Scattershot

Hurry, hurry, hurry, step right up for your chance to win TWITTERPATED at Weaving a Tale or Two. Her contest ends tomorrow, so get your name in quick!


Also, you can check out the REAL reasons I write with my goofy Top Ten list at LDS Women's Book Review. I was almost going to beg for comments so my little post didn't hang out over there unloved, but Luisa left a little sumpin' sumpin' in the comment box so now I'm not so worried about it. But it's still a funny and TRUE list.


Hasta la bye bye for a day or two, folks. I'm off to do some signings for the next two days to which only my friends come and only because I begged them. Oh, but tomorrow night is date night and we're hitting up a dueling piano bar followed by a speakeasy that requires an actual password and everything. Stoked!

Cliff diving

So yeah. We were standing at the precipice. Or rather I was. And trying to figure out if it made any sense at all to fling myself off.


Cue the insomnia and craziness and a downward spiral that culminated with me under my bed covers on a Sunday afternoon, completely undone from all the worrying and thinking. And then, Enter Husband.


I feel like I keep saying that Kenny is amazing. And a lot of you hear that as white noise. But it's not. I don't say it because it's the nice wifely thing to say. I say it because it is the STONE COLD TRUTH. He's incredible.


And he gently started talking me down. And he said a lot of things that were soothing and uplifting and encouraging. But he dropped a little pearl that stuck out. He said that I write books that give a lot of women a chance to escape hard situations and allow them some laughter and relief for a few hours. He said that it was really important for me to keep doing that because it was a blessing for them.


Me. I, the maker of meringues.


I do that? Could he be right? Because if he was right, if beyond making people laugh I actually delivered a tender mercy that God needed someone to have, then . . .


I should keep writing and stress a lot less about it all.


So I treasured that pearl, that single shiny thought, and then just two days later, I got an email from a stranger.


This isn't unusual. People often track me down through my author website and send me emails. "Loved your book!" "You're funny!" It makes me feel very narcissistic and ridiculous sometimes, but I'm not going to lie: fan mail is incredibly fun.


But this was something different. This was an email about The List, a book that I definitely did not write with the intention of setting the world on fire. I wrote it for fun, because I thought it might be fun to read. And it's about Not My Type where I tried to share a very personal feeling I have about the transformative power of gratitude, but of course it's done with very little seriousness. And this is what the email from a total stranger said in a week where I wondered if it made sense for me to do what I do and where my husband had been close enough to the Spirit to suggest an answer. The writer said: : When I read The List I laughed at myself realizing how many of the situations Ashley had with Matt were just like ones I've had with my ex-boyfriend. Then this new book was more than an enjoyable read. My break up was long and hard and I'm still getting over it. It's not easy but after reading Not My Type I was able step back and reevaluate, a lot. I feel like you were inspired in your writing, at least for me. I can't wait for more of your books to come. Again thank you for your books. They have entertained, edified and educated in ways I didn't think possible. You are amazing and so are your books!


So I cried. Of course. I do that way more than people would think for someone with snark hardwired into my genetic code. And it's over super cheesy stuff too, but that's another post.


This is a post about how Heavenly Father prompts to use the talents He gave us, and then sustains us when it becomes hard to use our talents, because they matter. They matter because WE matter to Him and He uses us to get to each other, to speak to each other in ways we need at very specific moments. And so sometimes, I make people laugh when they really, really need to. And I help them to think, even. 


Yes, I feel good when I get to write. But others feel good sometimes when I get to write too, and that's why I'm supposed to be doing it. It's so humbling that it makes me want to rip open both of my published books and tear through them to make sure I've used my talent wisely. Did I do right by the gift He gave me? I hope so. But I can definitely work to do better in every new book. And to never, ever be so silly again as to think that this is or ever was about ME.

Use my hands, Lord. Please.

Cliffhanger

Don't you hate it when I'm all, "I'm going to tell you a story!" and then I don't?


So I owe you a story.


I believe I mentioned something about a slight breakdown a couple of weeks ago. I am fine, by the way. But the episode produced a tiny gem of a moment that I have polished and re-examined a few times in the last two weeks.


I'm a writer. Either I'm a writer, therefore I'm neurotic, or I'm neurotic, therefore I write--but I'm not sure because I've been both since as long as I can remember. Writing won me essay contests. Writing won me my college scholarships. Writing got me my job.


But I always wrote for a reason. It wasn't really the story-telling kind of writing. Because I'm a pragmatist. I do things that make sense. Sometimes. And when I do things that don't make sense, I get upset at myself because I can clearly see they don't make sense and then--VOILA! Le Breakdown.


So I wrote but I didn't do much storytelling. Still, I would always say I was going to write books because I love telling stories. I grew up listening to my grandfather, one of the greatest storytellers to ever live. And you can't spend more than a few minutes with me before I tell you some kind of story. It's almost compulsive.


And this idea that I should write a book was almost compulsive, too. But for a long time I didn't write. A whole space of years between the birth of child number one and the career and the marriage and the caring for of ill parents and the planning of funerals and . . . I did not write.


But it felt like I should Write. A story.


I don't know. It's that thing we're all brought up with: if you have a talent, share it. No squandering under bushels, y'all. Bushels bad. Bad, bad, bad.


And finally I had time. A second baby, no job to worry about each day. But I didn't write an epic. No big old weighty work with a meditation on life and death wrapped in some layered family drama. That's steak and fingerling potatoes in a rich burgundy wine sauce. No. I produced a . . .


Well . . . a confection. Not even a rich one. More like a meringue, as in lemon. Slightly tart. Definitely frothy.


Those are the stories that come to me, probably because those were the ones I liked to climb into on exhausted Friday nights when I was single and too tired to date because I'd been caring for a kid and my parents and 150 other people's kids in my classroom all day. Or at least I used to read those, until it got too hard to find ones in the national market that weren't, um, filthy.


And so I wrote the kind of book I couldn't find. There were a few fun ones in the LDS market. But a very few. Most of the romances were more issue driven, not utterly silly like mine.


It was fun. I felt good about finally using my talent after the nagging feeling I'd had for years. And I wrote a book. And it was accepted. And then I wrote another. And another. And then a fourth. And then my first book actually came out. And being an author became more than writing. It was suddenly all about marketing and . . .  anyway, it was fine. It wasn't my favorite part of the job, but I'm good with people so none of that stuff was hard.


But it was very time consuming. From the time to draft a book to the time to edit it while trying to hit a deadline on a new project and then launch a book while trying to hit a totally different deadline and then OH YEAH BE A MOM. That.


And my husband was so super supportive through it all. He cheers for me when I hit writing goals, celebrates my milestones with me, brags about me to all of his friends, tells me what an amazing writer I am all the time, praises me, wants to know how my stories are going.


I'm so lucky.


But when this new book came out three weeks ago, I was also feeling incredibly guilty. Yes, this is a "hobby" I actually feel prompted to use. And yes, I get paid a little. My oldest has some shiny new braces, courtesy of my August royalty check. But this all costs A LOT of time. Book signings, conferences, critique groups, and the writing every single day.


So I stood on the verge of a new book release, which kicks the madness up crazy high for about a month, and I wondered, Is this all worth it for a silly meringue? Meringues don't change the world. Meringues don't even feed people. Steaks in rich sauce feed people. Potatoes feed people. Not so much fluffy pie toppings. What am I doing?


And here's the thing. This is super long already, but I've already written this whole thing, so I'm going to do you nice people a favor and cut it in half and post the rest tomorrow to give your heads a rest. So since I've been rather steak-y today instead of my usual meringue (and we're reading that as in lemon meringue, not dancing a merengue, right?), if you would like a tart dessert, may I recommend Regarding Annie? You will enjoy her. And I'll be back tomorrow with my whole watchamacallit? Point.

Thankful Thursday

I've discovered I'm neurotic.

No, that's not quite right. I've discovered new levels of neuroses. Yes, that's it.

In addition to the other assorted bits of crazy I have hoarded over the years, now I've developed author issues.

Sigh.

It works like this: when The List came out I was super nervous. What if it doesn't sell? What if nobody likes it? What if Covenant doesn't publish my stuff any more?

But the stars aligned and not only did it sell, it sold well. I had placement in the DB catalog, I wasn't up against any other authors writing to the same audience, and my cover rocked.

I guess that's why I thought the release of my second book wouldn't be so nerve-wracking, I was wrong.

Now I have new fears: what if all the people who bought the first book just to be supportive don't feel the need to buy the second one? What if people bought the first one to try something new but don't find it compelling enough to buy the second one?

And there are other fears: my cover is AMAZEBALLS but what if it looks too YA even though it's perfect for the story (which is not YA)? And I'm being released the same time as Traci Hunter Ambramson who is a MONSTER in this market (deservedly so). And Sarah Eden who is also an A-list Covenant author who also writes romance? And Deseret Book didn't put me in the catalog this time (because I'm a big deal only in my own mind and I know it). And they just barely put the picture of my cover up on their website and my book is debuting at NUMBER FIFTY? I debuted at number 12 before. Yikes.

So I think about these things and I start to hyperventilate.

And that's why I'm thankful for my husband who says things like this:

"Melanie, I know you have lots of friends, but you don't have X,XXX (the number who bought the first book). They bought it without knowing you. It'll be okay."

Who without being asked says, "Hey, I just did all this stuff to your Amazon author page" because it's one of the few things he can control so he immediately fiddled with it when he saw me sliding toward panic this morning.

Who is giving up his one favorite monthly activity and will skip his woodturner's meeting to support me at my book release party (which conflict is totally my fault and he never says a word about it).

Who posts about me on his Facebook page whenever he's proud of me. Which is a lot.

Who humors me in my writing frenzies when my job takes about half the time his does but makes only a twentieth of the money.

I'm really thankful for Kenny. I love you, honey!

Party Hearty

(Comment here to win a copy of The List and some other cool prizes.)


Check out Lara from Overstuffed today to see her take on my book. It's really interesting to see so many people connecting to it differently depending on the life experiences they bring into reading it. 


On to the book launch party.


One word: Fantastic.


In many other words: I loved it, it was everything I hoped it would be, I had so much fun, and I think everyone else did, too.


I went with a beach theme to fit my book. I rented out the Fiesta Room at the Lago Santa Margarita Beach Club. I know, it sounds so fancy, right?


The beach club is the pool in the center of town that is perfect for kids. It's surrounded by green grassy banks and then the pool itself has a large sandy beach for the kids to play on. And it's right next to the lake. So it fit my book perfectly. I spent months planning this thing and then I called in the troops. My husband's band played, my brother and his girlfriend manned the drinks, and my Aunt Linda flew in from Illinois to chop and skewer for ten hours a day and then help me throw the whole party together.


My aunt and mother-in-law spent two days helping prep and decorate, and then pulled off a really cute cake. And now, for the pictures. These are in no particular order because hello? Have you tried to work with pictures in Blogger?:

 My aunt Linda and my brother's girlfriend, Nadine

 Centerpieces of orchid and plumeria done by a friend of a friend

 Pineapple/fruit centerpieces, planned by me, executed entirely by Aunt Linda. GORGEOUS.

 Chocolate-dipped strawberries, a la Aunt Linda

 CUTE cake from my mother-in-law and Aunt Beth

 Karen and Carrie from The Bookport, selling my books. (31 sold. Yay!)

 I wanted a "mocktail" bar (although we didn't call it that) with signatures drinks for some of the book characters. Nadine and Jamie reported that the two most popular drinks were the Sassy Ashley (ginger ale, orange juice, and grenadine) and the Shaka Derek (pina colada and pineapple juice.) There was also the Mellow Matt (cranberry juice and 7-Up) and the Tart Megan (margarita mix and Squirt). The drinks were free and just for fun.

 Me, signing! It's really unnerving. For a while I was writing "Dear So and So" instead of "To So-and-So". Duh! And I would suddenly get anxious that I would forget someone's name. And it's really hard to think of 31 different things to say!

 The food table" Hawaiian sweet rolls, pineapple/mango salsa, guacamole, Aunt Beth's Fantastic Macaroni Salad, a mixed green salad with feta and vinaigrette, and grilled marinated chicken from the local carniceria. My visiting teachers came over and helped cut up veggies and meat for the skewers, along with my mother-in-law. Who helped. They didn't cut her up. And then when there was no room in my fridge for all that meat, another friend, Brittany, not only volunteered to refrigerate it for me, she also volunteered to grill all the chicken. Or course, that was before she understood what 35 pounds of chicken shish kebabs looked like, but she STILL did it and even called in reinforcements from other friends in the ward to get it all grilled in time. And it was DELICIOUS.

 A view of the room. 

 A view of the band, my husband on lead.

 The party people throng the food, outside view.

Kenny makes me do a reading. It was actually pretty fun.

 My friend Colleen, who drove two hours to come and help.

My blog friend and road trip buddy, Karen from A Peek at Karen's World.

Miss DeNae from My Real Life Was Backordered. She learned, to her detriment, that I am really, really bad at geography and spatial relationships, but still did not kill me when she showed up after an hour and a half in her car. I even met her husband! My husband was really sad he didn't get to talk to him because he loves to talking to guys in her husband's line of work.

Another look at the cool centerpieces. And some wooden bowls MADE BY MY HUSBAND and full of dried tropical fruit.  And also, some cool friends we like hanging out with.

A gift from my friend Heather, and inside:

A survival kit for when I become to good for the little people.

Did you know that when you have a book launch, people bring YOU gifts? I had NO idea. I got a gorgeous succulent, a dozen red roses, an orchid, and gift certificates to the new cupcake store in town. Dangerous. 

Anyway, it was a wonderful night and I floated for two days after. I think I'm still floating. I have such great friends and family and we live in such an awesome place.

Wish you all were here!

Let me count the ways . . .

Reminder: Go HERE and comment to win a copy of The List. Go to yesterday's post to win a Shabby Apple dress or cool necklaces.


I love lists. Here's a list of some of my favorite kinds of lists. (I know, I'm so meta.)


1. Honey-do lists. From me to Kenny.
2. Lists of things I've done for the day. Not a to-do list--an already-did list. Much better.
3. Dessert options at The Cheesecake Factory.
4. Things to pack before a fun vacation.
5. New playlists on my iPod.


This love of lists may explain the title of my novel, The List. And it probably explains why the whole book hinges on Ashley's list (the main character). This is the list she made on her 18th birthday of the 25 things she wanted to do before she got married. Cross-outs are what she's gotten done by the ripe old age of 24.

1. Climb a mountain
2. See a show on Broadway
3. Sing karaoke
4. Read all the standard works
5. Get a master’s degree
6. Study abroad
7. Serve a mission
8. Learn to make sushi
9. Own a pair of Laboutins
10. Complete a triathlon
11. Snowboard on a black diamond trail
12. Read a Russian classic
13. Learn to surf
14. Visit Europe
15. Do a humanitarian project
16. Get a sports car
17. Have a summer fling
18. Take a cruise
19. Skydive
20. Learn a foreign language
21. Publish a poem
22. Learn to play guitar
23. Be a movie extra
24. Try internet dating
25. Learn to tango

It's a kind of bucket list, I guess, in the sense that she thinks marriage and kids will be the death of all her fun and spontaneity.


But it leads me to another list. Here's my real bucket list:
1. Serve a mission with Kenny.
2. Go to Africa (can be combined with #1)
3. Go to an LSU football game
4. Learn to sew, and sew well
5. Work for a non-profit focused on eradicating poverty
6. Visit somewhere with indigenous monkeys
7. Take a Caribbean cruise


I didn't get married until I was 32 so I had a lot of time to do other things that used to be on my bucket list. But what's funny is that I've done more stuff on my bucket list SINCE I got married. For example, these used to be on my bucket list before I got married but now they're done:


1. See a show on Broadway
2. See Patrick Stewart in a Shakespeare play
3. Travel Italy and France
4. Take an Alaskan Cruise
5. Hang out in Central Park
6. Publish a book


So for anyone who wonders, Ashley isn't based on me. I love marriage! It's way more fun to have a partner in crime.


Now, I've told you all week, I'm a giver. (Scroll up to the top of this post. You'll see.) And now I'm going to even give you a blog prompt. And if you play along, I will throw you in for an extra TEN entries into the giveaway of your choice: The List, the Shabby Apple dress, or any of the jewelry.


Yeah, yeah, I'm awesome. Not to mention you don't have to think of something for your next blog post. That's the biggest prize of all, right?


Do your own bucket list and link back to this post. It doesn't have to be a bucket list of things to do before you die. It can be a bucket list of things to do before your next high school reunion. Or things to do after your last kid leaves home. Mention somewhere that people can win a copy of the book. That's it. Cool, right? You can just put your entry in the Linky Thing below between now and Friday and you're good to go.


I know. Awesomeness. Dipped in chocolate. Waving magical fairy pinwheels.


Yep.


And my magic number today is TEN. That means I need at least TEN people to participate in order for me not to feel like a total idiot. Less than ten is pretty darn near throwing a party where nobody comes.


All right, get going. Your bucket list, at least five items, linked below. Oh, and link to your post, not your blog URL. Good luck!

Internet Dating: #Winning!

Today is the last day to enter to win a copy of my book by commenting on THIS post. You can also read the completely silly interview Sarah Eden did with me HERE, and discover such important facts as what I eat on my birthday and that I have a violent streak.


And now to conclude yesterday's saga: 


So I wanted a book and I found a husband. 


(Uh, I just told my husband I was finishing up the saga of our online dating adventure and he said, "Oh, good. I can't wait to see how it ends." I'm staring at my wedding ring as I ponder that. Sorry if it's a spoiler for you guys.)


Around about 2006, things were kind of crazy. My parents' health was good, for the moment. My mom was entering her fourth year of remission from breast cancer and doing great. My dad was stable after a long year recovering from a bad fall down a flight of stairs (broke his neck, post surgical complications/infections, blah blah blah) and life was good.


But busy! We were nearing the end of the school year (I taught 8th grade English and creative writing) and I was the director of a major program at our school going through a recertification, and I had a six-year-old to drag through homework everyday, and . . . it was busy. I wasn't in the mood to date because it would require a little more energy than I had to give at the moment. 


However, I had the perfect amount of energy to curl up with a good book on the weekends. I just needed something new to read. I decided I'd do a little searching on LDS Linkup. It's a social networking site, not a dating site, really. Often, I used it as my home shopping catalog, much like when the Nordstrom catalog shows up. "Oooh, cute. I want one of those!" et cetera, and on to the next boy. But on this particular night, I was using it to find books.


This was my genius plan. I'd type in the names of several books I liked and then check out the book lists of other people with the same tastes. Then I'd see what they had on their lists that I hadn't read yet. (This was pre-Goodreads.) Anyway, girl, guy . . . it didn't matter. I just wanted a book.


Then this book list pops up that was deeper and broader than anything I'd ever seen on LDS Linkup. It was crazy. It looked like it had been posted by a literature professor. (This turned out to be not too far off the mark. Kenny was applying for doctoral programs in Latin American Literature when he switched to computer programming many moons ago.) Who in the world had read ALL of these books? I clicked. This popped up:

Ahhhhh! Scary!!! Clearly, this guy was going to beat me up and take my lunch money. He was in a rock band. My mom TOLD me about guys like that. She said, "No." That seemed like good advice.


And yet . . .


It was a good book list. A GREAT book list. And also, his profile said he was looking for : "Someone who's kind, vivacious, and loves to learn about new things; who'd enjoy Shakespeare one evening and bluegrass at a downtown speakeasy the next."


THAT WAS ME!


But he was totally not my type. So I sent him a message that said, "Cool profile and great book list."


I know. I have SUCH game. (Ow. I just hurt myself laughing.)


Then I went on about my business. I don't remember how long it took . . . an hour? A day? But I got a message back from him. It was FIVE PARAGRAPHS LONG. He asked me all about stuff he'd seen in my profile. And he had a really sexy vocabulary. The original emails have long faded from the LDS Linkup memory banks, but I remember he used the word "dichotomy." And I was like, "Ooooh. Yum!"


We exchanged emails for a couple of weeks. And then he suggested that he call me. And we talked for three hours. (I don't like talking on the phone except to my Aunt Linda. Three hours was crazy.) And we made plans for our first date. He wondered if I might like to go see Will Shakespeare's Twelfth Night at an outdoor theater in LA.


Um, YES!


We only lived 30 miles apart so we picked a night and I got ready. I got ready in the sense that I put on a cute outfit (why yes, it did include amazing shoes), and I got ready in the sense that I knew when I opened my front door and met Kenny for the first time, if there was any kind of chemistry at all, I would be staring at my future husband.


Three months later, we took this picture:

And it wasn't just for fun. That's an engagement photo, folks.


I earned this amazing man through hard work and faith. I did. Heavenly Father blessed me with a deep and great love. I am blessed every day. I am humbled by Kenny's faith and obedience and discipleship. I love him with everything that is in me.


And that's why Internet dating wins.


I hunted down today's pictures from our old LDS Linkup profiles. You can browse them for fun, if you like, HERE and HERE. They haven't been updated since just after we were married, so it's entertaining to me to go back and look at them.


I invented a fictional LDS online dating site that shows up in all my books called LDS Lookup that is of course based on LDS Linkup. You can check it out here. It will have only the profiles of characters in my books, and we're working out the profile pages and stuff right now, but it'll give you a peek at what's to come.


In the mean time, this week's giveaway ends tomorrow so if you want to win some Huntington Beach swag or cool wooden jewelry made by the scary biker dude pictured in the photos above, then check out the details here.

Mail order husband (Crazy people, do not come here from Google)

Raise your hand if you knew I met my husband online.


Raise your hand if that surprises you.


Raise your foot if someone in your immediate family or close circle of friends met their spouse online.

So why were you surprised it worked for me, too? Granted, I smell kind of funny, but the Internet isn't scratch-and-sniff so my odds were as good as anyone's, I guess.


Here's the thing. I didn't get married until I was 32 (well, two days shy of it, anyway) and it was totally due to lack of trying. I just was never into the idea of marrying young, probably because my parents were 27 and 26 when they married and never put any pressure on us to rush. Considering I'm the only who's married, they may have regretted that, but . . . that's another story.


I dated a ton. I'm not a troll. From the time I turned 16, I dated regularly, pretty much. (Do the math. That's A LOT of years of dating. This is why I'll NEVER run out of stories to tell. I can write books FOREVER.) But as I got older, it got harder. By my mid-twenties I settled into some longer term relationships (a year-ish) and then I'd get restless and do the single thing again. There are a million complicated but boring reasons for this. And by my late twenties, I was a single, full-time working mom (a fascinating story I'll probably never tell you), and if you think that makes dating hard, you're right. It makes marriage even harder.


But we're talking about dating. I lived in a large city (250,000 people) and we had 2.5 stakes (large LDS congregations there), but most of the single people were young and living at home with their parents. Guys in the late-20's range were either total players or divorced and battle-scarred. Finally, after trying more conventional dating (singles dances and blind dates) and realizing I didn't have a ton of choices in my area, I turned to the Internet. (This is why online dating is a fairly major plot point in all of my novels.) By then, online dating had lost its stigma as a refuge for the desperate. In fact, I'd already had two aunts and one uncle on different sides of my family marry someone they met through an online dating site. 


Besides, how can it be MORE embarrassing to say you're marrying someone you met online than someone you met in a bar?


It's way more embarrassing to say you met your husband in a bar. Especially if you're Mormon. (Okay, no lie, part of me wishes this is exactly what I got to say because it would be hilarious if it were true. To me. But my sense-of-humor ain't exactly right.)


I'm a total pragmatist. I figured I had very little time to date while caring for my son and an ill parent, not to mention throwing my heart and soul into teaching 8th grade. I didn't want to waste that little free time I did have on dates that weren't going to pan out. I had high hopes that the Internet dating thing would let me filter out creeps, weirdos, and flat out bad matches.


. . . 


Um, internet dating really is just your average singles dance, only online. Luckily, I have a fair amount of common sense and I patiently sorted through my options. I still had some wacky dates, but I had some really fun ones, too. And going the internet route DEFINITELY made it easier to find possibilities in southern California I would never have known about otherwise. And vice-versa.


I tried the online thing off and on for a couple of years as time allowed. And it was fine. But then life got crazy, and I had no time for boys. Only books. So I went looking for something to read. And that's when I found Kenny.


But this is already a long blog post so I'll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow. My publisher just asked me to write up an article on online dating because it's a major element in all of my books. The article is going to the Deseret News. If you've got some experience in online dating and wouldn't mind me hitting you up with a few questions, would you shoot me an email at writestuff.jacobson at gmail dot com? Or you can drop me a comment and I'll track you down that way if your email is enabled for return comments.


If you want to win a copy of my book, The List, where you get to see a unique spin on internet dating, then just leave a comment on this post. If you want to win some other cool stuff (a Huntington Surf and Sport sweatshirt or tee shirt, cool wooden jewelry, or an OC ramps shirt) then just go to this post and follow the easy directions. There's a few different ways you can enter, all of them simple.


Lastly but not leastly, Stephanie at Diapers and Divinity reviewed The List. I think I already know what she's going to say because she sent me a pretty in-depth email of her opinion a week or so ago. It was a fun conversation because I write very much out of her normal genre to read, so I was fascinated by her insights. But you'll have to go over there and see for yourself what she thought. And she's always thoughtful. That's what I love about that girl.


I'll be back tomorrow with the rest of the tale of how I went looking for a Friday night read and found a husband.

Zappos, my new e-BFF

This Christmas was the year of the shoe, y'all.


Before you get jealous, you have to understand that my slogan for Kenny would be:


Kenny Jacobson: Making everyone else's husbands look bad since 2006.


He's just THAT good. 


Every year he buys me one pair of shoes for my birthday and this year I had a pair of worn out boots so he threw in a pair for Christmas, too. (Remember, I'm not quite as spoiled as I sound because my birthday is Christmas Eve.) Anyway, this is what he got me for my birthday:

Yeah, I know. He's awesome! He picked them out all by himself!

Then he got me these boots for Christmas and while I normally go for a higher heel, these are amazingly comfortable:

For my birthday gift to myself, I bought the ones I was eyeing (even though Josi says they look like her grandmother's couch. I bet they're as comfy as that couch, too. Love them!):

Then there was a little (okay, biggish) mistake on Kenny's order from Zappos and he got a $25 credit, so I've been needing some dressy/churchy brown shoes for about a year, and I think I might get these with my birthday money from my in-laws:

To be be perfectly honest with you, prior to this shoe little binge, I hadn't bought myself shoes in at least six months. (Yeah, I know. Cry you a river.) I haven't bought myself much of anything wardrobe-wise in about that long because it's not fun shopping for clothes when I have 20 pounds to lose. But shoes . . .

Well, shoes always fit since I don't gain weight in my feet. My butt and gut always claim it before it makes it's way down there.

I've started my get-healthy plan and I figure four months is plenty to lose twenty pounds, so that's the plan. (Then I'll be jonesing for another birthday and an excuse to go on a spree once more.) I scored Turbo Fire on Craigslist for half price today, I joined two different weight-loss challenges with some money on the line, I've broken out my favorite healthy recipes, and I'm excited.

IT'S NOT A NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION, THOUGH. So don't even say that.

I only made one resolution this year: wish people Happy Birthday on Facebook. That's it.

(Okay, I did do that thing where you pick a word to focus on all year and I picked: kindness. It's going to be SO HARD being as I'm evil.)

Happy New Year!

How To Get New Shoes

Yesterday, I went to the mall. I was looking for stuff. Christmas-y type stuff. And I found . . .


Puppies.


A store full of them, the cutest, wiggliest, lickingest, most delicious puppies ever. Two dozen of them at least.


I called my husband. "Guess where I am."


"Uh, I give up."


"The mall!"


"Oh, good." (I'm not sure, but he didn't seem thrilled.)


"Guess what store I"m at."


"Uh . . ."


"The puppy store!"


Silence. Then he clears his throat. "Melanie, back away from the puppy store."


"But they're so cute! There's a Yorkie! And a BEAGLE! Do you hear me? A beagle puppy."


"Melanie, seriously, you need to back away. That mall has a Nordstrom, right?"


"Yes."


"Why don't you go get yourself some shoes and forget about the puppies, okay?"


"Okay."

Feed Me, Seymour

Oh, my gosh, I have so many blog posts to write and not enough of the following with which to write them:


1. Fingers
2. Brains
3. Minutes on the clock
4. Complete breaths through my left nostril


So I will not be writing my blog post about my love story with Kenny. It's not a long or dramatic story (unless you count the deaths or the tour through Europe) but it has a certain sweetness that comes off better when my brain is not being squeezed by The Hateful Vise of a Super Cruddy Cold. 


Instead, I will tell you the story of why Kenny and I almost did not got married. It's because I was hungry.


Look, I get cranky when I don't have food on demand, okay?


So on one of our earlier dates, Kenny and I were going to this awesome little Thai hole-in-the-wall. But we hadn't been there before and I was super hungry and we were a little bit lost and James kept kicking the back of my seat AND NONE OF KENNY'S JOKES WERE FUNNY. And I don't think I ever snapped at him, but I was not the sweetness and light that I am 99% of the time. 


Okay, 65. Whatever.


And so he got quieter and quieter as the evening wore on. But then I got food and I felt better and so I was trying to save the evening with much laughter and all, and I figured we were all good. 


But then I found out from him much later that he thought he might have glimpsed some sort of latent psychosis and he was thinking, "Maybe this is not such a good idea." But then his sister said, "If she's only been cranky one time and it's because she was hungry and she was back to her usual self after she ate, then YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE."


And he did. But to this day he always carries food in his car at all times.


And we are living happily ever after.

BFFs 4-Ever

I think I may just have experienced the least stressful move in the universe. Totally weird, considering how much we had going on. 


We had a new house to repaint and retile and other cosmetic stuff that took a lot of time. Kenny was gone a lot in the evenings trying to take care of the new house while I took care of the kids. I made countless runs to home improvement stores and bought at least two dozen different paint samples in search of the colors we could live with because WE'RE NOT DOING THIS AGAIN ANY TIME SOON! 


There was the finding of a tenant for our condo and all kinds of Craigslist escapades wherein I scored a commercial freezer and a washer and dryer. I'm still hunting for the right bed for James's room.


None of this was easy with a two-year-old and a three-month-old and trying to get the ten-year-old through all the end of the year school activities, plus Cub Scouts. Oh, did I mention four, count 'em FOUR, major dental procedures? By rights, I should have lost my mind. It's a small miracle I'm not on my sofa blithering and gumming Cream of Wheat.


But I'm not. Why?


Why am I not freaked out that we moved 45 minutes away from family to a totally new neighborhood, elementary school and ward? 


Because I just know this is where we're supposed to be. I'm excited. It's been fun. Everything about this is good. We're moving into a larger space that already feels like home, with a cul-de-sac full of kids the same ages as mine. We're putting our mark all over this house and making it ours. We're on the verge of new friendships and adventures and I feel blessed to see this in the moment that it's unfolding. It's a tender mercy Heavenly Father grants me from time to time because He understands my limits.


So that's part of why.


But not all of it. The real reason I'm not stressed about any of this is because of Kenny and blogging. Why would I worry about being anywhere new when I can take all my best friends with me everywhere I go?


And with Kenny, I have the best friend in the whole wide world. We get sleepovers EVERY NIGHT. How cool is that?