Guest Post: The Crayon Wranger

I cannot believe my luck! The Crayon Wrangler is guest posting for me today! She is funny and talented and all-around awesome. We went back and forth about possible topics. I suggested eye candy (i.e. Robert Downey, Jr.) or a good ol'-fashioned rant. You'll see that she went for the rant.

It is funny and brilliant and quintessential Wrangler. Please be sure to leave her some love and then check out her site. You can find her here  or on Twitter at  @CrayonWrangler

I was staring in the eyes of pure unadulterated anger. Eyes that flashed, teeth that bit and a jaw so firmly set that you could almost hear the bones crack under the pressure. She was really letting me have it. Words flew sharply with so many creatively strung adjectives that my brain could barely keep up with what my ears were trying to digest. It was fair. Deserved. It was also over 24 hours after the warranted incident and that girl delivering the vile speech was my reflection. The words, however were meant for someone else.

A good rant is a thing of beauty. Craftsmanship of emotional words with direct intention. A rant also needs to be delivered in a timely manner. I am a tardy rant giver.

I often picture the beloved Martha on PBS Kids show Martha Speaks. Martha is a dog who eats alphabet soup. Instead of all those letters going to her stomach, they float up to her brain and give her the power of speech. I know...I know. It’s not physically possible and that’s a rant for another day, if I could indeed deliver a rant. The animation shows all these letters swimming around inside an empty skull. When I get frustrated and it’s time for a good rant, all my rant words begin swimming inside an empty skull. By the time I get them all sorted out and ready to deliver, the moment has passed and the rant is misplaced in time.

Time and time again I have needed to rant, wanted to rant. A customer service representative that did me wrong. A celebrity that flamboyantly displayed ignorance as acceptable. A mother on the playground who questioned my parenting. A blog post that crossed the line of online attacks. A company that repacked my favorite sauce with the words “80% Better” that indicates they have been delivering 20% substandard crap until now and charging me the same price. Oh how I need to rant but those words just swim around and later that reflection will let me have it. The words will be deserved and they will bite.

In a way I am glad I can’t deliver a timely rant. That lady in the mirror is a scary one and sometimes those words are harsher than anyone deserves to hear. It’s possible that those people made a mistake, had a bad day or worded something incorrectly. I’m not sure if they really warrant the venom that never makes it out in time. Perhaps being a tardy ranter has made me seem apathetic or like a doormat, but then maybe it has shown grace that was needed. Just maybe they walked away from it thinking that they were in the wrong. It’s possible that a rant that never came saved a feeling that couldn’t be repaired.

Strange...as I wrote this I realized it was a rant. I guess I can do it without the mirror after all.

Guest Post: Rachel from The Lazy Christian

While I am away, I am honored to have a few guest posts. I am delighted to feature Rachel from The Lazy Christian today.  You can find her on Twitter at @LazyChristian. Rachel is a new read, and I love how she is funny, real, and wise. She discusses faith in an honest and thought-provoking fashion. Please take the time to read this beautifully rendered memoir, and then be sure to check out her site as well. Thanks, Rachel!

Past Curfew

by Rachel A. Snyder (The Lazy Christian)

I quietly tiptoe up the stairs. I open the door to my room gently, listening to my parents snoring across the hall. There’s no way they’ll hear me over that. Still, I turn the glass knob gently so the door doesn’t make a sound as I latch it closed behind me. I flop down on my bed, burying my face deep into the quilted comforter.

I hate this comforter. It’s scratchy. It’s loud with big pink and purple flowers. This isn’t what I’d have chosen. Anyone who knows me wouldn’t have chosen it.

Yet, my parents chose it for me. Telling.

I roll over to my back and stare up at the ceiling. The four posts of my bed are just in my peripheral vision, looming high above me. I can take the top off that post and use it for a microphone, you know. Sometimes I do. I still have my New Kids on the Block slap bracelets from fifth grade wrapped around one of the posts. The decorative piece on the headboard is missing. I don’t remember how that broke off. But I still have a glow-in-the-dark cross that says “God is Love” hanging there. I got that in sixth grade for memorizing Bible verses.

Something by the door catches my eye. It’s the “10,000 Things To Be Happy About” Page-a-Day calendar sitting on my dresser. In bright, red Sharpie, under the typed heading “Five Things to be Happy About Today,” it reads, “Kids who come home on time.” Various times are written and then crossed out, except for 1:30. That must be when she went to bed. I wonder how long she’d been planning to deface my calendar. Had she been planning this for a while and just waiting for the opportunity to use it? Not like I’ll ask her. In fact, I’ll act like I didn’t see it. That’ll really get her.

The clock now reads 2:30. In the morning. It’s the latest I’ve ever stayed out. I’ll be grounded from the car, for sure. I’ll probably have to walk to work. They didn’t care where I went until I started driving that jalopy. Not sure if they care about me or the car. I’d guess the car.

I open up the bottom drawer of my antique cherry dresser and grab a dorm shirt. Why do pajama drawers always have that pajama drawer smell? I even changed my pajamas from the other dresser to this one and there’s still a weird, stale smell. I throw the nightgown over my head, accidentally hitting my elbow on the curved edge of the dresser. I scream silently as my funny bone vibrates. This room is too small for all this furniture.

I wonder what they’re going to do with it when I leave. The furniture, I mean. I can’t take it with me to college. Are they going to turn my room in to a guest room? We never have guests as it is. They’re going to want to paint it, I’ll bet. This Frosted Lilac isn’t going to suit her when I’m gone. I hope they throw out this comforter. I sure don’t want it.

One more year. One. Then I’ll be gone. I wonder if I’ll ever have to come back. I’ll never sleep in this room again, if I can help it.

I hear Max pad softly up the stairs and to my door, sniffing to let me know he wants in. He doesn’t want to wake my parents, either. I open the door and close it quickly behind him. He lays down next to my bed. He’s too big to climb up on it, but he’d do it if he could. His nails make a scratching sound as he slides down into his place. This wooden floor is cold, and my genuine sheepskin rug—a gift from my aunt’s trip to New Zealand—was ruined in the wash by You-Know-Who. Why she thought it was machine washable, I don’t know. But now the floor is cold. Bare.

I sit down on the floor next to Max. Then I lean on him. Then I lay on him. I bury my face into the ruff of fur at his neck.

And I cry myself to sleep—right there on the floor—hugging the only living thing in this house who notices me.

I'm Guest Posting At Shades of Blue and Green!

I have met a lot of delightful people through blogging, but one of my favorite folks out there is Ash from Shades of Blue and Green. 

Why do I love her so? She's funny. She's an amazing mother. Her writing makes me swoon.

She is attempting to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), so I am pitching in with a guest post.

For those who know me from way back, this is my "House Hunters Drives me to Drink" post. You'll never watch HGTV the same way again. 

Please CLICK CLICK to read it, and be sure to stick around and get to know Ash.

Also, because it is my contractual obligation as a mother who happens to blog, here is my Curious George Halloween Pic. I'm not in it because I took the picture. Such is the life.

Enough of me--go check out Ash! 

A Corner of Fantastic

There are little corners of fantastic all over the place. Some  find it by the beach, others in the mountains, and yet others at Nordstroms.

(I'm not judging. Finding boots at 75% off can be a holy experience.)

I'm honored to have the opportunity to write about one of my favorite things--the iconic tobacco barns of the Chesapeake Bay Region. Please click on my guest post for The Taste and Travel Connoisseurs, and leave a comment if you like.

It would do my little heart good. While you're there, stick around and learn about places to eat, drink, travel, and unwind. It's a beautiful corner of fantastic, right here on the Internet.

I'm Guest Posting Today!

You meet a lot of special people through the blog world. One of the most special is my friend Erin at The Mother Load.


She's funny. Caring. Sensitive. Honest.

She's also a powerful writer.

When she asked me to do a guest post about my "blogging philosophy" I was honored. Please click over to read my thoughts, and then stick around to learn more about Erin. You'll be glad you did.


Clickity. Clickity.

*Comments Off*