Today was that day.

Where the f#ck can a contact lens go when it pops out of your eyeball in the bathroom? There’s one foot of space between my eyeball/finger and the mirror, over the counter. And yet, that contact lens finds the black hole.

Imagine the power this country would have if it too could make things completely disappear in a nano second.

Seems like I should gain admittance to Magic Castle for this trick.

I looked myself over, the counters, the mirror, and only hours later from that par excellent vantage point known as the crapper commode, I caught glimpse of that sneaky little devil, crispy and curled over for his nap, on the edge of the counter. At least four feet away from where I lost him.

Little booger, he was crunchy from being out in the air all day. I wasn’t about to try to revive him after his poorly executed escape. Be careful what you wish for, lenses of the world. Freedom may not actually taste so sweet.

If you’re a contact lens.

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The grand prize winner will have her work illustrated by award-winning artist Bill Nelson. Here is his gorgeous Goldilocks illustration:

Here is another, the Princess and the Pea:

I’m visualizing my story with his art….. But you should definitely not enter the contest, too! Or at least go check out the stories for grins!

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Other Bidness:

1. For the first time ever one of my posts is up on blogher.com! Yes, I’m virtually a three-year, overnight sensation! Here is the link. Please click over and make a girl feel special by commenting!

2. I have a new post up at the Mom Squad on mothers in the movies (I know, I’m like Steven King prolific lately! *snort*). Come check it out and share what moms in movies you like!

I know, you’re tired, it’s a lot of clicking and such, but just give a try, for me, pretty pleeeeeease.

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Enjoy!

Her Morning Ritual

Hilary had no choice. At least that’s how she saw it early that Sunday morning.

Because if she did have a choice, she would obviously not be squatting, relieving herself in the shadowy corner of her one-car, detached garage.

Perhaps she’d start a new Sunday morning ritual, she chuckled. She never did find that church that was going to bring her closer to God. Hopefully he wasn’t watching her now.

Renting a one-bedroom, one-bath house never seemed a real problem to Hilary until, post wedding nuptials, house guests began arriving. Her relatives, her husband’s relatives, their friends, whoever visited slept on a rickety, faded, fold-out couch and absorbed the entirety of the tiny living room. As well as the entirety of Hilary’s privacy, what little she had left in their 800 square foot house after Zack moved in.

But she’d learned that house guests didn’t only infringe on her general privacy. By sleeping with their heads positioned near the door to the sole bathroom, they unintentionally stole Hilary’s bathroom privacy.

Which she missed a great deal as she braced herself on her yellow VW’s cold bumper and tinkled on the no-longer-dusty dirt floor.

She took a moment to exhale and noticed the sunbeams reaching tentatively toward the windshield. Looking at the situation from this awkward angle, she realized, perhaps it wasn’t gone after all, her early morning bathroom privacy.

Just relocated.

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I finish brushing, take a sip of water and spit.

“Mommy, have you ever peed in a cup?”

“Yes,” I said finishing my last gulp. “At the doctor’s office. Have YOU?”

“Yes.” Snicker, snicker.

I slowly set the bathroom cup back on the counter, considering whether you can rinse your own mouth out with BLEACH….

“What CUP?” I glared into my own reflection in the mirror.

“That cup.”

“THIS ONE?? The one I just set down?”

“No, that one over there.” She pointed to another cup on the rim of the bathtub.

Whew, that was a close one.

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I felt a rollercoaster of emotions:

Day One:
Wow. This is just great! These people are so talented!
I COULD be a professional author. ANYTHING is possible. Children’s books are AWESOME. I’m learning SO much! I have SO many ideas! I CAN fix my rough drafts! These editors will LOVE my stuff!

Day Two:
Wow. This is just great. These people are so talented.
I SUCK. These editors won’t get to page 2 of my stuff. This will NEVER work. I am SO screwed. How did I ever think I could? I won, like, NO door prizes. Zero. And they were not even giving away tote bags.

Day Three (home):
I think I had a high school deja vu, stretched out, over 48 hours. Is that a zit? Got any chocolate chip cookie dough? Tab?

My neck is sore from all the head-spinning.

Is 41 too late to be a professional soccer player? They make cleats for girls now, right?

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If your child likes dogs, she’ll enjoy this! Filled with rich illustrations, oh-so-true confessions by different breeds of dog, this book is a charmer. I may have to buy this, or perpetually check it out from the library….

I think new readers would enjoy it, too. The font size creatively morphs in each mini-poem.

If you know any dog, you’ll see that dog’s personality in this book and have a chuckle. A fun read.

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Sure, the idea of a guy with a blow-up doll may make you cringe (and/or hum a Police tune), but the execution of this odd story filled me up with warm fuzzies.

See, it’s not about a blow-up doll. It’s not a male teenager movie. He does fall in love and have a relationship with Bianca, the blow-up doll, after all. But more importantly, it’s about a family grieving loss, a community supporting, and people reaching out to each other, damaged, quirky people who show kindness, friendship and love.

My yoga teacher recently read a quote about “the liberation of self through love,” and I thought of Lars.

Ryan Gosling quietly worried me, Paul Schneider (his brother) amazed me and Emily Mortimer (his sister-in-law) charmed me (again). Cool Patricia Clarkson immediately won me over (as usual). The whole town (if you’ve ever lived in a small town, you’ll get it), was its own character, full of hilarious, generous understanding and action.

A really good film, an entertaining and touching experience. Oscar-nominated screenplay. Powerful cast. Check it out.

Have you seen this movie? What’d you think?

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“Blogging’s the thing!” they all say.
Thousands in cash every day!
Just upload and push,
To show baby’s fresh tush,
And your Paypal brims over; yes, way!

Oy, I’m irritating myself. Where’s a haiku when you need one?

Anyone wanna try limericking?

You’re laughing with me, yes?

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Here’s one of mine (it’s G rated):

Frog Rock hopped to Winslow at dark.
He shopped for their flies as a lark.
Their taste wasn’t bad,
Compared to those he had had,
But he still preferred Battle Point Park’s!

I’m not sure what you win in the contest? Money? Fame? $5 certificate for toast Blackbird Bakery? I’ll take what I can get….

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1. Posting every day is passe — just clutters up people’s readers. Work the system, I say.

2. No one cares what I had for lunch. Great. How about breakfast? That might be interesting. No? In that case, I got nothing.

3. No one wants long scrolling first pages. It’s all about the “click here to read more” button. Well, Mister Smartypants, where’s all my sidebar crap supposed to go?

4. Offer your readers VALUE. Great. See #2 above.

5. Everyone loves Photoshopped stuff (OK, I don’t actually have a link for this theory, but everyone DOES love her, him, her, and her, so it must be true!). More trouble. I don’t know how to Photoshop because I don’t own Photoshop. I know, I’m lame. Or lazy. Or both.

Do you follow these tips? Do you follow any helpful, non-depressing blogging tips?

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