My Erma Bombeck Contest Entry

Perception Is Reality-ish

I don’t remember the minister inserting air quotes into our wedding vows. Then again, my vision at the time was clouded by multiple layers of tulle and mascara—not to mention a professionally tightened chignon that stretched my eyes so far sideways I was starting to resemble a Gila monster.

I believe, however, that a review of our wedding video would reveal the moment when the reverend rolled his eyes heavenward, waggled his fingers at the dearly beloveds in attendance, and applied a pair of floating punctuation marks to a key word of our blessed troth: in “sickness” and in health.

Everyone is prepared to stand by their spouse if, God forbid, they are faced with a serious illness. That’s a sacred part of the deal, after all.

No, it’s not the sickness that wears on the marriage—it’s the “sickness.” It’s the aches and twinges that must be discussed and assuaged to the point that you would welcome a bullet in the thigh if it meant never having to hear another word about his sensitive toe. Or his acid tummy. Or his pre-sore throat.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he said, peering up at me through rheumy eyes as I perched bedside.

“I think you’ll pull through,” I said.

“I want you to know that, when the time comes, I trust you to make the decision about...life support.”

“You realize that cord you’re holding leads to a lamp, not a respirator?”

“Look at you, putting on a brave face.” He patted my hand.

“Listen, when they invent a durable power of attorney for the sniffles I’ll prop you up so you can sign it. In the meantime, your office called—it’s your turn to take doughnuts for the staff meeting.”

“I’ll never make it.” He rolled over with a moan.

These were the times I wanted to use bad words. Words like episiotomy. And perimenopause. Words I once thought of as afflictions but now categorized as “lifestyles,” in the same way I had come to think of my reading glasses as “streetwear.”

But, wait—this could be the answer. I couldn’t change the behavior, but I could change the label, like the time I blacked out from the flu while selling Girl Scout cookies in the Jiffy Mart parking lot then told the other moms I had been “multi-tasking.”

It was matrimony meets Madison Avenue and it just might work. I congratulated myself on my new, strategic mindset.

No, my husband wasn’t bedridden from a runny nose.

He was on a “spiritual mini-retreat.”

Yeah...he’s Zen like that.

Erma Rules

You can find out more about the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition here.

And I hope to see all of you who are Erma enthusiasts at the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop in Dayton April 19-21.

I'm on the faculty for the 2012 conference (ahem, pardon me while I adjust my cravat) and I'll be running a workshop titled "Brand to Book - Creating an Online Voice that Opens Doors" as well as leading sunrise calisthenics on the lawn of the Dayton Marriott.


And Speaking of Conferences...

Blissdom '12 is this weekend in Nashville and it promises to be epic in its, well...epicness.

I'm stoked to be attending for the first time, and my enthusiasm has not been dampened in the least by the fact that my movement to call the conference "BlissDOME" has failed to gain real momentum. (The hotel where it's being held is a dome...get it? Blissdom + dome = Blissdome? Okay, whatever!)

Anyway, I hope to see many of you there this weekend. Here's where you can find me when I'm not practicing my line-dancing in the Grand Ol' Opry parking lot:

Friday, Feb. 24 at 4:00 pm - CHICKtionary Book Signing at the Barnes & Noble booth in the Expo

Saturday, Feb. 25 at 2:30 - I'll be running a hands-on editing workshop called "More Method to Your Madness"

Side note: I might also be wearing one of those hats that holds a beverage on top and has straws running down the sides. It depends on whether I can find one that goes with my sheepskin peasant skirt.

In any case, I look forward to seeing you there!

Valentine...

...Defined

Happy Valentine's Day!

Now, get out there
and bag some romance!

And remember:
no matter what happens,
you guys are
like a brother to me
the best.

For Crying Out Loud

And Laughing, Too

I recently had the pleasure of being a guest on the super-swank podcast "For Crying Out Loud," hosted by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor and Lynette Carolla (yes, lovely wife to Adam).


It. Was. So. FUN.

The podcast is now available on iTunes - or you can listen/download right on the "For Crying Out Loud" website.

And, as further evidence that the best things in life are, in fact, free, the bottom-line price to own this episode (or any other, for that matter) is:

That's right! Rest assured that today's burrito budget will remain intact no matter how many times you download the podcast.

And Now, A Brief Quiz

Which grown-uppy topics* were covered on the most recent episode of "For Crying Out Loud?"

a. food porn
b. flapjacks (note: not the popular breakfast food)
c. Brazilian bikini waxing
d. chumps
e. household nudity
f. all of the above and more

If you bubbled in "F" then you just won yourself a totally FREE download of "For Crying Out Loud!"
And you know what...?

Since you're such a good-lookin' crowd and I like each and every one of you personally, I'm going to extend that prize and say that no matter which letter you bubbled in, you STILL win a completely FREE download of the show!

[insert trumpet/trombone fanfare here]

MANY THANKS to ACE Broadcasting, Lynette Carolla, Stefanie Wilder-Taylor and Producer Gary (who is a total babe, btw) for inviting me to be a guest!

(*Yes, we talk about some adult topics on the podcast, just so you're prepared...)

Daily Affirmation #FAIL

Thanks. I Got It.

I love the uplifting app I started using January 1, but this particular entry makes me more tired than inspired:


Yes. I know.

It comes with being a parent.

I Am a 12-Year-Old Boy

And Here's the Proof

Ever since Morticia and Gomez (my children) introduced me to Ragestache, I've been obsessed with it.

Then again, I still convulse with snort-laughs every time I see the opening UPS-guy scene of "Ace Ventura." (When did that movie come out? 1994? EVERY TIME.)

After laughing at so many comics on the site, I had to try my hand at making one of my own. (Thankfully, this kind of "me, too!" crap only crops up occasionally and not, for instance, when I'm sitting on the sofa watching NASCAR or Olympic Greco-Roman wrestling. (Okay, it happens with NASCAR.)

Anyway, I made a comic and I'm sharing it with you because we're tight like that. I hope it gives you a giggle. It may also explain why I'm not on as many school committees as I used to be.

And now that I'm done playing, I need to go do my pre-algebra homework and take a bath. (Awww, man, no fair!)



If you can't see the liquid awesomeness flowing above, click this link.

[ARGH - It doesn't fit in my column no matter what I do. Just click on it to see it full-size at the site. Sorry about that.]

Wake Up and Smell the Adhesive Brassiere

Or: The Lies Our Undies Tell Us

Over the holiday break, I gave my clothes closet a thorough exorcism cleaning. (Yes, I'm fun like that.)

It was during these excavations that I unearthed this item:


Or, more specifically, this item:


Also known as THIS ITEM:


I know. What. The. H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks?

I was so thrown by this discovery that I had to collapse onto a heap of discarded leg warmers and bootleg bikini bottoms to regroup.

I had no memory of buying this marvel of modern engineering, but (as I was relatively certain it belonged to me and not my husband) clearly I had.

The question was why? I examined the item, turning it over in my hands. I could not have made a discovery more disconnected from my real life if I'd unearthed a UFO's tailpipe in my Zen garden. (Hey, I could have a Zen garden. Don't assume.)

Yet here was the fleshtone evidence that, at some point in the last 5-9 years, I had considered myself a stick-on, anti-gravity, bra-in-a-box kind of person. Really? During which typical activity had I imagined strapping on this bad boy? Grocery shopping? Opening doors in the school carpool line? Whitening the tile grout around the shower head?

It just didn't seem like me. Perhaps I had suffered some kind of psychotic break one day while waiting for the kids' swim lessons to wrap up. (Now that I thought about it, that would explain a lot of things.)

Think, Anna. Think.

And then I heard it.

The voice was smooth. Authoritative yet inviting. The voice was seductive.

You can wear it when you go dancing.

"Who's there?" I said, looking around the closet.

Or when hosting an impossibly chic dinner party.

"A what?"

You could wear something slinky...strapless, even, the voice purred.

"Well, that doesn't really fit my-"

Why not? Who says you have to give up sexy, grown-up activities just because you've fallen into a bit of a rut?

"I wouldn't call it a rut, it's just that-"

So you're done? Done with things like dancing? It's going to be jeans and t-shirts from here on out?

"Well, no...I'm not saying that, exactly. It's just that these days my lifestyle is more-"

Do you see what it says on the box? "For the modern woman." Are you saying you're not a modern woman?

"Hey! I'm plenty modern!"

So what's holding you back?

"Well..."

Why not make plans to go dancing this weekend? I can see it now: lights flashing, music thumping, you in a fabulous strappy cocktail dress.

"Really? What color is it?"

Um, let's say blue.

"Blue," I pondered this for a moment. "I like blue."

See?

"Is my hair doing that flippy thing it only does when I've been to the salon?"

Why, yes, it is, Ms. Modern Woman. So...what do you say? Are you ready to embrace your sexy, festive new lifestyle?

Just then my husband stepped into the closet. "Hey, you're talking to yourself again. Have you seen my car keys?"

*sigh*

At least now I knew how I'd ended up buying it.



I Have to Share With You...





"A Defining Moment for Women"

This is the title of a wonderful article by Heidi Stevens of the Chicago Tribune, who interviewed me last week about The CHICKtionary. Ms. Stevens really "got" the book and I was thrilled when this piece ran shortly afterward.








"At the Intersection of Funny and Feminism"

The Chicago Tribune piece inspired an article on the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop website that touches on Erma's thoughts on what will apparently be an eternal public debate about a woman's "place" in the world of humor.

Believe it or not, this debate is just as lively today as it was in Ms. Bombeck's heyday, a fact that (ironically?) I find quite amusing.

Things to Do in 2012

...Or Not.

After extended deliberation, I have compiled my annual list of actions to make the upcoming year extra-awesome.

Note: Over the years, I've found it helpful not to include overreaching items such as "Be a nice person" and "Live within budget." No one tells you this, but these kinds of vague, pie-in-the-sky goals are basically impossible to achieve.

(I can tell you from personal experience that it's a real buzzkill to wake up on January 3rd only to realize you've already blown items 1-14 on your yearly to-do list. Let's just say some lessons were learned.)

Anyway, I'm happy to share my 2012 list with you, and feel free to peel a few items off for yourself!

Here goes:

In 2012, I will:

...bring back the phrase "in full effect." For example, when dinner is ready, I will say something like, "The tuna noodle casserole is in full effect."

...perform a set of lunges thrice a day - at 9:00, noon, and 4:00 - no matter where I am.

...use the word "thrice," like, all the time.

...perform some kind of community service. And, by the way, just because it's court-ordered doesn't mean I'm not feelin' it.

...do my best when either of my children says, "Guess what?" not to respond with "Chicken butt!"

...get that thing with the stuff looked at.

...knock off the flute jazz.

There you have it, folks - wish me luck!

In the meantime, I wish each and every one of YOU a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.

And, as always, thank you for stopping by here week after week - that truly means the world to me.

Cheers!