Running on…

Off and on over the past few years, I’ve attempted to become a runner. With varying degrees of intensity. My sister has also become a runner, but she’s for real, yo. She runs miles and miles.

I haven’t gone running in a long time. I do yoga pretty much daily and I haul around a 500 pound toddler, so I like to think that I’m not totally out of shape.

This weekend, the Coca Cola 10k happened.

I was inspired. Maybe a little depressed because there were children I could have birthed streaking right past me.

So, Josh and I have decided to embark on a runnerly journey, and it starts this week.

It starts this week because on Saturday, I’m pretty sure we are going to do the Gumtree 10k in Tupelo. I fully realize that I will walk the majority of the race, but I’m good with that. It’s a start.

#Sendus to #BlogHer

 

 

A few weeks ago when I was eating some meal with that man I married, we were talking about my blog and what it has accomplished and what it hasn’t. 

 

I have never harbored any illusion that I would be some Dooce-ish success story or that some obscure agent would happen upon my blog and proceed to offer me millions of dollars for what they know will be a NYT bestseller.

 

I’ve never thought any of that. Although, you know, it would be nice.

 

I’m happy with the state of things. I never would have imagined, in 2006, that I would still have this blog and that it would mean quite as much to me as it does.

 

Back to the dinner. 

 

So Josh and I were eating dinner and he said something to the effect of, “We really need to get you to a conference or something.”

 

Music to my ears. Have you ever wanted something desperately but you refrained from mentioning it because you didn’t want to be a nag or a bother?

 

Me, either. But the fact remains that I had never mentioned (in any sort of seriousness) attending a blog conference.

 

Because what would that mean, really? It would mean airfare, conference passes, hotel rooms, time away. It would mean a family vacation that was pretty much just for me. And I may be a lot of things, but I like to think I’m not that selfish. 

 

So I have pretty much given up any hope of attending a BlogHer conference (because that’s kind of the caviar of blog conferences) unless it came to Memphis or something. Which may happen, one day. But not this year.

 

Except yesterday on Twitter, my friend Ashley responded to an off-the-cuff tweet I’d made regarding someone  sugardaddying me to this year’s BlogHer conference. Which is in New York. I die.

 

Anyway Ashley and I tweetively decided that we should start a “Send Us to BlogHer” campaign. With complete acknowledgement that likely nothing will come of it, we are sending our desire out into the world.

 

The Secret says that if you speak affirmations, they will come to fruition.

 

In light of this assertion, I am putting my positives out into the void.

 

I will attend BlogHer 2012 in New York City, because someone will believe in the awesome I possess. I will learn and grow, and I will make many friends and connections. I will finally have a purpose for those business cards. I will be forever grateful.


Now, Rhonda Byrne, we’re putting this to the test. Let’s let this shit get real.

 

Tweet your support of our cause using the hashtags #sendus #blogher.

 

Stupid resolutions

I talked last week about the resolutions I’m making. And not making.

I’ve read so many people saying things like “I resolve to lose X pounds,” or “Tomorrow is diet day,” or similar statements about cleaning house or doing…whatever. Quitting smoking or getting divorced or making progress on projects.

And I get it. The fresh start of something…anything…is a stimulant.

It totally is for me too.

But I am conciously choosing not to do that this year, because maybe it’s just me but I get SO upset with myself when I inevitably mess up my goal.

So here’s the secret, kids, aim low!

Not really. I have decided, though, to be a bit more positive when choosing changes for my life.

Like I resolve to not be such a bitch. To be more giving and less selfish.

To make an effort to be happier – not to fix myself. Because I don’t need fixing. I’m ok.

These are all things I’ve said before, but where did it all ever come from? Why do we pick things we think are wrong with us and try to change ourselves?

It’s all very negative if you think on it. It’s stupid to start out a new section of your life by bathing it in things you don’t like about yourself.

Because if anyone is going to like you, shouldn’t it be…well, you?

To win and to lose

I’m giving up. Whatever this virus is does not plan on leaving anytime soon. 
I could, at this point, regale you with tales of how crap I feel or how abnormally every function of my body is progressing, but I think I’ll spare you. BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.
 
Yesterday was Max’s chess tournament. Like I mentioned, he’s been prepping for it for months. Nonstop. Last year he played and came home with a “participant” ribbon after beating exactly no one. He was rather wounded, and apparently he was having none of that this year.
 
So he went. He competed. He emerged the second most victorious.
 

Second place, baby! We were all so proud.

However, as happy tales often do, this one has a dark side.

 

Ava, who is fresh into the accelerated program and therefore only this year got a chance to play chess, she competed too.

 

Apparently Ava has inherited my utter inability to stratergize and plan, and therefore she shares my absolute suck at the game of kings.

 

She played one game. She lost. It didn’t go well.

 

She was upset upon the homecoming because everyone was so excited for Max. 

 

Which presented a dilemma. Of course we were sad that she didn’t do better, we were sad that she was upset, but MAX WORKED HIS ASS OFF. He wanted to do well and so he did, whereas Ava would “practice” with Max only if he played with no queen and often she’d just quit when her brain started to tire out.

 

I tried to be gentle. I tried to be understanding. But maybe she learned a lesson.

 

And at least she didn’t yell, “SHIT!” when she lost, I was a little worried about that.
 

Thoughts on competition

(looking for the giveaway?)

So we’ve talked about the competition that I’m in for the blogging scholarship. A normal person would link to the voting thing right about now, but I’ve pretty much given up hope of winning. YOU’RE WELCOME.

Which is good, because it frees me up to say what I really think.

I mean, I was never officially hindered, but if I were talking trash and then I accepted ten grand from them that would be a little bit of bad form. Which I try to avoid. Sometimes.

But I won’t be accepting any money from them, so I’ve got some things to say.

Within a few hours of the email announcing the finalists, several of the finalists had hundreds of votes. Within a day or so, the numbers had escalated to tens of thousands.

It was intimidating, especially considering that the top contender at one point had 64,567 votes to my 75.

Then Friday night I got an email saying that the votes had been reset, due to “ballot stuffing” – which is a term I’ve never heard before. But I suppose it makes sense.

The same people are winning now, which is what was expected I guess.

The reset, though, led to a situation I hadn’t anticipated. I soon received an email from a fellow contestant, and this dude is PISSED. He’s angry that the suspected cheaters were not removed from eligibility (basically there was no way to know that it wasn’t done by a third party, the people said), and he’s calling for people to petition the proprietors. Then the website edits his comments calling for the petition, saying they don’t appreciate “hate mail.”

Hence commences a series of “reply-all” conversations, picking and sniping and keeping serene zen all in turn.

Which brings me to my reevaluation of the entire situation.

I think online voting is a shit way to determine something like a scholarship. I purposely haven’t perused the other blogs because I tend to get down on myself, so I don’t know how I stack up against any of them, hence this statement is unbiased: I think merit and need and all around awesome should be factors in the decision. I think it should be decided by committee or whatever. The current system is obviously flawed.

Besides that, we all know that popular doesn’t always equal best. Ashton Kutcher has five zillion followers on Twitter and Ke$ha is a thing.

Proof provided.

To dream, perchance to beg

Alright. I really don’t know exactly how to say this.

I last asked for you guys to vote for me during a contest held to find a resident blogger for a popular website.

I didn’t win, but I think it was a little close.

The next contest I didn’t even mention on the blog, but that was just because I never had a chance to be Cheap Sally’s gojillion dollar saving savvy blogger.

So after all that, I don’t really blame you if you brush this off and ignore it – except please don’t.

Every year, collegescholarships.org grants a $10,000 scholarship to a blogger. The only requirements are that you live in the US, have a blog, and go to college.

Just so happens – and you may not know this since I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it – I am, in fact, a college student. In fact, just this week I was admitted to the University of Mississippi, where I can hopefully finish my BA in record-ass time so I can go on to grad school. Yeah, I’m really doing that. No sarcasm.

So on a whim, I wrote an essay. I talked about how I’d blogged through so many major transitional times in my life, how it meant so much to me to be able to say what I think and feel. How this blog has become part of my identity and a project I adore and never want to leave.

The guidelines say they look for passion and depth. I don’t know how deep I am, but passion I have in spades…because people, this is my life. My kids. My family. My hopes and dreams. If this isn’t my passion then I’ve misunderstood the word.

Now I’m a finalist – and that may not mean a ton since I have no clue how many entries there were – and I’m happy about that.

The final round is based on votes. Which means I have to ask you to vote.

You can vote once a day (though i may be wrong about that) until November 23rd, from any and every device you come across.

Click through, select my name, and submit. The end.

I cannot tell you how much this means. How grateful I am. Please help.

Parenthood the show and my life the disaster

Do you watch “Parenthood?”

You should, you know. It’s brilliant.

20111018-221458.jpg

And basically if I looked like this I feel like my family would always be happy, all branches of it.

But I don’t, and it’s not.

I’m a big believer in family is family. It’s why we have a weird living arrangement and it’s why we all have to make our own peace with who we are as a unit.

I’ve come to realize lately (although I’ve known it for a long time, truth be told) that everyone doesn’t view family like I do.

Instead of a unit, a team of being in it together, there are instead rivals and sides. Secrets and scorecards, whispers and turned backs.

This is new to me. I mean, sure, my family growing up had its own issues. We all got/get on each other’s nerves. And if Josh annoys Stephanie or Stephanie annoys me or Dad is on edge or Mom is…I don’t know…too clean? We deal with it. We move on. Because we’re a family and that’s what we do.

We borrow my mom’s car a lot. It annoys her sometimes but if she wants to say no, she does. No feelings are hurt and nothing is dramatic. And she would never think to bring it up again, like, “you borrowed my car, see how nice I am to you?”

I cannot fathom having an us/them sense about my own family.

But being pushed into it in any capacity is not okay.

I know I’m not perfect. I know I’ve made mistakes and my judgement has been off. But I’ve moved on. I surround myself with people who love me and bring me up. If I stay away from them too long, they don’t stand for it. The road and the phones work both ways, and we use them.

I don’t know how else to live my life. I don’t play teams because it’s a waste of time.

I love my family. Every angle, twist, and branch of it. There’s no room for bad blood or competition.