OBIT

Or Ode to Mac. May he rest in peace.

The dedicated and charming yet geriatric and senile Mr. Mac Powerbook showed no signs or symptoms of illness (this time) until unexpected time of death: 16:45:00 on 11/15/2007. He stroked out during an Entourage function and was unrevivable. His caretaker and next of kin, Queen B, defribulated several times with the assistance of residents, but Powerbook denied resuscitation. Queen has requested that a specialist be called in to adequately diagnose the situation and determine if Powerbook is a good candidate for resurrection. If Chief Surgeon Crouch or Chief Resident Randa are unable to perform a successful operation, Powerbook may have seen his last days on Earth. And if he unfortunately bytes it, then a private viewing and wake will be held on November 16 at 4:00 pm, Orpheum Theatre at 200 N. Broadway. Mr. Powerbook is preceded in death by his great-grandfather, Commodore 64 and his long lost cousins Floppy Disk and Win Dows.

In other words, CODE BLUE BEFORE I BURY THIS FLIPPIN LAPTOP!!!!

(Queen B's code blue proclamation to agency computer doctors today. Its unfortunate demise translates into being dead at work ((pun entirely intended)) for a good majority of the day tomorrow. Or so it usually goes. How did we work before computers may I ask? Oh, yeah. Those things called typewriters.)

My Flicka

Where did August go? She's just flown right on by. Out the window even. I can't believe next week is it. The activities are back in full swing with the start of the new school year. So definitely less time for blogging. Sorry 'bout that. But this is what all we've had going on. Back to school of course which means sports physicals and buying supplies, new backpacks and the like. (Fortunately, my kids are making due without new clothes right now. When it's in the 90s, summer-wear is sufficient until the fall chill creeps in.) Football practice started before August for my oldest son. Is that not the craziest thing ever???? He's in 6th grade. Gimme a break. I remember when school didn't even start until after Labor Day. Times really change. My brother and his family moved to Phoenix (per my sagas in earlier posts) and we had a going-away party for them a few weeks ago.

But the biggest thing that happened for us by far is the opportunity we had to spend time with my step-daughter Flicka (that's her above). No, that's not her given name. If you've read the book or seen the recent movie with Tim McGraw, you know that means "beautiful girl." And she's all that and more. Not that I'm biased or anything. But she's beautiful both inside and out. We had not spent any face time with Flicka since Feb 06. Long story short, ugly custody battle makes for not-fair visitation. So we had a very rare opportunity to go down for a visit (she lives in the state next to us), and miracle upon miracles were allowed to bring her home with us for an overnight stay! Her own grandparents had not seen her in five years! It was a joyous reunion. We were in heaven, but it was also very bittersweet. My son cried and then finally told me the tears were because he realized all the time we've lost. Isn't that the saddest thing? He's very intuitive and mature for his 11 years.

The visit was very short yet we felt so blessed. Flicka's an awesome kid (almost 16, so almost no kid anymore) and we have hope that we'll be together again sooner than later. But for now, I have many wonderful, awesome pictures from our own little shoot at a local park. How cool is that? A pro has nothin' on us!


















Queen B, King B and all the little Bs

This is the ONE!

There's my bro's new home in Arizona. (Notice he did not pick the one I did. So much for the addiction.) I think it would be really difficult for me to get used to the full desertscape in both the front and back yard. But in the heat down there, I suppose watering grass - or nongrass - is totally pointless.

They leave us on Saturday to head to their new state of residence. It's kinda surreal. For them too, I'm sure. Neither my brother or his wife have lived anywhere but where we live now. They even went to college here locally. So this is a really big step. I'm gonna miss my niece most of all.

My mom and I are planning a bon voyage party for them on Friday. Last minute prep, of course. Making phone calls tonight to offer invitations to friends and family. It wouldn't be a party thrown by my family if it were any other way!

Baby got crack.

<---- Queen B's Dream House.

"Why didn't I stay in real estate?" That was the question I muttered under my breath to my pal Jason last week when our crazy client had me in the midst of yet another fire drill on a Friday afternoon. My mind was already on weekend decompress - and I was forced to crunch out a project within a couple hours that afternoon. My ever-so wise pal responded to me with "Because advertising is like crack. You should write about that in your blog."

A-HA! How profound was that? He's always saying profound things that make the light bulb go off in the fog that is my brain. I thought that I didn't have an addictive personality. But now that he mentioned it ... I am a glutton for stressful and demanding jobs working for clients with unrealistic expectations. Hence the brief stint in real estate. And the same reason I can't break away from advertising, I guess. Advertising is my first love though. When I'm allowed to be part of a team engaged in a truly strategic initiative, devising the best way to reach the audience - there is nothing else like it. I'm in my element. I become obsessed. And it's truly addictive.

<--Baby Brother's Next Home in Phoenix. I just know it!

So here's my latest addiction. Even though I'm not in real estate anymore, my brother's move to Phoneix - along with all the new home purchases going on amongst my co-workers - has sucked me seductively back onto realtor.com. I just keep pouring over all the listings. And getting really frustrated because it doesn't have all the super-juicy details I used to get on the MLS as a licensed realtor. But I've really been searching through the Phoenix area, hoping I'll be able to help my baby bro' find his dream house. What a hoot! I've never even been to Phoneix - but, by gosh I will find it for him! He's there this weekend house-hunting with a realtor - but I keep calling him with properties I've found online so he'll make sure to check out my picks too!

I can't stop .............

Help me, please!

Groove funk.

After an awesome week lazing around one of the most gorgeous lakes in the southcentral U.S., I'm having a really hard time locating my groove. I think I left it - and my mind - back on that lake. Time seemed to stand still down there while the rest of the world marched on. While I was gone, two clients and two co-workers gave notice. Three co-workers wrote contracts on new homes. And my baby brother managed to land his dream job in Phoenix and will be moving his family there next month. No wonder I'm in a funk. Things around me are changing rapidly this summer - when I just really want to be still and chill. Maybe this is why I have not blogged in a while. I'm trying to catch my breath and mentally manage all the changes around me. These are no typical summer dog days. Soon the school year will be upon us - and structure will settle in, forcing me back into the routine and everyday life obligations. And with structure will come the groove - sans the white leisure suit.

H is for HOME

WILD CARD WEDNESDAY. This seems a little corny, but the only thing I could think of for H. House. Home. Home is where the heart is. This HOME happens to be one that belonged to Former President Dwight D. Eisenhower and his wife Mamie. It's located in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Yes, THE Gettysburg, PA where one of the greatest battles of the Civil War took place. Turns out that in Eisenhower's early military career as an officer, there was still an active U.S. Army post there - and he was stationed there training troops. The family was a typical military family and moved often, always looking for a way to feel at HOME in each new location. When Eisenhower faced retirement from military service, the family decided to settle back around Gettysburg - and were lucky enough to find a small farm right on the edge of the battlefields where Eishenhower had studied and meditated for inspiration in his younger career. When he became president, it was ideal that they owned the place. Because it's less than an hour and a half from D.C. We visited the HOME last year during our jaunt back East. The property itself is beautiful and interesting. But the house itself is sooooo dated - and they've obviously kept it that way to preserve as a museum. But after the first renovation merging/adding on to the old farmhouse, don't think Mamie made any other updates for decades. A lot of memorabilia and collectibles. Fun to visit the area and take it all in. Really pretty countryside, putting green (Ike was an avid golfer), gardens. But a rather HOMELY house on the inside if you ask me. To each his own. I'm sure it was lovely for 1950 America. Or not. At least I've done my part in imparting a little useless U.S. trivia your way. (That's the eldest Jr. B standing out front, facing away from the camera. She's a goof.)

Own the lot.

Speaking of V-dubs. This is what our work parking lot looks like on any common day of the week. Take your pick. "Mun-day. Twos-day. Weds-day. Fry-day." (To quote The Godfather.) We are affectionately known by the rest of the building as "The VW People." It looks like a color-coded dealership - or like we have a designated fleet. Not only are they all V-dubs from about the same year (hint: similar body style across models), but they are all silver. Although we might not want to admit it (we couldn't have intentionally been so clever to have designed it out this well), we didn't plan this. All employees of the same company, but all hired at different times. And all owned the vehicle when we started. Fortja's is the Passat in the middle. And if you couldn't tell the difference, that's Woody's twin P on the right. My Jetta on the left again. Okay. No, those aren't the EXACT car pics. But you get the effect it creates when they are all parked side-by-side. We've freaked out more than one fellow building-dweller. The funny thing is that there are also a couple of navy Jettas of approximately the same model year owned by other people in the lot and another silver Passat of approximately the same model year in the lot to the right. They are all within viewing distance of one another. I haven't seen this many VWs randomly in such short vicinity of each other since my last Orlando trip. I don't know what it is about VWs and Florida. But they got 'em there as thick as the mosquitos. Maybe they ship the Jettas across the Gulf from Mexico real cheap-like. Needless to say, we dominate the lot. It's a pretty picture. Makes me feel all brand-loyal and whatnot.

Bid it out.

I can't help myself. Remember that whole scenario on auto insurance I posted a few weeks back? Original insurance company got back to us and said they were going to up our auto insurance by $1,000 a year because of the one extra ticket that pushed us over the limit. This last week, we finally got around to bidding out. Insurance company #2 took a look at our driving records through our license identification, and not only are we not going up by $1,000, but we are reducing our premium by $600 LESS THAN what we were already paying!!! Can you believe that? How can these companies be so different? Anyhow, we've immediately switched - and canceled the original provider. I'd been with that provider for 25 years, and felt like they were looking out for me. What a big mistake! Another case of you gotta look out for yourself, cause no one else will. I encourage everyone to routinely shop around. It's your money. And I"m all about keeping as much for my family as I can. It will be nice to send them to college someday. Maybe I'll be able to now.

2003 VW Jetta Wolfsburg 1.8T, one of the causes of my insurance dilemma. And she looks so innocent, doesn't she??? (That's not a Wolfsburg edition in the photo, but you get the idea.)

Dear to my heart.

It's finally time to share a mission that is near and dear to the Queen B's heart. And I'm not talking about King B. I'm talking about the adoption of older children. Our oldest child was adopted at the age of 11, actually 12 by the time it finalized. We adopted from the foster care system in our state. Many people in our country still don't realize the great numbers of children lost in the foster care system here in the United States. These kids are "legal" orphans rather than the traditional images we have of kids whose parents and family are deceased - or given up by an unwed teen mother. These kids most often have birth parents with an inability to provide in some way - and yes, perhaps alcoholic, drug abusers or mental health cases. Most of these children have already suffered a multitude of life losses before they ever reach the system. Then they bounce from one foster situation to another - becoming more wounded and emotionally damaged. At that point, they have so many challenges that the odds against a successful adoption are high. So, the sooner kids from the system can be integrated and adopted into a forever family, the better their chance at a successful family life.

Popular Christian music artist, Mark Schultz (that's Mark in the photo), was adopted as an infant from the foster system in our home state. In fact, he was adopted through the same agency we used for our adoption. He also served in a mission to Mexico, ministering to orphans. He felt called to do more and is biking across America to raise funds for the cause of providing for orphans and widows. He is keeping a blog of his journey and has posted videos as part of his daily log of events. It is really touching - and you'll learn much about this cause if you check it out further. For any who feel even somewhat called or interested, I encourage you to check into your local resources. Don't assume that you can't afford it financially, because there are subsidies and benefits available. In our case, all legal expenses were covered - as well as a lot of other expenses we had relating to the adoption. In our state, the children receive medical coverage through the state too. And if you are seriously considering adoption, please consider adopting a child from here in the United States. These kids are in our own backyard - and are often being overlooked for infant adoptions from other countries. I feel passionate about any adoption, but especially about adoption of kids that are being lost to the system.

Adopting an older, hurt child is not an easy thing to do. But it's extremely rewarding. And we feel very blessed. It has been an awesome experience to see our daughter grow and heal and become such an integral part of our family - now a beautiful young lady with much potential and a life of opportunity ahead.

Double-dipping.

I just discovered a new, secret passion this weekend. Wow. Who would have thought? Edy's Limited Edition Girl Scouts Thin Mint ice cream. For those who pine for Thin Mints in about June when those hidden away in the icebox have suddenly disappeared until the following January, this is like an answer to a desparate prayer! We found a few half-gallons hidden in our local grocer's freezer - so gave it a whirl. And weren't disappointed. It doesn't quite top my ultimate fanatic pick, Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. But B&J's is a classic that can't often be rivaled.

The orange tarp comes down.

I couldn't let my co-workers and blogger friends be the only ones who paid tribute to the mess of our most recent working conditions. I began to feel like I was living in a third-world country, wading through the devastation of 9/11 or the most recent Greensburg, Kansas tornado disaster.

Greensburg, Kansas. May 2007.

I don't have a picture of the construction nightmare going on in our office. But this snap of the Greensburg aftermath pretty much resembles our digs over the last month. My nose feels permanently filled with sheetrock and mud dust. My desk and files have a nice gritty white film permanently adhered. And I've had the audacity to wear black garments almost every day through it all, which now sport white prints and smudges. Hard to avoid when almost every garment you own resides on the black side of the fashion color wheel. The natives were getting restless, tired and really cranky. Why is it that construction always seems to involve destruction first?

However, the dirty, dusty, f'ugly safety-ORANGE tarp came down today and the painters have arrived! A cleaning crew came in last night to minimize the damage, and the construction team actually turned on the shop vac this afternoon. (I started to wonder if it was broken.) Which means we may have turned a significant corner back toward less chaos. And soon, new digs and a big open house to show off our newest achievement.

I feel so much better already! And it's not even Friday yet. Pics of the new space will be posted soon.

In pursuit of my inner hillbilly.

Two weeks and counting. And I can't wait. This is just about my favorite place in the whole world. Branson, Missouri and Table Rock Lake. This is our family's favorite vacation getaway. The little town in the Ozark Mountains is less than six hours away from our home. Branson is like a little Las Vegas. A little cheesy and a lot touristy. But Table Rock Lake is beautiful. This picture hardly does it justice at all. It's lush and green - usually pretty temperate. We like to stay on the lake and then venture into Branson during the evening for dinner and a show or during the afternoon for a little shopping when we're tired of being out on the water. It's a great family spot because there is a lot to do - with healthy, kid-friendly activities. We missed our annual sojourn last summer because we went back East to explore DC and visit some family. But my kids are so excited they can hardly stand it. And I feel the same way. I had ancestors who helped settle Missouri and then moved on to the Plains. And I wish they would have just stayed put. But I probably appreciate it more because I don't get to live it year-round. Something about it sure brings out a hillbilly spirit that I imagine is loitering around in my ancestral blood. It does my heart good. (That's me and my crew two years ago in a teeny little fishing troller we took with us to skip around the lake.)

Who started it?

Who first said "Everything works out for the best." - ??? Whoever was really smart. So after I whined to you about how my husband was unemployed last week, he went and landed himself a J-O-B a few days ago! Less than a week after the previous one ended. And it's a WAY BETTER job - er, career opportunity - than the one before anyhow! Talk about good timing. They were looking for someone just like him. He started TODAY. He's "in heaven." He says. It's more on track with what he's been dreaming about for his life pursuit. And it's a really respected company that does good - no, GREAT - work. I'm happy that he's happy. And that I don't have to worry about how the bills are going to get paid. Or at least not in the immediate future. So to quote some other historical person I don't know: "All's well that ends well."

When you think things can't get any worse ...

You know the kind of week I'm talking about. One bad thing happens and you stay fairly positive. You'll get past it. Then the next thing you know, another rears its ugly head. Then another. Until you think you are going to literally lose it before the sun goes down on another chaotic day. You truly cannot take any more. You begin to understand why people flip out and do crazy things under dire stress. It's been one of those weeks at the B-hive.

Long story, but my husband is suddenly unemployed this week - and actively looking for a job. We did not see it coming - like you ever do? But we were just catching up from a recent family budget crunch and preparing for our summer vacation. Well, he's on vacation alright. And I'm not feeling real confident about how we'll make it through this new little challenge. I'm sure we will, but the unknown is still not easy to take. I'd decided I would stay positive though - try to have faith and not worry about the future.

Now today, I get a call from the insurance company who tells me they are going to cancel our auto insurance coverage because my husband got a traffic ticket last week. He's one ticket over his maximum allowable limit at this point. This was about as much as I could take! Who do these people think they are??? Between vehicle and home coverage (which are bundled under one policy), we pay these people in excess of $4,000 a year! I've been covered by them since I was 14 years old. And my husband has been on the policy for 12 years. And never once have we had a traffic accident! Yeah, he gets the occasional speeding ticket. My husband used to be a cop. Enough said, right? Isn't the whole reason cops become cops is so they can legally drive like Ricky Bobby in pursuit of some other family man with the occasional lead foot? Because he was a cop, he went through all kinds of defensive driving training - certified through the state law enforcement academy. The boy knows how to drive and handle a vehicle. But they are going to cancel our policy because we are a risk. Give me a break! Of course, we are bidding out ALL of our insurance coverage - including the house, large outbuilding and stock trailer. If they cancel our auto insurance, then they're losing everything we have covered with them. They're not getting any more of this enraged girl's money! They aren't the cheapest insurance to begin with, but we've stuck with them out of customer loyalty and have never had our coverage bid out when that's really the nationwide trend in our fickle consumer age. We might even deserve to be punished since my husband is "guilty" of what appears to be such a major offense (geez), but I'm tired of dealing with them. It's another unnecessary life hassle. I think they do it just for the sheer enjoyment of messing with me. And in reality, I know it's yet another ploy to get even more money out of us when they transfer us to their "high-risk driver" policy.

Okay ... so I don't have a life-threatening illness (that I know of) and my teenage daughter didn't come home telling me she's pregnant - or anything else seriously tragic like that. But it's still been a week I'd rather not repeat again anytime soon. Has anyone else had a week like this recently? Please tell me our streak of bad luck is going to swing back the other way. Come to think of it, Talladega Nights is the perfect analogy to how this week has gone for me ... a fast spiral downward. When life sucks, it can really suck. But I just know I'm gonna find my inner cougar soon.

I live for moments like this.

Talk about your Kodak moment. In the land of You-know-where, we have a big festival every May. The end of the week+-long event always ends in a twilight pops concert accompanying a gigantic fireworks extravaganza. This year, my family joined a private party that included work friends and families. The party included balcony seats from a prime building location in the heart of the event. Fortunator took this photo (disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer he declared: "With my camera PHONE) of his son and mine peering over the balcony to watch the fireworks. Camera phone or not, it was a great shot. They are both in the same grade at school - and I think both are as mischievous as the day is long. Which is typical of boys this age. But they are captured here in a very sweet moment in time. I just love it.

Props to J x 2

I can't believe it's been almost a week since I last blogged! It's been a little busy at the ol' ad shop. But I'm feeling really inspired by the last few weeks. Almost two years ago, I lost my job at a larger agency due to a layoff - and took a job at a newer start-up. I went from a supervisory-level position to the role of an entry-level ad girl. I had to make a lot of compromises to survive the transition and culture shock. It's been a rough road.

But within the last month - and more recently over the last few weeks - some changes have been in the works that are allowing me to regain some of what I lost. Including the addition of some really smart people whom I'm proud to call my peers and teammates. It's amazing what a few changes - in role, culture and smart people surrounding you - can do to make you happier in such a short time. My persepctive is really different than it was at the beginning of 07.

So here's a shout-out to friends who have recently made my life a little sweeter: Fortunator and Badway. It's a pleasure!

Out your own front door ...

You never know what you're gonna get. Or something like that.

Yesterday, Craig Morgan (country music artist) was shooting a video right in front of our agency. We are in an office building with a historic theater. The city shut down a two-block radius for this shoot to take place. What a riot. Literally. This event is big news in Small-Town, America. It brought out all kinds of crazies thinking they would snag their 15 minutes of fame. Check out the hoochies in the Jeep.

I kinda like some of Craig Morgan's songs - although I'm not a fan. And just the fact that an actual shoot was happening right outside our door was intriguing - almost addictive. We spent most of the day popping in and out to check out the action - or in most cases not much action. You know what I mean if you've ever been on a film set before. It takes a lot of time to set up for about 10 seconds worth of action.

My city-dweller co-workers had a blast diss'ing this thing all day long. Which was for this country girl somewhat disturbing and exciting all at the same time. Anyhow, enjoy!



Craig Morgan on the dirtbike. Don't know what the dirtbike had to do with the shoot.

Answering the call.

If you have mini-mes of the grade-school variety at your house, maybe you can relate to my most recent panic attack this week. In fact, I'm almost positive you've probably experienced it at least once. Unless your mini-me is a child prodigy. Yep. You guessed it. The call from the teacher. On the anwering machine. A very cryptic mumbling that is just serious-sounding enough to cause your stomach to turn - without detailing the symptoms worthy of your latest affliction. And it's left on a Friday afternoon. So by the time you reach home on Friday evening (long after the teachers have left the building), you have the whole weekend to spend in passive agony, wondering what little Johnny has been up to this time.

The call came in last week. And actually, I didn't hear the message until several days later. "Mrs. Queen B, I've lost your email address when I transitioned to a new computer recently. Can you please either give me a call or send me your email address again? I wanted to speak with you about little Johnny." Joy. Lots of joy. Buckets of proud parental joy. And it's the end of the school year. What major decisions are made about a child's school standing at the end of the school year? I jumped to speculation immediately. Outrageous thoughts. Wildly dramatic thoughts. I was already preparing the "No, we are not going to hold him back ..." speech.

When I finally reached the teacher around noon the next day, she says "Little Johnny had been acting silly. We wondered if there had been some change at home. Or if you've noticed anything amiss. But that was last week. He's been fine this week." So to borrow a phrase from Grey's Anatomy and my last post ... SERIOUSLY?????

Little Johnny does have ADHD. And he's in second grade. Isn't silliness a requirement for that coveted age in life? I was imagining mini-me repeating second grade. And grieving over how that was going to permanently scar his self-esteem. And yet he was acting "silly." Silly. Hmmm. Who was it that was acting silly???? One aforementioned teacher who had me stressed out, losing sleep and speed-dialing Sylvan. That's who.

A day in the life.

We should have known it was too good to be true. Things were going too well. Our good fortune was about to run out. But we didn't really want to acknowledge it. Really. We never do. It's all about doing great creative work. So our misguided optimism lead us down a path to the ever-familiar fantasyland. Three campaigns met with initial client accolades and praise in two weeks time. You just know you are testing the fates. It was too perfect. When is the ball going to drop?

Well, it did today. The corporate marketing director finally got in front of the VP with all our original, fresh and edgy concepts. Edgy inserted here tongue-in-cheek. Edgy for this conservative B2B client. New stuff. Paths they have not trod before. Really awesome integrated work. That takes a few months - or at least a few weeks - to produce. Therein lies the rub. This client is late. Tragically. All the time. Wow. We loved your work. But we need something to go out this week. Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY? These marketing events are only scheduled like YEARS in advance. They obviously did not know two years ago - or even two months ago - that this event was coming up. And forgot to really engage until a few weeks before the campaign needed to launch. Like I said. Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY???

So we are regrouping again tomorrow. The client. The agency partners. The creative director and copywriter. And me. To figure out how to realign work in one morning that should have been planned six months ago. And how many times has this happened in my career lifetime? Another day in the life of advertising. Seriously.

Age to age and flashbacks.

There have been so many things of late that remind me how fleeting our days are - how our lives pass in seasons or "ages." I don't mean just age as in the number of years old you may be. But the season or periods of our lives that are wrapped around or designed for development or growth or a rite of passage. It is not always evident that we have slipped mysteriously from one age to another either - until a new event or moment unearths the discovery.

For a decade, I was a young 20-something, graduating from college, finding my niche in the work-a-day world and developing a career, meeting my beau who would become my husband and father of my children. I was set and on my way. Next came the late 20s and early 30s and starting a family. My career was a little more established and I was feeling pretty good about my place in life. I LOVED having infants and toddlers. It was exhausting and eye-opening, but life was fresh and new and so many opportunities lie ahead. I liked being a young mother. Then somehow my babies turned into grade school children and we entered a whole new "age" and life existence. New "friends" (parents of kids in our kids' classes), teachers and principals, organized athletics and activities, programs and concerts, practices and games. Whew! It was an adjustment. Not sure I have it well managed yet. And I was still exhausted.

Now our kids are all in grade school (my baby is in 2nd) and middle school, preparing for high school. The tide has shifed again. We are starting to think about insuring them to drive and what vehicle we will intrust to them. Do we like their friends and should we let them go on out-of-town trips without us? What college will they attend and why? Will there be enough money to support their endeavours? Each age brings a whole new mindset and all new questions and answers. We become different people as we move through these ages of time, continually adapting and changing to fit our new position or place. (And there's that exhaustion thing again.)

A co-worker of mine just had a baby last week. I saw pictures for the first time last night! Boy, there is nothing like pictures of a first-week newborn to take you back to a different age in time! It really was not that long ago when I was the late 20-something having my first baby. I can still smell the sweet smells (along with the not-so-sweet), feel the soft skin and tiny fingernails of both my baby boys. The flashbacks make me weepy. Now I have passed the baton to a "new" first-time mom. She is the one who is craddling and swaddling the precious new babe and learning to anticipate and distinguish each and every whimper and cry. It's a truly precious time. But she is also the one up two, three, four times during the wee hours for nightly feedings. And mixing formula. And changing diapers. Figuring out how the carrier fits into the base of the car seat. Packing up the whole house just to run to the grocery store for a few little necessities.

Okay. So maybe we painstakingly "earn" our way out of each age. And maybe we wouldn't trade going back for anything in the world. It was fun and time well spent - but better to push on to the next exciting age around the next bend in the road. I'm ready to grab the baton.

Dorothy, Toto and The Big Well

So it's springtime in Kansas again. Torrential rains, thunderstorms and twisters are the name of the game. Almost every year, Nature does her best to get the best of the God-fearing inhabitants of this state. And all inhabitants are God-fearing because we live in Kansas. With the twisters. And the thunderstorms. And their sister floods. And the ensuing droughts which then follow in July and August. You definitely can't let Nature or fear get the best of you to survive here.

Last week, a F5 tornado took out 95% of Greensburg, Kansas - a little town of 1,200 or 1,400 or 1,600 or 1,800 people (pick a number, the media seem to be randomly guessing so you should too) - about an hour-and-a-half west of Wichita. Most of the major facilities that small communities are built upon - like the post office, all the schools, government buildings - were totally destroyed. All the utilities were completely sacked. From the media photos, it looks worse than a war zone. And I can relate to your hometown and all you've known being devastated by such a disaster because my hometown of Andover, Kansas was ravaged by a tornado in 1991. Many of the important landmarks and history you've come to know as your own are no longer standing. Lives are lost - which is of course the thing that can't be replaced. But we were lucky. This tornado cut through the southern part of town - a residential strip, leaving most of the historical and necessary community buildings. But Greensburg was just totally wiped out. I don't know how they'll rebuild their town and community. But I'm sure they will. That's how we Kansans are. Hearty people from the heartland. Don't know why we seem so insistent to make our homes on the plains. Maybe because we're here. And there is a lot of room to build a home and life out here. Even when Nature knocks you down and makes you start over again.

But Greensburg had a little luck too. The deepest hand-dug well - this little town's big claim to fame - is still there. The giftshop and rest of the attraction's facilities were plowed. But the well is still there. Because of course, it's under the ground. How lucky is that? So if a town can wrap it's spirit around a big hole in the ground, they ought to be capable of anything.

President Bush visited there today. He too was impressed with the big ole' hole in the ground that's still there when the whole town is gone.

Actually, I don't know that President Bush even knew about the well. But we sure all knew about his trip to Greensburg. And Air Force One flying into Wichita for the Blackhawks to take W out to Greensburg impressed us Kansans who are so incredibly bright we choose to build houses in tornado alley.

Seriously now. Our hearts truly do go out to our fellow Kansans who lost homes and lives in this latest weather-related tragedy. And it is an inspiration to see Kansans pull together to help our fellow statesmen in need. Godspeed for a healthy recovery and new life ahead.

Reality check.

Are women allowed to have a midlife crisis? I've been wondering that a lot this last year. I suffered through a 20-year, high-school reunion in October. It wasn't that bad as it turned out, I guess. There were plenty of gals and guys who aged a lot less gracefully than myself. But then there were those Barbie dolls who are even more of a Barbie than 20 years ago who make you feel really inferior and, well, old. I swear that one of my gal pals from back then is even more attractive than she was before. And not only does she look like a marathon athlete, tanned, blonde and gorgeous - she IS a marathoner. As well as a successful doctor. With three beautiful children, including a set of twins - boy and girl. Ugh. If I didn't like her so much, I would have thrown up on her right then and there. But worse than feeling uptight about my own aging, I felt more than a little anxiety for the boys who had turned into men (not the BOYS we said goodbye to in '86) by shooting up a couple more inches, growing shoulders and filling out in a few more places than just the pecs. There were more than a few beer-belly paunches and bald heads. I recognized ALL the girls, but there were several guys I would not have recognized if I'd literally bumped into them at the mall in their old letter jackets. At least it was reassuring to know that my peers had aged right along with me.

I now have a daughter in middle school who decided to go out for volleyball this year. Of course, I had to prove my old state volleyball team status by "helping her practice." Oh, yeah. I was the clutch server and backrow digger back in 86. If the coach wanted to target weak defense on the opposite side of the net, I was recruited to expertly smash her face in with a strategically placed, lethal overhand serve. We had a few all-state players on my team, and we competed for the state title my senior year (see the pic - guess which is me). It's not just men who think they are invincible and still have the athlete's ego they did in their glory days. For weeks, I was out in the sideyard volleyball "court" my husband set up for our daughter to practice, serving to her for hours at a time. I can only remember being really sore one day the first week. But I STILL HAD IT! And I was getting a lot of joy in showing my girl that ol' mom was better than her at something since all teenagers think their parents are the biggest idiots that ever walked the planet. Well, later that month, I reached behind my back to hand my youngest son some silly little thing he thought he needed in the car. And WHAM, BAM%$#*&$%!!! My third-decade glory days were over. Something popped, pulled and sent a sharp stabbing pain from my shoulder clear down my arm. I literally doubled over in pain. It was a good thing I wasn't actually driving or we would have been bouncing off the curb or in a ditch off the interstate. Well, here it is 6 months later and I'm still in physical therapy. I have tendonitis and "frozen shoulder," meaning I have really limited range of motion in that arm - and can't even reach behind me to hook a bra strap, let alone overhand serve a volleyball.

On top of all this, I have to wear "granny" magnifying glasses about 50 percent of the time at the agency, where I do a lot of proofing and copy editing. My new physical therapist just happens to have turned 40 this year herself. I told her that I just don't understand why I shouldn't be able to do the same stunts I did 20 - now 21 - years ago. How did this happen? She wondered the same thing when she did an overhand stroke in the pool last summer and felt that same pop and pull. Well, at least I'm not in that pool by myself. And don't think I'll be running out to buy myself a little red Corvette to prove that I've still got it either. It's obvious I've already lost it. Because that's the other thing that's getting a little rusty - my memory.

Nappy-headed ... huh??

Let me first say that I am not a racist. And I totally support and celebrate minorities and those that fought diversity issues and rose up from a underprivileged life. Even so I will still probably take a lot of ribbing for this, but I cannot believe this thing over Don Imus.

Yeah, he said something really inappropriate. And offensive. No question about that. But did this incident deserve all this publicity? Did he deserve to be fired? He's a shock jock. He's made a career out of being offensive and pushing the envelope. And people eat it up. And the media outlets make a ton of money. Until advertisers start raising flags and pulling support and then the outlets decide to turn tail and cower.

And the African American or black (which is PC nowdays anyhow? - I've lost track) community actually perpetuate this type of inappropriate language by introducing it and proliferating it to begin with. It seems okay as part of the everyday, urban-ethnic lingo. I've heard those same words in popular box-office moneymakers - as well as worse from black music artists. But just wait for a white, 50-something, redneck-type male to slip and use some of those whizzers and it creates a total culture shock and he loses his job.

What about the Rutgers athletes? I'd be offended too, no doubt. But would I be "scarred for life?" Gimme a break. These black women student-athletes have fought diversity and minority issues all their lives and have met the challenges and excel. You'd think they'd have thicker skins than to be "scarred for life" by an insignificant white male whom they've never met and is known for his outlandish offensiveness, designed to create buzz.

AND ... the media just exploits this and perpetuates it further. Bringing it more to light so that people are aware of this type of language. And when you hear it over and again, it becomes part of your own vocabulary toolbox. Sitting in folders in the filing cabinet of your mind just waiting for a random opportunity for it to fly out of your own mouth in an inappropriate way. We don't typically use words we haven't heard before.

What am I doing???

So this is my first blogging attempt. Creating one, that is. Can you believe that? I grew up in the 70s and I feel too old for this. But my 20-something co-workers who are almost young enough to be my kids - or is that I'm really almost old enough to be their parent? - are making me feel inferior and out of touch. And I haven't even reached 40 (I have 8 more months, thank you very much)! So this is my feeble attempt to try something new. And to try and stay somewhat in the ever-changing digital age of today.

When I started out in the publishing and ad game, of course I was the newbie that made everyone else in the biz feel old. I did my share of time in the old wax paste-up days. Now those new kids joining us don't have a clue what hot wax is used for - other than cleaning up a bikini line. Please tell me that someone remembers the not-so-pleasant hot wax aroma wafting through the production room and how you had to wait the proper amount of time so you wouldn't burn your fingertips? Several years ago, I had a few interns that were amazed by my tales of typing term papers on an electric typewriter and counting lines up from the bottom of a portrait sheet to determine how many footnotes we could squeeze in. I found one of those old papers and brought it in for their amusement. What a hoot. It was like they'd discovered something to take to the Antique Roadshow for evaluation!

Okay, so I hope I'll get better at this. And that I learn something about blogging that I can share with my clients. And hopefully they are enough older than me that this "new" (lol) medium will make me look like the young kid with new technology and tricks to share.