This is Where I Meet Hot Country Rockstars, Go To #BlogHer16 & Say Awesome A Lot

August 15, 2016August 15, 2016 charleneaross9 Comments

“Just so you know, I’m not going to be available for anything remotely domestic or marital related for at least a week,” I said to Dave on the first day of August.

“And that makes this week different than any other week, how?” he snarked.

Yeah, and you thought I was the funny one. (I am.)

It was actually a lie, because I had no plans on Tuesday, so I did fulfill the domestic/marital duty of making dinner and was even nice enough to do the dishes, but that’s where I drew the line. His sassy comment meant he wasn’t getting lucky. (Plus it was Tuesday. What kind of married people get busy on a Tuesday after 22 years of sharing the same last name?)

But, I digress.

The first day of August, marked my first week of having anything at all to do this summer. Yes, that’s right, all summer long I’ve been a Facebook voyeur, watching my friends travel to marvelous places like Cancun, Barbados, Costa Rica, shit even “just” Oregon while I’ve been working all day, only to go home and lose brain cells watching the Bachelorette. (Don’t judge – and if you subscribed to my newsletter you’d know why.)

And as JoJo and Jordan start their new life together (or the next six months, which is about as long as I give them), I too have finally started my new life. Or, at least (less dramatically and more truthfully) I’ve finally started to have some fun this summer.

It’s gone a little something like this:

Monday, August 1st: Cards Against Humanity

My writing group got together and played the ever awesome Cards Against Humanity where tough choices like this had to be made.

Cards Against Humanity White People Like — The answer is obvious.

There was a lot of laughing. And drinking. And even some crying (because we love each other that much). I got home at 1AM. (Yeah, this suburban mom’s has gone rockstar.)

Tuesday, August 2nd: Got My Ass Up After Five Hours of Sleep & Went to Work Like a Boss

Reverted to my boring suburban ways as noted above (i.e. watched season finale of The Bachelorette.)

Wednesday, August 3rd: Cetaphil Party at Cool Celebrity-Owned Restaurant

I was lucky enough to get invited to a party for awesome and influential bloggers thrown by Cetphil. And by invited I mean I was the awesome and influential Kim Tracy Prince’s plus one. The party was at Jessica Biel’s Aw Fudge on Melrose where everyone who works there looks like (and probably is) a model. (Seriously people, the servers are HOT!) The party was top notch. I learned all about Cetaphil (which, BTW, my kids’ pediatrician has always recommended for them), met some fantastic people including Whit Honea (he’s awesome – read his stuff) and Fab Mom Jill Simonian, and got a bitchen swag bag from Cetaphil that included these that literally saved my life (or at least my face) this week full of late nights.

#Cetaphil #MyCetaphilFamily — This is how you throw a product party – with plenty of swag and sangria! #MyCetaphilFamily

Thursday, August 4th: #BlogHer16 Expo

I hooked up again with the awesome (and influential) Kim Tracy Prince where we met our friend Rina Baraz Nehdar at the #BlogHer16 Expo.

For those of you who don’t know, BlogHer a website that hosts the world’s largest conference for women bloggers and content creators. (And yes, men can go too. If they want.) This is serious business people. Some of the sponsors were Go Daddy, Herbalife, Staples, Go Rving and Best Buy; and this year’s keynote speakers included Sheryl Crow and Kim Kardashian West (I know, but seriously, if I had been able to shove a copy of Frosted Cowboy in her hand so I could snap a picture and post it on Instagram do not think for one second that I wouldn’t have done it) among many, many others. Thursday night, attendees were invited to a huge expo hall where companies wooed bloggers with their wares. We were given huge (and heavy) swag bags upon entry that included everything from Vagisil to vitamins to VELCRO to vibrators. (Okay, I might or might not have stood in line at a booth to get the vibrator.)

I got to meet many women IRL (including the Awesome Angela Amman pictured in the pink blouse in the top of this post) that I’d only known online and the complimentary wine was surprisingly tasty. My favorite item in my swag bag was this beautiful necklace from Saressa Designs supplied by a company called The Artisan Group who bring small craft items to celebrities. (So I guess that means I’m a celebrity now!)

baby bezel pendant from saressa designs — My new favorite necklace. (I’m wearing it in the top photo and the photo below.)

Friday, August 5th: Old Dominion at The Ventura County Fair

I had to skip BlogHer (and Kim Kardashian) so I could see Old Dominion play at the Ventura County Fair with my friend Simmah. And if you are not familiar with them, do yourself a huge favor and listen to their album, Meat and Candy NOW. It’s so good! I entered to win a Meet and Greet pass on their website and the music gods were smiling on me because I won!

Old Dominion Meet And Greet — Hot country rockstars & happy me!

And even though this is by no means my first backstage rodeo, I was nervous and giddy and forgot to tell them how awesome they were at Stagecoach in my allotted 60 seconds with them, but I did tell them how much I loved their songwriting and in particular how the song Nowhere Fast gives me all the feels. (Like, seriously, it’s so good!) And then I told them they really suck at Twitter. (I told you, I was nervous. Plus, they really are very bad at Twitter.) They were awesome though, so nice. I’m pretty sure they all want me. (Don’t all hot country rockstars secretly pine away for 50-year-old suburban women who babble on non-stop for 60 seconds at a meet and greet?)

Old Dominion Matthew Ramsey Meet and Greet — Matthew Ramsey totally checking me out. Or defending the band’s lameness on Twitter. In my perfect world both these statements are true.

Saturday, August 6th: #BlogHer16 Convention

I got my tired ass out of bed much earlier than I wanted to attend the final day of the BlogHer convention with Rina and Kim. I’m talking a marathon thirteen hour day.

There was delicious food, engaging keynote speakers, informative workshops, and tons of schmoozing. The convention has such a fantastic energy. Highlights for me were the “The Pitch,” where five innovative women pitched their businesses in hopes of earning a $50,000 prize, hearing Lucy McBath of Mothers of the Movement tell her heartbreaking story, listening to Mayim Bialik talk about her website GrokNation and watching the pilot episode of the Amazon Prime show One Mississippi and the Q&A with the show’s star and creator Tig Notaro afterwards.

And then there was dancing. From 6-9 we took over the Conga Room at La Live and partied like rockstars. Or, like suburban moms in a club before it was even dark outside who were happy to be on a dance floor letting loose after a long weekend instead of at home cooking dinner for our families. (Which is kind of like being a rockstar, right?)

Sunday, August 7th: Warped Tour

Speaking of rockstars, I did not sleep all day Sunday like most people would after a week like I had. No, I got up like the baller that I am and took Marley to the Warped Tour in Pomona which 65 miles from my house and was about two degrees cooler than the surface of the sun. If you are unfamiliar with the Warped Tour you must not have a teenager who likes to listen to music where the word “singing” should be replaced with “screaming.” (Lucky you!)

So, yes, I am freaking Mother of the Year. And I looked like it too. After a week of looking totally cute for country rockstars and parties I put on the most suburban “Suburban Mom Running Errands” outfit I could find – a brightly colored tank top, baggy shorts, this cute baseball hat, and tennis shoes and stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of black. (And no, you do not get a photo of that!)

The good news is, I have friends in high places and after a little bit of confusion (and maybe some begging) was able to score a wristband that gave me all access backstage where I was able to find a lovely couch under a tree at the commissary patio and sat there all afternoon reading my book. (Yes, I brought a book!)

Okay, maybe I’m not such a rockstar after all. But I don’t care. I ‘d earned the rest.

P.S. If you have read this entire post the real rockstar is YOU! It’s so freaking long. Thanks for sticking with me. You’re awesome!

Why I (Don’t) Write

January 18, 2016February 29, 2016 charleneaross7 Comments

I am so behind in my writing. Forget the fact that I’ve been terrible about keeping my blog posts current. I have serveral projects that I’m working on to market my book (a novella, a newsletter and some guest posts) and while I haven’t missed a deadline (yet), I am behind on every single one of them.

To be able to write you need to be able to focus. And it’s hard to focus when your to-be-filed/put-away pile looks like this.

to-be-filed-pile — I wonder what would happen if I just closed up the box and threw it in the garage.

And the end of your dining room table looks like this.

mail-pile — You see those coupons I put on the table instead of directly into the recycle bin? I will never clip them. Ever.

Yes, that’s an Entertaiment Weekly under a People Magazine. Don’t judge me. The smartest person I know sits down for an hour every week and reads People Magazine from cover to cover. She says it keeps her informed on all things pop culture. Not just what celebrities are wearing (and who they’re sleeping with), but movies, television, books and music (and there’s often a human interest story thrown in there too). It makes it easy for her to have a topical conversation with just about anyone. I prefer Entertainment Weekly. Of course both remain piled up and unread. (And I’m not just talking last week’s!) Which makes me unorganized, unsmart, uninteresting, and unable to have a topical conversation with anyone about anything.

But that’s beside the point. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was telling you how hard it is for me to write because I can’t focus. The clutter in my house is competing with the clutter in my brain.

But forget about my inability to focus. What I really need to be able to write is more time.

I get up at 5AM to do it, which is obviously when I should be sleeping. Or getting up to make the 5:30AM boot camp class at the gym.

So writing in the morning makes me tired. And a little bit fat.

But it’s quiet in the morning and that helps. I don’t like any kind of noise or music or distractions when I write. (It’s weird, I love music more than almost anything, yet listening to it when I’m trying to write makes me want to rip my ears off.)

Dave and Marley get up at 6AM and insist on interacting with me (as civlized people in families do), which gives me the perfect opportunity to shift my focus towards Facebook.

Sometimes I bring my laptop to work and try to write on my lunchbreak, but that means I go from sitting at my desk to sitting at another desk in an unused office when what I really need is to go for a walk and breathe some fresh air and clear my head of office clutter.

I work all day (9-6) and get home at about 6:30 and cook dinner. By the time we’ve eaten and everything’s cleaned up I’m exhausted. I’ll sit down to watch TV with the family and usually end up asleep on the couch (either drooling or snoring -or both!) by 8:30. (Did I mention I get up at 5:00?)

I’m trying to be better about writing at night. I recently told Dave that I have no time for new TV shows. I have to be more productive with my time. He took this as permission to watch Making a Murderer without me. (It was not.)

These are the excuses I give myself: I’m too distracted, stressed, busy, tired, fat to write. And yet when I don’t, I feel worse than all of that combined.

This post was inspired by this post and this post, both of which are better and definitely worth your time.

Valentine’s Day in the Suburbs

February 17, 2015 charleneaross7 Comments

When Dave and I were dating we used to celebrate Valentine’s Day on the 13th. On our first Valentine’s together he had a convention on the 14th (convenient, right?) so we went out the night before instead. We liked the quietness of the restaurant – no crowds or “special” (overpriced) menus – and carried on the tradition of February 13th for years after.

We gloated a bit in our cleverness. We had Valentine’s down!

One year early in our marriage Dave was heading out of town Valentine’s morning, most likely to that same convention, and casually asked me if I still made the bed when he went out of town.

“Of course,” I told him.

“Have fun making the bed,” he said as he kissed me and headed out the door.

I found a white-ribboned blue box that made me squeal with delight hidden in the tangled sheets. Inside was a silver necklace. Or maybe it was a bracelet earrings. To be honest I can’t remember. I used to get a lot of jewelry in blue boxes back in those days.

On Saturday night I posted this photo on Instagram and Facebook:

Our Valentine’s dessert after a dinner of sweet hot mustard chicken thighs (a recipe I’d been wanting to try that I knew Dave and I would like, but the kids wouldn’t), asparagus and roasted potatoes.

Please don’t assume that because I made something the kids wouldn’t like that we dined alone. I made their chicken plain and the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner together.

After dinner we told the kids they had to watch a romantic comedy with us. We chose Music and Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. As a lover of 80’s music (and former 80’s sort-of-groupie), it’s one of my favorites. Marley lasted three quarters of the way through before tapping out (that girl has no taste), but Chandler liked the movie and watched the all way through. He says he still can’t get the song Pop Goes My Heart out of his head.

It is pretty catchy in all of its fake-80’s fabulousness.

(By the way, if you’ve never seen Music and Lyrics you must first watch this spectacular video and then do whatever you have to do -cable, Netflix, your local library- to watch it. You will totally thank me because it’s awesome. So I will preemptively say, “You’re welcome!”)

I made a homemade Valentine with a printed someecards & taped it to a dark chocolate bar and stuck it under Dave’s pillow.

someecards Valentines Day — This was not his card, but it’s pretty appropriate for this post.

Yeah, I go all out. Dave said he thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Valentines this year. Uh… no. But perhaps after (almost) 21 years of marriage that agreement is implied. If I told you that his neglect of a forced Hallmark holiday hurt my feelings I’d be lying. In fact I’d have been shocked if he had done something. And now I get to eat the chocolate I gave him (conveniently the kind I like) without guilt.

Hmmm… a recipe I’ve been wanting to try, a good bottle of wine, one of my favorite cheesy romantic comedies and my husband’s dark chocolate all for me? Turns out I’m still pretty clever when it comes to Valentine’s Day.

The Day My Son Almost Got on a Plane Alone Without His Cellphone

February 6, 2015February 6, 2015 charlenearossLeave a comment

Early Sunday morning we dropped Chandler off at the airport for an overnight trip to Washington D.C. Yep that’s right, 2700 miles across the country and back in 36 hours so he could check out a college that’s much too far from home in my opinion. (What if he meets a girl there. And marries her. And never comes home!) I watched him walk away then looked to see if he forgot anything and saw his phone on the backseat.

His phone.

Dave hopped out of the car and called him before he went inside the terminal. As he handed over the phone Chandler said, “That would be bad.”

Yes it would.

Nobody was picking up Chandler at the airport in DC. He was taking the Metro to the university he was visiting and meeting the student whose dorm he was staying in. The student was going to text Chandler where to meet him. Without his phone that meeting would have been close to impossible.

It’s crazy how dependent we’ve become on our phones. Why look something up on a map when your phone is equipped with a high-tech GPS navigation system? Traffic on the freeway? No need to wait ten minutes for an update on news radio, just check out Waze for an alternate route. Your toddler bored in line at the market? Hand her your phone so she can play a game and stop whining about it. Email, Facebook, your camera, hell even a flashlight – all on your phone.

And when we need to get in touch with someone? Instead of calling them we text. Ironically our dependence on cellphones has made actually talking on the phone nearly obsolete.

Dave and I tried to speculate what would have happened if I hadn’t seen the phone. When would Chandler have noticed and what would he have done? He’s really responsible and leaving his phone behind is out of character for him. I’m sure he was just distracted, maybe a bit nervous about his trip. But I worried, was this kid really ready to go away to school?

I don’t think I’m as dependent on my phone as most people seem to be. I rarely use it check my email or Facebook or Twitter status. I’m terrible at texting. In fact, I forget my phone all the time.

But I will admit that I am dependent on my kids having their phones. I like to keep tabs and keep them close. We used to have Chandler text us when he got to his destination when he first started driving. And we still ask him to text us when he’s on his way home.

When we got home from the airport I told Marley what happened and then said, “I think at dinner this week we’ll have to have a discussion about this and what you guys would do if you were traveling alone and didn’t have your phone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, Mom? I’d just find a mom or an an airport employee and tell them I was a lost little girl and could I please borrow their phone to call my mommy.”

I met her eye roll with a sigh. I suppose she would. That girl’s got some street smarts. (As most girls do.) But would Chandler? I wan’t so sure.

After he got home I did ask him what he would have done. He shrugged, “It depends when I noticed.”

“What if you noticed before you got on the plane?” I asked.

“I’d use someone’s phone to call you or call my phone.”

“What if you noticed after you were on the plane and it was too late to get your phone back?”

“I’d find a way to call you when I got to DC then take the metro to the school. He texted me. You could have read me his text.”

“But Chandler,” I said, “what if your phone wasn’t in the car? What if you lost your phone?”

He shrugged again. “But I didn’t, Mom.”

No, he didn’t. I don’t know why I was skeptical that he’d know what to do. He is eighteen. And he’s smart. (Plus, I am an awesome mom.) It would have been inconvenient for him not to have his phone. Perhaps even difficult. But like all of us when we forget our phones, he would have survived.

And I ~~probably~~ would have too.

My Perfect Week

December 5, 2014December 5, 2014 charleneaross6 Comments

During a perfect week I wash my hair on Sundays and Wednesdays so I only have to take the time to blow dry my hair once during the work week. Please don’t confuse this with I only shower on Sundays and Wednesdays. (I actually wouldn’t mind that, but my co-workers might.) That’s what shower caps are for. Yes, my hair is a disaster on Saturdays and spends all day in a frizzy mess of a ponytail. Or under a hat. But I’m a forty-nine year old suburbanite. We don’t go out most Saturday nights.

On a typical week something goes awry in my allowable-hair-dirtiness plan and I end up washing my hair twice during the work week making my hair look better, but also making me late(r than usual) to work.

On a perfect week I start my Sunday morning with a four mile run at 7:30 completed in forty-four minutes. (Hey, I just started running a year ago. And I’m old. And not racing anybody. So shut up about how slow I am!) Then I have coffee with my friends around a fire pit at Stonehaus. (Who yes, if you must know all finished before me. Even the ones who ran five miles.) I get up at five o’clock to write even on Sundays so I have plenty of time to pack some Greek yogurt (the delicious full-fat kind) and fruit or put some oatmeal and peanut butter in a thermos to take with me for breakfast after the run. (Yes, I take my own breakfast to a coffee house. Shhh! I’m on a budget!)

On a typical week I “sleep in” until six, waste time on Facebook, lose track of time and rush out the door at 7:26, with no time to make breakfast and making my friends wait in the cold for me to arrive so I can run behind them.

On a perfect week I clean my room on Sundays, do all my laundry, put it all away, and pick out my outfits for the week including accessories.

On a typical week I manage to do all my laundry, but don’f fold it until nine o’clock while we’re watching The Walking Dead, and put it in a laundry basket where it will remain (in the den) until ~~Tuesday, okay Wednesday~~ Friday. I kind of visualize in my head what I’ll wear that week (and still change 2-3 times each morning before putting the original outfit back on). My room remains a mess for another week.

During a perfect week I will go to Trader Joe’s and Costco on Sunday, plan my meals for the week, and not have to return to the store until the following Sunday.

On a typical week we will run out of milk on Tuesday morning. Wednesday night if I buy two. And that Tuesday or Wednesday milk-run will likely be the second time since my Sunday shopping trips that I have to run back to Trader Joe’s to pick up something I forgot. I will probably go a minimum of two more times until the following Sunday. (Sometimes those two times will happen on the same day.)

During a perfect week I will get my shopping done early so I have time to do some cooking for the week. I’ll cook some ground turkey and quinoa and roast some vegetables then chop them up small with my Pampered Chef food chopper and mix it all together. Then I’ll put the mixture into five containers, the turkey and quinoa weighed and measured for the appropriate protein to carb ratio (20g protein, 30g carbs), ready for grab-and-go lunches for the week. As I’m preparing my lunches I’ll also make a nice Sunday dinner, and put together some gringo enchiladas (only gringos use cream cheese and flour tortillas for enchiladas) or a meatloaf to pop into the oven one night during the week.

green-chile-enchiladas — Yes, I stole this photo from Pinterest. You can get the photo credit and recipe for these yummy enchiladas for gringos here.

On a typical week I don’t make it to the market until 4:00 when it’s overcrowded and they are out of at least one of the things I want the most. I get home much too late to make my turkey quinoa mash, but at least I managed to buy broccoli slaw and kale to mix together for salads that will be made in the morning instead of the night before, making me late(r) and will surely get stuck in my teeth (which is awesome because I usually eat lunch at my desk). I also remember that gringo enchiladas are too fattening and that my kids hate meatloaf. (Even though, trust me, my meatloaf recipe, which is actually my Uncle John’s meatloaf recipe, is the bomb. I will have to post it one day.)

During a perfect week I will pop out of bed every morning at the first sound of my 5AM alarm, pour myself a cup of coffee that has already been brewed because it was set up the night before and I will write.

But y’all know I never have perfect weeks don’t you?

The First Day of my 49th Year

June 18, 2014June 18, 2014 charleneaross9 Comments

On the first day of my 49th year I woke up early like I always do. But I did not write. I was not productive. Sometimes I wonder why I get up before the sun only to be lazy. But because it was my birthday I allowed myself the indulgence of Facebook and Pinterest without guilt.

At seven o’clock I went for a three mile run. It’s been a while since I’ve run that far. I never stopped to walk, but it was hard. Really hard. The last minute was especially brutal. I end my run on an uphill. I felt dizzy. Like I was going to vomit. I’m pretty sure that’s not what they mean by the term “runner’s high” but if it is then I want no part of it.

You might wonder why I chose to run on my birthday if I hate it so much. I had friends coming over that night for appetizers and wine and knew I’d be eating a lot of cheese. A lot of cheese. Call it preventative maintenance.

I treated myself to a pedicure -after a shower of course- and then drove to The George Michael Salon in Beverly Hills. (No relation to 80’s pop star/90’s park bathroom lurker.) I’d won a long hair treatment worth $195 from a #Fabchat session on Twitter and my birthday was the perfect day to treat myself to such a luxury as my hair was definitely in desperate need of a little TLC.

Hair before George Michael Hair treatment — This hair is in some desperate need of a little TLC. (BTW – can you tell I’m not very good at selfies?)

Salon owner, Jessie Martinez, definitely gave me that. She washed my hair and put on an intense moisturizing treatment and then sat me on a comfy couch for an hour with a heating cap on my head. I sat and read my new book for an hour. (Talk about indulgent!)

Afterwards she washed my hair and set it in big rollers and I sat under a hairdryer that looked like it came out of the Jetson’s for another 45 minutes and read some more. Oh yes, it was a very good day indeed.

The result was smooth, gorgeous hair without the harmful chemicals of some other hair treatments (ahem, I’m talking to you Brazilian) or the drying and damaging effects of a blowout.

I left the George Michael hair salon looking like this:

Hair-after-george-michael-hair-treatment — Please ignore my lack of make-up and focus on my gorgeous hair!

Jessie Martinez might just be my new best friend.

I stopped by Costco on my way home and battled the Father’s Day shoppers to pick up my favorite cheap wine -only the best for my friends- and returned home to a clean house (best birthday present ever) and our Happy Birthday sign on the wall. (We have a Happy Birthday sign that I hang for everyone’s birthday every year, but mentioned last year that it never gets hung for me.) I’m not sure what made my heart sing more – the freshly vacuumed carpet or the sign, but the combination made me so happy that I didn’t even get crabby when I saw the dust rag carelessly left in the corner on the living room. (Isn’t that what you do when you’re done dusting – just drop the dust rag at the bottom of the last thing dusted?)

I made fried olives, a recipe that I found here, and have been wanting to try for a year. They did not disappoint. I set up for the party, put on a dress that I haven’t been able to fit into for years, and welcomed my closest friends into my home.

Fired-olives — Mmmm fried olives – delish!

The men went into one room and the women went into another. We drank wine. We laughed. We ate a lot of cheese. My friend Arlyne baked me a carrot cake from scratch. It was heavenly.

As birthdays go, it wasn’t anything grand, but it was quite wonderful.

Every day should be filled with recognizing the joy of simple pleasures…

Shirking off early-morning productivity to “catch up” on Facebook.

Feeling strong (albeit vomity) after a hard workout.

Taking the time to pamper oneself.

Reveling in the serene beauty of a clean house.

Enjoying time spent with close friends.

Indulging (okay, over-indulging) in wine and cheese.

The first day of my 49th year? No, it may not have been grand, but it was a damn fine day indeed.

Why I Write (Since You Asked)

April 14, 2014 charleneaross6 Comments

Well, Kim asked anyway. And since I want to be a writer like Kim when I grow up (you know, one who actually gets paid to do it – on a regular basis), when Kim asks, I answer.

She invited me to participate in a blog tour called My Writing Process (#mywritingprocess). My Writing Process is apparently a way to connect with other bloggers who identify themselves as writers. Yes, all bloggers write, but that doesn’t necessarily make them writers. (One look at Pinterest will tell you that.) I do not say that with any sort of snobbery or contempt (I mean, come on, what I write is certainly not literature), but to say people blog for different reasons. Some blog to show off their DIY prowess, some blog recipes, some blog simply to make money, and some of us, we blog to write. I blog to write.

So now I have to answer some questions and then pay this ~~task~~ privilege forward to three more writers who have blogs.

1. Why do I write what I do?

I walk around all day with a lot of chatter in my head. When I’m driving to work, when I’m running, when I’m fixing dinner my head is filled with incredibly clever and funny things to write. Things I must write. Of course then I sit down to write them and they escape me. What was that brilliantly funny thing I conjured up in the car on the way to work? I’ll think to myself. And I can’t remember. Or worse I do remember and once I type it out I see it wasn’t very brilliant at all. It’s torturous. (And trust me when I say that all writers are tortured.) But every once in a while that thing does work on paper (or the screen) and it’s clever and funny and brilliant (okay, I’ve never actually been brilliant) and that makes the torture almost worth it.

Also, I talk a lot (a lot) so I guess writing is just another way for me to keep talking when no one is around. I’m kidding. (A little.) I think writing is a way of connecting with people. There are so many times I read things and think to myself, “Yeah, I feel that way too,” so I hope what I have to say (or rather what I write) resonates with people. That they read my words and think, “Yeah, I feel that way too.”

Plus if you want to know the dirty truth, I like people to tell me I’m awesome. But people don’t tend to walk up to me and say, “Hey Charlene, I think you’re awesome.” But they do sometimes walk up to me and say, “You’re blog post was so funny.” Which is sort of the same thing.

So I guess I write what I do to quiet the voices in my head, to connect with people, and to fulfill my sad and desperate need for approval. And to torture myself. (And feel awesome.)

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Do I have a genre? I don’t consider myself a “Mommy Blogger” because I rarely write about my kids these days. At 17 and 13, I feel I don’t have the right to tell their story anymore. (Though every once in a while I can’t help myself.) So whatever my genre is – personal essay, lifestyle, or as I like to call it – “slice-of-life,” I guess what makes my work different is that they’re my stories to tell. The crazy chatter from my brain. Of course that makes everyone’s work different doesn’t it? I suppose others are much better at getting to the point. I’ve always admired others who can say a lot with very few words, where as I tend to do the opposite, which is saying very little with as many words as possible. (For example I could have cut the last eleven words out of the previous sentence and it would have had the same meaning, but I just can’t! And this post? Waaaay too long. Sorry about that!)

3. How does your writing process work?

I get up early – 5:00 almost every day (yes, even weekends) to write. The plan is to pour a cup of coffee sit down in the quiet calm of my house and write. I don’t have an office, so I sit with my laptop at the kitchen table in my daughter’s spot. I don’t know why I always choose her chair over my own. Maybe because it looks out into the backyard. I open the curtains and watch the night turn to day as I tap away at my keyboard. Or sometimes I will write in a notebook – three pages, for those of you familiar with “morning pages.” I wrote the first draft book that way – pen to paper in the wee morning hours. Well, that is ideally how my writing process works – early, alone, in the dark.

Lately it is something much closer to what happened today. It’s Saturday as I start to write this and I’ve gone to bed late every night this week so I allowed myself to “sleep in” until about 6:15 this morning. I planned to walk the dog at 7:00 and go for a three mile run at 8:00, so I knew I wouldn’t have much time, but I wanted to get a few thoughts out. Then I went on TimeSuck – I mean Facebook, so no writing took place – unless you call commenting on the triumphs and tragedies and (mostly) minutiae of my friends’ lives and informing them about the triumphs and tragedies and (mostly) minutiae of mine writing.

After the Facebooking and the dog walking and the running I woke Marley up and made her breakfast and then took her to an event at school. I was home a little before 10:00 and Chandler and Dave had left for the day, but instead of coming back to write immediately I rolled on my foam roller to work out the kinks from running, took a shower (well, after the running that was fairly necessary), threw a load of laundry in the washer, stripped my bed (but decided I’d put my clean sheets on later), cried my eyes out as I read the article in the Times about that horrific bus crash carrying college-bound high school students to Humbolt, and then threw the load in the dryer (after taking the time to hang my gym clothes and delicates), and then finally sat down to write this post. I typed two sentences and the phone rang. It was Marley, ready to be picked up.

I picked her up, took her to the library, went to Trader Joes’s for necessities (milk and wine), came home, had lunch, and then went to her lacrosse game. (Marley was goalie, her team won, it was awesome!) We returned at 3:30, I put clean sheets on my bed, stopped myself from taking the time to do the pillow cases, and sat down to write.

Phew!

Oh, I didn’t finish of course. I only had about half an hour before I had to do other things. So I got up at 5:00 Sunday morning and wrote some more (like I was supposed to – alone and in the dark). And now I’m finishing this early Monday.

So I guess you could say my process is to get up early under the guise of writing and then avoid writing as much as possible until I can’t avoid it any longer. I don’t know why I procrastinate. I think is has something to do with the torture. Or maybe so I can convince myself that my writing sucks because I “don’t have time” to do it properly.

4. What am I working on?

Hmmm… other than avoidance? Good question.

Another rejection letter, that was fairly constructive rather than the standard “it’s not you, it’s us, but really it’s you because your writing sucks” form letter, is forcing me to look at my novel again. What can I take out without losing my voice? How can I punch it up? Make it funnier? Make you want to read more. I’m actually considering changing my beloved first line -my hook- which I’ve held onto as if my life depended on it. But perhaps the life of my book depends on me letting it go.

And I recently wrote a piece for Listen to Your Mother that got rejected. Which is fine, really. (Though it does make me ~~bitter~~ petty enough to not give them a link.) There were only 12 spots available and I think that at least 14 people auditioned, so you know, odds were against me. In all seriousness, unlike the poorly edited drivel I usually post here, it’s a kick-ass piece that has a place somewhere, so I need to shop it.

And of course I try to post here every Monday, but as I’ve stated, the chatter in my head often doesn’t translate to my fingers.

Okay, are we done with this? Now that I’ve bored you all to tears if you’ve even made it this far (which I suspect most people haven’t – I probably wouldn’t) and you no longer like me because you’ve figured out how weird I am?

Anyway, now is the part where I pick three people to keep this tour moving. Picking only three people is very hard. Picking three people who will actually do it (and not murder me) is even harder, but here are my three:

Tina Drakakis – my soul mate from skirt.com. Yeah, I always pick her for things. Because she is kick ass and awesome and 1,000 times funnier than me, which makes me really want to hate her, but I can’t because I love her too much. Plus she’s been posting a lot to her blog lately, but I haven’t seen much that is new, so I’m giving her a kick in the butt to get back at it. She loves it when I do that. (Or maybe not.)

Rina Nedar – her blog, Mommy Has a Story, is quite lovely. You should read it. And her fiction is even better. Plus she started the writing group I’m currently in that makes me set goals and keeps me accountable, which quite frankly, I find a little bossy, so now I’m going to make her do something. (So ha ha Rina!)

Abby Byrd – her blog Little Miss Perfect is hilarious. She says fuck a lot, calls her two-year-old an asshole, and isn’t afraid to piss people off. I would like to say the F-word more (like I do in real life), but people have told me they don’t like it, and I don’t like to piss people off (except for the three people I just named, obviously) so I don’t use it as much as I’d like to in my blog. And as I stated above, my kids are older now, so I can’t call them assholes. Oh, and Abby uses a pen name for her blog, but one day when her memoir is published (and it’s great, so it will be), you will know her real name, trust me on that.

Get to work ladies – you have one week to expose your soul to the internet. But hey, you’re writers. You’re used to that.

(And for those of you who stuck with this entirely-too long post, I really do thank you.)

My So-Called Fabulous (Yet Unlived) Life

April 10, 2014April 10, 2014 charlenearossLeave a comment

Throwback Thursday – This post was originally published on March 21, 2011 on skirt.com.

The other day as I looked at my pretty friend on the computer screen – tan and fit with her long blonde hair flowing down her back, I began to wonder about her life…and about mine. Somewhere between high school and Facebook she moved from Los Angeles to Miami. We were really only acquaintances in high school – I was better friends with her brother a year older than us – and now we are acquaintances through the world’s largest social network. I see photos of her fabulous single life and she sees photos of my rather suburban one (if she even bothers to look).

In her photos she sits courtside at a Miami Heat game, drinks umbrella drinks on the beach, and wraps her arms around equally tan and fit singletons at bars and barbeques. In my photos I’m trying my best to look cool mom funky rather than suburban mom frumpy.

At 45-years-old she still looks amazing in a bikini. Of course that’s probably a lot easier to do when you are blessed with the combination of being born with good genes, never experiencing the wondrous body-changing magic of childbirth, and have nothing but time on your hands to go to the gym before heading out to the local pub to meet your latest conquest on Match.com face to face.

I wonder sometimes as I stare at her beautiful face smiling at me if she is as happy as she looks. I consider myself happy in this life I’ve chosen for myself, but there are days when I trip over my husband’s shoes in the bedroom or get an aching back from doing eight loads of laundry on a Sunday that I wonder if I would be even happier if I had never married, if I had never had kids, if I had never given up my career to stay home with my children. If I only had to be accountable to me…what would my life be like?

A few years ago, when my husband unwillingly went from the security of fulltime employment to get-it-when-you-can-find-it contract work, I took a job at an elementary school as an aide in special education so that I could give my family the extravagant gift of health insurance. As an instructional assistant I have been bit, hit, kicked, pinched, spit at, peed on, and had my life threatened. And sometimes I even get to clean up poop! As an added bonus the pay is terrible. Of course I do get summers off and every December and June parents shower me with Starbucks gift cards to thank me for my patience with their little darlings.

But if I didn’t have kids, where would 15 years in the career world have taken me? I picture myself dressed in designer clothing checking my Blackberry as I tap my pedicured toes encased in $300 boots waiting for the valet to come with my Mercedes that only seats two so I can hurry from my business lunch to a very important meeting. My “what if” wardrobe seems a bit more stylish than my usual attire of jeans and tone-up sneakers sadly worn for function rather than fashion so my heels don’t sink into the grass as I attend my kids’ soccer games or so I won’t trip as I race around town running errand after monotonous errand.

Speaking of monotonous, my husband and I have been married for seventeen years. We’ve had our ups and downs, but all in all we have a happy marriage. He is a good partner and a good friend; we are very compatible and I feel like I’ve chosen well. Even during our toughest times the thought of divorce has never crossed my mind.

But what if we had never met? If I had never walked down the aisle, would the rush of experiencing first date jitters be greater than the joy experienced from the comfort of a long marriage? Would I choose to experience firsthand the phenomenon of online dating instead of only experiencing it vicariously through my friends? I am rather curious to know how many text exchanges with a man you’ve never met face to face it takes to get a photo of his penis in your inbox. And like many of my still-single or again single friends, would I also have a nice, incurable dose of HPV?

I look at my suburban tract home in a neighborhood known for its good schools. In my “what if” life I envision myself in my two bedroom condo in a much more urban part of town decorated Pottery Barn chic – no roses to dead head, no lawn to water or mow. There are no socks on the floor, no Lego’s to be stepped on, no princess toothpaste smeared on the bathroom counter. If the song “I Still Want You” were to play on the 80’s station of my satellite radio as I was cleaning my condo on a Saturday afternoon I’d probably think to myself, “Whatever happened to The Del Fuegos?” having no idea that front man Dan Zanes went on to be a Grammy Award winning children’s artist.

If I’d never had kids I would probably still think that Lindsey Lohan’s drug addiction and downward spiral is a terrible tragedy, but the true tragedy would be missing both her and Jamie Lee Curtis’ fantastic comedic performances in “Freaky Friday” because what kind of designer-boot-wearing, two-seat-Mercedes-driving, online-dating-still-hot-in-a-bikini-after-the-age-of-forty single girl sees a movie like that?

If I were single I wouldn’t have to share the covers in my bed, give up half my closet space, or watch NASCAR. If I were childless I wouldn’t have to make sure there was always milk in the fridge, referee ridiculous arguments, or worry about how the hell I’m going to pay for college. (Shit. How the hell are we going to pay for college?)

I look at my friend’s pretty face one last time before clicking off my computer and joining my family for popcorn –crumbs of which I will inevitably have to vacuum off the floor tomorrow- and the latest episode of The Simpsons. I snuggle with my daughter under the Snuggie she and her brother gave me for Mother’s Day last year and laugh a deep belly laugh as Bart tortures Homer.

If only my two lives were a Gwyneth Paltrow movie and I could watch them in parallel to see which path was better. But the truth is I really don’t have to wonder. I already know.

Follow me on Twitter @Rossgirl08 and connect with me on Facebook

Random Things that Made Me Laugh Today

January 31, 2014January 31, 2014 charleneaross5 Comments

Random things I think are funny…

This. Is a real TV ad…

So is this…

Childish humor always makes me snicker

In-your-pants — Mine is “And the Mountains Echoed In Your Pants.”

Madonna is now sporting a grill.

I would say that she’s rockin’ a grill,except that she’s not. Rockin’ it that is. Is she unaware that she’s 54?

Look, I do lots of silly things to make myself look younger. I ~~poison my head~~ color my gray roots every 3 or 4 weeks, I participate in an activity that I do not enjoy 4-5 days a week, and last night I drank water with my dinner instead of wine. And I really, really wanted wine. But a grill? Seriously? Does she look in the mirror and think she looks hip? Looks young? Looks cool?

What’s wrong? Were her sinewy yoga arms no longer garnering her enough attention?

Oh Madonna, Madonna, Madonna, I will forever love the 80’s, 90’s and even early 00’s you, but you’ve got to start aging a little more gracefully my friend. And speaking of friends – that grill? So not yours.

And in parting, I have this very special wish for you…

Have a great weekend. (And whatever you do, please don’t get a grill!)

Photo credits: someecards, Carina Press, XposurePhotos

New Popular Baby Names for Boys and Girls

July 3, 2013July 3, 2013 charleneaross5 Comments

This post was not inspired by the ridiculous naming of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West’s love child North West. (My funny husband said he was surprised Kris Kardashian didn’t convince them to spell it Knorth.) Ah… so sorry that your parents are douchebags Little Nori, but the good news is they’re both rich, so you’ll have plenty of money for the therapy you will so obviously be needing later!

And no, I’m not having a baby. My body is shutdown for baby-making. (Not that that’s any of your business!)

But my cousin is expecting her first child and she recently posted this on her FB page:

I thought I’d put in my two cents:

Yes, that’s right. According to the baby naming website Nameberry and this article from The Inquisitr, here are some funky baby names for both boys and girls trending right now:

Severine – apparently inspired by the Bond girl in “Skyfall.” (Thank god people weren’t so silly in the 60’s and didn’t start naming their kids Pussy (Galore) after “Goldfinger” or Kissy (Suzuki) after “You Only Live Twice.”)

Good thing Carrie’s not having a girl because if she names her son after a James Bond character it will likely be James.

Phaedra – likely an homage to “Real Housewives of Atlanta” rather than a sudden interest in Greek Mythology. At least Phaedra Parks is not really a housewife, but a successful attorney and people aren’t naming their daughters after a spoiled housewife living well off of her husband’s success. (Although, to be honest I’d like to be a spoiled housewife living well off of my husband’s success like I used to be.)

Carrie, if you’re going to name your baby after a reality TV star and want something a little unusual go with something like Ozzy* or Malcolm*, but please don’t make it Tarzan* or God forbid “The Situation!”

Mingus – which I guess is inspired by Charles Mingus, the jazz bassist/composer. (Sorry Charles, I’ve never heard of you. But then, I’m not really into jazz.)

And my dearest and most favorite cousin, if you are going to name your darling baby boy after a jazz musician (not that you would) Miles is a very nice name, but Coltrane – that’s just weird.

And remember, what every you do – DO NOT NAME HIM THOR!

I’ve always found it humorous that baby names are inspired by pop culture. Of course I don’t know why I’m so smug. While my son Chandler’s name was not inspired by pop culture, the inspiration did come from my husband’s favorite author, Raymond Chandler. It was not due to our love of Chandler Bing from “Friends.” And yeah, yeah our last name happens to be Ross. Ha ha ha – isn’t that funny?

But I’m telling you – he was named after Raymond Chandler. And no, his middle name is not Joey!

And my daughter Marley’s name was not inspired by the book Marley and Me (which was published five years after she was born), but again by Raymond Chandler. Or rather his character, Phillip Marlowe. (I did not like the name Marlowe, but I love the name Marley, though admittedly she probably has a lot more in common personality-wise with John Grogan’s dog than Raymond Chandler’s character.)

Joey-Tribbiani-Chandler-Bing-and-Ross-Geller-joey-chandler-and-ross — I did NOT name my son after any of these people!

Interesting side note: the name Marlowe is also on the Hot 2013 Baby Name List this year.

It also puzzles me why parents like to give their kids ~~crazy~~ unique spellings to their otherwise not-very-unique names. Is is supposed to make them feel special? Guess what? I doesn’t. My Starbucks name is Jane because nobody can spell Charlene. And my name is spelled the most common way. (I think.)

It’s bad enough that my name was never on a mug at Disneyland because it wasn’t that common. Can you imagine how upsetting it would be if my name really was Jane but I spelled it Jayne and every time I looked at those damn mugs/key chains/shot glasses I saw Jane staring back at me? I’ll tell you – pretty freaking upsetting!

You are just setting your child up for a lifetime of frustration because everyone will spell their name wrong. Every. Single. Time.

There is someone I do business with named Brittni. I’m sorry – Brittni?! I think Brittney is a lovely name, but when you spell it Brittni it seems like you’re dealing with a stripper, not a business professional.

So to answer my cousin’s question, here are some baby boy names that I like: Ethan, Evan, Oliver, Henry. I also really do dig James. But Carrie, if you name him James, don’t spell it Jaymes. He’ll never have a coffee mug with his name on it.

And people might think he’s a stripper.

*Ozzy, Malcolm and Tarzan were all contestants on different seasons of Survivor

Image of Thor via: Assira, Wikimedia Commons/Image of Joey, Chandler & Ross via Friends

Charlene Ross

Tag: Facebook