Delurking Day: Lurk No More

Today in the place I call my second home, the Blogosphere, it is Delurking Day. What? Heavens no, you haven't heard of it?! Truth be told, I hadn't either til Goon Squad Sarah turned me on to it. She did not turn me on, mind you. Not in that way. Although she probably could. That Sarah is something else, I hear. Word gets around this lil Blogosphere. I'm not starting rumors but I'm just sayin'.

Back to today's point.

If you read this blog but never comment, go on. Do it. Get dirty. Make some noise. All the cool kids are doing it. If you've never left a comment on a blog before, free yourself today. Now's your chance. Embrace this global holiday in the spirit of blog peace. Cross the ole "leave comment on Ilina's blog" off your checklist of 2009 goals. Try it. You'll like it. I swear. One lousy little comment won't hurt you. Just this once, I promise. If it doesn't feel good you don't have to do it again. But I bet you're gonna like it. Do it. Just do it. If Nike can just do it, you sure as hell can!

You get the picture. All you lurkers out there, say your piece! Let your voice be heard! Even if it's just a wee whisper I'll really appreciate it. Really, I will.

Hugs and smooches to all who read, lurkers and otherwise!

Now go ahead and post a comment.

Letter to a New Year: Dear 2009 from a Head Case Oddity

Dear 2009,

Thank you for giving 2008 the boot. Of course, I was supposed to get the boots! I'm the one who asked for black stiletto boots for Christmas that I didn't get. Hmmph. Sure 2008 brought all kinds of whoopty-do in its paper sack of life's greatest hits: Mac Daddy and I turned 40, Bird started kindergarten, Deal saved the planet by ditching diapers and pull ups, we went to Disney Land, Barack Obama won the presidential election (which still makes me high just thinking about it), and all the goes-without-saying stuff that I won't say because well, it goes without saying.

2008 also kinda sucked in its own special the-sky-is-falling way. I mean we are in a recession and all. Virtually the whole world order is crashing at our feet that are clad with last fall's shoes because no one can afford to keep up with fashion anymore. Money matters have driven me to insomnia, a slow down in my business has caused premature graying (granted I'm 40 but I still feel like the gray is premature), I suffered an insufferable chronic cough for nine+ months and discovered some weird growth on my vocal chord, and my cat died. I know this last point comes as a surprise to many. It has been so heart breaking that I cannot bring myself to blog about it. Seriously. I'll get to it. I owe her some time in the limelight. 2008 also marked yet another year that kept us away from close friends. Damn fuel surcharges and obnoxiously high airfares stomped out our planned and highly anticipated trip to Europe with the boys. The raping of the American consumer continued.

Oh, I sound awfully negative and ungrateful, don't I? What a wretch am I. Full of venom here at Dirt & Noise. I am grateful for all the joys that 2008 brought. I am. Really. My family is healthy, happy, well fed, warm in winter, cool in summer, clothed, educated, and spoiled. There I go muttering all the stuff that goes without saying.

But 2009, please bring consumer confidence back to our lives. Rejuvenate the economy so that we can breathe the intoxicating scent of optimism again. Heal our wounds, mend our fences, stitch the fabric of our being, and throw us a bone and scratch our itches while you're at it. I'm also going to go ahead and ask for something that I bet everyone would add to the list but is too chicken to ask for: more sex. I figure the year can't be all bad since it does mark George Bush's final farewell, the end of arrogance and errors.

Bring back the good ole days, 2009. Keep us healthy, make us wealthy. And could you maybe cut Obama some slack? He's inheriting some pretty serious shit. Let's treat those little girls with some respect, mkay? Sasha and Malia don't need to be harassed like the offspring of Hollywood royalty. Basically, don't suck as much as 2008 and you'll go down in history. We're all feeling a bit spent so let's spend the new year being grateful, not greedy, honorable, not ornery. I'm not one for resolutions (no sense setting myself up for failure and disappointment), but I'll sign up for an attitude adjustment.

Thanks for obliging, 2009. I'm looking forward to seeing what you bear in your sack of tricks. I'm going to do my part to make it a rockin' year.

Peace, love, and laughter.

Rockin' it.

I saw my coffee shop guys yesterday. They were yuckin' it up again with their usual backwoods panache. They sat outside since it was finally a spring day here, so the whole posse was shrouded in Joe Camel fumes. Cancer perfume, as I like to call it. A few of the gents were sporting cowboy hats and sweatshirts that had random sayings like "Autism Run 1998" and "University of Smith & Wesson." Hardy har har har. Them guys are funny, I tell ya! I didn't stick around to hear their shards of wisdom since I prefer to keep my kids away from places that leave them smelling like the ashtray in my dad's Chevy Malibu from back in the day.

I know that secretly Mac Daddy would love to be like the coffee shop guys when he gets old. He dreams of being a toothless curmudgeon sitting his ass in a rocking chair all day long, commenting on all the nonsense that passes him by. He'd for sure have a toothpick to pick the strawberry seeds out of the last three teeth in his mouth. He'd have dentures, but they'd sit in an Efferdent bath all day because he won't be bothered to deal with gluing them in. Mac Daddy will see aging as license to say and do what he pleases. Hmmmmm....much like a preschooler.

As for me, I see myself aging gracefully a la Audrey Hepburn. I plan on staying fit (well, at least as fit as I am now, which is certainly far from gold, or bronze, medal shape) and being hip enough to be cool but not too hip as to be precociously annoying. I dream about having a fabulous commercial grade kitchen with a fireplace and Architecture Digest caliber outdoor entertaining space. I guess I'll be whipping up mashed osso bucco for Mac Daddy and all his toothless buddies.

What a pair we'll make. Yin and Yang. Oliver and Lisa. Beauty and the Beast.

Sure, I also dream about a gloriously happy family with no signs of dysfunction, gorgeous grandchildren, and sons who are gainfully employed by Johns Hopkins Hospital as a brotherly surgical team. No one wants to hear me wax about that crap. Of course we all wish for world peace, or at least family harmony. We all want our children to be smart, fulfilled, and rich (Yes, rich. No one dreams of having poor children. Someone's gotta fund our long-term care.).

All of us, regardless of social stature, wealth, education, geography, or upbringing share the same goals and hopes for our families. It goes without saying that the whole world wishes for the same blah blah blah that beauty pageant contestants are made of.

As for me, I just want that iconic Chanel jacket before I'm too hunched over to rock it and too blind to admire myself in it.