Writing Life

July 11, 2013

Stuart Sheldon’s Old-Fashioned Letter

Guess what, everyone? I just shipped off another letter to Tech as another bloggy friend has submitted an entry in the  “Write…

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June 27, 2013

When Perfectionism Gets In the Way

I’m not going to lie. I’ve been having a tough time. I’ve already deleted those two sentences twice. While I don’t have…

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June 21, 2013

Where She’s From

Tomorrow, my eldest niece will graduate from high school. And in August, she’ll head off to college. Unlike her brothers who chose…

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June 19, 2013

Write An Old-Fashioned Letter To My Kid At Camp

Last year, Tech went to overnight camp for a month. When he got home, he ate and slept. And then he complained…

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June 6, 2013

Fabulous Followers: Featuring @Stuart_Sheldon

Not long ago it occurred to me, I have all these followers on Twitter, but who are they? I mean, I don’t…

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May 24, 2013

Offering Options

I’m at 3 Things For Mom today, where every day a different writer shares a “truth” (a life lesson, observation or insight), a…

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May 21, 2013

Don’t Lick The Minivan: A Review and #Giveaway

When my son was an infant, I knew I was doing everything wrong. I was sure of it. Looking around, I saw…

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May 15, 2013

It’s My 1,101st Day in The Blogosphere

Some of you may have missed that it was my blogoversary on Monday. You know because it was buried under my Lilly…

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April 10, 2013

Tweet With #TribalChix About Survivor Tonight!

A bunch of you know that I’m a Survivor junkie. And that I’ve even tried out to be on the show several…

Read More…

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Y’all, another bloggy friend submitted a beautiful letter to my son in summer camp in the Write My Kid an Old-Fashioned Letter” Contest!

This one comes from Misty of Misty’s Laws.

Here’s the thing you have to know about Misty. The girl loves to send cards. This isn’t the first card that’s shown up via snail mail from Misty. She sent me a birthday card when I turned 45, and I got a little verklempt. Besides my mother and my husband, I don’t think anyone else gave me a handwritten card. Oh, I received plenty of Facebook comments on my timeline. And I got a bunch of texts. But the electronic stuff can never replace the joy of receiving and opening a personal letter.

In her letter to my son…

Misty writes as if she is a former bunkmate who didn’t return to camp this year.

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Click HERE to see Misty’s letter bigger-er!

Here’s an excerpt:

I remember all of our previous camp experiences, don’t you? Like that time we all went hiking & silly Mikey walked through all of that poison ivy. He was itchy for days! Ha. And do you remember when we went canoeing & our boat got stuck in those marshy reeds? It took forever to get out of there! And who knew mosquitoes really liked marshy reeds? Talk about itchy. Yikes. Ah, good times.

Misty “remembers” singing John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt, roasting marshmallows, and canoeing out to the marshy reeds where the itchy mosquitoes live. She hopes my son isn’t living with He Who Shall Not Be Named — which is perfect. Because everyone who ever went to camp knows there’s always one kid in the bunk you’d like to paddle out to the marshy reeds and leave with the mosquitoes.

Misty’s postscript is going to destroy my boy.

P.S: As I know you are suffering without your beloved Minecraft, in your honor, I have vowed to play an extra 2 hours of video games every day to make up for it. You’re welcome. It’s really nothing. I’m a giver.

The thing is Misty really is a giver.

If you read her blog, you know Misty goes all out to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries and takes care to make everyone feel special. She buys silly stuff she knows readers of her blog will enjoy and hosts fun giveaways on her blog from time to time — just because. And she gifted me with a most delicious guest post when she shared her #SoWrong moment not long ago.

Thanks to Misty for making my kid’s summer camp experience even funner-er.

Whaaat? It’s summer. I can break a few grammar rules.

• • •

To see other posts in this series read letters from:

BrickHouseChick

Stuart Sheldon

If you’d like information about how you can win a $25 gift card by writing my son while he’s at summer camp, click HERE.

tweet me @rasjacobson

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Guess what, everyone? I just shipped off another letter to Tech as another bloggy friend has submitted an entry in the Write My Kid an Old-Fashioned Letter” Contest

This one traveled all the way from Miami.

When I tore open the envelope, I found a miniature piece of art because this little card? It’s hand-painted on one side.

Remember that guy who was following me on Twitter? @Stuart_Sheldon? I wrote about him HERE? Well, Stu wrote a letter for my kid. How cool is that?

I call this one “For a Bro.”

Because Stu penned “For a Bro” in ink on the front of the card.

See?

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Letter 2 – From Stuart Sheldon

Stu’s letter contains some profound advice.

On the surface, Stu’s advice may appear to be for the heterosexual male.

But.

If you look deeper, you’ll understand that his words are really a life metaphor for anyone of any sexual orientation.

In fact, Stu’s letter is so profound, the counselors at Tech’s camp should read it to all the campers in the village and then launch a 3-day mass program based on his words of wisdom.

Check it out.

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Click to make Stu’s words bigger-er!

In case you can’t read Stu’s words, I’ve translated here:

So Tech, here’s the thing about camp –

Talk to that girl you think is ALL THAT. You know the one! She makes you feel all shy cuz she’s so pretty and nice and natural and smiley. And maybe you think, “I could never talk to her; she’d never like me. She’s out of my league.” WRONG! She will like you and think you are kind and a gentleman…BECAUSE YOU ARE. Worst case, she will be your friend. Best case…who knows.

But life is about marching up to what you desire most and introducing yourself.

Trust me, little brother. I got your back.

Stu. 

Are you crying? I kinda teared up a little when I read Stu’s words.

The tone found in the letter is a lot like the one in Stu’s blog where he writes beautiful, heartfelt pieces about being a father to two young sons. About being a husband and a father, a writer and an artist, a thinker and a dreamer, finding his way in the world.

I know it’s easier to type or text these days, but typed letters don’t feel the way a real letter feels in your hands. I don’t care how many emoticons you use.

There is intimacy in the ink.

I love Stu’s loopy letters, the lightness of his hand in some places, and the places where he chose to linger and make things dark. 

For emphasis.

And I love Stu’s message, too. And I assume Tech will, too. Once a counselor reads the letter to him. You know, because he can’t read cursive since they don’t teach it in school anymore.

Read Stu’s latest piece HERE, and poke around a bit. He likes that.

Who sent you the last handwritten letter you received? Do you feel the difference between typed and handwritten letters the way I do? 

tweet me @rasjacobson

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Click here to see other beautiful work by Dilka Bear @behance.com

I’m not going to lie.

I’ve been having a tough time.

I’ve already deleted those two sentences twice.

While I don’t have OCD, I do have some obsessive traits which sometimes strangle me.

Has anyone noticed I haven’t been posting very much?

No? Good, that’s awesome.

Except it sucks.

Because I have actually been writing prolifically.

For days.

Last night, I was up until 2 AM working and reworking a piece about summer camp.

But I just can’t seem to bring myself to push PUBLISH.

When I first started this blog, I wrote with reckless abandon.

I was fearless.

But now I feel paralyzed.

So many of my cyber buddies manage to blog and publish books. While I am, of course, thrilled for them, I feel less than. I can’t understand what’s wrong with me. I know writing a book isn’t a race, but seriously? This thing is taking forever.

Clearly, I’m suffering from Comparison’s Disease, a 100% made-up syndrome coined by my husband to describe one of our friends — we’ll call him Tom — who is forever comparing one thing to something else.

Say we’re sitting at an outdoor cafe when a limousine blows by. Tom’ll be all: “Do you guys remember when we got caught behind that hearse?”

“Yeah,” I might say. “What’s your point?”

“Well, they’re both long and black.”

And then we’d laugh.

Because Tom’s Comparison’s Disease is funny.

Mine is different.

I’ve subscribed to a lot of blogs. Probably too many. Instead of inspiring me, I find myself losing steam.

Angry voices in my head shout at me.

The voices are pissed off and alternate between reminding me that I need to write better and faster and telling me that I suck. They tell me my words aren’t good enough, that I’ll never finish my book, that I should close up shop and get a job selling erotic toys or smoothies. Or something.

This post isn’t meant to be profound.

I just needed to confess that I’m feeling like a fraud.

Frankly, I just needed write something in 20 minutes.

To prove that I could.

I’ve been here before.

I’m sure I’ll dig my way out of this hole.

I just need to stop trying so hard for perfect.

Because perfect is the enemy.

I know this.

I just need to finish.

And look, 43 minutes later, I did.

Are you a perfectionist? What tricks do you have to keep moving forward when your brain is telling you everything you do is a terrible mistake?

tweet me @rasjacobson

Tomorrow, my eldest niece will graduate from high school. And in August, she’ll head off to college. Unlike her brothers who chose campuses closer to home, Miss Thang will be flying further away from the nest.

Today, I’m sharing one of the essays Audrey authored during her college application process. Because tomorrow, we’ll celebrate her: the person she is and the person she’s becoming. My niece knows who she is. Tenacious, kind, funny and smart: I’m excited for her to strap on her invisible wings and take them for a spin. Can’t wait to see where she lands.

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Photo by Florian Komorowski

Where I’m From by Audrey Jacobson

I am from ballet shoes and muddy sneakers.

From two older brothers, playing on the driveway.

I am from high expectations and never giving up. From surging on the canal path and running in circles.

From a box of Nike spikes, sweaty locker rooms, a blue and gold uniform and eleven varsity letters.

I am from “suicide sprints” and layup lines. From dropping balls and picking them up again.

From “Eat the hills for breakfast!” and “Keep your head up!”

I am from going out of my way, from hard work. From camaraderie, spirit, and supporting my teammates.

I am from ten summers at sleep-away camp. From fearlessly leaving home, a wee thing toting a humongous duffel bag.

I am from broadening my world, from making new friends, from unplugging from technology, and connecting with nature. From waterskiing and tetherball.

I am from giving back. In song and dance and conversation. I am from conflict resolution, positivity, and motivation. I am a hand, a shoulder, and an ear.

I am from bell-ringing on winter nights, from lugging boxes of books to children who have none, from making bracelets with broken souls.

I am from long nights of studying at my kitchen island. From Multiplication Fast Facts in 3rd grade to Logs and Limits. From Phospholipids and Buffers and Titrations.

I am from High Honor Roll. From parents with great genes. From brothers who showed me the way.

After seeing my name in the newspaper for academics and sports, people have told me, “You’re the whole package.”

Whatever that means, I’m not sure.

What I know is that I am from tutus and jazz shoes.

From getting dirty and meeting new people.

From the love of learning and the love of the game.

From playing hard and winning trophies, but not being afraid to lose.

I am from taking risks.

I know where I am from.

These are my roots.

What no one knows is that I have this box of wings that I’m ready to try.

tweet us @rasjacobson & @audjacobson

What’s essays do you remember being assigned to write? Where are you from?

NOTE: I helped Audrey back in October by providing her with the “Where I’m From” meme when she was in the throes of essay writing, but all the words are her own. Thanks to Jenny Hansen for sharing her piece and to Sharla Lovelace for inspiring Jenny. If you go HERE, you will see this exercise is based on a poem by George Ella Lyon called “Where I’m From,” and if you’d like to try it yourself, the original link is there.

Click HERE for details on how you can enter to win a $25 gift card. 

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Last year, Tech went to overnight camp for a month. When he got home, he ate and slept. And then he complained that I hadn’t written enough.

You guys, I wrote a lot of letters.

Seriously, I wrote one every other day. That’s 14 letters, if you round down.

My son claims some kids received mail every single day.

This year my son is going to overnight camp for the entire summer.

That’s seven weeks, people.

I don’t have enough going on in my life to write him a letter every stinkin’ day. I know what you’re thinking: use your imagination. Believe me, I sent that boy plenty of creative letters, but there’s such a thing as burnout.

Plus, I’m old-school in that I believe there’s nothing better than a good old-fashioned letter. One that someone wrote with his or her own hand.

Those types of letters take a little longer to craft.

So I’m appealing to you, my friends from the blogosphere. You’re readers and writers. You’re funny and smart and creative. You have pens and stamps.

WILL YOU WRITE TO MY KID WHILE HE’S AT CAMP?

Last year I asked you to write to Tech at camp, and you did! I gave him all your letters on Visitor’s Day, and he responded to people in a 3-part post when he returned home. If you’d like, you can check out Part I • Part II • Part III

This year, I’m begging asking you to write my kid a handwritten letter.

Partly because I think it’ll be hilarious for Tech to receive letters from people he doesn’t know.

But also because I’ve noticed how few people send letters anymore. Sure, we have email, mobile phones, and Facebook, but sometimes it’s nice to go to the mailbox and find something with your name on it.

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ALSO, IT’S TIME FOR A CONTEST.

Here’s what you do to enter:

  • Write a letter of any length, appropriate for a 14-year-old boy.
  • It must be handwritten. Typed letters will be disqualified.
  • It must be legible. Please print neatly. 
  • It must be pretty. No boring white paper. Be creative.
  • Send the letter to me between now & July 31, 2013. If you send it after that, I won’t be able to get it to Tech in time as U.S. Postal Service to camp is wicked slow!

When I receive your letters, I’ll steam open the envelopes to check out the submissions. That’s right, I’ll review each letter for originality, creativity, and visual appeal before forwarding it to the boy at camp.

WHAT’S IN IT FOR YOU?

I’ll feature my favorite letters on my blog, and include blurbs about their authors. 

One of you stands to win best letter writer. That person will win a $25 gift card to somewhere awesome.

Tech isn’t in the dark. He’s agreed to respond to the winner. In addition to sending a handwritten letter to the winner via U.S. mail, I’ll post his illegible, yet handwritten response on my blog.

When writing a kid at camp, there are 3 rules.

Rule #1: Don’t be sad. Never tell your child that you are missing her so much that it hurts. That’s a disaster. And if your kid writes to say he is homesick, don’t get all hyper and tell him you’ll pick him up. Oy. He’s just venting.

Rule #2: Don’t be scary. At overnight camp, kids are completely cut off from the outside world. They really don’t know what’s going on, so it’s not funny to say the family pet died. They don’t need to hear about shootings or death or illness. A zombie apocalypse isn’t funny when you are away from the people you love.

Rule #3: Be funny. Camp is fun – and your letters should be too. Tell stories. Take a moment from your day and embellish it like crazy. When I write to Tech, I try to entertain him. Suggested topics: 1) girls, 2) Minecraft, 3) fencing, 4) Euchre, 5) technology (since he won’t have any), 6) tips on how to live with mean kids, 7) tips regarding how he can keep track of his socks.

If all else fails, tell him about what you used to do when you went to camp.

Unless you set things on fire or got girls pregnant.

In which case,  don’t write about that.

*smiles*

If you’d like to write a handwritten letter to Tech while he’s at summer camp, please indicate your interest in the comments section. I’ll contact you with the necessary information. Don’t wait. You know what happens when you wait. 

tweet me @rasjacobson

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Gratitude to Val Erde at http://artyoldbird.com for letting me use her image.

Not long ago it occurred to me, I have all these followers on Twitter, but who are they? I mean, I don’t know everyone who follows me.

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Cute, right?

So I picked one cute guy and I sent him a quick tweet, asking him, you know, why me?

As you can imagine, we struck up a lovely cyber chat, and I learned a lot about him. And guess what? Now I’m following him!

I intend to make this a kind of semi-regular feature, so if you follow me, don’t be surprised if I tweet you and ask you to tell me about yourself and share your story with my readers. Because everyone has a story, right?

So today I’m introducing you to Stuart Sheldon.

He lives in Miami, Florida with his wife and their two sons.

He blogs HEREAnd he tweets at @stuart_sheldon. 

• • •

RASJ: You’ve been following me, Stu. Tell me a little bit about yourself. You know, so I feel a little less stalked. 

SS: I am the guy who constantly reinvents himself, because I want to taste everything in life. At 25, I was the youngest vice-president at Smith Barney and destined for untold riches, but I threw it all away at 27 to pursue my artistic dream. Twenty years later, I’ve hosted my own television documentary, written for, launched and sold my own magazine, and exhibited my paintings and sculptures on nearly every continent. My greatest creation has been the mixed media collaboration my wife and I worked tirelessly to manifest – two beautiful boys who teach me each day. With the major bases now covered in life, my laser beam is now focused on the sale of my recently-completed first book and the inception of my second. 

RASJ: Whaaaat? You finished a book! Tell me about it. You must be stoked.

SS: A Lonely Fool’s Masterpiece is the true story of a forlorn artist in his late-30s who decides to paint the wife and child of his dreams into existence. This is what I did and, thankfully, the journey burned my oversized ego like feathers in a flame. Now I am calmer, more grounded, and full of constant gratitude. If nothing else, this book is my legacy and gift to my kids, chronicling the emotional play-by-play that led, after much laughter and tears, to their arrival. National Book Critics Circle Award winner, Edwidge Daniticat, called it a “moving book for our times,” which was awesome. Now I’m querying publishers.

RASJ: Wait, you’re a writer and an artist? Have I seen any of your work?

SS: Maybe. One is my favorite sculptures, titled Play! is made entirely out of toys I found in thrift shops in the Bay Area. It now lives in the collection of a producer somewhere in the Hollywood Hills.

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Stu Sheldon’s piece entitled “Play!” Isn’t it cool?

RASJ:  That piece is wicked cool! Okay, let’s have a little fun. Look! A penguin walked into your room wearing a sombrero. What does he say? And why is he there?

SS: That’s so weird because a penguin did walk into the room. My back was turned and he did not recognize me at first as he said, all spineless and fish-breathed, “Senor (he incorrectly pronounced the enye as a hard ‘n’), you want tamale?” I spun around, grabbed the brim of his hat and tossed it like a Frisbee into the hallway. This penguin, incognito as a tamale salesman, owed me money. But I saw right thru his ruse because I can read people … and flightless birds.. I said, “No, I want those twenty clams. Cough it up, Happy Feet!” 
Unfortunately, he actually coughed up twenty little neck clams. Directly onto my new Bermuda shorts. I will never again do business with a penguin.   

RASJ: So seriously, what made you decide to follow me? Which of my posts caught your eye? You can tell me.

 SS: The Day the Last Baby Tooth Fell Out” really punched my lights out. And not because it rode the tails of Sandyhook. No, this one was a direct line from your heart to the rest of us with kids. It really captured the essence of our perspective as adoring yet helpless observers of our children.

Your son sounds like such a good boy. Through your words, I love him and his cream soda eyes. He is kind and patient in the face of inconvenience and even pain. He does not play the victim. Far from it, he is every bit a mensch. As the father of two young sons, I understand every bit of the idea of time passing. And milestones falling. And the purity of youth evaporating. In that piece you magically transformed your son into one of my own.

RASJ: Thanks for your kind words, Stu. It’s nice to learn a little about you. We have a Happy House in Florida. Maybe we can meet up in real life sometime, you think?

• • •

If you’ve been lurking around and you’d like me to notice you, tweet me. You could be next!

tweet me @rasjacobson

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I’m at 3 Things For Mom today, where every day a different writer shares a “truth” (a life lesson, observation or insight), a “tip” (a practical “how-to” shared in the sisterhood) and a “find” (a product that person loves).

I enjoy reading these short posts, lovingly collected by editor Lauren Warner.

Click HERE to follow me there. You know I’ll respond!

• • •

Screen Shot 2013-05-01 at 1.14.19 PMIn case you missed it, there’s  still time to enter to win a copy of author Leanne Shirtliffe’s book Don’t Lick the Minivan.

All you have to do is leave a comment telling me about a time you when you were a wee bit naughty as a kid.

Or, if you prefer, you can tattle on your kids and tell me about some of their antics that drove you to pain and chaos.

I encourage you read the entire comment thread, as the stories folks have shared are not to be believed.

Enter until Sunday night at 6 pm.

One winner will be announced Monday 5/27 at 7 am.

• • •
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I raise a beaker of ginger ale to Hubby!

In other news, it’s my Hubby’s 47th b’day today.

He doesn’t read my blog.

But if you see him, you can tell him you remembered.

It’ll make him feel good.

I’ll take care of the rest.

Later.

*IYKWIM. <— And I think you do.

* If you don’t know what this means, Google it. 🙂

tweet me @rasjacobson

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When my son was an infant, I knew I was doing everything wrong.

I was sure of it.

Looking around, I saw smiling mommies bouncing quiet babies on their knees.

Meanwhile, I had The Screaming One.

I was failing Motherhood-101, and I had no one to confide in.

Leanne Shirtliffe’s book Don’t Lick The Minivan: And Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say To My Kids has hit the stores, and — boy oh boy — do I wish I had it 13 years ago.

While living abroad in Thailand, Leanne gave birth to twins, William and Vivian. After a bit of a rocky start, Leanne found the babies (she lost them on the way home from the hospital), the right nursing bra (not so easy in a country where boobies are slightly less bodacious than ripe Canadian ta-tas), and she started to find funny everywhere.

You know those days when you’re feeling like you’re the world’s suckiest parent with rotten-good-for-nothing kids?

Leanne teaches us to find humor in those low moments.

She tells us how:

  • Her husband left the babies with drunken strangers. (Sorry to throw you under the tuk-tuk, Chris.)
  • William liked to pee. Everywhere. On everything.
  • Vivian drew on the dining room table. Using a Sharpie. (The permanent kind.)
  • The twins carved their names into her minivan’s paint…with rocks.

She sucks at crafts.

She’s anti-glitter.

She let her son sleep next to a turd.

Leanne has this way of making us see the humor in the exchanges we have with our kids. When you are suffering through life’s most unfunny moments, remember we are all partners in this ordinary, extraordinary thing: raising tiny humans. And Leanne? She reminds us it’s okay to laugh with them – as well as at them.

Because Leanne is yummypickles, one person is going to be able to win a copy of Don’t Lick The Minivan.

What do you have to do to win?

Leave me a comment telling me a naughty thing you did as a child that you thought was hilarious OR tell me something naughty that one (or more) of your kids did that was heinous at the time, but you can look back at now and laugh. Kind of.

Can’t wait to win a contest? Buy Don’t Lick the Minivan on Amazon.

Buy Don’t Lick the Minivan at Barnes & Noble 

They even have an audible version. Listen to the sample.

tweet us @rasjacobson & @lshirtliffe

NOTE: This contest is open to residents of the US and Canada only. Random Number Generator will be helping me on this one. One winner will be announced on my blog on May 27th. If that person doesn’t contact me within 24 hours, I’ll select another winner. Don’t be that turd.

• • •

Ain't she cute?
Ain’t she cute?

Leanne Shirtliffe’s book, Don’t Lick the Minivan: And Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say to my Kids, has received glowing endorsements from Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess), Jill Smokler (Scary Mommy), Kirkus Review, and others. When she’s not stopping her eight-year-old twins from licking frozen flagpoles, Leanne keeps a blog at ironicmom.com and teaches English to teenagers who are slightly less hormonal than she is. Follow her on Twitter at @lshirtliffe.

NOTE: Michelle from Steadily Skipping Stones recorded a fun interview video with Leanne on her blog! When you are done reading this post, click HERE to hear Leanne answer silly and serious questions from her fans.

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Some of you may have missed that it was my blogoversary on Monday.

You know because it was buried under my Lilly Pulitzer handbag giveaway.

So yeah. I’m two days into my 4th year in the blogosphere.

And I wanted to thank everyone again for sticking with me through thick and thin.

And I wanted to share some random information.

MY FIRST CYBER-FRIEND

The very first cyber-friend I made was Carl D’agostino, a fantastic cartoonist and writer who writes at I Know I Made You Smile. From time to time, Carl and I send each other emails and he recently sent me this:

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Carl knows my son used to have a thing for Ticonderoga pencils. I should probably report that Tech has graduated to mechanical pencils. We should have expected this, of course. I’ll worry when I see he’s ordered a pocket protector from Amazon.com.

MY BEST DAY IN BLOGGING

It happened on March 7, 2011. I got 3,42o visits to my blog when I wrote about How I Tricked My Book Club Into Writing. Yeah. I know, right? Whatever that was about? I’d like that to happen again. You know, like, everyday.

GOOGLE Search Terms THAT BROUGHT PEOPLE Here

intimidacion escolar. I had to Google that, but then I realized people were looking for information about bullying. In Spanish. They may have been looking for THIS or THIS or THIS.

i want to quit the flute. Yeah, so did I. Also, I think my mother is still pretty pissed about that. That said, I think these folks landed on Let ‘Em Quit or Make ‘Em Play, which is something we struggled with at one point.

teacher on her period. Yeah. That happened, Not to me! Omigosh! No no no! But to one of my teachers. It was ugly. You can read about it HERE.

meat truck scams. For those of you who have been here for a while, you know I have done some wicked stupid things. But this was really dumb. Yes, I did, in fact, purchase meat from a meat truck. And it was not at all delicious. But I’m pretty sure that Nigerian Prince stuff is legit, and I’m expecting that guy to pay me back any day now.

kitajska abeceda. I have no clue. Sorry, person. You’re on your own.

The Post That Receives The Most On-going Spam

Darla.

You wrote an amazing post (“Dear Diary: I Hate You”) where you cited stuff directly from your middle school diary. Apparently, you made so many references to now outdated items, every wholesaler and retailer wants to help you. They want you to buy their clothes, handbags, and wrinkle creams. Mostly, I think they’re concerned that you’ve still got that big comb hanging out of your back pocket. This is probably the most offensive outstanding piece of SPAM that I’ve ever received. Ever. Seriously, you HAVE to click on it.

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I’m holding onto this stuff for you, Dar. Let me know if you’d like me to forward the hundreds of pieces of SPAM that have come my way since you posted that doozie. How much do I want to make out with my Askimet SPAM filter right now?

I would like to thank the other talented writers who have posted in this year’s #SoWrong Series so far. They have set the bar pretty dang high. And I’m so grateful they’ve chosen to participate. Yeah, I’m talking to you Dan, Tori, Jules, Pegoleg, and —  get psyched — because Misty from Misty’s Laws is going to be here on Friday! Her piece: “To Bra or Not To Bra?” Divine.

The Regulars

Certain people show up regularly to say hello. And I need to thank them. Because there’s actually something reassuring about seeing those familiar avatars.

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Please don’t ever break up with me. You know, like Tad did.

Bless every one of you for making this blog so much fun for me over the last 3 years. I’ve said it before, but your comments really are like chocolates, and me likes the chocolates. Please know that I LOVE to read your words. You don’t have to agree with me (only my husband has to do that!), but never be afraid to leave a comment. I know a bunch of you prefer to lurk. That’s cool, too.

Did you know that Instagram is my new lover? It’s true. If you’d like to follow me there, please do.

Also, you have until Friday at noon to try to win that cool Lilly Pulitzer handbag. And, no, you don’t have to have girl parts to enter. Guys, be proactive. Win this handbag and that special someone in your life will love you forever! Or what do I care? Use it yourself!

LOVElove

xoRASJ

tweet me @rasjacobson

imgresA bunch of you know that I’m a Survivor junkie.

And that I’ve even tried out to be on the show several times.

(Can you even believe that they haven’t picked me yet?)

One of the questions the folks from Survivor always want to know is what three (3) non-survival related items you would take with you to a remote location, and why.

I’ve thought about this at length.

Here are the items I’d bring to the island if they let me:

  1. A well-stocked medical kit. (No way I’m getting sent home over some infected splinter.)
  2. A huge bottle of sunscreen. (Poor Cocharan. Did you guys see that guy’s feet when he burned them? Ouch!)
  3. A jumbo-sized box of tampons. (I’ve always wondered if those are considered survival items. No one ever seems to have her period. What can I say, I’d need them.)

Anyway.

As it turns out, two of my favorite blogging buddies, authors Tiffany White and K.B. Owen, are die-hard Survivor fans, too.

And we decided that tonight we’re going to tweet live during Survivor.

I know. Fun, right?

We’re going to use the hashtag #tribalchix, and we’d love it you would join us in the conversation. 

So grab your torches and join the #tribalchix tonight.

You know, until the tribe has spoken.

It’s game on at 8 PM, EST.

What talents/skills would you bring to the island? If you were stranded on an island, who would you most want to be stranded with?

tweet me @rasjacobson

 

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