Um. Oops.

So, I'm sitting here cruising the 'net this morning, and I pop over to our blog and I think, "Man! When is someone going to put up a post today? I mean, what is with us? We're all stressed or something this week. No one is posting." And then I go about my day, you know, cleaning up breakfast, checking on my sick kid, making sure my other kid who doesn't have school today is doing his massive history project instead of sneaking in a bit of Calvin and Hobbes. I start thinking about what I'll throw together for dinner. But first we need a bit of lunch, for Pete's sake! And then I pass my computer on the way to check one more time on sick-dude, and I pause to look in on our blog, because I can't wait to read what one of my pal's has written.

Annnnd, there's nothing posted.

Huh. How odd. So I think, "I should go send a message to my Gnomies. I mean, maybe one of them is sick, or hurt, or depressed. Maybe they need some help. MAYBE THEY NEED A GNOME-INTERVENTION! *GASP!* I SHALL SAVE YOU, MAEGAN AND RUSSO! FEAR NOT! I . . . " 

Then I looked at the calendar.

ACK!

It's Friday.

That's . . . er . . .  my day to post.

*shades of embarrassment*

Soooo anyway. What were we talking about? OH YEAH. Embarrassing moments. Russo has a lot of them. Sure glad I don't.


(I actually have steady streams of embarrassing moments. I'm just far less willing to put them up here than Russo is. Three cheers for Russo!)

Embarrassing moment alert

One of the things I need to work on is my patience. I don’t know about you but sometimes we go full speed ahead and never slow down. Sometimes that's a good and other times, not so much.

Today I went to the store and bought hair dye. What was I thinking? I tore out the gloves and got to work on dying my hair jet black. There was no patience about my process. As a result, my hair looks ridiculous. I have streaks of brown and black.

As if that wasn't enough, I tore out the gloves from the box. Doesn't seem like a big deal but when I took off the gloves I had quite a surprise- the gloves had holes in them. So now, I have ugly hair and black spots all over my hands. The dye won't come out; I have scrubbed and rubbed my hands until they were sore. Of course, my amigo Jameses is lying on the floor laughing his toukus off at my idiocy.

My friends, the one thing that will help us achieve our dream is patience. We have to slow down and take in the process of writing, painting, or whatever it is we love.

Learn from the hard times and keep going

One of the things I keep hearing during the tennis US Open is that an athlete needs to have selective amnesia. The race to your dream is a draining and thrilling adventure. There will be highs and there will be lows but you as a dreamer need to have selective amnesia.

You have to learn from the rejection and move on. Sometimes this task is draining in and of itself. One thing remains-you're gifted beyond measure. If anyone can focus on the good and forget the bad moments it's you.

 Keep striving, keep working. I'm behind you all the way, my friends.

*We're thrilled to announce that the author Jennifer Beckstrand will be guest posting for us on Friday. So excited to here from her.

I got kicked out of a ballet studio

Life is all about being brave and conquering fears. You've probably heard your momma tell you to try new things. This is all well and good but lemme tell you, there are something’s that just shouldn't be tried. This weekend I went with my sister to a ballet class. What should've been a relaxing hour of stretching your limbs turned into an hour of chaos.

I'm 6'2 with long legs. I've never been graceful. Usually when I meet someone for the first time I make a great first impression by tripping over my own feet and collapsing to the floor. This time was no different.

I walked gingerly into the ballet studio. I was nervous as all get up to meet my teacher. The instant I meet her I scuffed my feet on the wooden floor and fell right on my butt.

The teacher gasped all dramatically about my lack of grace and said, "My dear, walking should not be a challenge."

Everything about this woman was pointy, her hips, her nose and her fingers had no soft cushions of flesh. She had a harsh attitude and worse of all; she was out to get me. She had us all line up on the bar.

I immediately pulled out my hand sanitizer and got things un-germified (If that's a word.)

She snagged my hand sanitizer and the class stretched and dipped in ways I never thought possible. I attempted to mimic these movements but I looked as graceful as a rooster in a tutu.

The more I made mistake after mistake, the more my teacher became instilled with the dream of making me graceful. If I moved the wrong way, she wacked my butt with a fly swatter. No joke, a fly swatter. Yeah, if we lived in a time period where human sacrifices where still allowed, I would have thrown this woman into the volcano pit. She was that menacing.

The more the hour went on the more I made this woman crazy. She kept plucking along and as it has it, I did walk a bit more gracefully. I became aware of my surroundings. I did a demi-dip (no, this isn't a real ballet term; I made it up to annoy her.)She half-smiled at my mediocre progress. The boney woman believed the fly swatter had gotten through to me. Bo,y was she wrong.

The last five minutes of the class I accidently ripped the ballet bar off the wall. I then tripped over the air and sprained my ankle.

I swear, I thought her head was going to inflate and explode. She turned her head and coughed all hoity-toity-like and said, "I would prefer never to see your face again."

My sister snorted out loud and laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks,

My eyes opened wide with her sentence as I said, "Fine by me."

We paid for the broken ballet bar and left the studio. We treked next door for some frozen yogurt. All the while, giggling at my lack of grace.

Yep, ballet is not for me but at least I tried something new, which is the message for today. Get out there and truly live, my friends. I'm rooting you on all the way!