peeling has subsided, and my skin heals, it will feel and look as soft as a newborn baby's ass. Next on my list is about a squillion units of Botox above each eyebrow and also a little Restylane for the vertical lines above my lip because Dave is tired of me asking him once a week if he can see them. He says he can't but that's only because he's looking over my shoulder to see what's on TV and not looking closely enough. Probably he just doesn't want to get killed if he actually admits he can see the wrinkles I am freaking out about.

And Santa? This next request might be kinda hard but can I have a werewolf? I mean, you're a mythical creature too so maybe you have some connections. I used to think I wanted a vampire but I have decided I want my make believe boy-toy to be hot with totally ripped abs. If you bring me a werewolf I can hide him in my closet and take him out when I feel like playing with him and by playing with him I mean making out with him. And because I already have a dog and dogs are kind of like wolves the werewolf can play with Chloe's toys if it gets bored when I am at work. And Dave said it was okay if I asked you for a werewolf. Actually I didn't ask Dave at all but probably he won't mind.

I know it's kind of a long, expensive list Santa but I totally need all these things. Don't check your list though, K? Just take my word for it that I've been nice.

Signed,

Tracey (Don't blow me off dude, I'm desperate)

P.S. I will leave a bottle of Stoli and some crack dip on the hearth of my artificial gas fireplace. Knock yourself out.

A strange little tale about my new "old" fridge

2009-11-16T05:30:00.000-06:00

In 2005, Dave and I decided to build a new house. We had a difficult time deciding what kind of house we wanted to build and spent approximately eighteen months walking through a million spec houses only to find that each one lacked something on our wish list. Just when I thought we'd never find what we were looking for, we found a house plan that we loved and a great lot we thought would be perfect to build it on.

But we still couldn't pull the trigger. Even though the housing market was strong, we had never built before and had the same concerns most people have when deciding to build: What if we can't sell our old house? What if we have to put all our crap in storage and move to an apartment if our current house sells before our new one is ready? And a small part of us wondered if we should move at all. We had lived in our house for eight years and were quite attached to it. We ultimately decided to quit over analyzing and stuck a For Sale By Owner sign in the front yard.

We sold the house four days later. The buyers, Jennifer and Brandon, liked the house as much as we did so we finalized the purchase agreement and worked out the details. We were ecstatic. Because we sold the house ourselves, we saved thousands of dollars and were able to make a twenty percent down payment on the new house. And even more importantly, Jennifer had a townhouse to sell and didn't mind waiting approximately five months until our new house was built to take possession of our old house since it would give her plenty of time to find a buyer for her property. We were grateful that Jennifer and Brandon didn't mind waiting. The thought of moving twice, once into an apartment and again when our new home was finished was a scenario we desperately wanted to avoid. Thanks to Jennifer and Brandon, we did (Hi Jennifer!). Meanwhile, Jennifer put her townhouse on the market and everything worked out pretty much the way we had planned.

Shortly before we all closed on our properties, Jennifer called me and mentioned how much she appreciated dealing with me and Dave. I think we were both pleasantly surprised that we were all able to remain cordial and accommodating throughout a process that could just have easily been filled with tension and conflict, especially as there was no realtor to buffer our negotiations. Unfortunately, the buyer of Jennifer's townhouse wasn't as accommodating and she and Jennifer weren't seeing eye to eye on a couple things. Jennifer had installed custom hardware in her kitchen and wanted to take her cupboard and drawer knobs and handles with her and the new buyer was not happy about it. Communication between them went a bit downhill from there.

Everything worked out in the end and we all closed on our new properties. Jennifer and I still talk or e-mail occasionally and the offspring always insist on driving by our old house if we're in the neighborhood.

A little over two and a half years after we moved into our new house, my twin sister Trish found herself having a rough time and was in dire need of jettisoning everything in her life that wasn't bringing her happiness, namely her douchebag fiance whose sole ambition in life was to grow hydroponic pot in the spare bedroom of her townhouse. She was also an out of work mortgage loan officer in a industry that had just imploded so the time was right for her to make a few changes. With the encouragement of her family, Trish made the decision to move back to the Des Moines 'burbs. She put her townhouse on the market and my dad and stepmom, and Dave and I, started looking at townhouses for sale here. When we found one we thought she'd like, we'd go look at it and then send her pictures and details about the property. Dad and Debby finally found the perfect townhouse in a suburb about thirty minutes away from where Dave and I live. Even though I love my sister, we fight like a couple of nine year olds so being separated by a thirty minute drive is not a bad thing.

Once her townhouse sold, Trish loaded her furniture, her 8th grade sweater collection, and a whole bunch of shit I would have purged from my home a decade ago into a moving van and watched it drive away. She got into her car with her CD's, her cat, and a Texas drawl as genuine as Madonna's British accent and followed the moving van back to Iowa.

A couple of days before Trish arrived, my dad asked me if I wanted to see her new place. He already had the keys and wanted to go over and make sure the heat was on and take care of a few things Trish had asked him to do. When I arrived, I gave myself a tour. The first thing I noticed was that the living room wall was painted chocolate brown and the paint looked like it had been rag rolled on. That's weird, I thought to myself, when Jennifer bought our old house we had had a conversation one day about paint colors and Jennifer mentioned that she and her mom had rag rolled a deep chocolate brown onto her living room wall. Then I noticed that the fireplace had some additional stone work that someone (my dad maybe?), had mentioned was not present in any other units in the townhouse complex. Hm, Jennifer mentioned she and her mom had done some stone work on her fireplace.

Then I looked into the kitchen. Every single cupboard and drawer was missing its hardware.

"Dad, you are not going to believe this," I said. "But I think this is the townhouse that Jennifer used to live in before she bought our house. The buyer she sold it to must be moving already."

"Are you sure?" my dad asked.

"I'm pretty sure. I'll look it up on the assessor's site when I get home." When I plugged the address into the assessor's site later, it confirmed that Jennifer had been one of the previous owners.

This may not seem that weird to you but this townhouse complex is large and it's in another city. It's located about fifteen or twenty minutes from my old house and, as I've already mentioned, about thirty minutes from where I live now. I called Jennifer and said, "You are not going to believe who is moving into your old place." She thought it was freaky just like I did.

Anyshizzles, I'm getting to the part about the fridge, I swear.

One of the things Trish mentioned she wanted to change about her townhouse was its appliances. Everything was white and she eventually wanted to switch to stainless steel. I told her we'd buy her old fridge because Dave and I wanted an extra one to put in the basement. We entertain a lot and every time we do, I wish we had more room for all the platters of food and extra beer and pop we buy.

When Dave and I bought new furniture this summer, we gave Trish our old couch and over stuffed chair and, in exchange, she told us we could have the fridge for free as soon as she bought the new one. Her new stainless steel fridge was delivered last week so Dave rented a truck and drove over to her house to pick up the old one.

This is the second fridge Trish has offered us but only the first one we've accepted. I've already blogged about it here but if you don't feel like clicking over to that post, I'll give you the quick scoop. In 2004 I flew down to visit Trish in Austin after she'd kicked the hydroponic pot growing douchebag out (he was like a loser boomerang though and kept coming back for the next four years). While I was there I cleaned her entire place and spent hours scouring and disinfecting her fridge. I was horrified to find a dead fly in it. In her post-breakup fog I don't think Trish noticed or cared.

Several months later, Trish's beloved cat died. Since it would be a few days before she could bury it, she put it in her fucking freezer dudes. Then, shortly before she moved back to Iowa, she asked me if I wanted her fridge because it wasn't included in the sale of her townhouse.

My answer: Oh, hell no. I declined her offer in a nicer way than that of course. Probably. Okay, actually I think my answer was something like "no fucking way do I want that fridge." The nice thing about Trish is that she was okay with my answer and decided it was my loss.

Trish may not be the tidiest girl on the planet (and her housekeeping leaves a lot to be desired), but she rarely has a mean word to say about anyone and seldom holds any kind of grudge. And lest you think I don't love my twin sister, I do. Seriously. But, as I've mentioned before, she truly is the Oscar to my Felix.

Trish came over the other day. I told her that Dave had started cleaning out her fridge and that he said it was kinda gross. I told her I hadn't even started cleaning it "the Tracey way" yet. "Guess what I found in it when I was taking everything out?" Trish said.

"I'm afraid to," I answered.

"Another dead fly," Trish said cheerfully.

"You do know most people store food they are planning on eating in their refrigerators, right?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"And just to clarify, you haven't put any dead pets in it, right?"

"Not this time," Trish said.

I bought a big box of Arm and Hammer baking soda to put in the fridge after I make sure it is no longer a level five bio-hazard.

When I talked to Jennifer a couple months ago, I mentioned her old fridge would be moving to our house soon. "Be good to the old girl," she said. "We will," I replied.

Just as soon as I clean her up.

The post where I point out how much I'm helping the 8th graders

2009-10-14T15:09:00.039-05:00

Hi blogosphere!

I know, I suck. I wouldn't blame any of you for never clicking on my blog again. But I'm glad you did because today we are piling into Marty McFly's Delorean and heading back in time to 8th grade (oh how I used to ♥ you Michael J. Fox).

Now that I've been working with 8th graders on a daily basis, I can't help but compare how different things were back in 1980/1981 when I was in 8th grade. And if you were not even born in 1980/1981 this post probably won't make any sense and you should just skip it. Oh, and I hate you.

* 8th grade girls in 2009 like to sing really loud, especially any song by Taylor Swift.

When I was in 8th grade, we sang songs by Air Supply, Pat Benatar, and Queen.

* If Taylor Swift is the official singer of the 8th grade, The Twilight books are the official book series.

When I was in 8th grade, Flowers In The Attic by V.C. Andrews was the most popular book in school. Cathy and Chris! Locked in the attic! Evil grandmother! Incest! A daring escape! I spent eight hours one Saturday reading Flowers in the Attic from start to finish (and of course I also read Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, and Seeds of Yesterday).

* 8th grade girls in 2009 love their Uggs. I wonder what they will think when they notice me wearing my fake Uggs from Target (henceforth known as Fugg's).

When I was in 8th grade Nikes were a really big deal. I had a royal blue pair with a yellow swoosh and I thought they were the coolest tennis shoes I'd ever owned.

* 8th grade students are so technologically advanced they could undoubtedly lock me out of my own cell phone, computer, and Facebook account.

When I was in 8th grade we had to use pay phones to call our parents, consult an encyclopedia to look shit up, and use a fucking abacus to help us with our math (after walking five miles to school, in the snow, while being chased by rabid dogs!).

Anyway, enough with the comparisons.

Now that the students are starting to get to know me, they're getting friendly. They know that I carry a big tote bag with me and that I always have band-aids, extra pencils, and hand sanitizer. I also gave my 7th hour class Blow Pop suckers so I'm probably their favorite person in the whole school. I think I am also becoming the de facto guidance counselor for all boy-related problems. The following is an actual conversation I had with an 8th grade girl the other day (all names have been changed to protect the identity of innocent school children. And me. Mostly me. So I don't get canned, you know).

Setting: Study Hall

Her: Miss Tracey?
Me: Yes?
Her: I have a problem
Me: Sure, what is it? Do you need help with your homework? Do you want me to help you review for the science test?
Her: No, I actually need advice about something. You see, I like "Billy" but so does "Susie" and if I go out with "Billy" then "Susie" will beat me up so now I'm trying to decide if I should just get back together with my old boyfriend. Or his brother. I can date either one of them.

Against my better judgment I asked for some clarification on a few things.

Me: Who do you really want to go out with.
Her: "Billy."
Me: Does "Billy" even want to go out with "Susie?"
Her: No.
Me: Then he's fair game.
Her: Thanks Miss Tracey!
Me: You're welcome!

Really I'm just being helpful. It's in my job description. Probably.

Shortly after this conversation another girl came to me with a similar dilemma.

Her: Miss Tracey, I really like "Bobby" but when I said hi to him in the hall just
now he ignored me.
Me: I'm going to give you some important advice. From now on, I want you to ignore
"Bobby". Pretend that from now on, "Bobby" is invisible. Got it?
Her: What????
Me: Seriously, this is how you land yourself a boyfriend.

I am now drawing a small crowd of 8th grade girls. I swear they have bionic ears or something.

Her: But if I ignore him, he'll think I'm being mean or that I don't like him!
Me: No he won't.
Her: But Miss Tracey, what if you're wrong?
Me: I'm not. But you have to trust me on this. If there is one thing I can teach
you this year it's that you must ignore the boy you like. Boys are all about
the chase. Never forget this.
Her: Okay Miss Tracey. I promise.

I think I am qualified to dispense this advice considering I managed, through a series of small yet manipulative maneuvers, to land Dave back in 1992(actually I got drunk on keg beer and let him spend the night way, way, way before we'd gone on ten dates. Or any dates actually. Or quite possibly it was the night we met. Huh. I'm not sure I should be dispensing romantic advice at all but whatever). Then, after a few years, I managed to convince Dave to buy me a shiny diamond ring (that I picked out) and marry me. And we've been together ever since so, hello? I am kind of a romance expert.

And who are we kidding? School is all about the four R's: Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, and Romance. Duh. Just being helpful again. I wonder if the school district realizes just how much I am going "above and beyond" my regular responsibilities?

I did manage to help another student make a decision that did not involve boys. The students are studying memoirs and were instructed to select a book from a list of acceptable titles.

Her: Miss Tracey, can you help me pick out a book?
Me: Sure, I love to read. I especially love memoirs.
Her: Well, I've picked out this memoir about ADHD and this one about a teen
model but I still need to choose one more from this list.
Me: Oooooh, Stori Telling, by Tori Spelling. You have got to read this one.

Wait a minute. Why the hell is this title on the accepted memoir list? And to clarify, I only went oooooh because I want to read the memoir so I can make fun of it.

Her: *blank stare*
Me: You know who Tori Spelling is, don't you?
Her: *blank stare*
Me: Beverly Hills, 90210? Brenda and Brandon? Kelly and Donna?
Her: *blank stare*
Me: Oh my God, The Peach Pit?
Her: *blank stare*
Me: Okay, okay, how about this? Aaron Spelling, his wife Candy, they lived in a
big mansion with a separate room just for wrapping presents.....
Her: Who is Aaron Spelling?
Me: He's Tori's dad. And he was the producer of The Love Boat and Fantasy Island!
Her: *blank stare* Are there any other books Miss Tracey?
Me: Yes, yes there are.

Okay so maybe that whole exchange did make me feel old (and I actually do plan on grabbing Stori Telling out of the big box of books so I can read it on my lunch hour and then make fun of it).

Then again, Tori Spelling is a published author and I'm not.

Ditto Lauren Conrad of The Hills.

So basically I am an old, unpublished author.

But the 8th graders? They don't care about that.

They like me anyway.

My Health Insurance Company Is Afraid I Might Jump Off A Bridge

2009-09-19T16:24:00.004-05:00

I got a letter in the mail the other day from my health insurance company that basically said, "We are all scared shitless here because we noticed your aren't taking your Prozac anymore."

What.The.Fuck.

Technically I have a prescription for Prozac. It is one of the few antidepressants approved by the FDA for the treatment of severe PMS (I read a shitload of magazines and I've actually self diagnosed myself with PPMD which is way worse than just the regular PMS). And the reason those yahoos at my health insurance company think I've stopped taking it is because, per my prescribing doctor, I'm only supposed to take it for the 5-7 days before my period, not every day. So one bottle lasts a really long time. And some months I don't have to take it at all. If I start thinking about picking up a fork and stabbing Dave in the head with it then I know I better go over to the cupboard where we store our drugs and take one of those little pills. So that's like my litmus test for determining whether or not my PMS is indeed severe enough that I need to medicate myself immediately. If I don't feel like stabbing Dave in the head with a fork in the 5-7 days before I get my period, then I don't need any Prozac.

My PMS started to get really bad when I was about thirty-eight. I noticed I was becoming less tolerant, bitchier. Then it got worse and now I pretty much want to kill people during certain days of the month. I went to my gynecologist and my regular doctor. They both immediately suggested birth control pills regardless of the fact that my husband has had the "snip-snip." Supposedly, the pill would regulate my cycle so that my hormones would be "evened out" and I wouldn't be so psychotic and mean to people I actually love. I think my gyno and my doctor are both getting outrageous kick-backs from their pharmaceutical reps because I can think of no other reason why they would pimp these birth control pills all the time (am I right, Pfizer??) However, since I was having a lot of "fork stabbing months", I decided to at least try the pill to see if it would help.

Remember that chick who was on the Yaz commercial and she's sitting around with all her girlfriends at some club and they're drinking and she's rattling off all these Yaz statistics and then she's all "I didn't go to medical school for nothin'" but you know she's not really a doctor and instead is probably a struggling actress whose resume lists a deodorant commercial and an episode of Fear Factor under "experience?" That's the pill my doctor put me on. Within six weeks I lost the desire to ever have sex again and my boobs exploded. I have a pretty good rack to begin with so I really don't need bigger boobs and hello? if I have no sex drive what good are big huge boobs? Dave was super bummed considering he now had to choose between a psychotic hormonally unbalanced bitch on wheels or a hormonally regulated woman with ginormous boobs and no sex drive. Plus Yaz gave me really bad headaches.

I informed my doctor about the exploding boobs and the lack of sex drive and she pretended not to have ever heard of either of these side effects. She then said if I was not willing to be on birth control pills, she could prescribe something called Sarafem which is really just Prozac that has been marketed under a different name and FDA approved for the treatment of severe PMS. And the little pills are pink. You know, for girls. She also mentioned that because my prescription was for Sarafem, and not Prozac, no one would think I was crazy which does not sound like a very doctor-y thing to say at all.

The first time I went to fill my Sarafem/Prozac prescription, the pharmacist asked me to pull up and over (like they do at McDonald's when they don't have enough nuggets to fill your order and you have to sit there and wait for your fast food while everyone drives around you and glares). Then, when the pharmacist came out to my car she was all "We don't have any Prozac and we can't fill your prescription until tomorrow" and I'm thinking, "What the fuck do you mean you don't have any Prozac, you're a pharmacy" (and it's Sarafem, remember?) but I was all "Oh, that's okay, no big deal, I can come back tomorrow" and she's all relieved looking because I think she thought I might stab her in the head with a fork but that's ridiculous because I don't even keep forks in my Explorer.

I used to be envious whenever I'd hear about someone having to have a hysterectomy because I thought that maybe removing the whole "kit and caboodle" would offer some relief but apparently I am experiencing issues that are not related so much to the hardware (girly bits) but the software (the monthly hormonal shitstorm).

I will say that the Sarafem/Prozac DOES work when I take it. But it also makes me very tired and I kinda don't give a shit about anything. I also don't have the energy or desire to commit manslaughter though so I guess you have to take the good with the bad.

Anyway, if your periods make you bat shit crazy and evil like mine do, consider taking Sarafem/Prozac/Fluoxetine(generic Prozac) for 5-7 days each month. It does help.

But if you do accidentally/on purpose kill someone during PMS? Call me.

I will so totally testify on your behalf. Or bake you a cake with a nail file.

Whichever.

Peace out.

Tracey's Shit List

2009-09-03T13:27:00.037-05:00

1. McDonald's. I'm not talking about those 'tards at the McDonald's up the street from my house (which, if you remember, is why we no longer have McDonald's Monday). I'm talking about a different McDonald's and the d-bag who thought it would be a good idea to have double drive thru lanes that require hungry and/or stoned McDonald's customers to take turns and merge. Implementing a system that the general public has to self administer is just asking for trouble. How long before the drive thru reaches riot levels and someone goes all "Reginald Denny" on some annoying blinged out milfy mom in a giant SUV who is yammering into her cell phone and trying to cut in line? *****This McDonald's location never fucks up my order though so yay!

2. People who post five or more Facebook status updates in one 24 hour period. Set up a Twitter account, you losers! And I won't be following you. Also, I don't need to know that your kids have homework, it's bunco night, or everyone's! eating! tacos!

3. The duggar's. Okay, we get it. Michelle and Jim Bob like to put the penie in the pie. A lot. And they don't like birth control. But seriously Duggars, stop reproducing. Michelle your uterus is just going to fall out and land on the sidewalk someday. Thankfully, Michelle has made some much needed improvements to her hairdo. If you want to see it, click here and head over to DG's World by Big D. She's got a bitchin' picture of Michelle's new 'do.

4. In the last three weeks, I have seen no fewer than three dudes scratch their balls while they are talking to me. Here's the thing guys, your hands and/or genital area are not, in fact, invisible. I can see you scratching. Just because you keep on talking to me doesn't mean I didn't notice. Plus, now I'm not only grossed out, I'm creeped out too. You don't see chicks walking around scratching down there, even if we are dealing with the outgrowth of a bikini wax/trim/shave/whatever. Seriously, girls don't scratch in public (unless maybe they have crabs or something which at least helps us identify who the whores are. Am I right?)

5. Old Navy. I think I'm going to have to write Old Navy a letter. It will read like this:

Dear Old Navy,

I recently returned to the work force and had to buy a whole new wardrobe (at least that's what I told my husband). Because I am working at a junior high, and will probably come into contact with sweat, puke, general 8th and 9th grade funk, and the H1N1 flu virus, I wanted to purchase clothing that was cute, inexpensive, and possibly disposable. Your retail establishment offered everything I was looking for.

However, I ordered four pairs of chinos online, and not one pair fits me the same (and in the case of the navy blue pair, not at all). Since I'm tall, I love your web site because I can order my pants and jeans in a longer length. The drawback, however, is that I cannot try anything on. When I get a big box in the mail, full of new Old Navy clothes I get very excited. But when I received my last order and started trying everything on, I wanted to march into your headquarters and stab people with a screwdriver. Kindly fix your pants sizing clusterfuck immediately. The employees working in your corporate headquarters will be very grateful. Or dead. It's really your decision Old Navy.

6. Walk in clinic. Last week, I had to pick up Matthew in the nurse's office because he was burning up with fever and complaining of a sore throat. I knew it was strep because I've been down this road with him a few times before. I only had 35 minutes to get him to the doctor and then get back home before the bus dropped Lauren off. I chose the walk in clinic, a decision I now regret. First of all, the nurse practitioner ripped me a new one for not "filling out the waiting log correctly." Apparently, writing down my time of arrival, AND the number of the beeper assigned to me (Jesus, walk in clinic, do you think you are Outback Steakhouse or something?) was not good enough. As I am standing there with my poor child who is ON FIRE with fever and whimpering she pointed out that I had not written down my name. Even though we were the only people waiting. And some A-hole had scribbled out the column that said "name" so I didn't even know there was someplace to write it down (in case the beeper and/or visual scan of the waiting area did not help her to identify that THERE WAS A MOMMY AND A SICK LITTLE BOY WAITING TO GET SOME MEDICAL ATTENTION AND BY THE WAY THE BUS IS GOING TO DROP OFF MY OTHER CHILD IN 25 MINUTES SO GET DIAGNOSING YOU BITCH). *I'm very sorry about all the yelling*. Anyway, I shot her my best dirty look and let out a little "ugh" under my breath. I also gave very curt little answers to her questions because her attitude made me all passive aggressive. Luckily, we did manage to make it home before the bus dropped Lauren off. However, the nurse practitioner did not prescribe the right dose of antibiotic for Matthew, he got much sicker, and I had to take him to his pediatrician to get the right drugs as well as an oral steroid to reduce the swollen tonsils that were so big he couldn't even enunciate words properly. And yes, the walk in clinic did receive ~~a piece of my mind~~ some constructive criticism.

7. Dave. I love my husband (97.6% of the time) but the other night, Dave said "Chloe has some poop hanging off her butt." I'm all "okay, then deal with it." I mean, if you see it, shouldn't you just be the one to take care of it? And haven't I been almost 100% responsible for attending to all the shit (and I mean that literally people) that has come out of the offspring's you-know-whats from the time they were born until they were potty trained? So why in God's name is the shit hanging off the dog's butt my sole responsibility? Man up Dave. If you see a dingleberry, do something about it.

8. Chloe. I don't know what the hell you rolled in when you were in the back yard but I'm pretty sure it was poop. And then I had to wrestle you into the tub and scrub something stinky and brown off your fur. And then I had to completely change my clothes which required ironing an entire new outfit and selecting new shoes. And then a little while later you insisted on climbing onto my lap and I thought you still smelled like shit but I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid and since I'm lazy I decided to just febreze my lap because I am not made of ironed outfits plus I didn't feel like going upstairs. ****If you see me today and I smell like shit blame Chloe.

Is anyone wondering where the hell I've been?

2009-09-02T08:03:00.035-05:00

Dear blogosphere in general and my readers in particular,

Hi. I'm not dead!

If you've been wondering why I seemed to have disappeared it's because:

A) I was carried off by a dingo
B) I fell down a well (a big one, not a little one like baby Jessica fell into in 1987). Obviously.
C) My Internet connection exploded
D) I got a job.

If you picked D, you're the big winner!!!!!

Let me be the first to say, I'm not totally sure how this happened. I mean, I remember the general process. A friend told me about some available jobs, I went to the website, filled out a lengthy application and uploaded my resume, had an interview, passed the reference and background checks (I know!), and was offered a job. Which I accepted.

I am now working in our school district as a Paraeducator which is just a fancy way of saying teacher's associate which is also just a fancy way of saying teacher's helper.

I'm working with older students. It's like the universe sucked me in and then crapped me back out right into a John Hughes movie. I'm pretty sure I spend 7th hour with the kids from The Breakfast Club except now they're all wearing Abercrombie.

I won't be able to blog about my job. Frankly, I'm surprised funny in the 'hood didn't get me dooced before I even started. And I certainly don't want to get canned for violating student confidentiality guidelines.

You're probably wondering how I ended up working at a school (because God knows I am). It's not for the money, although I was formerly making zero dollars an hour and if you look at it from that perspective, I just got a nice raise. There are two main reasons I accepted the position. First, if the offspring are at school then I am too. If the offspring are home, so am I. I also have all the holiday breaks, early outs, and snow days off so Dave and I never have to worry about someone being home with the kids. Dave puts them on the bus in the morning and I'm home when they get off the bus in the afternoon. It's taken a little adjusting but Dave assures me "It's not hard at all Tracey, it's really going quite well." I imagine it is going smoothly considering I have every single thing organized and ready for every living person in this house, including Dave, before I walk out the door at 7:00AM. The second thing I like about this job is that it is somewhat temporary. I'm technically unemployed again when school gets out next May and if I don't want to go back, I won't. If the job market ever fully recovers I wouldn't mind finding a part-time job in my field which is/was Human Resources and Information Technology recruiting. But for now, things are going okay. I am fortunate to be able to choose what I want to do and what I think is best for my family.

Now that I have a job, I am feeling very productive which is something I was lacking in last year when the offspring were at school all day and I was home alone. I'll be the first to admit that I had acquired a pretty severe Internet addiction, one that kept me online for hours each day. I wasn't as bad as those people you hear about that sit on a stool in front of a slot machine for so long they pee right in their pants but that's probably only because there's a bathroom ten steps away from my computer and I didn't have to worry about anyone sliding onto my stool and stealing my triple 7's jackpot.

I'd rather spend all day writing on my blog, reading other people's blogs, and leaving lengthy comments on them. Ditto Facebook and e-mail. But the time has come to get off my ass and do something and so far, I'm feeling pretty good about my decision. My only regret is that I may not have as much time to write and blog. Hopefully, as I become even more efficient and get used to my new schedule, I will still be able to post a couple times a week.

So, even though my job is low paying, there are often BAD SMELLS, and it's pretty much a given that I'll come down with H1N1 at some point, I'm pretty happy right now. I may change my mind in November when I'm in the death throes of the flu.

When that happens, please send Kleenex and wine.

And don't forget about funny in the 'hood either.

Sure I'm busy. But I'm not dead.

P.S. Have a wonderful Labor Day weekend! We are going to Tom and Amy's lake house for one last hurrah.

P.P.S. They only reason I was able to write this post today is because I'm home taking care of Matthew. He has a raging case of strep throat and I feel sorry for my little buddy. We went back to the doctor for the second time and he should be fine by tomorrow.

P.P.P.S. Children's illnesses = blog posts.

P.P.P.P.S. Cold and flu season is just around the corner so perhaps blog post volume will actually increase?

P.P.P.P.P.S. Will be spending meager paychecks on doctor co-pays and not designer purses.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Curses, foiled again.

I Regret To Inform You That Flashback Friday Will Not Occur Today

2009-08-07T12:20:00.005-05:00

I'm in a big ass hurry to get out of town before my brother and sister in law change their minds about watching the offspring and I can't find any funny pictures for Flashback Friday but to make it up to you I am working on a post about my horrible PMS which I will publish no later than Sunday night. Or Monday if I am ~~still kind of drunk~~ hungover on Sunday. Which is quite possible.

So no Flashback Friday+drunk/hungover=everything you ever wanted to know about my monthly hellish hormonal psychotic episodes.

I know.

Awesome.

Crack Dip Recipe

2009-08-06T14:06:00.010-05:00

Some of you have recently asked for my crack dip recipe (originally given to me by my friend Wendy) so I thought I'd post it again. Everyone in the world loves it except for my friend Shellie and her friends but I'm pretty sure it's just because they made it wrong (just kidding, I love you Shellie!).

Here's what you need:

1 - 9 oz. jar of Archer Farms Habanero and Roasted Pineapple Dip, available at Super Target. It is in the pickle/olive aisle and sometimes it's hard to find.
2 - 8 oz. bricks of cream cheese (please do not use the fat free crap). The cream cheese should be left out to soften for at least four hours.
1 - 8 oz. bag shredded sharp cheddar cheese.
1/2 of a small red onion, finely diced. Be careful because too much red onion will overpower the dip. You can always add more later.

Here's what you do:

Mix together cream cheese and habanero dip until combined. Add shredded cheese and diced onion and mix again. Refrigerate for at least one hour so the cream cheese can firm up again.

Serve with Ritz crackers. You can use other crackers but Ritz taste best with the dip.

Enjoy!

I'm So Behind On Blogging I'm Just Getting Around To Posting About July Fourth

2009-08-06T09:59:00.000-05:00

Dave and I are going to Tom and Amy's lake house tomorrow, for the whole weekend, without the offspring. We managed to ~~coerce~~, ~~beg~~, convince my brother and sister-in-law to come to our house and take care of our dog and kids while we are gone (and we will be leaving big, black skid marks in the driveway as we get the hell out of dodge, people).

I can't wait. We are going to be celebrating Dave's birthday at the lake house and I'm packing so much liquor the bottles are going to be clank-clanking as we roll down the highway. I'm also making a double batch of crack dip even though I only have one more pair of shorts I can fit into and if I grow out of them over the weekend, I will have to shop for all new clothes next week but whatever.

Anyway, I thought I'd better finish and post the entry I started last month about our Fourth of July weekend at Tom and Amy's lake house because I am all about chronological order. Sort of.

Probably no one cares what I did on July 4th but here it is anyway.

We spent the holiday weekend with Tom and Amy at their house on Twin Lakes. I told Amy we'd be there by twelve thirty but that was a lie because at noon, we hadn't even left Des Moines (and you may have noticed I totally blew off Flashback Friday that day). Although we started packing at 7:00 AM, it still took us approximately six hours to pile all our crap so high in the back of the Explorer that Dave couldn't even see out the back window. Must.Get.Better.System.

I might be slightly to blame for some of the delay in getting out of town. I tend to overpack and include things like sundresses and strapless bras. I don't know why I bother because the reality is I spent the whole weekend schlepping around in either a wet swimsuit, shorts, or an Iowa Cubs t-shirt and grey polo sweat shirt.

We also had to drop off Chloe at the place we were boarding her. I had a slight nervous breakdown leaving my puppy behind. But I might not have to deal with my pet separation anxiety issues ever again because the people at the pet boarding place told us that Chloe has some "aggression" issues and "doesn't play well with others." Because of her behavior she was not allowed to participate in all aspects of the doggy daycare curriculum (um, like snacks and crafts? I mean, what are we talking here?). Apparently Dave and I are going to have to find another option for Chloe if we ever hope to take a vacation again.

Once we got on the road out of town we noticed that even though it was bright and sunny in Des Moines, the closer we got to our destination the cloudier the sky became. And Dave was in a big snit because he thought he'd try a new route to the lake and it was taking a really long time for us to get there because it was mostly two lane roads and we got behind no fewer than three cars who refused to go faster than 49 miles per hour. Plus, one time we got stuck following some sort of farm machinery thing (combine?). The offspring had started asking "when are we gonna be there" at thirty second intervals. My husband, who is usually calm and even tempered realized that the route he's chosen sucks and he started to get pretty fucking snippy with me.

He compensated for our slow progress by putting the pedal to the metal. We got pulled over by the highway patrol approximately fourteen seconds later and Dave was busted for going seventy-nine miles an hour. I started to text something snarky to Amy and Dave said, "I bet you're texting some sort of funny and clever remark to Amy right now, aren't you?"

"No!" I said (Gah! Yes, totally). I hit the clr button on my phone and erased everything I just wrote. By the time Dave got his ticket and a warning to slow down, his eyes had turned demon red and I swear I could see smoke coming out of his ears. It did not help when the offspring started yelling "I can't wait to tell everyone that dad just got a ticket."

We finally got to the lake (it was raining a little by then) and unloaded our enormous amount of shit. Dave took a little walk by himself and when he returned we sent Tom and Dave to the store. They went to a bar first which was an excellent idea as Dave returned in a much better mood. The rain stopped so we were able to grill our dinner, light a crapload of sparklers, and make s'mores.

The fireworks at the lake were scheduled for Friday night so at dusk we all piled into the pontoon and headed out.

Shortly after the fireworks display ended, we headed back to the house in the pouring rain. We all changed into dry clothes and went to bed.

Tom's sister in law Rita woke us up the next morning by knocking on the sliding glass door around 9:00 AM. We were participating in the fourth of July boat parade contest and we needed to get the boat decorated and be at Muddy Bay by 10:30. The theme for the contest was Around The World and we put the kids to work hanging up flags from different countries all around the outside edge of the boat. We also had globe beach balls, signs, and everyone wore a costume. We had an assortment of hats including viking, German Oktoberfest, and Irish, plus sombreros. We boated down to Muddy Bay in gale force winds and pouring rain (sleet?).

Because of the weather, there was not a huge turnout for the boat parade and we figured our odds of winning the contest just shot up due to lack of participants.

There was one other boat that looked like it might be a contender. It was a pirate ship complete with skull flags and a cannon. The captain of the boat fired the cannon every five minutes or so and I thought it was kinda cute the first time but by the time Johnny Depp had fired it fifty five thousand times I just got annoyed. Plus everybody jumped whenever we heard it because it was so loud.

Here I am representing Mexico in my sombrero and Mexican blanket thingy (which is the only reason, quite frankly, that my core body temperature did not plunge to hypothermic levels).

The boat parade finally ended and we headed back to the house to put on dry clothes and warm up. The kid's lips were blue by the time Tom motored the pontoon boat back into the lift.

We spent the rest of the day inside, reading and playing games and trying not to get in each other's way. It rained continuously.

Finally, at around 5:00 PM, we headed out for dinner at a local restaurant. This was an excellent idea because it got us all out of the house and gave us something to do (which basically meant consuming lots of wine with dinner). We also asked the hostess to seat the kids at a different table. We could see them, but we couldn't hear them. We ordered drinks and had a great dinner.

We headed back to the house and were happy to see that the rain had stopped and the sky was starting to get blue. Matthew fished, the rest of the kids played, and the adults sat on the patio.

Later, Amy stayed back at the house with the kids and Dave, Tom, and I took the boat out for a ride. We drank beer, listened to the radio, and Dave drunk dialed and texted everyone in his Blackberry.

We headed home on Monday morning, tired, mosquito bitten, sunburned, and with enough dirty laundry to keep me busy for days.

I can only hope this weekend is as awesome.

P.S. Kids were ecstatic because we won 2nd place in the boat parade! The prize was $20 dollars so the four kids each got a five dollar bill.

Help Me Decide Who Would Be a Better Vampire Boyfriend, Bill Compton or Edward Cullen

2009-08-05T20:19:00.002-05:00

Recently I went to Target to buy a bunch of shit we don't really need and I threw season 1 of HBO's True Blood into my cart. I've read all nine of the Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris, upon which the HBO show is based, and since we don't have HBO, I've been anxiously awaiting the DVD's release.

Dave and I started watching the series last week. He's kind of mad at me because I accidentally blurted out who the killer was when we were only three episodes in (hint: it's not a vampire). Sometimes I have Tourette's with secrets and I couldn't help it. Anyway, we are enjoying True Blood but I am disappointed at how unattractive the main character, vampire Bill Compton, looks on screen sometimes.

Part of my fascination with Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, both the books and the movie, is that Edward Cullen is so fucking hot (even though technically he's ice cold because he's dead). Edward is so gorgeous that I just want to stare at him without blinking until my eyes cross but Bill Compton looks all swarthy and ungroomed but I think HBO is trying to make him look all brooding and deep and stuff. But if the producers of True Blood want my opinion (and hello? why wouldn't they) I would tell them that they can drive their ratings through the roof by making Bill Compton look way more gorgeous because even though a vampire could kill me on a dime I'm willing to overlook that if the vampire is super hot. Like Edward Cullen.

Exhibit A:

I have no desire to bone Bill Compton when I see this picture.

Might bone if I was drunk.

Would definitely bone, regardless of blood alcohol level.

Would bone all day and night.

I'm still confused about who would make the better vampire boyfriend because I am not shallow enough to make this decision based solely on physical attributes. I find, in these situations, it's best to simply pro and con it out.

Pros: Bill Compton

1) Closer to my age so I would not be seen as slutty cougar type, rawr!
2) I could bring him home to meet my dad and I'm confident dad would be totally oblivious to the fact that Bill is an old, dead vampire.
3) Strong enough to lift me no matter how much weight I gain eating crack dip.
4) Bill would spend all day in his coffin thus leaving me free to do whatever I wanted, i.e. shopping with the girls, manicures, etc...
5) As vampires don't eat food and/or have digestive systems, I imagine Bill would not fart in bed and hold my head under the covers.

Cons: Bill Compton

1) Technically dead.
2) Would not be able to eat crack dip with me.
3) Could accidentally kill me.
4) Could kill me on purpose.
5) Cold rock hard body could make post-lovemaking snuggling problematic.

Pros: Edward Cullen

1) Gorgeous, sexy, fast, strong, beautiful, rich, vampire.
2) See item #1.
3) See item #1.
4) See item #1.
5) See item #1 infinity.

Cons: Edward Cullen

1) Way prettier than me so no one would ever notice I was standing there. Would be like invisible girlfriend.
2) Even though Edward has been around for 107 years, he is technically seventeen which means I would look like a total cougar (rawr!).
3) Is not bothered by sunlight and might start to bug me if he hung around 24/7.
4) Might not agree to have sex with me unless we were married first.
5) Can be a bit of a controlling jackass, especially if I wanted to have a beer with one of the werewolves of London.

Now I'm more confused than ever. I mean, they both have their good points, and their bad points. It's clear I'm going to have to do more research and possibly set up a spread sheet to help me make my final decision.

Last night, Dave was on the computer for a while (hijacking my Facebook page, again).

Dave: "Gah! Why is our screen saver a picture of that vampire?"
Me: "Do.Not.Remove.My.Boyfriend.Edward."

So, has anyone else wondered who would make the better vampire boyfriend? No? Just me again.

Okay, maybe no one else has ~~wasted~~ taken the time to ponder this very important issue and provide compelling reasons for, or against, Bill or Edward. But I have.

You're welcome.

The Post Where I Tell Everyone How Awesome My Husband Is

2009-08-03T16:39:00.012-05:00

Remember when I wrote that really nice letter to Santa asking him to bring me a Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather? No? Then click here.

And then remember when Santa didn't bring it to me because he's a rat bastard? No? Then click here.

Well last Friday, Dave took the afternoon off and we took the offspring to the mall for a little back to school shopping (this would be between the first visit from the police, and the second).

Dave told me he'd be right back, conveniently sticking me with the offspring who were clamoring to go to Auntie Anne's for some pretzels. After we finished our pretzels he still wasn't back and I was starting to get a little irritated.

Dave finally found us and when I asked him where he'd been, he handed me a Dillard's bag and said, "I was buying you this."

Blogosphere, I'd like to introduce to you the Dooney and Bourke medium Chiara bag in black (patent) leather:

Someone is so getting lucky this month.

Flashback Friday - Safety First or My Parents Were Crazy, You Decide

2009-07-31T15:53:00.000-05:00

Yes I know I blew off Flashback Friday last week. It was partly because of my heinous garage sale and partly because I'm running out of pictures. I mean, I can show you snapshots of Stacy's seventh grade slumber party where we're all wearing our "7th graders do it better" t-shirts or pictures from 8th grade science camp but will those be entertaining to you? I'm not sure. And some of my friends promised to send me pictures for Flashback Friday yet I still haven't received anything (losers!) so let's blame them, K?

Anyway, I was looking through some old photo albums that my dad gave me and I found a few pictures I kind of liked:

For example, when the offspring were born, Dave and I placed them, rear facing, in the back seat in infant car seats that required an engineering degree to install. Yet my parents felt comfortable putting Trish and I in the front seat of my mom's Corvair. Even though we are in some kind of car seat, I do not see any buckles or harnesses and would bet money that those seats aren't attached to the car in any way.

"Um, hello? An object in motion tends to remain in motion so if you hit something mom, Trish and I are going flying."

In this next picture, my dad is participating in the ever popular balancing a baby on one hand.

"George, put her down, you're going to drop her!" "Oh calm down Patty, we've got a spare."

"Help, this cat is gonna sit on my head, suffocate me, and then eat me!"

Oh look, someone thought it would be funny to stick buckets on the helpless twins.

This? This right here? Explains a lot. And makes me wonder if alcohol was involved.

My mom died when I was eighteen so I love looking at old pictures of her. My mom would totally love this blog. If she were alive I'd let her guest blog and I'd post pictures of us doing crazy things. I can only hope there's Internet access in heaven and she has read my blog and is laughing her ass off. And if there's no Internet access in heaven then I don't want to go but if there's no wine in hell then I can't go there either so I'll go to heaven after all but if there's no Internet or wine in heaven then I want to be reincarnated immediately as a six foot tall Sports Illustrated supermodel and if that's not possible then freeze my head in one of those cryogenic thingies but someone please put vodka in there with me because when you wake me up I'm going to need alcohol because I'll be a head without a body and that's kinda fucked up.

As always, thanks in advance.

I Think Yeti is Killing Animals in the 'hood

2009-07-29T19:55:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, I've been MIA, and a totally shitty blogger (sorry Jules!) but I've been ~~spinning my wheels and getting absofuckinglutely nowhere~~ super busy keeping the offspring from killing each other and I haven't been able to find more than two consecutive minutes to sit on my ass in front of this computer and think up witty and clever anecdotes to publish on the Internet.

First of all, I spent days gathering up all the superfluous crap in our entire house so I could have a garage sale and then managed to lose money on it considering I paid $20 in advertising costs and only sold approximately $10 worth of our shit. Fail. I had hardly any customers which is why I will not have another garage sale until hell freezes over or all the Real Housewives remove their breast implants. And the only reason I decided to have a garage sale in the first place is because not all of our old furniture sold when I advertised it on craigslist and some of it was still taking up a bunch of room in the garage and I thought, "Hey, I'll unload this furniture and a bunch of our other crap and then our garage will be completely empty and sparkly clean and Dave will think I'm a goddess because he loves that fucking garage and will spend 45 minutes right before company is coming sweeping the floor because he totally gives a shit about where we keep our cars and our garbage can." But as of this posting our garage looks like the city dump and Dave's car is still not being parked inside it.

You're probably wondering what the hell any of this has to do with the Yeti, right? I'm getting to it, I promise.

And I know, I said I wasn't going to blog about Yeti anymore. I said I was going to remove all the posts under this label but I haven't. Because something happened last week that made me think being thrown in the slammer for writing about and then going all columbine on my neighbor might be totally worth it. So, yes, I'm going to continue writing whatever the hell I want about the Yeti but I won't be posting pictures because that seems to be more of the illegal part.

Seriously? I am pissed. And so mature that when I passed Yeti in her car today I made a face at her (but did not crash my car into hers on purpose so yay me!).

Here's what happened. The other day, my roving photojournalist in the 'hood's husband (they live on one side of The Yeti) told me they found a dead squinny in their yard (and for those of you who don't know, a squinny is what we call a ground squirrel here in Des Moines. I have no idea why). Then, a few days later, Lauren stumbled upon a dead raccoon in the yard of the neighbors on the other side of The Yeti.

A while ago it came to my attention that The Yeti believes there is some kind of mole infestation in her yard (though no one else in the 'hood, including us, has seen a mole). She set out huge traps that look kind of like mouse traps but bigger. While the traps are certainly disturbing enough, I also thought I remembered my roving photojournalist in the 'hood mentioning that the Yeti was using some sort of poison to kill ~~trespassers~~ moles but she's in Hawaii and doesn't have Internet right now so I have to wait until she gets back to see if the poison hypothesis is true or not. But, I find it unsettling that animals are totally falling over dead so the poison thing is probably true because the Yeti is like the poster child for neighborhood ~~sociopaths, psychopaths~~ crazy people.

Anyway, back to the dead raccoon. My neighbor, whose yard the raccoon was busy rigor mortising in, was not home so I called Animal Control and the Public Works department for her. Unfortunately, they will only remove dead animals if they're in the middle of the road or something. I was all "So what you're telling me is you won't come get it?" and they were all "No, not unless it's in a public area" and I was all "You know this probably encourages people to just throw dead animals in their trash cans" and they were all like "Uh huh." So, anyway, if something dies in your yard you are S.O.L. on disposal assistance. Just sayin'. I also wanted to call the regular police and the fashion police because right after Lauren discovered the raccoon I saw the Yeti lurking in her backyard and she was wearing a fugly pair of red pants and hello? That is just wrong.

Anyway, as soon as my roving photojournalist in the 'hood returns from Hawaii I am going to ask her about the poison and if I can prove that the Yeti is a serial animal killer I will be making some phone calls. I come from a long line of wildlife ~~preservationists~~, ~~conservationists~~, ~~fuck~~ animal lovers! and I will not stand by and watch the crazy Yeti kill everything displaced by our urban sprawl.

And I am thisclose to doing something to the Yeti that might land me in the slammer and I'm going to need someone to bake me a cake with a file in it so I can bust myself out.

Someone? Anyone?

Flashback Friday shit I Mean Saturday fuck Sunday (back off people!)

2009-07-18T14:50:00.026-05:00

I know, I know, I'm two days late on my Flashback Friday post. Thank God I don't have an editor or any real deadlines.

Part of the reason I'm late with this post is because I was busy selling our old furniture on Friday. My sister-in-law Stef was nice enough to post my crap on craigslist for me (since I'm too stupid to figure out how to resize the pictures) and once those listings hit the Internet, my phone started ringing off the hook. And then I had to go out to the garage because when our new furniture arrived a few weeks ago, Dave and some of the guys in the 'hood moved our old shit out of our house and made a big leaning pile out of it in the garage. Seriously, it was like furniture mountain. Like Mt. Everest, only made out of couches and ottomans and stuff.

I thought the people coming to look at it might prefer to sit on it instead of scaling it so I went out to the garage by myself since the offspring were suddenly "busy" and I manhandled all that crap into a nice little garage furniture showroom.

And I was very careful to make sure the people who wanted to look at the furniture didn't get here before Dave got home because my friend Kathryn and I were afraid that, if they showed up when I was here alone, this story might end with me being chloroformed, loaded into the back of a van, and dumped into a pit (it rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again).

Anyshiz, a very nice family came to look at the furniture. They needed a new couch and loveseat because they were currently sitting on wooden dining room chairs whenever they watched TV.

Because.....why?

Apparently, they had recently moved and they paid some family members instead of movers to move their stuff and it got "all burned up." I sensed they did not want to talk about it anymore so I changed the subject. They agreed to buy the furniture, left me a down payment, and said they'd return the next day to pick it up.

After selling our former belongings for mere pennies on the dollar of what we paid for it, I joined my husband and the offspring on our patio, commenced drinking chardonnay out of a box, and forgot all about Flashback Friday.

Then we had a tenth birthday party for Matthew yesterday and between preparing for the party and then participating in the party, I didn't have time to blog. Sidenote: my twin sister gave my son a harmonica so I will be retaliating by giving her cat a drum kit and synthesizer for Christmas.

So, where the hell was I and what is this post supposed to be about? Oh yeah, Flashback Friday. Let's get to it.

Remember in this post, when I talked about the time my brother Georgie, my twin sister Trish, and I went fishing? And Georgie didn't look before he cast his line and he snagged me in the jaw and we had to drive to the urgent care clinic to get his fishing hook removed from my face? Well I couldn't find the picture when I wrote that post but as I was searching for something for this week's Flashback Friday, I finally found it.

It looks like I have freckles in one of the pictures but that's just from a diet coke that exploded on the picture back in like 1986.

Even though my brother felt horrible about jabbing his hook into my face, I can't help but think that, in this picture he does not look remorseful at all. In fact, he looks like he is laughing his ass off.

Fucker.

Questions I'd Like to Ask the Producers at Bravo

2009-07-15T15:40:00.041-05:00

You all know I love watching the Real Housewives on Bravo, right? I'm totally a fan and I love to hit play on the DVR just so I can see what those ladies have been up to. But as I watch the show, especially the latest installment (Real Housewives of NJ), I can't help but think of a few questions I'd like the Bravo producers to answer.

1. Exactly how many people will I have to sleep with to secure a spot on The Real Housewives of Dallas County (because seriously, would an Iowa installment be a total hoot or what?) I am comfortable sleeping with two Executive Producers, the head of casting, and maybe someone from craft services. But that's where I draw the line because I'm married.

2. Does at least one housewife per season need to have some kind of cosmetic procedure on camera? If so, I have been planning on having the twins hoisted but will gladly wait and have this done on a future episode. I don't care what you show, I just want new boobies and I want Bravo to pay for them.

3. In The Real Housewives of Atlanta, Bobblehead Kim with the bad weave is seen driving off in her convertible with a glass of chardonnay. If, on The Real Housewives of Dallas County, I decide to take my Ford Explorer for a spin around the 'hood, and I have a cosmopolitan between my legs, will Bravo post bail if I'm busted for DUI or am I "on my own."

4. Speaking of weaves, I have noticed that Theresa Guidice's hair also looks like a bad weave/wig. And have you noticed that she and Fergie have the same exact forehead (or lack thereof, actually). If Theresa is in fact wearing a wig, do you ever worry that it's on too tight and could explode off her head at any time and then land on the ground like a big scary black tarantula? Or is that just me?

5. I was slightly taken aback when Theresa Guidice of The Real Housewives of NJ said "blowjob" in a recent episode. I expect this from Samantha on Sex and The City but that's HBO and you, Bravo, are no HBO (but you are my favorite network, yay!). Does the FCC not care what the Real Housewives say on the air? This could be a real bonus for me as I have the worst potty mouth you've ever heard. Anyway, please explain the blowjob loophole. Also? Lately douchebag has become my favorite word (it used to be fucktard but I'm getting kind of tired of that one). Can you say douchebag on TV? Thanks in advance.

6. Why in God's name would you send Theresa Guidice to that furniture store and have her buy all that stuff with a big stack of cash? Do you not realize that every single juvenile delinquent in Jersey now has plans to "roll" her when they see her walking down the street after dark? And then I read in People magazine that all the cash Theresa walks around with is fake. That's absurd. Why would you talk Theresa into doing something like that? She has three little girls and another baby on the way. Do you want her to get mugged just so you can promote the stereotype that wives of mafia dudes only carry cash?

7. Why does Bethanny Frankel get to constantly promote her skinny girl margaritas when the recipe is not original and is in fact right on the back of the cointreau bottle? You don't see me running around the 'hood promoting tipsy housewife cosmos now, do you? Yet my recipe for them is exactly the same as the one on the cointreau bottle too. Is it just that easy to start up a brand? Do the Cointreau people not care? Am I the only one who has made this astute connection?

8. I recently ordered a Happy Wife Happy Life t-shirt from Theresa Guidice's web site (and a blinged out pink baseball cap with the same slogan - I am stylin'!). But, the shirt had a tear down the seam when it arrived so can you tell Theresa the workmanship at her sweat shop is "sub par" and also let her know I'm going to be contacting her to exchange the shirt.

9. Though this post is Theresa Guidice-centric, she is not actually my favorite housewife (although I like her just fine even though her t-shirts are crap). My favorite housewife from OC is Vicki or Jeana, my favorite from NY is Jill, and my favorite from NJ is Jacqueline (I don't like any of the Atlanta housewives because they are all whiny gold-digging whores). Who is your favorite housewife and why? Who is the biggest pain in the ass? Who drives your ratings through the roof? Is it Danielle from NJ? I bet it is.

10. And finally, have any of the Real Housewives developed rampant alcoholism due to drinking all the time on your show? And do you think Lynne from OC smokes a lot of pot since she's really spacey and didn't know if her home had air conditioning in that one episode? I read that Vicki and Jeana were taking some kind of supplement to try to lose weight but do you think they might actually be dabbling in meth? As I mentioned previously, they are my favorite OC housewives so I hope not.

Anyway Bravo, if you get a minute, maybe you can write me back with the answers to my questions.

Thanks in advance,

Tracey (Bravo's biggest fan!)

Flashback Friday - Shit I Wore That I Thought Made Me Look Really Hawt

2009-07-10T09:17:00.039-05:00

Back in my single days, getting ready to head out on the town with my girlfriends was almost as much fun as deciding what bar we'd be trolling around in. We tried very hard to select the perfect outfit to help us land Mr. Right (or at the very least, maybe a temporary overnight boyfriend).

One of my favorite articles of clothing was this red cardigan although I have no idea why since nothing screams "I'm about as sexy as a librarian" quite like a cardigan. My only regret? That I don't have a picture of me wearing the cardigan with my red stirrup pants and red flats. That cardigan was not a man magnet at all but that didn't stop me from wearing it all the time.

Here's a picture of my roommate Janice rockin' the cardigan. I don't think either of us ever picked up a single dude while wearing it.

Next is the off the shoulder black sweater. I wore it no matter how hot or cold it was outside and I loved it. Why I would pair it with black bike shorts and black slingbacks I have no idea. Ditto for posing on a bathroom counter in a bar. Alcohol may have been involved.

I added black wayfarers to the sweater for extra hotness.

After I met Dave I moved on to something I'll call "the blazer years." I swear I had at least ten blazers and you would never see me not wearing one of them. This is the blazer I was wearing the night I met Dave (thus proving that proper outfit selection will in fact eventually land you a husband). I loved this blazer and wore it all the time.

Here I am wearing it again. Dave and I are singing "Afternoon Delight" at Karaoke back when he still used to sing with me.

Next up is the mustard blazer. It was a favorite from approximately 1992-1994. Check out Dave's shirt. I hadn't started dressing him yet.

I still have my favorite outfits although now I tend to choose them based on weight fluctuations and how hot or cold it is outside. I'm partial to black and white worn together and I also like khaki and black. And I love my chunky silver Silpada jewelry although ten years ago I would have worn only gold.

What was your favorite outfit? The one you wore all the time and loaned to your girlfrieds. The one that made you feel HAWT.

I know you had one.

How I've Spent My Last Two Weekends

2009-06-29T10:08:00.000-05:00

Remember in this post I said I might not always have time to come up with clever and funny blog entries this summer? That self fulfilling prophecy has turned out to be true because I find it almost impossible to construct a single sentence with all the fighting and attempting to beat the crap out of each other that starts the minute the offspring wake up which forces me to constantly get up off my chair and put the hammer down on one of them (It's also why I had to suspend my "no drinking during the week" rule because if it were not for alcohol, I would slowly go cuckoo insane). So remember how I said I might just post about what I've been up to so my readers (and you seventeen people know who you are) wouldn't click on the 'don't follow' button and leave me in the dust?

This is one of those posts. And just so you know, my behavior and maturity level is sometimes akin to that of a seventeen year old boy (but I have a shitload of fun wherever I go so deal).

We kicked off the weekend of June 19th celebrating my neighbor Lisa's birthday with a bunch of friends from the 'hood.

We started off at Clive after Five which is an outdoor drinking thing in the 'burb where I live. It was kinda lame and I think the turnout was low because there'd been a big rainstorm earlier in the day and maybe people thought they'd melt or something. Wussies. We still showed up and had a great time. Later we re-located to a bar super close to the 'hood where we sang Karaoke for the next several hours. Despite my constant badgering, Dave refused to sing "Afternoon Delight" with me like he used to when we were dating. I sang "Let Me Be There" by Olivia Newton John and then Julie and I sang "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" and "Convoy." Yes, really. We pretty much had the bar and the microphones to ourselves because the place was dead. We finished up the night with all of us singing Madonna's "Material Girl."

I took a picture of this girl while we were at the Clive after Five festival because I thought she was a perfect example of what not to wear EVER.

My friend Janice was in town and she came to visit Dave and me the next night. Here's a picture of us after we'd been drinking on the patio for uh, a while. Check out our shiny Chardonnay eyes.
It was super hot here in Iowa so I put together a buffet of cold food and made sure there was a bottle of wine in the ice bucket on the table in front of us at all times. I would have taken a picture of all the empty bottles and posted it here on this blog but there were so many of them I was embarrassed (♫ they tried to make us go to rehab but we said, no, no, no......♪).

Janice wanted me to make crack dip because she had never had it. She loved it so much we actually had it again for breakfast the next day, along with some leftover chicken salad from the night before. Side note: Even though I did reach my goal of losing 25 lbs. on WW (25.5 to be exact) back in April, my diet the last six weeks has included a frightening amount of cream cheese, mayonnaise, guacamole, and alcohol and now I'm too skeered to step on the scale because I'm afraid the spring on it will explode with a big boing! I totally plan on addressing this problem and getting back on track but not until after the fourth of July holiday weekend.

I gave Janice a jar of Archer Farms roasted pineapple and habenero dip to take with her, along with the recipe for crack dip. The following paragraph is an excerpt from an e-mail I received from Janice after she got home:

P.S. That fucking TSA whore took your jar of shit for the crack dip. I knew I was taking a chance but I thought hey, what can they possibly think I am doing with this? But, I also didn't want it breaking in my suitcase since it's glass. She better hope that I can get that stuff at my target!!!!

At least Janice was wise enough not to tangle with the TSA. Trish, not so much.

This weekend we kicked off the night by attending a friend's birthday party at a bar up the street. My friend Stacy has been in town for her annual visit to Iowa to see her family and she, Amy, Trish, Dave, and I headed out to see what kind of trouble we could get in.

Somehow my shoe broke and Amy tried to McGyver a solution out of dental floss and a buffalo wing stained napkin. Fail. I'd rather go barefoot.

They were giving out plastic cups at the bar for everyone at the birthday party to write their names on. Just so you know, we are not grown up enough to have beer and a sharpie at the same time. And if you left your plastic cup unattended on the table when you went to the bathroom, upon your return there would most definitely be some dirty words written in big, black, permanent capital letters (cock gobbler being my favorite). I never let my glass out of my sight but I did write "Princess" under my name because it sounded much prettier than some of the other words.

That's all I've got for today. I'm still working on some other posts so hopefully I'll have something to put on this blog later in the week.

P.S. Sandy the Yeti walked by her sliding glass door while we were out on our patio Saturday night. In a nightgown. Shudder.

Flashback Friday - Smokin' at the Condo Clubhouse

2009-06-26T08:06:00.060-05:00

Happy Friday blogosphere! I'm a wee bit tired because Barbara, my roving photojournalist in the 'hood, had a Silpada jewelry party last night and not only did I stay up past my bedtime, I had a little alky-hol too (weird, huh?). When Tracy and I were leaving (another Tracy who spells her name totally different than mine), Yeti's husband was walking their dog Cody across the street to piss in someone else's yard. And not only is there a new broom across their driveway, Yeti had her car parked at the very end of it lest one of Barbara's guests try to turn around in it. But someone did anyway, ha ha! Yeti was probably cowering inside her home mainlining wine and Xanax to medicate herself from the fucking travesty occurring on her street.

Okay, it's time for Flashback Friday. Here we go.

When I met Dave I had just bought my first place, a sweet little two bedroom condo with a pool and clubhouse. It had a few drawbacks, most notably the fact that the average age of my neighbors was approximately 107. There seemed to be a lot of strokes and heart attacks and the ambulance pulled up with some regularity. And those old people did not care for my stereo volume at all. If they'd chucked their miracle ears they wouldn't have thought I was so loud but since they seemed to like those hearing aids I just sat back and waited for them to kick it.

Anyway, I found out you could rent the pool and clubhouse for parties and we had several during the five years I lived there. One was held in the summer and involved lots of drinking and skinny dipping and the other two were semi-formal holiday parties held in December.

Here we are at the first holiday party. What a nice group of young adults, all fancy in our semi-formal attire. I'm the one in back with the bangs. And bangs+me=icky. As always, click on any photo to enlarge.

Dave, me, and the icky bangs.

Oh so festive and silly.

Tom, Amy, and Dave.

This photo was taken at the end of the evening.

I guess the condo association felt we were responsible enough to have another holiday party a year later. Rookie mistake.

Look! I've grown out my icky bangs (but still have massive caterpillar eyebrows). And nothing says classy holiday party like a bunch of twenty somethings drinking keg beer out of red plastic Solo cups.

Wait, I don't think we were ready.

Striking a pose.

I think someone spent some time in rollers at the beauty parlor!

How could you not swing from this chandelier?

Raise your hand if you think I'm over the legal limit. Ditto if you think Dave is.

Back then, everyone we knew smoked cigarettes and I think some people might have been smoking two at a time because the next day the geriatric manager of the condominium complex called me to ask if there had been a fire in the clubhouse. Apparently the walls were covered in black soot. Probably we should have cracked a window or something.

We blamed the massive smoke damage on a faulty fireplace, the manager bought our explanation, (thus proving there is an upside to senility and Alzheimer's) and we escaped with nary a fine.

Neither Dave or I smoke anymore, and haven't for a very long time. Almost everyone has quit and those that haven't will be quitting SOON, right?

RIGHT.

P.S. Only 181 days until Christmas so start planning those holiday parties now. If you have a clubhouse, keg beer, Marlboro lights, and plastic cups you can party like it's 1995.

You're welcome!

(Please don't smoke though - the surgeon general and I heard it's bad for you).

I'm Not Worthy, I'm Not Worthy

2009-06-25T11:30:00.003-05:00

Look what my long lost other twin Penne at Little Girl Big Glasses gave me! Not only were Penne and I separated at birth, she shares my love of seventies music, eighties fashions, and liquor.

Unlike Penne, who is a bona fide published poet (Highlights magazine, April 1973), my written words haven't shown up anywhere except on this blog. I sent a few entries to Readers Digest Magazine when I was a young girl and they did not see fit to publish my literary masterpieces. Fuckers. Thank God for blogger.com 'cause I can self-publish my written words any old time I want (ha, loophole)!

I'm not even sure how I found Penne's blog but I do know if I spent less time trolling the blogosphere looking for hilarious and entertaining blogs I'd have more time to write clever and engaging posts for my own. Pfft, details. And even though I blog about deep shit like my fake French manicure, crack dip, and my Jerry Springerish, white trash, Hatfield and McCoy-caliber feud with my neighbors, I somehow entertain Penne enough to keep her coming back. And she likes my Flashback Friday so much she's thinking about doing it on her blog. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, I always say. In fact, I think all bloggers should do a Flashback Friday post so let's see if we can get this idea to sweep the blogosphere!

Anyway, I think this post of Penne's is the one that reeled me in and made me realize I had to follow this brilliant writer. Plus, I will never ever not think of Penne on every single Thanksgiving from now until the day I die (and Trish, substitute your regular relish tray assignment for rolls). Shortly after I started reading Penne's blog covertly, I hit the follow button and made my presence known by leaving comments on her blog 'cause that's how you make friends in blogger land.

Now that I've been bestowed with such a high honor, it's my responsibility to pass this award on to other blogs I love. Therefore, I'd like to pay the love forward by giving the following blogs their virtual kudos:

That's so Missy - I was doing an Internet search one day about why Dooce's blog is so damn popular (because I couldn't tell after reading it) and I stumbled upon Missy's blog because she had wondered the same damn thing. And after reading Missy's blog I had to send her an e-mail because even though she lived in Florida, I discovered she had gone to Iowa State, was a Midwestern girl at heart, and liked Gordon Lightfoot's music as much as I did. And if someone can admit to liking "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" well, I need to know them better. Then Missy stalked me on Facebook and now we're bloggy and Facebook friends. I have no doubt we'd be friends in real life too if we weren't separated by geography (although she's currently moving back to the Midwest as we speak so maybe someday we'll have a face-to-face).

DG's World by Big D - Anyone whose tag line is "land of the donut, home of the beer" pretty much had me at hello. I have been reading this blog ever since Jen Lancaster linked to her. Frankly, with the kind of traffic Jen Lancaster can generate, I'm surprised her followers are not in the thousands by now. I've only commented once but read her blog every day and plan on making my presence a little more known, especially since I'm giving her an award. Her writing is hilarious and I think she's way smarter than I am so please check her out.

Well, that's all I've got for today. And remember, tomorrow is Flashback Friday! Please join me in posting humiliating pictures of yourself, or someone you love. It'll be a blast.

You know you want to.

Flashback Friday - The Flashdance Years

2009-06-19T07:55:00.027-05:00

Hey blogosphere! It's me, Tracey. Remember me? This week has been crazy busy but I have no fewer than 19 some posts all in a state of half completion that I hope to publish on this blog next week. And my long-lost, separated at birth other twin sister Penne even bestowed an award upon me because she totally doesn't think I suck. I'll be blogging about that too, I promise. And just so you don't think I'm pretending to have actually written something in the last two weeks, here are a few of the blog post titles you'll ~~probably,~~ see: The Trifecta of Weird, Henry, His Name Is Henry, and The Real Housewives of NJ Are A Hot Mess.

Ready for Flashback Friday? Let's get to it.

I present to you Betty Hill Dance Studio's 1982 Jazz class. This was during the height of the Olivia Newton John "Let's Get Physical" years and someone over at Betty Hill had the bright idea to capitalize on our culture's love of headbands and workout gear. I hated these costumes. I wanted to wear a cool getup like we did the year before when we danced to Kool and The Gang's "Celebration." We wore sparkly tops and MC Hammer-esque pants and we rocked the house yo.

Anyhooligans, for this performance we danced to a song by Diana Ross called "Work That Body." The song kind of sucked, no one had ever heard it, and I can't remember a single step of the choreography.

For some reason I don't have an individual picture of Amy in her "Work That Body" costume. But I have this and I'm almost certain whatever dance she wore this costume for had a fuckin' lot of jazz hands in it.

Remember to dance like nobody's watchin'. We sure did.

Flashback Friday - Twins, Really?

2009-06-12T14:57:00.033-05:00

First day of Kindergarten. I ♥ my snoopy lunch box.

Here's Trish and I sitting on Santa's lap (notice I'm still rockin' the shag). Doesn't Santa kinda look like he might belong on a sex offender registry somewhere? See the cast on my left arm. I attempted to do a penny drop off the chin-up bar on the playground. Fail. And lastly, who dressed you Trish? Your clothes don't match for shit.

This is one of our senior pictures. We thought it would be fun to have our pictures taken individually and together. Psst, one of us loves Clairol Nice 'N Easy.

This one was taken while we were sophomores at The University of Iowa. Hello spiral perm! And Brooke Shields called, she wants her eyebrows back.

Next week: Dance recitals!

Flashback Friday - The gestation years

2009-06-05T16:21:00.040-05:00

Are you as tired as I am of the media firestorm surrounding Jon and Kate Gosselin of TLC's highest rated reality show, Jon and Kate Plus ~~Hate~~ Eight? Whether it's her business in the front, party in the back hairdo or his supposed philandering with a twenty-three year old, they are on my TV screen and newsstand every time I turn around.

I watched the original documentary about the Gosselin's when it aired on TLC. I thanked my hoo-ha for only shooting out one baby at a time because, as a twin, I was a little worried I might also give birth to multiples someday.

Here's Kate Gosselin shortly before she delivered her sextuplets. When I see this picture I think, "Wow, what would I do if I had that many little babies all crammed into my uterine clown car?

I needn't have worried. At our ten week ultrasound we discovered there was only one little baby in there and we watched its heartbeat blinking on the screen.

I enjoyed being pregnant. Life was an all-you-can-eat-buffet and I no longer had to change the kitty litter lest I contract some heinous illness that would result in our offspring being born with paws and whiskers.

Pregnancy got a whole lot less fun as I neared my mid-summer due date. I had one pair of shoes that fit and stopped caring whether my maternity pants matched my shirt.

My due date came and went.

Every day after that, when I awakened in the morning and realized I had A)not gone into labor in the night and B) had to go to work, I became increasingly more pissed off.

Finally, 11 days past when my firstborn was due to arrive, Doogie Fucking Houser, who had joined my OB/GYN's practice after graduating from medical school a scant two weeks prior, announced he'd be delivering our baby within the next forty-eight hours. We were instructed to check into the hospital by 8:00 PM that night so special medicine could be applied directly onto my girly parts and I'd finally go into labor. This picture was taken as we got ready to go to the hospital. I know I look like I'm about to give birth to sextuplets too but believe me, there's only one in there.

We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl but by 6:00 AM the next morning I no longer cared what we had as long as it was no longer residing in my body. At 1:00 PM I pushed for what seemed like hours and it still wouldn't come out and since I was so tired I just screamed at them to use the vacuum. Once they saw the look on my face, they sucked Matthew out with a hospital grade Dyson.

He was 9 lbs. 7 ounces and 21 and 3/4 inches long. I can't blame my inability to hold my pee-pee when I sneeze entirely on him because three years and four months later his 9 lb. 6 ounce, four days overdue sister came hurtling out of my baby box and ruined my bladder control forever. And, I gave birth to her without any drugs whatsoever.

Our household may not be reality show worthy but I don't care. Unlike Jon and Kate, Dave and I won't have to talk to the offspring about the time mommy and daddy's marriage imploded on national television. There are also no cameras around to document me walking the offspring to the bus stop without a bra. Or to see me lying on the couch with my ipod turned up so loud I can't hear them shouting "Mom!!" Or that time I pretended not to notice when they ate frosting out of a can for breakfast.

Thank.God.

Flashback Friday - I love the 80's

2009-05-29T08:40:00.029-05:00

I love the 80's and I'm fortunate to have spent my high school and college years in one of the best decades ever, at least from a hair and fashion standpoint. I graduated from high school in 1985 so I have lots of pictures that capture me, and my friends, in all our 80's glory.

These two pictures were taken while I was a freshman (1985/1986) at the University of Iowa. My dad made a bet with me and Trish that the Hawkeyes would not make it to the Rose Bowl but if they did, he would fly us out for the game. Ha, ha dad! By halftime of the game that would determine they were indeed going to the Rose Bowl my dad was frantically calling travel agents to arrange the trip. Our friend Cindy went with us.

We went to Universal Studios and the first picture is of me posing by the KITT car from the Knight Rider series. The second picture is of me goofing off behind fake jail bars.

Check out my Palmetto Sport cardigan, matching red Forenza shorts from The Limited, and a bandana rolled up to create a headband. I also have color coordinated socks, pristine white Keds, and, if you look carefully, a red and orange Swatch watch on my right wrist. In the picture of me with the KITT car I have added my red Ray-Ban Wayfarers because I am nothing if not completely color coordinated.

Are you wondering why, in the first two photos, I do not have big eighties hair? I was a huge fan of the TV show Double Trouble. I don't know if you watched it but it was about twin girls (played by Jean and Liz Sagal) who live in Des Moines, Iowa with their widowed father.

I have a twin sister! We lived in Des Moines, Iowa! One time the twins road-tripped to Ames to see a concert and Trish and I had been to lots of concerts in Ames!

I wanted to be Jean or Liz Sagal so bad I thought at the very least I could copy their hairstyle and spent my senior year of high school growing out all my layers.

And it super-pissed me off when they crapped up the series by moving the twins to New York to live with their aunt.

Anyway, the next two pictures are from my sophomore year of college when I finally realized I was A) NOT one of the Sagal twins and B) looked much better (read:sluttier) with big, permed, poufy hair. And C) why I continue to have a love/hate relationship with bangs.

And, apparently, I LIKE MY PETS!

Memorial Day Weekend at Tom and Amy's Lake House

2009-05-27T11:18:00.036-05:00

We had an absolutely fabulous time at Tom and Amy's lake house over Memorial Day Weekend. I have so many more pictures I'd like to share but due to my "no photos of children on my blog" policy, I can't show them to you. Trust me when I say our offspring, and Tom and Amy's offspring, spent two full days in kid utopia where the official uniform was a swimsuit and S'mores were readily available.

A few highlights:

*We were worried about the weather because hey, it's Iowa and you just never know what you're going to get. But it was beautiful the whole weekend. We arrived at the lake house around 2:00 PM on Saturday afternoon and it was hot and sunny. Which is probably why the margaritas tasted so damn good.

*Matthew caught a big catfish but we threw it back so it could live to be caught by someone else who would probably eat it.

*We went out on the pontoon boat many times, enjoying both daytime and evening cruises. My brand new white bucket hat flew off my head on our maiden voyage but Tom doubled back and we plucked it out of the lake.

*We let all the kids drink coffee while at the lake which means we are either incredibly cool parents or incredibly stupid ones.

*We were up with the sun both mornings which gave us plenty of time to do all the fun things we planned. We went golfing Sunday morning and played nine holes on an all but deserted golf course. We had four kids, four adults, and four golf carts to peel around in. We had a blast!

*Dave tried to take a little disco nap on Sunday after golfing because he was tired. We told him to "man up" because we were all tired but no one else was lying down. Sheesh, what a Nancy pants.

*Tom and Amy have the coolest firepit and we made S'mores. My marshmallow was burned to shit but I ate it anyway.

*I got three mosquito bites and saw two spiders, one of which I killed because it was scurrying around in the tub when I went to take a shower.

*I made a batch of crack dip and Tom and Amy's sister-in-law Rita, who had never had crack dip before, kept getting it back out of the cooler. Hello? Because it's like crack.

*I brought Jack's Special Salsa from Costco because I love it. I made Dave stop at the grocery store on our way out of town so I could get freshly made tortilla chips from the Hy-Vee kitchen to have with the salsa because they're just like the ones you get in a Mexican restaurant (hell, they're better). They're thin, greasy, and salty. I was eating chips and salsa on Tom and Amy's patio Saturday night but my coordination was not too stellar. I spilled salsa everywhere. There was a splotch on the patio table, a few puddles on the patio, and a big splat on my shoe. But none on my clothes (go me!). I could get the salsa on the chip just fine but for some reason (tequila), I could not get the salsa to stay on the chip before it got to my mouth. I felt bad about the mess but at least we were outside. And Tom and Amy said I could come back for the fourth of July!

Probably they don't want me to bring salsa though.

Flashback Friday - Guest Star Edition

2009-05-22T07:57:00.031-05:00

Welcome to Flashback Friday! Today I'm flashing back in the life of my twin sister Trish. And to my girlfriends? Be afraid because you may be next.

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah (Glamour shots)
G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S (Glamour shots)

"Hmmmmm," thought Trish. "It's 1991 and I'm living in sunny southern California and I'm bored. What should I do? Go to the beach? Meet some girlfriends for a drink? Maybe see a movie. Wait a minute! I'm gonna go to the mall and get me one of them glamour shots and then give them to Tracey and dad for Christmas.

Say cheese!"

"Listen up Chachi. Do what I say and no one gets hurt. Give me the name of your agent and a two-line speaking part on Charles in Charge and I'll go away. And get me some champagne, dammit!"

10 some reasons why I've been such a shitty blogger lately

2009-05-20T10:23:00.001-05:00

Hello blogosphere!

I know I've been kinda "phoning it in" lately and I'm sorry.

But let me explain.

I've been suffering from a combination of Internet overload, blogger burnout, and an end of the year time crunch. Even though I've had the entire school year to organize the playroom, clean out all the closets, cabinets, and cupboards, and put 3,256 photos into albums, I haven't done it. I also haven't completed any scrapbooking projects but that's because I loathe that activity and plan on paying Amy to do it for me.

I spend way too much time reading and attempting to comment on other people's blogs which leaves me with even less time to think up funny, clever, and interesting posts for my own.

And Twitter and Facebook? You are starting to bug me. I no longer care what Demi and Ashton are doing every thirty seconds and seriously, don't they have some acting to do somewhere? And to my Facebook friends? You can keep sending me shit for my farm but since I've never visited my farm I am assuming everything you sent is dead and rotting, including the animals. Sorry. And why does it seem like I only get updates from the same three people? I've checked my settings and everything appears to be okay yet I know way too much about the daily minutiae of people I am not close friends with. I still like posting on my friend's walls though so it's not like I'm anti Facebook. I'm just not willing to spend my time thinking of clever status updates. Ditto Twitter.

I've also been tending to the offspring who have had a rough couple weeks battling strep throat and the stomach flu. This would be so much easier to handle if they weren't the little boy and the little girl who cry wolf all the time. Because they've both turned into total fibbers I didn't believe either of them when they actually got sick.

First Lauren tried to get out of going to tumbling because her throat hurt. But her throat hurts every time she has tap and ballet or tumbling because what she really wants to do, instead of going to class, is play outside now that it's finally warm and sunny here. When Lauren walked into our bedroom at 4:30 AM a few mornings later with a forehead hot enough to fry an egg on, we ended up at the doctor who treated her for one of the worst bouts of strep throat she's ever had.

Matthew, no slouch in the hooky department, decided to capitalize on the fact that we had strep germs floating around in the house and decided to start complaining of his own sore throat at 4:30 AM a few mornings later. I kept him home and took him to the doctor but his strep test was negative. His throat was pretty red so they gave me a prescription for antibiotics but told me not to have Matthew start taking the medicine unless his symptoms got worse. He was fine the rest of the day and spent equal amounts of time watching SpongeBob SquarePants and playing on the computer.

The next morning Matthew got up as usual and had a big bowl of cereal. I asked him if his throat or head hurt and he said no.

I was grocery shopping when the school nurse called my cell phone to tell me she had Matthew in her office and he didn't look good. He wasn't complaining of a sore throat but he said he felt sick. I said, "yeah, um, is he like faking because he does that quite a bit?" She told me she thought he really didn't feel good but since she's new, I figured it was a rookie mistake. I told her I was at the grocery store but that i would ~~grab 17 more items~~ be right there. I knew he was just trying to get out of being at school.

By the time I got there the boy who cried wolf had puked three times, the last time "horrifically" according to the nurse. The school janitor was there with a mop and bucket and the nurse said, "What did Matthew have for breakfast today?" "Cranberry Total cereal, " I said. The nurse said, "I thought it was something like that." You can mail my mommy of the year award to P.O. Box I'm a Shitty Mom.

After I finally got everyone healthy and back to school, I had to go to my own doctor appointment at Heartland Dermatology. This is the place I have all my body hair lasered off and it's also where my dermatologist Dr. Feldman works. I had an appointment with her to ask about Botox and Radiesse and while I was there I planned on having her look at a big freckle I'd suddenly noticed on my collarbone.

Dr. Feldman took one look at my freckle and suddenly, I was laying down on the table having a biopsy while she told me she didn't like the size and shape of the freckle or how quickly it had appeared. Before she left the room she told me she was concerned it was early stage melanoma.

I forgot all about Botox and Radiesse as the nurse went over how to care for the biopsy site and explained what I'd need to do for scar therapy. She said I'd hear something by the end of the week.

Everything turned out fine. My freckle thingie turned out to be benign and I'll probably be sporting a funny band-aid on my collarbone for the next twelve weeks which is fine with me because you know what's not funny? Melanoma.

Another reason for my lack of posting is the totally captivating late spring TV schedule. Someone who claims she "hardly ever watches TV" sure has some splainin' to do about why there's a Tracey shaped ass indention on the couch. Seriously, between American Idol, Lost, and The Real Housewives, I've been watching way too much TV. Now that Lost is over and Idol is almost done (go Kris!), the couch cushions should start to spring back.

However, now that the weather is nicer, I'd rather be outside in the afternoon and evening (wearing a hat and sunscreen with an SPF of eleventy billion). Blogging was so much easier during the shitty Iowa winter when I really didn't want to leave the house at all. The offspring will be out of school soon and then I'm not sure what will happen to this blog. I find it almost impossible to write anything without total silence and if there's one thing I know for sure, it's about to get really loud around here.

But, I can certainly continue to post about what's going on here in the 'hood, even if it's not that side-splittingly funny. I read lots of blogs that simply tell the reader what's going on in the blogger's life and I enjoy them very much. I'm hoping you will not mind if I do the same because I don't want to stop posting. I'm just not sure my posts will be all that creative or funny.

Kristi - sorry dude. I'm letting you down and I know it. I promise if you stop by this summer you'll give me something funny to write about. Ditto Trish.

Oh, and I do have some Sandy the Yeti news to report soon because she's gone off her fucking rocker. I'm trying to think of a post about everything that's been going on but it's not so much funny as it is unbelievable. I hope to post some accompanying photos too because the Yeti's yard is now bookended by trampolines and I think it's pretty hysterical. I can't wait until those trampoline springs need a shot of WD-40 either.

So, welcome to funny in the 'hood, summer edition. Who needs a cold one?

Flashback Friday - The Spirit Years

2009-05-15T10:38:00.066-05:00

"Kirsten? Bring it. And get ready to have your ass handed to you by the Johnston Dragon's middle school football cheerleading squad."

Look at me! On the bottom of the pyramid, as usual. But check out the next photo. What a high straight kick I have! See Michelle standing on the far right? She effed something up. One time she also farted during a cheer and we never let her forget it. (Click on any photo to enlarge)

I don't know what's more remarkable, the fact that I used to be able to do handsprings or that my dad managed to capture one on film. Here's Amy and I, cheering like it's our job (and we didn't need no stinkin' mittens either).

"I've got spirit yes I do, I've got spirit how 'bout you?"

I just ended my cheer with a roundoff back handspring. Okay, I lied. I went to the fridge and got a diet coke. Whatever. I can still do the splits.

No I can't.

The Kenny Chesney Concert

2009-05-12T10:15:00.001-05:00

Last Thursday night, Dave and I kicked off the Mother's Day weekend a little early by attending the Kenny Chesney concert with Julie, Dean, Trish, Bridget, and Diane. The unpredictable Iowa weather almost dashed our plans for pre-concert tailgating but by 5:30 PM we were ~~chugging~~ sipping *superritas in the sun.

That's Dave and Dean. See the truck right behind them? We were worried Dave and Dean might become victims of vehicular manslaughter because the crazy parking lot attendant let the pickup truck back up until the bumper was mere inches away, just so he could make another six bucks. THEN, even though we already paid when we entered the parking lot, the parking lot Nazis came around and charged us again, just for tailgating on the grass. Here's Julie and I below. I'm holding a beer and the ticket that proves we paid six more dollars. Say it with me: Extortion.

Here we are enjoying sandwiches, chips, taco salad, and crack dip wrapped in tortillas (**crack wraps!). Below is Mark and Kim. Even though we'd never seen them before in our lives, they seemed nice and since they said "hi" when they walked by, we invited them to join us because that's just how we roll here in Iowa.

Here's Julie enjoying a superrita before our tailgate utopia became a used car lot. The next picture is in Wells Fargo arena. Bridget, Julie, and Dean have wisely grabbed a fresh beer as the concert is about to start.

Kenny came out of the audience right behind where we were sitting. I noticed some guy messing with something that was all covered by a large piece of black fabric. The girl standing behind me told me Kenny would be coming out from under it and she was right. He got into a little chair on cables and flew right over our heads. I can't believe how close we were to him.

Kenny Chesney put on a great show and we had a wonderful time, even if we all felt like crap on Friday. It was totally worth it.

*Dan's Superritas
500 ml Mott's apple juice
200 ml 100% blue agave tequila (Jose Cuervo)
200 ml cointreau, citronage, or grand marnier
100 ml key lime juice (you can find this in a plastic bottle in the juice aisle)

Stir above ingredients and serve over ice in salt-rimmed glass. Enjoy!

**Crack Wraps

Flashback Friday

2009-05-08T09:06:00.027-05:00

Our parents went to Hawaii and all we got were these stupid outfits. And another trip to Olan Mills Portrait Studio.