Read This Crap Dot Com

After attending that writing conference that I clearly can't shut up about, I came to a very scary conclusion....I want my own website. This little deal you are reading now has worked out for the most part, but I have been getting a lot of feedback from other writers and bloggers that if I am to be taken seriously (people will take me seriously?) I should contemplate a dot com. There were huge obstacles in actually pursuing that option including cost, learning Wordpress, figuring out what dot com I should buy, and cost. Did I mention cost? Yeah, it's a bit of an obstacle to convince my husband to shell out thousands of dollars on a website when there isn't even ten dollars coming in. He's a business guy, he wants to know when he will see a return on investment. Even I know that throwing money at something that may or may not make money in two years is a shitty business model. What I needed to know was how to get from where I am now to where I want to be and whether or not I would need to sell my car to get there. I surveyed a lot of people about where I should go with this project because I am a writer, not a website designer or professional blogger. There were free options; learn Wordpress and build it yourself or stay with what you have and keep adding material. There were really fucking expensive options; I received a proposal from one company with a projected cost of $4,795. I nearly fainted, fell down a flight of stairs and broke my collar bone.

After my heart began beating again, I made some decisions that I am really excited about sharing. I have hired someone I know to build my site, I chose a dot com that I thought would fit my needs for the long haul, and I am meeting with a very talented photographer this weekend to whip up some ideas for website pics. For a long time, I didn't have a vision for my writing, honestly I didn't believe I was a writer. Now I feel inspired to create a place for my writing that represents who I am, where I am headed and something that I hope people are excited to check out. Obviously, there is a cost associated with it, but it feels manageable and I didn't want anything for Christmas or my birthday or Mother's Day or any other holiday for the next two years anyway.

What does this all mean? I don't have a fucking clue. It will be a new place to read my writing, a place where people can find out about other writers, and hopefully one day, a place to buy or download or check out a published book by me. That is weird to think about. I'll keep you posted on how the building of my website is progressing. I am interested in what you like to see on websites? What keeps you coming back for more? Free bacon? Mind blowing photography? Book reviews? Let me know in the comments. I can't promise anything, but you know how I like a good survey.

Conferences And Why Bother

How I embody the term, hot mess. 

What was I thinking? I absolutely detest being around large groups of people, I don't know how to dress myself appropriately and only grown ups go to conferences. Grown ups with real jobs and important briefcases. I don't even own a pencil skirt. Or a blazer. Jesus, what the fuck am I going to wear? When Erin, the editor or mythirtyspot, mentioned this "fantastic conference coming to Salt Lake", I thought "Cool for those important people". Then she said I should go; make some connections, listen to some speakers and the dreaded....market yourself. Ugh. I'm really terrible all three of those things, so I'm not sure how I took it this far. Let's blame my husband. Erin warned me that the tickets would sell out quickly and that I should really keep my eyes peeled for the email regarding availability. I probably should have asked her up front how much the ticket would be before I yapped my mouth to the hubs about it. He was more excited than I was. "If it's here in Utah, you should really go. That is a great opportunity."

It is a great opportunity. For normal people. For people who don't have anxiety about their writing and their inability to see themselve as an adult. Or even dress like one. After signing up for the Alt Summit newsletter, I received an email regarding the conference that they would be hosting in Salt Lake City this January.
"The cost of per ticket will be around $600." Around??? Like, around below and within my price range of $200? Here is what I can buy with $600 and yes this was my first thought. One month's worth of groceries for my family, a Cancun vacation for one including airfare and all-inclusive amenities for a week, a down payment on a new car that isn't rusting out on the driver's side door, twelve cartons of cigarettes and a box wine, or gasoline in my car six months. That is a lot of cool and important things. Okay, some don't fit in either of those categories, but they add up to $600.

My plan was to see the email, pretend I didn't see the email and then say "Oh the tragedy of it all!!! I missed my chance to pay $600 for a two day conference with people in blazers who have tens of thousands of people reading their blog. It's unfortunate, but there is always next time." Then I would do the same thing next time.

Here is how it worked out instead. Erin messaged me. "They just opened the site to buy tickets. Just wanted to make sure you saw the email." I felt bad already. Then I saw the email from Alt Summit.
"Get your tickets for our Salt Lake City conference at Grand America for $630. Limited number of tickets available."
Here is the truth of the matter. I didn't have fifteen bucks to put gas in my car. I was eagerly awaiting payday and packing myself peanut butter and honey sandwiches. There wasn't $630 for a conference ticket. We had just bought new glasses for school, new clothes for the kids and my car needed breaks. Our dog was sick and I had maxed out my credit card taking him in to the vet. Nada, my friends, there was no money. We had our savings account for emergencies which had been recently depleted and we were headed into the over draft on our personal account. I tell you this not so you are sad, but because this is real life. There was no way I was going to need a blazer.

Here is what I expected to happen; I would mention how ridiculous the cost was, have a good laugh with my hubs about the whole absurd ordeal and go on with my life. It didn't play out that way.
"Holy shit, they are seriously charging $630 for those conference tickets I told you about." I said.
"Do they have any left?" he asked.
"I don't know. I just saw an email from Erin, but it is probably close to selling out. Isn't that nuts, though? Who pays that much for two days?"
"You need to get on your laptop and see if you can get a ticket."
I was floored. "There is no money, like anywhere."
He pulled out a business card. "If this doesn't work, we know it wasn't meant to be. You deserve to be there. You are a great writer, you have a great blog and this is your job."

The card went through and a few hours later the conference was sold out. I didn't think it was possible and that's where I get backed up. These are the terms that float around in my brain; I can't, there isn't, no way, stop dreaming. My hubs, on the other hand, sees the possibility in everything. Thankfully, including me.

My Giving Challenge: Parting With Money And Food

Quote courtesy of cloverquotes.com


Day 12: Parting With Money

There are times in my life where I needed help. I was 19 years old when I started school and decided that having roommates while I attempted to work full time, attend classes at night and try to sleep, just wasn't going to work out. I found an awesome deal on my first place sans roommates and carted over the four pieces of furniture I owned. The joy quickly wore off as I realized that I only made enough money to pay rent, utilities, a small car payment and gas to get around. I was broke. My fridge was bare and my weekends consisted of laundry and feeding my face at my parent's house in hopes that I could consume enough food to last through the winter. Or at least until next weekend. My best friend was living at home at the time and he spent many evenings picking me up from school and taking me out for fast food, on his dime. My mom would show up to my apartment with Tupperware bowls filled to the brim with macaroni salad and a grocery bag full of snacks that would get me through until my next payday. It saved my life.

I have a family member who is in need of assistance in his life right now, and while I am not financially rich by any means, I am blessed to have the basics and more in my life covered. My gift today was a card, filled with blessings and good luck, a book that inspired me, and a check. When my husband asked me what the check was for I said "It's a gift. It's for whatever he chooses it to be for." I was blessed to have people feed me when times were tough and I am grateful to have the opportunity to share that with someone I love. The quote above is true....the more I give, the richer I feel.

Day 13: Food

It's interesting how many times this has shown up for me during this challenge, giving food to others. Growing up, my friends thought we had the cool house. We had a pantry full of snacks, soda pop, sugar cereals and chips in dozens of flavors. They were for everyone. Food was something that you shared, enjoyed with others and didn't hoard for only yourself. As a child, my dad went hungry more than I care to think about and he made it his life mission to ensure his children never knew what it was like to go to bed without a meal. We spent more on our grocery bill than we ever did on clothing or electronics. Food was love. Food was shared. While I did struggle with weight issues, I am forever grateful for what my parents taught me about sharing food. My mom was always making cookies for neighbors and casseroles for families who had a new baby. We ate meals together and celebrated holidays with a bounty that filled our house with the endearing smell of baked bread and succulent turkey. We shared love and we shared food.

When I was younger, my maternal grandma lived on a farm where we would spend our Sundays playing board games, investigating the attic and eating grandma's rolls. The rolls I spoke of in the last post. I wish grandma was here to make them, because yeast and I are mortal enemies. I have never attempted to make her rolls or any others after an incident that resulted in hockey puck style white bread. However, after sharing that recipe with family and friends, I was craving those rolls along with some yummy soup. I was also missing my grandma like crazy. So, without the assistance of anyone else, I took a deep breath and pulled the yeast out of my fridge. After mixing and covering my bowl, I checked back to see if I needed to punch yeast in the face. The dough had doubled in size. I had done it!!!! I made those rolls my bitch and we ate one of the best meals I have had in weeks. The recipe  makes over two dozen rolls so I bagged up a dozen for my next door neighbor. I can't tell you how many times she has saved my bacon when I ran out of eggs in the middle of breakfast, forgot to buy more baking powder or recently didn't have toilet paper in my front bathroom. I wanted to say thank you. She sent me a text after her roll delivery and here is what it said:

"Thank SO much!!! I've had a rough morning. A homemade roll smothered  in butter and honey sounds perfect to turn my day around."

Grandma would have wanted it that way.

I Ask, The Universe Delivers:Two More Days of Giving.

Image property of buzzle.com

Monday July 7, 2013 Day 3: Scary Hair

I don't do hair. That's why I decided to cut mine super short last year and I only attempt to grow it out for about 30 days until I have a mullet and realize that I look like I have given up on life, at which point I cut it again. My extremely small list of hairstyle abilities includes pony tails, side pony tails and regular braids. The end. My daughter has beautiful long hair and access to internet videos that instruct you on thousands of hairstyles that look more intricate than than a boondoggle bracelet. Unfortunately, she has grown up having mediocre hairstyles or bob cuts, which I always suggested for my convenience. If shaving girls' heads for summer was a thing, she would be in trouble.

She had been asking me to watch this video for a few days and I felt that I would rather eat pickled beets while doing back bends than play beauty shop. It was an updo with an upside down french braid and messy bun at the top.
"I don't know how to french braid, kid. You need to talk to Grandma if you want fancy hair like that." (I'm known to pass off that shit to my mom because she is good at everything. Everything.)
"Mom, it shows you how to do it step by step. Please. Just watch it and see if we can try it on my hair."
After a a challenging day with my son he was finally crying for dad in the other room, so I sat with her on the couch and watched the video. This would be my gift to her.

We watched and researched and I wasn't sure I was up to the hair challenge. Then we spent an hour in my bathroom trying two different hairstyles, talking about girl stuff and laughing. I tried french braiding for the first time in a decade and when I showed her my failed attempt, she melted my heart.
"It's beautiful, Mom. I love it."
I'm pretty sure she gave me a gift far beyond the hour I spent fixing her hair. Far beyond.

Tuesday July 8, 2013 Day 4: Ask And You Shall Receive. For Real.

I was planning to make zucchini bread for my next door neighbor who keeps her yard beautiful year round and who is a very private person. I'm not sure we have spoken more than a few words in the two years since we moved in. While I would still give that gift, it would become clear that I was meant to give two gifts today.

As I am driving my daughter to her acting class I have a strange thought "If there were a panhandler on my trip today, I would give them money." There aren't panhandlers where I live. We live in a small golf community connected to two small town and while I'm sure there is a homeless population, we don't see it. There are no cardboard signs or people on the street corner with guitars and change jars. In the twelve years since I moved back here, I have never seen a panhandler. I have seen people selling puppies and tamales at WalMart and people hitchhiking on the main road, but never a panhandler. My thought seemed silly and fruitless. I would be baking when I got home and gifting my neighbor.

As I drove back through town to pick my daughter up a couple hours later, I saw a young woman on the corner of the main road. With a cardboard sign. "Struggling and disabled. Anything will help."
Wait....what????? There is no possible way I created that. Is there? I keep driving and commit to stop on my way back so I won't be late picking up my daughter. I had planned on giving this woman the two dollars I keep in my change holder for car washes and drink stops, but as I get closer I know I need to pull a $20 bill out of my wallet. That is 1/4 of my spending money for this pay period. Any Starbucks coffee, racer back tank, movie ticket or meal out with friends comes out of this money and I spend it wisely. It has to last. It was weird, but I didn't worry about what I couldn't buy this week. I have all I need...a nice home, my health, food in my fridge and more clothes than I could wear in a month.

Here is my other hang up. Is she really disabled? What will she do with the money? This is always where I go when I give money, but part of the challenge is to give with your whole heart. I began to say an affirmation in my mind in order to move past my questions.  "Today I give without judgement". And I did.

I parked the car, got out and asked this young woman how she was doing.
"I've been better."
"Well, this is for you. I hope it helps." I said.
"Thank you and God bless."

He already has.

Check out my new post on mythirtyspot. Success and marriage. What it means when one person is making it  out in the world while the other one is at home.
http://www.mythirtyspot.com/2013/07/his-mine-and-ours-when-your-spouse-is.html

Give Me My Money!!!!

Anyone out there remember getting allowance for doing the dishes, cleaning your room or going to school? Me either. Let's bring that shit back, ASAP. My husband and I recently started down the allowance highway and I for one am starting to regret we ever did. When our kids were young, we had them help with chores sans monetary benefit and paid for all the little extras they wanted. Snow cones, toys, candy, ice cream and dollar store shit that broke before we made it home. Our reasoning for allowance was to teach our kids about the value of money and let them decide what was more important, the $4.00 snow cone or saving for a huge Lego set that would be built and torn down in less than an hour. Decisions, decisions. It's not working out as well as we had hoped. The fight to get these brats to do chores has worsened, because now they see it as a negotiation tool to obtain more cash for less work. It's tricky business.

Us: "Okay, 7, it's your turn to do the dishes."
7: "I'll do it if you give me one more dollar of allowance."

Wrong, you little Wall Street tycoon, that is included in the $20.00 a month that we drop in your piggy bank and let me just say, that is more than I got during my entire childhood. It's become some sort of bargaining tool and it comes with attitude that I had hoped was reserved for those little assholes on My Sweet 16, where parents abuse their kids by spending $5,000 on a fucking birthday party. Shoot me, if I ever invite you to one of those. Here's a normal conversation with 10.

Us: "Will you please clean up the front room and take all your stuff upstairs?"
10: "Why do I have to do everything?"

Yes, folks, she does everything. If by everything, you mean one chore a day that takes a maximum of 15 minutes. When I was a kid, back in the age of the dinosaurs, we did chores because we lived and ate in our parent's house. That was just part of the deal. These little monkeys have more cash in their ceramic pig than I have in my wallet at any given moment. I have been half tempted to sneak in their rooms, stuff that cash in my undies and make my way to Athleta for a mommy day out. We do make them pay for any extras they want and that has seemed to expand their horizons on how fast money can be spent, but the work included to get that money seems to be lost on them.

This parenting thing is a work in progress and a pretty fucking expensive venture at that. I'm ready to kick it old school with these punks and tell them what my dad told me when I asked for money..."Get a job."

C'est La Vie

What is the old adage...bad things come in sets of three? Once you hit three you are somehow more likely to have a million wonderful things happen? That may be true but I think I had worn out my lucky streak because the last two weeks have given me a violent case of diarrhea and I am pretty sure it's not normal to feel like your stomach in on fire every time you digest food. Ulcers anyone?
I had a good streak and I will be the first to admit it. Great job, friends, happy kids, wonderful marriage, reliable cars, enough money to be comfortable and an all around stable life. Then we went on vacation. It was wonderful until we were heading home and I saw black smoke pouring from the back of our van. Between the tow, the fix, the unexpected radiator, the rental car and gas to drive over 2,000 miles we completely wiped out our savings. Let the panic attack begin. So is that one bad thing or like five?
Since this little episode it seems that every time I turn around something in the house is broken, ruined, needs replacing or is leaking. Is it possible to be tested to the point of sheer madness? Every time I get the mail it's another unexpected medical bill, dental bill, or we-want-to-fuck-you-over bill and frankly it's more than my little heart can stand. I am pretty sure I hit my three....or fifty. I want my lucky streak back. I read about a woman who has won the Texas Lottery four times at a grand total of 24 million. YES PLEASE!!! Thank you for the reminder that money is not everything and the best things in life are free. Got it. Free won't fix my car, my dishwasher, buy school clothes, pay medical bills or buy groceries. It also won't pay for the lifetime supply of Tums that I am going to need after living through the last 14 days.