The Backstory to Tomorrow's Blog or "It Sucked and Then I Cried" Part 3A

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In case you missed Part 2 Click Here

"Mom could you, please, babysit on April 1st, so we can go see Dooce in San Francisco?" I beg my Mom. "Then I can write a blog, and become the famous writer, you always knew I'd be, please."

I always throw in the famous writer bit when I really need her to babysit. It's an easy way to say, "Yes Mom, of course, you're right." And when she's right, she is usually more willing to help. Plus, I love the sound of it.

Before she agrees to babysit she asks, "is she the one you were so excited was following you on Twitter?"

"Mom, you're embarrassing me in front of the whole world wide web!" Only a parent can do that, I think?

Oh well, I might as well tell you the story now, since you're probably all ears. For a few hours of my life, I thought Heather Armstrong, the most popular personal blogger in the world, was following me on Twitter.

At that time, she was only following 60 people, but had over 100,000 followers. And I thought, "Wow, I'm one of the 60 people she is following. I must be very, very, very special."

I know that's enough verys to give nearly anyone an allergic reaction, that would include, but not be limited to, nausea.

I am so excited, I phone and text all my friends the good news, "Dooce is following me on twitter."

Most of them asked, "what's twitter?" Some of them thought she was following my blog, but couldn't find her in my blog followers list. While others were like, "What's Dooce?" Ah, technology can be so confusing.

Within a few hours, or at least by the next day, I realize dooce is not following me, I'm just following her. Love, some times, is a one way street.

Later, I had to phone and text every one I had notified "oh, it's just me following her. Nevermind."

Twitter is confusing. See, I got all mixed up by the followers and following. Twitter is, also, very disappointing. At least, I didn't announce it on the blog. Then, anyways.

So there you have it! My humiliating "dooce is following me on twitter, hold please, fail!" story.

Now, my Mom is pretty technical and happened to be at my house when I was googling the San Francisco bookstore for directions to Dooce's book signing. (I no longer recommend google directions, got nothing against their maps, though).

"What's the address?" asks my Mom.

"301 Castro Street, Mountain View," I say.

"Mountain View?" says my Mom. "Mountain View is not San Francisco."

"Mom, I know Mountain View isn't San Francisco," I say. "Her website says San Francisco, and the address underneath it says Mountain View."

I knew right then exactly what my Mom was thinking. The tape playing in her head went something like this, "This is a trick! She's mixing up San Francisco with Mountain View because it's all a lie! She's making up the whole Dooce book signing thing, and she's really going surfing in Mountain View!"

Fortunately, we were looking at a map of Mountain View so my Mom realizes, "Wait, she can't surf in Mountain View!"

And if I wasn't making it up, she was still worried that I was going to the wrong bookstore The one that wasn't in San Francisco. Therefore, I would never be famous. Then she would be wrong. Now she was having second thoughts about babysitting at all.

My Mom always thinks I'm trying to trick her, when, in fact, I'm only trying to trick her some of the time. And this wasn't one of those times.

Fortunately, she believed me and covered her babysitting shift like a good Nana.

Note: This is a bit of a backstory to tomorrow's blog where Heather Armstrong of dooce.com will actually be quoted. Say it with me y'all, Jesus Amen!

Garfield is Hungry

I Can Has Cheezburger In My Bed


No food for me, I'm watching my figure.

My oldest son, Vinny, is always hungry. In fact, his first word wasn't Mama or Dada. It was Eat, without the T, right around five months of age.

"What's your favorite thing to do?" I ask Vinny.

"Eat," he answers, of course.

He idolizes Garfield the Cat, who also lives to eat and sleep. I wish Vinny would focus more on Garfield's sleeping hobby, and less on the eating hobby. It would be cheaper and quieter.

"Did you know Garfield fantasizes?" asks Vinny.

"About what?" I ask.

"When Garfield is sleeping he fantasizes about eating," Vinny says chuckling. "And when he's eating he fantasizes about sleeping

Then Vinny goes on, "when Garfield is on a diet he eats celery and leaves." Seems like Garfield might prefer the math diet.

Then there's the problem of Odie.

"Vinny, Gio is not Odie the dog?" I keep repeating over and over.

Gio you are not Odie or any other dog," I protest. "Get off your hands and knees, and stop drinking from the dog's bowl!"

One day Vinny was telling his friend a funny Garfield story.

"Whose Garfield?" asks his friend, while Vinny laughs out loud at his own story. "Oh I know, he's that rude cat," she says answering her own question.

Exactly.

"And your other favorite thing to do in the world, besides eat?" I ask Vinny.

"Read," Vinny answers.

What a relief! At least half of him aspires to greater activities than Garfield. Reading is quiet, and doesn't require money, as long as the libraries stay open. Even better, when he reads, he's so involved in his book, not only does he tune out the outside world, but he doesn't even think about food.

Math Diet: How to Send The Muffin Top Back to the Bakery Where it Belongs

Tired of still looking pregnant, I started a new diet. I didn't get this new diet from a book. I may have skimmed one diet book in my entire life. They are just too fatty, I mean faddy, for my tastes.

I'm following the diet of a friend. The diet consists of eating more protein than carbs, sounds like a familiar book to me.

"Your carb intake should be 1/3 of your protein intake," says my friend. "Eat a little more protein, as opposed to filling up on carbs. If you don't burn the carbs right away they get stored as fat."

"What's right away?" I ask.

"That day," she answers. "Protein doesn't get stored as fat if you don't immediately use it."

Excited about my new diet, I shared it with another friend, but "it was too mathy for her."

I feel so lucky to finally have my own personal diet coach to keep me on track. She even texts me through out the day to make sure I'm eating correctly.

"What's for lunch?" she asks.

"Salad, avocado, chicken, 1 slice of bread," I text back.

Later the same day she checks in on my meal, "What's for dinner?" Then predictably goes on to comment, "salad, avocado, chicken, bread?"

"Asparagus, avocado, brown rice, steak," I text.

"Rice has too many carbs," she texts.

"But it's brown rice," I text defensively .

"Rice and bread it's all the same," she texts correctively. "Too many carbs."

When I have weak moment she texts me strength:

"This poptart is whispering sweet nothings in my ear," I text weakly.

"Too much carbs," she command texts. "Tell it to go get its sweet on with someone else."

"But this poptart really wants me," I text lustily . "And it's berry hot."

"Drop kick the poptart," she texts violently .

She even brag texts about her snacks and meals.

"I just had a salad with carrots for mid day snack," she boast texts . "No meat, no carbs."

I can't eat that, I would starve on that menu. Hmmmmm, mid day snack? I wonder what she had for lunch, so I ask.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask," she shamefully texts . "Waffles with whipped cream and strawberries and 4 slices of bacon."

Not one, or two, or three, but four! pieces of bacon! Wilco Tango Diet! But even with her transgressions, her "mathy" diet still seems to be working.

When she doesn't text me her dietary updates, she posts them on her Facebook status:

"yumm... chicken and waffles."

And

"Tamales!!! Tamales EVERYWHERE!!!"

"the tamales are a little small for my appetite so I need 2 or 3!"

Sometimes, I am not even sure if she's talking about food, but she's a professional so I never question her out loud.

Thanks to my friend's dietary support via texting and Facebook status updates, my pants are fitting a little loser and I'm wearing my belts on the next notch up or is it down? You know what I mean.

I've only been on the Math Diet a few weeks, and I'm already seeing results. Soon, muffin top will be something I can run out and buy at the bakery, instead of having to face in the mirror everyday.

"It Sucked and Then I Cried" Part Dooce

Part 2: Waiting for Heather Armstrong, author of "It Sucked and Then I Cried," inside Books Inc.

Missed Part 1? Click here.

I walked into the bookstore on my own, while Stefan retrieved the talking, blogging, camera, and found the front row was filled up. Luckily, the second row was open. Even better, there was a nice person already in it, so I sat down next to her, and we chatted, while waiting for her Awesomeness to appear.

"Oh I wish I had eaten before we came," I say to my new friend.

She was so kind, she offered to save our seats, while we got a bite to eat, in the cafe upstairs. Thank you!

It would have been really embarrassing to pass out in the middle of Heather's presentation. On second thought, maybe she would have written a blog about me or at least a tweet.............Oh well, another missed opportunity.

The saving of seats episode made Stefan very nervous.

While we were eating he kept asking, "are you sure she's going to save our seats? What if they don't let her save our seats? The bookstore is filling up, we better get down there before someone takes our seats."

Heather showed up 15-20 minutes before speaking, in a black dress with high heels. Did I mention she's seven months pregnant? Very impressive.

When I was pregnant, I may have worn high heels once, but never since. And my heels were probably too low to qualify as high heels, in any reputable fashion blog. The rest of the time, I walked around with Stefan's massaging hands on the bottoms of my feet.

Yes, if pregnancy was going to be hard on me, then it was going to be harder on him.

But Heather was making pregnancy look easy, energetic, hilarious and HOT! Yes, all the guys in the room, lit up when she made her blow job microphone reference. She's bringing sex back to pregnancy. The visual lingered over the room for at least 30 seconds. Hopefully nobody came in their pants. Actually, as I recall most people were wearing pants.

With Heather's permission I recorded the entire chat. Thank Goddess, because I was so overwhelmed with inspiration I didn't write down one thing she said. I sat in my chair soaking in her Heatherness, which is off the charts.

I was mesmerized, hypnotized, hearing Katy Perry in my head, and getting a "how to blog better" psychic download, all at the same time.

No wonder I was feeling light headed.

I first came across Heather Armstrong, in August of 2008, in the New York Times. It was an article about her blog, you can read here. I started writing my blog a week later, after not writing for 18 years.

So when I say stumbling across Heather Armstrong and dooce.com was life changing for me, it's an extreme understatement. I finished Journalism School in 1990, then took an alternative path in massage therapy and teaching at a massage school. Every year was a waiting game.

Waiting for my inspiration to come and waiting for the day I would write again. Then snap, seemingly over night after reading Heather's blog, my inspiration had finally arrived.

Sitting in the bookstore audience, listening to Heather speak and read from her book, was emotional for me and nothing short of heaven on Earth. Her performance rendered me speechless and completely star struck. Read: "I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!"

Even if I never have six million hits a month, at least I'm writing again, every day, even. Besides my goal, for now anyways, is to have one million blog hits a month. It's a start.

"But what did she say!?" Screams someone from the Internet.

Oh sorry but you'll have to wait for part 3 to find out. That could take some time.

Yes, a few people showed up to listen to
author Heather Armstrong read from
her New York Times Bestseller,
"It Sucked and Then I Cried."
Standing Room Only!

"It Sucked and Then I Cried"

Getting There Part 1

We made it to the book signing of Heather Armstrong's book, "It Sucked and Then I Cried," last night with an hour to spare. However, there was a bit of collateral damage along the way.

One burned finger. Mine. I really should take off my shirt before I iron it, I suppose.

One threatening phone call.

Me: Where are you?

Stefan: I couldn't find Vinny, he wasn't where he was supposed to be......

Me: Save it. I'm leaving in five to 10 minutes, where are you? I ask again hoping he's close because I really don't want to go without him.

Stefan: Three minutes away.


Me: Good, followed by Click

Then I rush to put on my pants before he arrives. Yeah, all that whining and I wasn't even ready. But it wasn't as if he could see me through the phone. Yes, I was getting my grump on good.

One missed exit.

Our geographical challenge was mainly due to me being in charge of the directions. I detest maps, because well I'm retarded when it comes to reading them, so I didn't print the map out. I prefer a little bit of left here, right there, and so on.

I believe those are called directions. If Google's directions had been accurate, my directions wouldn't have been a problem.

Stefan's mantra for the entire night was, "I really should have looked at the map." He repeated his mantra the rest of the way up and all the way home, though I'm sure he wasn't focused on his breathing. I agreed.

The guy at the bookstore, didn't help either.

"Oh no, don't take that exit," says Bookstore Guy. Which, as it turns out, was the right exit.

I should have known he was, at least as geographically challenged as me, when he said, "wow, I really should know this," in response to me asking, "what exit do I take from northbound 101?"

Fortunately the second time I phoned the bookstore, I spoke to someone who knew the area.

At this point Stefan started to freak out, probably because he thought we had to be there in five minutes.

"No biggie, it's only 6 o'clock and Heather isn't scheduled to speak until 7:30 pm," I say without my grumpies.

"Oh," he says with relief. And surprise since I'm never an hour and a half early to anything. There's a direct connection between being inspired and being on time, for me, anyways.

We parked and Stefan only had to go back to the car twice for me. Once to take my sunglasses to the car, and a second time to retrieve the camera that kept taking blurry pictures.

"Not enough light, to get my zoom on," pleads the camera in defense. "Besides, she kept moving around."

What? You don't have a talking camera? I think my camera may even have it's own blog. I just haven't been able to find it. I hope it isn't posting naked pictures of me, or worse, on the Internet. Oh well, at least, they'll be blurry.

Tomorrow Part 2: Waiting for Heather Inside the Bookstore
Yes, that's right I'm going to drag this out, or break it up for the busy folks, depends on how you look at it. There's even going to be a part 3. I think. I may even post part 3 Saturday. But I do promise to post Part 2 tomorrow.