Navel gazing

Um, so now I'm on YouTube. My publisher interviewed their authors about their books, or the ones who have fall releases, anyway. It was pretty unnerving, but I think it came out okay. So if you haven't met me in person and you want to see my crazy snaggle tooth for yourself, press play. Also, according to the PR gurus at my publisher, if you comment on the video on YouTube, it helps me win Google. Um, so  . . . could you?

Also, if you want to win a copy of Not My Type, you have a shot on my writing blog until tonight, so click on over and find out how.

And now you may laugh at me:

A curl in the middle of her forehead (such a stupid nursery rhyme, btw)

I used to make fun of my parents all the time for being infomercial junkies. We got steam vacuums and jar openers and the Magic Bullet and this yard doohickey and Shamwows and Snuggies and . . .

If it was advertised on an infomercial, we owned it. But not regular commercials. Those guys just make stuff up. So it was with a great sense of embarrassment that I made my first infomerical purchase ever. I blame it on the Jetblue TV service on a redeye from LA to NY. It seemed like a good idea at the time to purchase the Top Styler. And I was going to show you pictures today so you could decide for yourselves whether it was a good purchase or not. But the pictures are on my new phone which is a Smart(er than me) phone, specifically an Android which has become sentient and doesn't want to relinquish controls of the snaps. So . . .

Not today, friends. No Top Style report today.

However, I think I have better news. It's almost September which means my book is almost out which means there will be some chances to win it, starting NOW! Yay! The info is on my OTHER blog (which if you didn't know that it's because you don't already follow it and SHAME ON YOU FOR MAKING ME CRY!) so head over there and check it out. Is super easy. Is good book. You likey. Go. GO.

Also, welcome to Monday, which started kicking my butt last night.

Thankful Thursday

Dear bloggers,

I'm grateful for all of you who still come around when I'm serving up everything I blog drenched in lame sauce--if I serve it up at all.

Now that this author thing is a semi-steady gig, I'm trying to that hokey-pokey voodoo dance where I have time to write, revise, review manuscripts for others, blog, comment on blogs, and oh, yeah . . .

THE HOUSE.

And THE CHILDREN.

Them, too. I'm trying to mother and housewife and maintain a Zen thing where the incessant screaming rolls off my back because it only stops when I play with them and I JUST CAN'T DO THAT THE SIXTEEN HOURS THEY'RE AWAKE every day. I wouldn't even if I didn't have other demands on my time because I'm not that mom, the get on the floor mom.

Did you know, and I have empirical proof of this after two boys in a row, that if you play Hot Wheels with a three-year-old that he is the only one who knows the rules for winning and that no matter what, he's always going to win? And also pitch a fit when you break the unspoken rules of Hot Wheels? The first of which (and of course I can only guess here) seems to be that you must never, ever do anything with your Hot Wheel that is cooler, faster, or higher than what he does with his Hot Wheel or he will scream and turn purple.

But I do try to play with them during the day. We do floor time. This usually happens when the two smallest ones start draping themselves over my laptop. I think that's a hint. And I get them out of the house at least once every day, and no, I don't mean we walk to the mailbox. We actually go somewhere. It's best for all our sanity that way.

It's hard, though. The balance thing.

So thanks for dropping off nice words or LOLs in the ever-dwindling comment box on days I don't rant about why Grease is not good clean family fun, etc.

I appreciate you. And I solemnly avow that when my Nigerian friend sends me the Timeturner I ordered, I will do a far better job of getting to your blogs from now on.

Love,

Melanie

Ah, amore!

Me: I don't know why I watch this show.

Husband: . . . Research? . . .

Me: Grmph.

The show in question: Bachelor Pad. Yes, that giant televised STD that I mostly have to watch on fast forward.

But then after last week's episode--which I just caught up with--I found the answer to why I sit through it. It's because it's a fascinating character study. I hate all the making out. I'm nearly as bad as my tween son is when kissing comes on the TV while he's watching. I roll my eyes and hit the fast forward button.

But the dynamics between the players? I'm kind of sucked in.

The fakes are pretty easy to spot and they're fascinating because I sit and wonder if they really don't realize how transparent they are to other people.

But there are a few people on the show who are as close to genuine as people who go on Bachelor/Bachelorette type shows can be. Like Ames and Jackie.

One look and kablammo! They're in love! And when she gets voted out of the house, he leaves with her! And it doesn't sound very exciting even when I use quotation marks! But the thing is, if you've paid attention to Ames at all (and most of you are way too Klassy for this kind of TV), it was extremely exciting. I must have rewound and watched that three minute scene where he runs after the limo at least ten times. And I'm not that kind of girl. But there's something so priceless about the expression on his face as he walks away from the limo and then realizes he has nothing to say to the people still in the game. So instead of saying anything, he smiles at them and gives them a double-handed wave goodbye, and he runs after Jackie's limo with this funny little laugh like he can't believe what he's doing.

And then she opens the door for him and he says, "Do you have room for one more?"

And ohmygosh I wish I wrote that scene. The PERFECT ending for a book.

I don't recommend taking up the show because 1) ew and 2) I had to sit through about 117 minutes of crap to mine that diamond, but OH MY it was a pretty one.

And then I made my husband watch it and even he was like, "Uh, that dude's red pants are lame. Also, that was kind of cool."

I love LOVE!

Thankful Thursday

Dear Mrs. Herring,

You're probably dead, I know. You were old twenty years ago and the cigarettes were aging you exponentially even back then.

You were the coolest teacher I ever had. When they talk about "old broads" they mean you.

I remember how mad I was that you wouldn't put me into Honors English because I was new to the school and you didn't know anything about me. And I'm so glad the guidance counselor had the foresight to put me in your advanced English class so we could feel each other out.

I still remember the little glances that you would shoot me when you started to catch on to who I was. Even then, I believed in myself. I wouldn't pretend that I wasn't as good as I was at doing the two things I loved best: reading and writing. You nurtured that. You had me doing the honors work by the second week of school.

When you rearranged my schedule to move me into journalism without telling me, I was taken aback. But honored. Honored that you thought I could do it. I hope I did it. Even when I wrote that article about how everyone should wear denim jumpsuits to prom and half the school didn't realize it was a joke. Thanks for laughing.

I loved your stories of meeting and learning from Robert Frost and Allen Ginsburg. I was awed.

I hope you had a comfortable retirement. I hope you spent long days reading books and smoking, damn the consequences. I hope you know that because of you, I felt really seen, a minor light in a bright constellation, but a light nonetheless. My own light. A light you fueled.

Thanks for teaching, Mrs. Herring. We need more like you.

Love,

Melanie Bennett (Jacobson)

Notes from the road

We meandered up to Bear Lake, UT from California last week. Don't anybody go robbing my house, by the way. For one, we have a housesitter who is cranky with strangers and for two, I had the carpets done while we're gone and I'm going to be mightily peeved if I'm not one of the first people to walk on it.

Anyhow, I made some observations on our road trip. You should print these on 3 x 5 cards and keep them with you at all times. Just because, mainly. I doubt they'll actually help you.

1. However many changes of clothes you pack for an eighteen-month-old for the first eight-hour leg of your road trip? Is not enough. Especially not when that precious little girl has eaten eight (yes, EIGHT--they were keeping her quiet) packs of fruit snacks. Here's a hint: three changes is not enough. She will still be down to a diaper when you pull into the parking lot of the Super 8 Motel (we keep it klassy) in Cedar City (I waved at you, Erin!)

2. If you exit for the Super 8 and signal for a left hand turn but then realize that's going to put you on the freeway again so you veer right and then into the correct left hand turn even though you saw NO traffic around due to the late hour, the Cedar City police will pull you over to find out what the hell is wrong with you.

3. If your vaguely vomit-scented baby yowls through the cop's entire conference at your driver's side window, but your husband (who is driving) clearly does not smell like booze, the Cedar City policeman will be very nice and wave you the remaining fifty yards into the Super 8 parking lot.

4. There is a Conoco station in Meadow, UT with a ladies' room you simply must visit. The tampon dispenser has a handprinted sign renaming the dinky wall box the "Ladies Boutique." I sort of love that.

5. I saw a guy at Granny's wearing a cowboy hat and a Billabong t-shirt. This not something we actually see very often in California. (Becca, I did not wave because it was Sunday and I was ashamed to be there.)

6. The chinstrap beard seems to be a hot look for many of the Heber guys. Not sure that's going to catch on.

7. I have just discovered that my toddler is wild for Honeynut Cheerios. I have regained favorite parent status! Yes! Not that it's a competition, honey.

I'm going to go vacation my brains out some more.

Winner!

Okay, I'm SUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPERRRRRRRRRRR overdue to announce the very first giveaway copy of

NOT MY TYPE: A Single Girl's Guide to Doing It All Wrong

Are you ready? And the winner (according to Random.org) is:

Michelle Fish

Hip hip HOORAY! I'll be in touch as soon as I get copies of it in my hot little hands!

Happy Birthday

Today would have my mom's 64th birthday and in honor of her, I'm going to not make a big deal out of it, because that was her way.

She lived this quiet, extraordinary life, a small stone with giant ripples. She wasn't one for making a fuss. She liked simple things: action movies, folk art, M&Ms, drugstore brand hair conditioner, oatmeal, pearls, and the mountains.

She was shy. She was beautiful. Her smile could melt stone hearts. She didn't make friends easily because she never figured out where she fit. With the hearing? The Deaf? She married well, but my dad's health made everything a challenge. She raised three kids she would be proud of. She has two grandkids she doesn't know.

She drew and painted and crafted. She taught. You will never see anyone sign a song more beautifully. She worked hard. She wasn't much for housework or cooking. She sewed well. She loved word games and cheated at Scrabble all the time.

She was highly educated. She was a dedicated teacher. She never really believed in herself but I saw her move metaphorical mountains.

She believed with her whole heart in God. She showed it. She lived it. She walked it every day.

She died happy, surrounded by her legacy: children who dropped everything to be there for as long as she needed, for as much as she needed. Who would do it again. Who never thought to do differently.

She liked pumpkin pie. I think I will have a piece tonight.

Winner!

The winner of the $25 Amazon gift certificate for preordering NOT MY TYPE is Desiree Recendez! Yay! I'll announce the winner of the first giveaway copy on Thursday!