As of today, You Are Enough is my most popular post on the Porch. That's probably not saying much -- since most of my regular readers are relatives who only check the Porch to see if I embarrass or slander them (uh, yeah. Why else would I write this?). Still, I am truly grateful to those of you who read the post, shared it or "liked" the Porch on Facebook. Thank you!
The greatest thing about being a pretend writer is feeling like your words matter to someone. In case you're curious, the second greatest thing about being a pretend writer is saying, "Honey, I can't be pretend Morena Baccarin tonight because I'm being a pretend writer!"
If you are new to the Porch, you might be wondering who I am. I would love to tell you, but I often wonder that myself. The problem with being an overly right-brained creative type (besides not being able to help my kids with math after
In kindergarten, I was the weird, quiet kid with imaginary friends. I'm still that kid, but people look at me funny in the grocery when I tell my imaginary friends to stop eating the grapes, so I've toned that down.
The thing is, I never really grew up. Not really. Don't believe the wrinkles because they lie about who I am.
Of course, I act like a Very Responsible Adult when acting like a grown up is required (too damn often, if you ask me), but on the inside, I'm very much the child, sprawled on the cool kitchen linoleum, watching adults hustle and bustle and step over me, wondering why they never slow down and lie on the floor.
That makes being an adult more challenging -- as does finding my bra size in the girls' department, but that's a story for another day.
Sadly, we live in a world that discourages adults from playing Red Rover, but how totally friggin' awesome would it be if you and your colleagues went outside at lunch today and played tag until the boss called you back inside? (When she does, please say, "Just FIVE MORE MINUTES?!").
Like everyone else, I'm doing the best I can -- and that's enough, right? Right!
I'm a work-in-progress mother of two amazing kids, but please don't look for me to be PTO president anytime soon.
I'm on my second (of three. Because Hugh Jackman) husband, which proves I have an amazing sense of humor. He does, too. Plus, he's very secure in his masculinity, since he married the Karate Kid.
I have a real j-o-b, so I have to write in my spare time (hahahahaha. Spare time. Whatever!). I also write a column for an area women's magazine, so it's only a matter of time until Oprah calls. Don't take this dream away from me.
This morning, it took me a good five minutes to deduce that I actually had to plug in the iron before the wrinkles in my shirt would disappear. That's how much I iron.
I also just painted only the toenails that show in my open-toe heels -- while wearing the heels. I am surprisingly good at this.
What else? I love all chips that end in "o"; I cried when Hostess declared bankruptcy; and I have never had anything pierced. Nope. Not even my ears. I don't know why, really. It just never seemed like a good idea to put holes where holes were not.
I believe in God, fear religion and wholeheartedly believe the world would be at peace if everyone had porch swings.
Last but not least, I love to write and am grateful for the opportunity to do it here. Thank you for allowing me to be me, whoever that is.
You are always welcome on my Porch. Just so you know, it will be home base when we play tag at lunch.