CrankMama

Men at Blogher?? YES!!

Ok Ladies & Gents,

I'm officially kicking off a Campaign for Kevin to Attend Blogher 2007... You know THAT Kevin.

The one who everyone nominates for awards

And if you don't know him, you should meet him.  He's funny.  And he hardly EVER talks about kids. It's refreshing and good for a mommy hangover. 

So, folks, let's do it.  Let's get him there.

And if you have anyone else you'd love to see at Blogher 07, send me an email or post a comment here.

This will be fun!!!!

Have I Ever Told You About Belliingham?

Despite the population of my fair city (nearly 72,000), I'm evidently not living anywhere near the clever legions of bloggers meeting up hither and thither and making real friendships around the globe.  They are apparently all running around having fun lunches, meeting for kidless, husbandless drinks, and making new friends at kid birthday parties.

Clearly, I haven't properly sold you on the joys and beauties to behold in Bellingham.

First, where is Bellingham, WA?                    

Bellingham is only an hour South of the Canadian Border (only 90 minutes from cosmopolitand & exciting Vancouver, British Columbia).  And 90 minutes North of trendy and PC Seattle (you know, the place with the grunge music and pretty skyline).

Second, what does a person do for fun in Bellingham?

Our visitor's bureau says it best:

"We are known for our friendly people, authentic communities, cultural attractions and a clean environment. Adventures from the relaxing to the exhilarating are yours, all in a setting of stunning beauty."

You read it here.  Adventures.  Relaxing AND exhilarating.

And if sailboats and gorgeous lakes, rivers, and mountains aren't your thing, how about fabulous local music?

Prefer drinks overlooking the gorgeous bay?  How about this?

Or, there's always hippie watching in our gorgeous Fairhaven District.

See?

Bellingham + CrankMama = FUNNNNNNN

Barring this, perhaps we can meet at Blogher 07 (the one in Chicago).

***

P.S. Emma is coming to see me in January -- woo hoo!!

Adventures of SuperFriend

Thus commenced Great Hair Repair 2006:   Having found the F-Tubes to call my hairdresser and tell him I didn't like looking like a Crayola, I went to Salon E. to give this relationship one more try. 

I came in early (I believe in maximizing "mommy's alone time" by showing up early to all appointments-- especially those offering eat, drink, and celebrity magazines) and began leafing through the sorrow & tragedy of  Anna Nicole's kid's death.    

I waved warmly to Patrick, the Gay God of Sassy Hair, who was busy finishing with another customer. As I watched him chat with the woman in his chair, it slowly dawned on me. 

I know this woman.

Holy hell! She's my nasty nemesis from Henland and here I am with this bad red hair looking like an idiot reading through People chomping away on a mint.   

OH GOD!

So I did what any self-actualized girl does --- I panicked, hid in the alley, and called SuperFriend to come save me.  Lucky for me, SuperFriend works around the corner from Salon E. and due to her genius at design, owns her own business and had a spare moment to fly over to rescue her girlfriend in distress.

Donning a cheerful smile and sassy gauchos (a clothing choice that sets off fashion alarms when I even *look* at them) SuperFriend very casually found her way over to me (the one with horrid hair madly waving and jumping up and down next to the smelly recycling bin).  When I apologized for interrupting her day, she reassured.  "Don't worry, I do things like this all the time for my sister." 

Huh?  I have brothers.  They're good for offers of ninja attacks on bad boyfriends, but not for comforting one in an alleyway where one is hiding from a nasty ex-coworker while sporting crayola red hair.

She watched out until the mean mean lady left the salon.  Patrick immediately called wondering where I'd gone... "Um... Rachael? You were in here a minute ago.  Where did you go?"  Thinking quickly I mumbled something mysterious about the kids, bid adieu to SF, and leaped quickly into the safety of the now-empty salon.

And so he fixed my hair.  It's still red, just less punk.  I'm more like Strawberry Shortcake all grown up and less like... Ronald.

Many thanks & future candle-lit shrines to SuperFriend, who obviously knows all about girls like me.

Ode to the Best College Roommate Ever

Because it's Love Friday (in CrankMama Land) and because I skipped lean and fit to be chubby & drunk, I'd like to share with you an ode of love to my pallee Michelle.

Michelle and I were roommates in college --- Whitman College -- Walla Walla, WA --- the city so nice they named it twice.  I first laid eyes on Michelle that first horrid freshman week when I realized that folks WEREN'T just as excited about Plato as I and that in fact they were mainly thrilled about college because they got to get laid and drink all they wanted without the 'rents giving them crap about it.

Oh, the places your despair will take you!  Anyway, there was wee Michelle weeping away (sobbing garblingly away) over her homesickness and I immediately thought "My PEOPLE! My PEOPLE!" 

Michelle and I were probably the only 2 virgins on our floor.... virgins with crazy parents who liked the drink... and also only girls in families FILLED to the brim with boys.  How can one truly describe the joy of discovering a kindred spirit in the midst of angst ridden late-teendom? Suffice it to say it was succor to my sad disappointed heart when Michelle declared on our first trip back home that college "wasn't all she thought it would be." 

We managed, she and I, through our Monopoly drinking games and tanning excursions to hidden greens around campus, to eventually thoroughly enjoy Freshman year AND to lose our collective virginity. 

How to describe that first conversation following The Act ("and THEN what did he do?" "EWWWW!" "Ohhh, really?").  Now, THAT'S bonding.  That's sisterhood.  That first discussion about sex.

Sometimes in my granite countered kitchen & the careful morning light I miss those days of candid discussion and lurid giggling fun.  But Michelle and I still have our fun and share our funny stories (less vulva, more Volvo)...

Love to you, Michelle.  I'm so glad you're in my life! 

And share, share, folks! Who are the friends who saw you through? Or who see you through now?

Not Spiritually Evolved

I have an absolutely wonderful college friend named Donnella.  When she visits, she smiles, she hums about and cooks magnificent healthy food, she wonders about deep and meaningful things and practices pilates on my living room floor.  She listens in that I see inside your soul intense way that makes you feel like saying generous hopeful things like "I'm sure we'll eventually find peace in the Middle East."

But at times like this when I haven't seen her in awhile and the darkside appears to so obviously be winning, I'm hard pressed to find my inner Donnella.  Since I neither practice pilates nor make magnificent nonfat veggie burritos, I'm left  with the consolation of my imaginary friend.   

Funny Girl isn't deep or meaningful or particularly sensitive, but what she offers ain't bad:

• An ability to focus on pretty pink shoes,
• A willingness to sit and talk over wine about haircuts, boyfriends, husbands, and listen intently to how hard it is to find a dress for a 20 year high school reunion,
• An overweaning fascination with which earrings likely accentuate the length of one's neck,
• A buddy with whom to watch exercise videos and guess the ages & weights of participants,
• A clever conversationalist with whom one can discuss books that are well written and *not* currently on the Oprah Book List.

Most of all, she's someone with whom one can be onesself, spiritually unevolved, spitting mad, or laughing uproariously at the absurdity of the world. 

You can borrow her if you like.

Lipstick & Heels, Please

Dear Sassy Girlfriends,

It's been too long since we shared an evening together with cocktails and giggles.  There are many reasons that a night out is becoming an absolute necessity, including but not limited to the fact that:

1. Today is Family Day -- which means Daddy works in the yard for 40 hours while Mommy stays inside and referees fights over stuffed cats, shooshing yellers so that wee babe won't wake up.

2. Once wee babe wakes up, we're heading to a Mormon Family get together where they'll be no nice sassy friends like you, no cocktails, and no swearing

3. Daddy has just given Mommy an assignment.  It goes like this "Honey - would you please help the kids make a sign that says "FREE" so that we can get rid of this aluminum ladder? Wouldn't that be fun, ladies?"  Yes, dear.  That would be TONS of fun... especially when I put the sign on a few things I've been meaning to clean out of the garage...items in or around your tool bench.

4. Mommy doesn't like making signs with children.

5. I haven't talked to a woman about non-kid/ non-husband things in about 1 million years.

So, dear girlfriend, save me from my plight.  Let's dress-up, wear lipstick and heels, and put our funk on!!

Love,
CrankMama