Pinky promise!

Every once in a while I come across a blog post that just cracks me up. Usually I'm at Kristina P.'s place when this happens (and her last post really did crack me up) but once in a while I'm not. Today I came across this heeelarious post at Rabbit in the Headlights. It's short and sweet and doesn't take much time to read: Dude, What's With My Car?

So yesterday I announced my video contest and within hours I got my first video entry.



From my apostate brother, Stephen!


He's always been one of my biggest supporters when it comes to my writing. (And quite honestly, I think he secretly wishes I was more like Crash in real life.)


So you wanna get a sneak peak at the video?


Can I give a disclaimer first?


1. Pinky promise none of the photos in the video are actual footage from my house. Except the video portion, which came from last Thanksgiving. But I think Stephen has manipulated the footage because somehow he has captured videographic evidence of me inviting my in-laws to move in with us.


That never happened. Pinky promise.


2. If I ever did get a maid, I would not, I repeat NOT, let Stephen pick out her uniform. Mostly because my hub no speaka French.


My hub is more of a Brady Bunch kinda guy. Pinky promise!


And without further ado, thank you Stephen! The video is a gas and I lub it. LY!




For the rest of you who are thinking of entering the video contest, let me clarify that you don't HAVE to pretend you are me trying to convince the SAM-e judges to pick me. I was thinking more along the lines of YOU telling the judges why I am qualified for the job.

Okay, here are the contest rules I posted yesterday:


I'm hosting a contest. A video contest. I've got two sponsors who want me to win and are donating $100 cash each to help me get more votes and views.


I'm targeting teens and tweeners, but anyone can enter. Alls you have to do is make a DEB-e for SAM-e video--30 secs-2 minutes long. It can be dumb. Or fun. Or funny. Or serious. Or gangsta. Preferably a video which starts off by saying "Hi, my name is Deb, and I approve this message." (LOL) (Click here if you don't get that and you want to because you can't stand being on the outside of an inside joke.)

You can dance or sing or talk, but whatever you do pretend the judges are watching. You need to tell/show/coerce/convince the judges why I would make the best Good Mood Blogger.

The video is due Sunday night. You will need to upload your video to YouTube then send me the URL so I can embed it on my blog Monday. Once the videos are posted you will need to rally your peeps to vote for your video (and vote for me while they're at it.) (Gosh, where did I come up with brilliant plan, you ask? hmmmm . . . beats me.)

The voting will run Mon, the 6th through Friday, the 10th. Which just so happens to be the last day of the SAM-e competition.

There will be two winners. (More if I can get more sponsors.) Each winner will receive $100 cash for Christmas.

I'm doing this because I really want to win this job. And I need to show the judges that I'm EXCITED. Even though I'm not excited. I'm tired. (But tired in an EXCITED way.)

Oh, and by the way, even though I'm number 12 in the race, I'm number 6 in the video views-- only 150 views from fourth place.

Sooooooo I'm actually posting my video here in case you want to click on it and increase my numbers.

No pressure, but MAHALO in advance. : )

Videos. And Contests. And Video Contests.

Sooooooo tonight, ironically (after yesterday's post about hope) my hub looked me right in the face and told me that maybe it's time to start turning my attention to keeping the bathrooms clean again.

Sigh!

I knew this day would come.

It's just that I'm really far behind the big boys in the Good Mood Blogger race. Really far behind. Like thousands of votes. That can't look good for me with the judges, right? Even if it only weighs in at 20% of the final decision. So my hub's just being practical. I can't fault him for that. But I will anyway. That's how I roll.

Today I'll be cleaning bathrooms. Tomorrow I'll be looking for a real job.

But see there's still 12 days left to vote so there's still HOPE, right? HOPE WAS HERE and all that jazz. And anyway, even though I know I won't be able to close the tremendous gap, I've come too far and lost too much sleep and spend too many hours wrestling up votes to just pitter out. (Is pitter a word? I know not.)

And some of you have spent too much time and energy too. I can't let you down, right?

Not that I wouldn't lub to pitter out. Believe me, I would. Pittering out is one of my strong suits. I don't have huge amounts of stamina. And I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Actually, I'm not much of a lover either.

I can't even keep my bathrooms clean for goodness sakes!

But. What about. My kids? And YOUR kids? They need to see me TRY my hardest, right? I mean, you can only be a horrible warning for so long. At some point you've got to step up and be a good example.

So, I'm taking a deep breath and catching my second wind. And I'm going to sprint to the finish line.

The Daily Herald ran a story on me today. Asking people to vote. It was super RAD, and sported a large photo of me and Lulu. And my laptop. Luckily my hair wasn't as big as I had feared. And neither was my cleavage. (People don't want to vote for someone with big cleavage. And they would never take advise on how to be happy from someone with big cleavage either. Am I right, or am I right?)

Being interviewed for the newspaper was a little stressful because I really wanted to come across as just another, average, regular, ho-hum girl next door type. Which is hard because I hate being a poser.

But I posed. I staged my whole house for the photo shoot too. You wouldn't believe the trouble I went to to turn my shine down--mess up my perfectly silky, shiny hair, splotch up my skin, poke my self in the eyeballs a few times so I looked like death warmed over.

Then I had to tackle my spotlessly gleaming house. I was grinding dog hair into the carpet and cluttering up the counters with dirty dishes. I was frantically grabbing socks, shoes, backpacks, cereal bowls, candy wrappers, old homework assignments, dirty laundry, hot chocolate mugs, piles of junk mail . . . anything I could get my hands on, and scattering it across the rooms to make the house looked lived in.



Just when I had it looking like a perfect pig pen, my sister comes over and melts a bunch of yummy smelling wax in one of them Scentsy pots. Spoils the whole effect.

What can you do when you're related to Martha Stewart (with a clean record)?

Okay, so I've decided since I'm already so far behind the big boys I'm just going to have a little fun. For the kids. I've got two sponsors who want me to win and are donating $100 cash each to help me do that.

So I'm hosting a contest. A video contest. I'm targeting teens and tweeners, but anyone can enter. Alls you have to do is make a DEB-e for SAM-e video--30 secs-2 minutes long. It can be dumb--the dumber the better. Or fun. Or funny. Or gangsta. Preferably a video which starts off by saying "Hi, my name is Deb, and I approve this message." (LOL) (Click here if you don't get that and you want to because you can't stand being on the outside of an inside joke. And if you love yawner videos.)

You can dance or sing or talk, but whatever you do pretend the judges are watching. You need to tell/show/coerce/convince the judges why I would make the best Good Mood Blogger.

The video is due next Sunday night. One week from today. You will need to upload your video to YouTube then send me the URL so I can embed it on my blog Monday. Once the videos are posted you will need to rally your peeps to vote for your video (and vote for me while they're at it.) (Gosh, where did I come up with brilliant plan, you ask? hmmmm . . . beats me.)

The voting will run Mon, the 6th through Friday, the 10th. Which just so happens to be the last day of the SAM-e competition.

There will be two winners. (More if I can get more sponsors.) Each winner will receive $100 cash for Christmas.

I'm doing this because I really want to win this job. And I need to show the judges that I'm EXCITED. Even though I'm not excited. I'm tired. (But tired in an EXCITED way.)

I'm sure the rules will change and evolve as we go along, but start making your videos . . . NOW!

Good luck.

And while you're deliberating about whether or not to make a video, or have your kids make a video, here's a video I made for your viewing pleasure--starring me and my kids and my dog. Courtesy of JibJab. (It's that JibJab time of year, so go elf yourself silly.)

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Wait! Wait! Wait! Don't leave yet. If you're Spanish speaking I made one for you too because I don't discriminate against Del Taco. In fact I was addicted to Del Taco for a full week last year.


This one only has a link so click here to view Feliz Navidad.


Wait one more. This time for all my hub's co-workers. I bet you guys didn't know he plays a mean drum set. He also plays a nice drum set.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Hope was here!

Hey, I think I figured out SAM-e's strategy for picking their next Good Mood Blogger!


DUH! It's so obvious!


First they ask each contestant to pound the pavement and hit up their friends, family and fans for votes, over and over and over and over again, day after day after day after day, for nearly two months. And then they choose the contestant with the fewest number of votes because that will be the only contestant left with a few remaining potential readers to follow their Good Mood Blog.


Not to mention the only contestant who will still have his/her eyeballs intact to see the keyboard.


Fer reals, raise your hand if you're tempted to poke my eyes out every time you see me framed in yellow screaming, VOTE FOR ME?


Some of the contestants already have 13,000 votes. That means they have 13,000 possible h8ters throwing darts at their photos as we speak, right?


I feel so bad for them.


Me, I only have 3,100 h8ters.


Okay all you h8ters, get your Sharpies out. It's time to let off some steam:




Feel better?


Feel free to throw a few darts too.


I can wait.


Okay, so anyone who knows me, knows that movie wisdom is my favorite kind of wisdom. Well this weekend I got me some wisdom from The Shawshank Redemption. 

May I?


1. Get busy living, or get busy dying. (I would add, or get busy cleaning your bathrooms.)

2. Hope is a good thing, and no good thing dies. (I would add, unless you kill it. With a sharpie.) (just sayin')

3. Brooks was here. (I would add Hope was here too. Until you killed it. With a sharpie.)


I think I want that last quote engraved on my tombstone in all caps.


Hope really was/is/has been here for the past five weeks as I've been anxiously engaged in trying to win myself a job with votes so I don't have to fill out an application and give an interview. 

It's been fun walking around with dirty bathrooms thinking maybe, just maybe, I could actually be the next Good Mood blogger.

But it's been even more fun to see my hub walking around with dirty bathrooms thinking maybe, just maybe I could actually be the next Good Mood Blogger. 

Hope looks really good on my hub when the bathrooms are dirty. It compliments his eyes.  

Maybe looks good on him too.  Maybe is such a versatile word.  So full of possibilities. Possibilities that you never intend to make happen. (Especially at night when your hub gets that look in his eyes, which is so complimented by hope.)  

(You get me?)

I have to tell you my exciting news. A few days ago I said to my hub, "How proud of me will you be if I win this job?"

He didn't even hesitate or stop to choose his words carefully before he blurted out, "I'm already PROUD of you! Just for TRYING!"

Did you hear that peeps? My hub is PROUD of me! ME! 

 That's a pretty intense rush.

Okay, now go VOTE FOR ME! 

I'm just going to post the VOTE link here this time okay. (Only because it's less face space for you to kill with a Sharpie.)

Utarded Food Parties

Raise your hand if you feel like you just returned from a 10 days cruise. On the S. S. Turkey.


Me too! Just polished off my third full-on Thanksgiving dinner and I can't zip up my pants.


Soooooooo, how was/were your food party/(ies) this year?


All three of mine were tremendous, as my MIL would say, although I have to admit food parties in Utah are very very different from food parties in Hawaii?



First of all, in Hawaii it is considered rude to leave a party with the leftover food you brought with you. The host gets all the leftover food to divy out among his guests. You can bring home as many plates of food as you want, but if you bring a bag of chips to a party in Hawaii, consider it gone. For good. Don't even give it a second thought.



(Not that a Polynesian would ever bring a bag of chips to a party. That's haole food. Why bring one bag when you can bring 5 bags, plus a bucket of shoyu chicken, a foil pan of laulau, and a tray of panipopo.)


In Utah you can't even pay your host to take your leftovers off your hands. Yesterday, after dinner, I was like, "So can I please leave this pie with you? And this gravy? And the rolls? Wouldn't you enjoy a few rolls to make turkey sandwiches tomorrow? Can I leave it, please? Please? PLEASE?"


"Oh, NOOOOOOOO," protested the hostesses. "NOOOOOO WAY! I will just eat it if you leave it."



Uhhhh, yeah, that was kinda the POINT! But Whatev!


Another difference between the food parties in Hawaii and the food parties in Utah is the size of the plates. We all know that size doesn't matter, but when it comes to plates, it DOES matter. In Hawaii the paper plates are like lunch trays. Sturdy. With five seperate compartments to keep your food groups organzed.


Do you wanna see the plates at my family party yesterday?

It's the same size as a pie tin, and only an inch bigger than the dessert plates.




It's not my mom's fault though. It's the stores fault. It's all the stores in Utah's fault. Honestly, my mom couldn't find any bigger plates in the whole state of Utah. She said so herself.


And besides, my family doesn't eat very much.


She also said so herself when I frowned on the miniature bowl of gravy she had prepared. So I made a whole nother, huge, honkin', ginormous bowl of gravy, just to show her she was wrong. But she was right. No one ate it. And on my way out the door the hostess threatened to throw it away if I didn't get it the helk out of her house.


Another big difference between a Utarded vs. a Hawaiian style food party is I'm pretty sure they don't watch t.v. programs about cholesterol during Thanksgiving dinner in Hawaii.


And I've never seen anyone where snowman pajamas in public in Hawaii either.



Imagine my chagrin when what to my wondering eyes did appear through my open-minded blinds.




Is that my famdamily? Going on a pre-turkey-dinner walk? In public?

And is that my . . . hub?


Wearing snowman pajamas?????


(Do you think that will ruin my chances at getting the SAM-e job?)


Despite all the differences, one thing remains the same in both Hawaii and Utah--the hypnotic power of Tryptophan:

(Eyeballs added to protect the innocent.) (And because I really like eyeballs.)



Ah, but I jest (except about my hub's snowman pajamas)! I was diggin' on every little thing about my family food parties this year.

The only thing I didn't lub was that Lulu didn't get to come along.

She had to spend Thanksgiving all alone . . .


All by her lonesome . . .


All by her very own self . . .

Yes, it killed me.


Do you think it's weird that I left a few lights on for her. Along with some David Archuleta Christmas music?


And do you think it's weird that I'm writing a letter to the prophet to see if dogs can be sealed to their families forever?

P.S. First time in more than 10 years my hub and I didn't do Black Friday. Instead I cleaned out my closets and . . . you won't believe this . . . started hanging stuff (pictures) (and clocks) (and mirrors) on my bare nekked walls.

And the clocks are set for . . . Utah time . . .


I now know what time it is in Utah.

Do you think I'm almost done grieving?

Do you like my hot cocoa pot?


P.S.S. Oh, and hey, don't forget to click and vote. I'm getting close to 3,000 so I only need 10,000 more in the next 14 days. Easy Peasy lemon squeezy.

Blizzards and Basketball

Well, we weathered the worst blizzard in Utah history.


I've never lived through a blizzard without any snow before, and believe you me, it was rough. Mostly because of what it did to my geraniums.

That darn blizzard murdered them.

But look, look, look! One little flower is a die hard.


It's like double dog daring that blizzard to BRING. IT. ON.

Look how it's hanging on for dear life.


It's almost inspiring, ain't it?


Speaking of inspiring . . . my son played his first high school basketball game today. And his second and third--Sophpmore, JV, and Vars, baby!


You just don't understand, he eats, drinks, guzzles, snarfs, and inhales basketball so this was the culminating moment of months of hard-core, nitty gritty, down and dirty practice. (Not to mention months of me chauffeuring him to that hard-core, nitty gritty, down and dirty practice.)


Last week the coach called after workout and told us our boy had been inspiring during practice.


I told him he had the wrong number.


But after watching him play today I kinda get it.


I think he might be a mutant.


You know what's cool though? He's wearing my lucky #13.


That's got to be a sign, dontcha think? Of what, I know not, but a sign of something or other.


You know what else would be a cool sign of something or other? If I ended this phase II voting with exactly 13,000 votes. Then I would KNOW fer sure that I was born under a lucky star.


Do you think I can do it?


I'm at 2,200 now with 16 days left to vote. That means I have 10,800 votes to pick up. Divided by 16 . . . will somebody do the math?


Anyone? Anyone?


That's less than 700 votes a day, right?



My inspiring son just laughed out loud and said, "That's impossible."


See why I told his coach he had the wrong number?



Let's look to it, peeps.


Good Mood Gig from SAM-e


HAPPY THANKSGIVING! You are all on my gratitude list.


LY!!

The Wolf Pack (and my rage against the D-Word)

Sometimes I forget that in Utah we have a direct line to the Universe. Meaning everyone is in tune, if you get my drift.


Like tonight when my hub called and said we were going to have a blizzard at 6 p.m. so everything was closing down early and all activities for the evening were cancelled.


The thought of being snowed in watching movies and eating Oreos in my PJs all night gave me a thrill and a brainy idea popped into my head out of nowhere--Walmart. Redbox. Snacks. Soda. It wasn't until I got to Walmart that I remembered everyone in Utah is tuned into the same cosmic channel.


We all had the exact same idea at the exact same time.


We all had the exact same idea to do our Thanksgiving shopping at the exact same time too.


Do I live in the Twilight Zone or what? (Minus Edward and Jacob.)


Speaking of Jacob, yesterday I promised photographic evidence that Jacob has read my blog.

How do I know this? My daughter told me so. And he told her so. On Halloween in Laie.

(Close your eyeballs if you're still PG-13.)

So this is Jacob with my daughter (who was dressed up as a klutz. So, in other words, she was dressed up as Bella):

Alls I can say is it's a good thing Edward can't read Bella's mind. (hee hee hee)

Okay, so this is the real wolf pack, right?

And this is the Laie wolf pack:






Raise your hand if you think the director got the casting all wrong.




(Okay, you can open your eyeballs now.)



So tonight while we were waiting for the blizzard to hit, I sauteed mushrooms and onions and poured them over savory chicken and then we all sat around the table eating and laughing together as a family. The house was aglow (since we (my hub (his nickname is we)) finally changed all the burnt out light bulbs. Lulu was curled up in front of the roaring fire in the hearth and vintage Christmas carols wafted through the kitchen when I looked over and noticed that one of our blinds was open so we could watch the snow fall.


For a split second I felt self conscious--almost embarrassed--and I hoped no one was outside looking in. Not because I didn't want them to see us in our Thomas Kincade moment, but because I didn't want them to feel us in our Thomas Kincade moment. I didn't want them to feel that pang of being on the outside. Looking in. And wondering what it feels like to be cozy and warm and eating sauteed mushrooms and onions with your complete family. Intact. By a roaring fire.


And then in a flash there was someone looking in. It was a girl. Young. Teenager maybe. She was so familiar, but I couldn't quite place her. I had an overwhelming desire to shut the blinds so as to spare her the longing she was certainly feeling out there in the cold.


And then it hit me. She was me.


Allow me a moment . . .





Last night I crawled into bed at 3 a.m. I tossed and turned for a good 30 minutes before finally drifting off. I told you that I was chugging Mountain Lightning straight from the bottle and wiping my mouth off like a man, right? And I showed you what my innards looked like, right?





Well it wasn't just because of the SAM-e contest stress. It was also because I was TICKED! I was so dang, stinkin', friggin' ANGRY!


At the d-word.


I've had it up to here with that d-word!


This is WAR!



I am officially declaring war on the d-word. On ALL of the d-words. (Except Debbie.)


(And Dee Dee.)

d-pression, d-scouragement, d-spair . . . even death (when it's preceded by the other d-words).


These words are our enemies and I hereby d-clare that I, Crash Test Dummy, am going to do whatever it takes to drop-kick their yellow bellied booties to the curb.



We can't let them invade our minds and hearts anymore!!



As my boy FloRida would say, "LET'S GET 'EM!"

RRRRaaaaaRRRRRRRRR!



(Are you scared of me yet?)

I hate to lose. Mostly because I hate to feel the loss part that losing always brings--the vast empty hollowness of it. But there's nothing worse than losing to those d-mn, d-ceptive d-words.

The Red Raiders 4 Life lost one of their own to the d-word yesterday.


This is Dee Dee:

As a girl--a young girl--who lost her father to the d-words, I send my love and aloha to all the peeps back home in Hawaii who suddenly find themselves on the outside looking in.

My friend Dana and I are going to make a magic quilt next and I'm going to send it to Dee Dee's parents.


Aloha Oe Dee Dee.



Safe passage.

P.S. THIS is why they created Gangsta Rap!

A few of my favorite things . . .

Guess what is on t.v. at this very moment, not far from the midnight hour? Guess! Guess! Guess!

Shakespeare in Lub.

I LUB it when Shakespeare is in lub! Especially when Joseph Fiennes pretends to be Shakespeare in lub.

Do you think this is a message from the Universe that I am going to get this Good Mood Blog gig?

And that I'm going to play tennis and eat Pad Thai and listen to Mozart until I live happily ever after?

I think so too! (unless, as Shakespeare in lub would say, the story ends as stories must sometimes. With tears. And a journey.)

(I can do tears. And a journey. If I must.)

(If you didn't get all this Shakespeare talk, click here. And hey, watch my video and cast a vote while you're at it.)

Okay, just in case I win, I've written a list of things that make me smile:

1. Power

Power. is. awesome.

Particularly power that comes from being able to speak your mind. And be heard.

There is nothing more powerful than raising your voice. Especially when that voice is put to music.

Tonight I went to a living room concert at Tiffany's house. Tiffany is my cute friend who fell into a swimming pool in the process of cleaning it. Fully clothed. In November. Seven months pregnant.

(I know what you're thinking. Who cleans their pool fully clothed?)

So Tiffany hosted a living room concert starring Herod the Fink, a delightfully witty, whimsical, smart, sassy, folksy Christmas band.

This is what they sound like in Tiffany's living room when they're making us laugh and clap: (That's me laughing and clapping, btw.)

And this is what they sound like in the studio:

And here is what their fingers and feet look like next to an Australian Rockbox.

And here is what my son's feet looked like when he showed up to the living room concert after basketball practice. In the middle of November.

Check out Herod the Fink if you want to schedule your own living room concert before Christmas, (they only have six spots left so get a move on) or if you want to buy their latest album, Back to 337, for Christmas (hint hint). Look to it.

And if you'd like a free signed CD of their latest release, you're in luck because they just so happened to donate one. Alls you have to do to be eligible is vote for me. Tweet me. Facebook me. Blog me.

One entry per each good deed.  (This is the good deed, btw.)

Don't forget to leave a comment so I know you're in.

2. Mountain Dew

(Mountain Lightning works too, since it only costs 77 cents as opposed to the $1.25 that the real deal costs.)

Mountain Dew/Lightning is one of my favorite things because of the way it heightens my already quivering contest-fatigued innards.

This is exactly what my innards look like right now:

Mostly because this morning I began sipping some Mountain Lightning ever so delicately and gently from the cap. But by this evening I was chugging it straight from the 2 liter bottle. And then wiping my mouth off like a man.

J/K peeps! I'm a lady through and through. I never wipe my mouth like a man after I chug straight from a 2 liter bottle.

3. Lulu

Lulu is better than power OR Mountain Lightning put together. I would give up blogging for Lulu if I had to choose. I would even give up Shakespeare. And all because of one three letter word.

I LUB Lulu so dang, stinkin', friggin' much.

BTW, not to be rude, but Whyoming is not very smart. It can't even spell. Look at this gas station I snapped photographic evidence of on my way to Colorada:

4. Starving Art

Art. is. power. (which is probably why I dig it so much.)

And artists. are. powerFULL. Especially starving artists.

I recently read a captivating little Christmas book called What Think Ye of Christmas, written by Ester Rasband and illustrated by Jana Winters Parkin. (Do you think they asked Jana to illustrate it because her middle name is Winters?)

Another one of my favorite things is wielding my power to support starving artists. Especially when I see something special in them. And I don't mean special as in, "you have a nice personality" special, although I'm sure Jana does have a nice personality. I mean special, as in unique and gifted and A. MAZE. ING.

What makes Jana's Christmas water color illustrations so special is her use of the color purple. And I don't mean the color purple as in Alice Walker and Oprah Winfrey.

I mean the color purple as in rich and royal and romantic. (Told ya I could alliterate.) The whole book is full of this rich, royal, romantic . . . esque . . . ness.

If you want to know more about this poignant book, Miss Heidi said it best here. (And while you're at Miss Heidi's read this because her sequel to Miss Delacort Speaks her mind is up for pre-sale.)  

This book would make a lovely Christmas gift for grandmas, mas, visiting teachee ladiez, friends, SILs, MILs and CTDs.  

To find out how you can order it, I lifted this right off Jana's blog: (Is that bad?) 

You can order the book on my website, and still get a killer deal! If you order ten or more, the quantity discount lets you steal these books at less than $8 apiece. On top of that, if you enter the discount code CHARRETTE you get an additional 5% off your entire order, reserved only for my blog friends. So go crazy!

Miss Jana, can I give one of your books away?  Hows about you, Miss Heidi?  Or Mr Donald J. Carey? Can I? Can I? Can I?

5. Sick People 

 

If I had my druthers, I would outlaw the "s" word, but since it's inevitable let's roll up our sleeves. And put our shoulders to the wheel. And stamp out the "s" word.  Especially in children. Children should NOT be allowed to be the "s" word.  

I can't wait until Lulu is old enough to become a magic dog. Imagine how many children with the "s" word she'll be able to heal! 

DeNae over at Back Ordered Life has started a foundation for a little boy named Matthew Blanchard who is suffering from the "s" word.

Click here to read about him and to donate. (I donated and I only have $70 in my bank account.)

If you donate I'll give you one more entry into the giveaways.  

BTW, pay attention because I'm going to call for flannel fabric soon over @ my Magic Quilt blog so I can make Matthew a magic quilt with my very own two hands.    

6. Famous People Who Read My Blog 

Anyone who is everyone knows that I lub famous people. And I lub them even more when they read my blog. 

You all remember when Jack Johnson asked if he could read my blog, right? And then there was the time Ellen Hopkins read and commented on my dad's drug addiction post. And then there was that time yesterday when Brandon Sanderson asked permission to eyeball it. 

Well I have photographic evidence that Jacob and his wolfpack read my blog. You heard me right.  Stay tuned because I pinky promise I will share it tomorrow.