"One Blogging Moment"

I'm a sucker for a great sports story. Remember the Titans...Rudy...Field of Dreams...Rocky...

I grew up in a small town. So small, we didn't have a football program. Well, not an American football team. Our boys played the European version - soccer. And while Bend it Like Beckham was also a great movie, this story is not about soccer. You see, the boys in our school played soccer for two reasons and two reasons only.



1. Because it was the only fall sport.

and

B. Because they wanted to be in great shape come BASKETBALL season.


Did I mention that small school I came from was in Indiana? Where basketball rules. The state that brought you one of the greatest sports movies ever - Hoosiers. The Land of Larry Bird...Bobby Knight...Gene Keady...Reggie Miller...and now, the Butler Bulldogs.



A couple of weeks ago, none of us knew the names Brad Stevens, Gordon Hayward, Shelvin Mack and Matt Howard. Many of you out there probably still don't. But a new wave of basketball fans indeed do. They were key figures in Monday night's final game for the NCAA National Championship. The game that matched up a legendary coach and his team of Blue Devils against a "mid-major" from the city of Indianapolis, IN. A school with about 4200 students and a home-grown head coach.

Brad Stevens was a standout basketball player in Zionsville (Indy 'burb) who went on to play at a small Indiana university (DePauw is about half the size of Butler). He had a cushy career started at the infamous Eli Lilly, but gave it all up for his love of basketball. Stevens began as a volunteer with the Butler program, and after only three years as head coach, was only three points away from a national championship.

If you're even remotely a sports fan (or, your hubby or children watch Sportscenter twice a day), you've seen the last second shot by Butler forward, Gordon Hayward a bazillion times. The half-court shot that hit the backboard, hit the front of the rim, then bounced out - saving the Duke Blue Devils from the BIGGEST UPSET EVER in college champsionship hoops. The entire game was a nail-biter. One of the most intense NCAA championship games I have ever seen. And it couldn't have been more of a David and Goliath story.


Now, I ask you....is that a Hoosiers sequel, or what? Yeah, probably more so if the ball would have actually went IN the basket and the place would have erupted and Gene Hackman and Barbara Hershey started dating. (FYI Genie, no way you're playing Brad Stevens. Maybe Coach K?)


A quick dye job
and some brylcream - good to go!



In all fairness, the Goliath side had some stuff that good movies are made of, too. Yes, this is the school's fourth national championship, but the first in nearly a decade from a coach who has been loyal to the school for thirty years. And it's not at all lost on me that 6'2" Duke guard, Nolan Smith won his championship ring in the same city his late father, Derek Smith won his exactly 30 years prior (while playing for Louisville against UCLA at the old Market Square Arena in Indianapolis). Good for you, Nolan. You did your dad proud (also a sucker for a good father/son storyline).


Just one more thing to note about Monday night's game (wake up, Julie! I'm just about done talking about sports!). The song, "One Shining Moment" has been the anthem for the NCAA champsionship game since it was first played when my alma mater, Indiana University beat Syracuse in 1987. Legend has it (and by legend, I mean according to Wikipedia), it was written by Michigan singer/songwriter David Barrett after seeing Larry Bird play in the 1979 NCAA championship game (Bird for Indiana State against Magic Johnson and his Michigan State Spartans - CLASSIC GAME). It's the last thing played after trophy presentations and locker room interviews, and includes a video montage of all 64 teams in the Big Dance. It's one of the highlights of the night. And this year, the esteemed Jennifer Hudson (of American Idol, Dream Girls fame) sang the newest version of the song. Way'da belt it, Diva! You're quite the Cinderella story yourself!

To conclude, congratulations Duke and Coach K. Hold your head up high, Butler and Coach Stevens. And to Butler mascot, Blue (officially, Butler Blue II), better luck next year, you chunky little bunch of bulldog love!

Kick-Off & Kick-A$$

It's Monday, April 5, 2010. Do you know where your clutter is?


I do! I know all too well. As promised, I am delivering photos today for the first "zone" targeted in my Project 12 Rooms in 12 Months. I'd like to go on the record here, stating that I took these photos last Friday after a typical, busy week, and I left them EXACTLY as I found them (don't judge me):


This is the first thing you see entering through our garage. It is the "information center." It is informing me that I should turn around and run while I have the chance.





As you can see, much effort has been made in order to keep this mudroom functional. I have the Ikea bookshelf, the corkboard, The vertical filebox on the left to hold "'portant papers".....so where did I go wrong? Well, first of all, as we grab everything out of the car and drag it into the house, where do you think it lands? Right on the make-shift credenza. Water bottles, gift bags, receipts, etc. That's an easy fix. A quick daily sweep will keep that in check. But the big problem here is the plethora of paper. I took a good look at all the paper tacked up there, and I'd say about 98% of it could be filed appropriately in a real file box (more like 68% with 30% being filed in the trash can). THAT is my first task to tackle. Won't those cute corkboard disks that I found on the internet be more appealing holding kids' artwork and fancy invitations?




This is inside the mudroom closet. Those pockets are very handy to hold scissors, screwdrivers, hole punches, etc. Clever, right? But a mess, none the less. Needs editing.



Ugh. Undersized closet for oversized kids. Please tell me this, why don't kids want to stick their shoes in those convenient little cubbie holes? What is it about those neatly squared-off boxes that repels high tops and crocs?



The laundry room is barely bigger than the closet, but it works. The focus in this room will be making sure the clothes get transfered from this rod to the closets upstairs, and purge unnecessary things in the boxes above. Those boxes are my "gift closet" with gift bags, ribbons, and an assortment of knick knacks to throw in for presents. It's a very handy solution, but it only looks tidy when everything is kept INSIDE those boxes.




On to the powder room. The week we moved in, I started peeling the dated wallpaper off the walls. Two years later, notice the remnants still lurking behind the toilet? That project got pushed waaaay back when I noticed the walls hadn't been prepped properly and I began tearing into the drywall. Wallpaper. I can't tell you how many layers I've stripped from how many walls in how many homes. The bane of my existence. And yet. I just ordered four double rolls to solve the problem here! Resale shmesale. I'm doing things MY WAY.



Does anyone else still have Christmas/winter decor still looming in scary rooms? No? Just me? 'kay.





Anyone else have random cosmetics hanging out in candle jars? No? Just me, again? 'kay.




In conclusion, P:12-12 is now in full swing. Time to make a plan. I know that I am going to hit the kids' rooms in June, July, and August when they are around to help. I know I will be saving the family room (with the least amount of clutter) for the busy month of December. I know I am going to break each room down into digestable chunks. Lists are good. Focus is key. Drinking is optional.

Post your pics on Aleighopolis so we can all hold each other accountable. It just takes a few minutes. I'm a sucker for a good "before & after."

GOTCHA!

So much to cover today....where to start?

GOTCHA! I cannot believe how many of you (via my fb pages) actually believed the story that I posted last night, on April 1, 2010! I saved the post for later in the day, because I assumed everyone's guard would be up in the a.m. It worked. Although, I have to admit, that little guy (taken from the interwebs) was so cute. I may NOT have been able to turn him down if the encounter actually happened.





Kudos to my bbf (best blogger friend) Wendy, who not only called my bluff, but inspired the post. You see, on Monday, Wendy awarded me the (Bald Faced Liar)Creative Blogger Award. With the award came instructions to create a list of lies and one truth about myself. I then pass the award on to other bloggers as a way to share info about ourselves and encourage creative writing. Because I am an open book (and because my "fact" is stranger than any fiction that I could dream up), I decided to create one big fat lie, on April Fool's Day, and sell it to my peeps. And many bought it. Thanks to those of you who must have known better, but played along anyway. And because at my core I am a rule follower who hates to disappoint, here is my feeble attempt to complete the requirements of the award (abbreviated approach):

1. I have a teacup Yorkie named Sparky.

2. I have a spark plug named Yorkie.

3. I invented the PedEgg.

4. I have a band and a solo career, and am married to Gavin Rossdale.

5. I am a PC, and Windows 7 was my idea.

6. I host a 30-minute cooking show on The Food Network.

7. My creative writing skills could be improved upon.


The next part is even harder for me. I'm to pass this on to five other bloggers. As a newbie, I am not that well-read (or networked) in the blogosphere. This screen has been up for over an hour as I perused new blogs, trying to find someone I felt a connection to and wanted to follow. It's not that they're not there, but I can't find them when put on the spot (also, Wendy already hit up two I would target). As a result, I am listing only two. One, a person from my past. Secondly, a person I will begin following.


JJ at the Landii,
KLM at A Rock In My Pocket,

If you're in the mood for wholesome family goodness, read JJ's posts. If you'd like to cybermeet a real writer, who seems not only gifted, but gracious (and hilarious), head to A Rock In My Pocket.

And speaking of true authors, don't forget to visit my BBF Wendy:
On'n On 'n On - Because a Writer Always Has Something to Say

Lastly, the month of April is upon us. Spring has sprung and Project 12-in-12 has begun! First up at the Blahblahskis: Mudroom/Powder Room/Laundry Room. That's right. I'm tackling three rooms in one (because they're practically connected and they feed into each other). That's all for now. Just a teaser. Tune in Monday to see the "Before" pics. And take some photos of your own to share on my Aleighopolis fan page. We're in this together, People!!

That's a wrap. Happy Easter. Happy Passover. Happy Trails.

I Blame Betty White.

I am an idiot.

What is wrong with me?

How did this happen?


It started out a normal Wednesday. Send the kids off to school. Empty the dishwasher. Load the breakfast dishes. Grab a cup of coffee. Catch up on emails and facebook. Check my blog. Check my freinds' blogs. Randomly check one or two of their friends' blogs.

Head to my first Zumba class. Head home to shower. Grab a light brunch. Check my emails and facebook. Check my blog. Check another blog or two. Head to my second Zumba class.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

You know the drill. But somehow the drill went wrong. The drill went terribly, terribly wrong.

After my Zumba class at the local YMCA, I made a bee-line to the parking lot because

1) I was starving

and

B) I wanted to get a shower in before the kids got home and our spring break began!

On my way out the door, I noticed a small group gathered by a table down the sidewalk. Figuring it was a Girl Scout cookie stand, I averted my eyes. Too hungry. Too weak. At this point, I was at risk of purchasing a whole case of Thin Mints and finishing them off on the car ride home.





Little Girl #1: Awwwwww!!!

Little Girl #2: Can I hold it?

Little Girls' Mommy: How old are they?

Betty White: They're 4 weeks old.

Betty White? What's she doing in a Girl Scout cookie booth?

Of course, it wasn't really Betty White. But it was a white-haired grandmother that was holding something precious in her hands. No, not Thin Mints. Not Somoas. Not even Do-Si-Dos. It was a tiny little teacup Yorkie. With black and butterscotch fur and big (realtively speaking) pointy ears. He was absolutely adorable. He had me at "ruff."

The next half hour is a total blur. There were words about the local SPCA. An illegal puppy mill in Lancaster County. Some choice words about Michael Vick. And I do recall Betty listening intently as I told the story of a brave little trooper named Rox (see previous posts...label: Rox). I got all caught up in my grief, and the next thing you know, me and the Yorkie were on our way. He was so tiny, I could have fit him in my cleavage for the ride home. Instead, I put him in my hat, which I put in my Zumba bag, which I safety belted in place in the front seat. Me and the Yorkster. Heading home to greet the kids getting off the bus......

Dear Lord, what have I done?!?

By the time we got home, I had only fifteen minutes before the kids would be arriving. My mind was racing. My stomach was growling. I was wishing I had a sleeve of Thin Mints. I wondered if Yorkie was hungry. Did we still have Rox's special diet food? Forget food. EASTER BASKET! It's close to Easter. I'll stick the Yorkster in an Easter basket and surprise the kids! We run to the basement and look for the baskets. Ah-ha. ZuZu's glossy blue number still has the bright green Easter grass inside. Yorkie tries it on for size. He's dwarfed. I'm afraid they might mistake him for a chocolate bunnyesque mold and eat him. They've been off candy for nearly 40 days. It could get ugly.

Oh! I know! I'll borrow the hamster's green plastic ball and let Yorkie walk around the house until he bumps into the kids. They'll freak out! It will look like the hamster doubled or tripled in size since the morning. That could be fun! I grab the ball. Yorkster's ears aren't fitting through the ball's opening. Strike two.

Maybe I could stick him in the mailbox, and tell Deuce to go get the mail when he -

ZuZu: Mom?!? We're hooome.

Oh, snap.

I turn around in the kitchen and shove Yorkie in my tank top, whip back around and...

Me: SURPRISE!!!

ZuZu: Aaawwwww! No way! Can we keep him?!?

Deuce: Mom, what are you doing?

MT is already at the top of the stairs heading to his room to change out of his school uniform. He hears all the commotion, and decides to head back down.

ZuZu: Where did you get him? Is he ours?

MT: OH! Man! Is that our dog?

Deuce: Seriously, Mom? Can we keep him?

Me: Happy Easter!

Big Daddy's reaction wasn't quite as energized. Just two weeks ago, we were on the same page with NOT replacing Rox with another dog. Ever. Although, if you recall, I did leave grieving daddy home alone with the kids for two hours and came back to a freakin' hamster. And - let's not forget that Big Daddy was also the one who surprised me, ZuZu and MT with Rox seven years ago. I figure this little surprise (and I do mean little) makes us even. Especially considering I'm the one that will be doing the potty-training, feeding, and walking. Of course, to the mailbox and back will constitute a walk for this little guy's stubby legs.

We played with Yorkie all night, and debated on a name for the little guy. MT's suggestions were Knox, or Lox, or Shox. ZuZu seemed to recycle names she considered for the hamster. There was "Bear" and "Pickles." Deuce wanted a tough name for the little guy, so he would never be mistaken for a girl like "Roxy" always was. His top choices were Rambo and Rocky. I then suggested Sly and Stallone. Which led Big Daddy to Spartan (Demolition Man) which led me to Butler (as in Gerard, from 300) which led John to Spartacus which led to the kids asking us to please stop.

So, I would now like to formally introduce you to (drum roll, please).......















SPARKY!
Freakin' Yorkie.

Project 12 Rooms in 12 Months (alternate title: Get This $h!t Out of My House)

My best friend once told me, "Free your mind and the rest will follow."

Wait - that wasn't my bf, that was En Vogue.



Regardless (or as they say in the Nebraska, "irregardless" - which, by the way - has now officially become a word due to so many people misusing it. Kind of like the word ain't. Only worse. Because irregardless isn't just slang, it's a contradiction. Ummmmm...perhaps I should have punched the "tangent alert" button here).....

REGARDLESS! No offense to the ladies of En Vogue (or the Cornhusker state), but I think maybe they should have belted out, "Free the rest, and your mind will follow!"

Indeed, you can't pick up a magazine, turn on your tv or surf the interwebs without noticing at least "5 ways to: "declutter," "simplify," or "organize" something or other. I'll stop short of calling it a conspiracy, but clearly, Zen masters and hardcore capitalists alike have secretly aligned to

A) Help us rid our minds of overabundance.

and

2) Create a demand for high-salaried organizational experts, marketable D-I-Y "work zones" and overpriced containers (dammit, The Container Store, I wish I could quit you!).


With spring cleaning season in full swing, it's game on. Woman's Day has the ladies lingering in the linen closet while Cosmo shares how to prioritize your prophylactics. Family command stations are all the rage in busy households. And apparently there's more than one way to tackle your shelving shortage.






So, I can go two ways on this. I can free my mind, and hope the rest follows (cut to me poolside in a lounger, Jackie O. sunglasses and a large-brimmed hat, holding a margarita); OR, I can buy into this self-improvement, motivational crap and pick a project, hoping freeing myself of material mayhem will induce a state of peaceful bliss.


Any chance I can get the margarita and bliss in the same scenario? Don't mind if I do!


Because I love a challenge...especially one in which I can be held accountable, then blow off, then revamp in order to make it look like it was working for me the whole time - I will make a vow:

I solelmnly swear, to make a conscious, viable effort to declutter, simplify, and organize EVERY ROOM IN MY HOUSE.

That's right. I'm designating 12 areas as "rooms," and will tackle one a month for the next year. I will scrutinize every last piece of paper and unmatched sock in order to purge my packrat tendencies. I'm not a hoarder, by any means. I have given away countless bags of clothes to friends and neighbors, as well as piled clothing, household goods and even furniture onto trucks making the rounds for charity. But alas, The import/export ratio is off. One might think with all the moving around we've done, that we would travel lightly and be done with useless things. In theory, yeah, but with moving comes baggage. Literally. We won't even go there.

The truth is, my mind is in need of major decluttering. Who doesn't feel more peaceful when things are neat and orderly around them? The "organized chaos" I've been living in for the last ten years (okay, twenty) isn't working for me anymore. I want to look at less and feel more. Ooh! That's good. It deserves it's own line.

I want to look at less and feel more.

That's my goal.

Project "12 ROOMS IN 12 MONTHS" begins April 1, 2010. Anyone care to join me? Misery loves compa-- I mean, strength in numbers!

"Your Lack of Planning Will Not Become My Emergency." Yeah, Right. Who Am I Kidding?

Friday afternoon, March 19

Me: Does anyone have any homework this weekend?

ZuZu: Me...I have a vocab packet.

Deuce: No.

MT: No.

Gorgeous, sunny weekend ensues. There are baseball practices and a lacrosse practice on Saturday. Sunday is church, cleaning out the garage, and hanging out in the 'hood.

Sunday night, March 21

Me: Does anyone have any homework to finish?

ZuZu: Done.

Deuce: No.

MT: No.

Monday night, March 22

Me: Does everyone have their homework done?

ZuZu: Yes.

Deuce: Yeah.

MT: Yes. (short pause) Mom, I think my tipi is due tomorrow.




Flashback scene:

MT: Mom, I have to make a Cheyenne tipi for a project.

Me: Oh, I remember when Deuce did that project two years ago. Too bad we didn't keep it. When's it due?

MT: Like, next month or something. Not for a long time.

Me: Okay, we'll work on it on the weekends.

End scene





Me: What?!? Tomorrow?!? What do you mean tomorrow?!?

MT: It's due the 24th.

Me: What's the date?!? {frantic eyes darting between older children} WHAT'S THE DATE?!?

ZuZu: It's the 22nd.

So, here's the thing about MT....he can procrastinate with the likes of congress, but the minute he processes that the deadline is upon us - he gets freaky frazzled and all wound up. (I don't know where he gets it). I quickly assess, and attempt to defuse the situation.

Me: Okay, MT, it's not due tomorrow, it's due Wednesday. I will get the materials for you tomorrow and you'll have to be ready to work on it all night. It'll be fun! No complaints. No getting tired before the project is done, okay?

MT: Okay.

Bedtime crisis averted. No break-down.

Tuesday, I head out for the fabric/craft store. I used to frequent these kinds of places alot. Back when I fancied myself artsy. The fruits of my labor resulted in some trendy kick-ass cigar box purses which paid for Christmas one year, and then just a bunch of crafty crap that took up waaaay to much space in my basement. Let it go, Woman. Let it go. I remain very focused, so as not to be tempted by the crack cocaine they are selling in the decorative scrapbook papers aisle. I grab some craft paint, some brown vinyl laces and I'm standing in the cutting line for a yard of pleather. Wow...this is a slooooow line. And really, we need a "take a turn" ticket now, like at the deli? There's plenty of room to form an orderly line. How many grannies got all gangsta with their calicos and fusible interfacing before JoAnn broke out the LED sign?

Next stop, the wholesale club. I had to pick up a few lunchbox items, some dry goods, toiletries (hey, that's a good price on razor blades), and most importantly - the perfect low-sided box to form a base for MT's tipi and painted river. $263 later, I'm good to go.

Damn, that was one expensive box.

I now have all the materials necessary to build one mean Cheyenne tipi. I meet the kids at home after school, and while they do their homework and MT hunts for sticks in the yard, I begin putting away the 700 bags of individual-sized Sun Chips and 450 giant rolls of Charmin (which is equivalent to over 1000 regular rolls...which is enough to wipe the arse of everyone in my neighborhood for three months. If the Farmer's Almanac is right, and we have another March blizzard, I've got us covered!!).

MT seems thrilled with all the materials, and we get down to business...him painting the blue river and green grass...me, cutting out the tipi. Me not so good at cutting out tipi. Took two tries. Whatev. MT paints some symbols on the "hide," and then becomes preoccupied with finding the buffalo that we had in his big brother's display. He's gone for fifteen minutes, and returns with two tigers, two giraffes, a leopard, a rhino, a zebra, a snake, a horse, and a polar bear. No buffalo.

Me: Okay, which of these animals might have actually roamed the Great Plains in the 1800's?

MT: They had horses.

Me: Then, what are all of these other guys doing here?

(MT shrugs shoulders and smiles. Clearly, he's hoping to be done before bedtime. That's my boy.)

The "hide" is dry, and I have MT hold it around the sticks while I tie the vinyl laces together at the top. We poke the legs into some old floral foam I found in the basement (Ha! I knew I would need those again one day), and the project is complete! Now, on to the "Explanation Paper." We find some kid-friendly websites with Cheyenne facts, and thanks to the size of MT's cursive writing, his two-sided double-spaced report is done in about eight sentences. He formed well-written, 3rd grade level sentences without breaking down once! I was so proud of him.

Me: All done! Good job, MT!

MT: (puts his arm around me) And they said we* couldn't do it.

Me: They? Who's they? Said we couldn't do what?

MT: Some guys at school said I couldn't get the project done in one night.

Me: First of all, it's nothing to brag about that you waited until the last day to do the whole project. And secondly, who are these guys. I'm taking names.

MT rattles off a bunch of 3rd graders. I pass the names on to Homeland Security. Haters.

Me: I am proud of you for working very hard all night.

MT: Thank you. Thank you for helping me.

Me: We're totally getting an "A."

MT: Yup.

MT grabs the African animals and the polar bear and heads upstairs to where his siblings are watching American Idol. I grab a glass of "table red" and sit back to admire our hard work.







Mommy and MT: 1
Organized and disciplined 3rd grade Haters: 0

Put that in your peace pipe and smoke it.


____________________________________________
* "we" duly noted. I'm certain the naysayers quipped, "you can't do it in one day." But MT gave props to his momma for all her help.

I'm a member of the BBC (Bookless Book Club)

Twilight is "on demand" (cable-talk), New Moon just came out on DVD, and Eclipse is now running trailers all over the internet. If only Eclipse was in the theater (June 30, 2010 - mark your calendar, girls), we could call it the "Twilight Trifecta." Snub your noses, roll your eyes, spew your coffee if you must, but I AM a Twilight fan. There! I said it! It comes as no surprise to my Bookless Book Club (BBC) - indeed, they are the reason I fell into the vampire's lair.

Soon after moving into my new neighborhood (in my new city, in my new state, in my new region), I decided to start a neighborhood book club (neighborhood, because book club is synonymous with wine club, and the "walking home" option is a must). Everyone was "thumbs up" on the idea. It took awhile to pick a book and get it scheduled, but finally, a few months later, we were having our inaugural Book Club night. I think myself and three others (out of a dozen) actually read the selection. The gracious host did make the effort to purchase the book, but the cash register receipt being used as a bookmark never made it past the first chapter (note to hostess: it sometimes takes more than the first chapter to get to the meat of things).

Four months later we had a Christmas Book Club party (to celebrate all the great works we hadn't read). I brought a bagful of used books to hand out as "goodies," but again, there was more reading of wine labels than anything else that night. As we continued to partake of the vine, someone fancied herself a forward-thinker and made a suggestion:

"How about we watch a movie and then discuss IT at our next get-together?!?"

Inner dialogue: Hmmm...What shall it be....Pride & Prejudice? Atonement? Or something more current, perhaps...like Juno or The Time Traveler's Wife (by the way, snore), or Thank You For Smoking?

Forward-thinker blurts out: "Forgetting Sarah Marshall!!!"


What the - ?? Where do I live? Kappa Kappa Grammar?

The wine-soaked squealed with delight on something light-hearted and comical (not unlike ourselves). I began to wonder if any of the ladies could read anything other than a board book.

We never did see Forgetting Sarah Marshall as a group....although, Big Daddy and I watched it together. It was good for a few laughs, but neither of us felt compelled to delve into a probing discussion after. Just as well the BBC shelved it.

Summer came and went, but my hopes for a true book club, one in which books would be read and discussed, would not die. How could I convince these ladies to open something that wasn't a gossip magazine and had more than 34 pages?!? Hmmm....didn't I hear a couple of them discussing that tween series, Twilight over the summer?

Buffy: It's soo good.

Me: I don't do vampires.

Bella: It's not really about vampires like a horror story, it's more about true love and the gravitational pull to one's soul mate.

Me: Puke. Teen angst AND forbidden love. Even worse.

Seriously, people? Vampires? Eww. Pasty white. Suggestive biting. Fangs and blood. Not interested. But wait!!

I am a sucker (hee-hee, "sucker") for a great theme night. If I chose to host the next month's BBC, which was OCTOBER and all things HALLOWEENY, I could totally vamp it up. And so it was. I ordered wax fang lips from Oriental Trading Crap, stocked up on red wine, and had pomegranate martinis and bloody mary's on stand-by. All I had to do was read the book.

And READ I did!! Morning, noon and night! I totally fell for it. Hook, line, and sink my freakin' teeth into it! A week later, I was on to New Moon, which admittingly, was a bit of a disappointment. Not only because I was firmly planted in Team Edward at this point, but also because Bella perfected her P.I.T.A. * status. Seriously? She figured out Edward was a vampire in two days, but it took her nearly 300 pages to remember the werewolf tale Jacob had told her? Come on Bella (and Stephanie Meyer), you're smarter than that.

Not that it stopped me from digging into Eclipse! Who could resist the youthful, loyal like a puppy (obvi, duh! descendant of the wolf) Jacob Black. Not unlike many of you (and you know who you are), I'm starting to take to him a little more. I'm sure it's because of the deeper character study as he narrates half the book and has nothing to do with the shirtless Taylor Lautner plastered all over the wonderful world of marketing.

Speaking of shirtless (then) minors...Big Daddy doesn't like me elaborating on the boys of Twilight, although I continue to assure him that slight swoons and minor drools are nothing to be threatened by. The truth is, Big Daddy is the best of Team Edward and Team Jacob all wrapped up into one perfect package. He's a Renaissance man like Eddie, able to quote lines and lines of literature (and by literature, I mean movies) and possessing more than a superficial amount of intelligence in the area of science (his paper airplanes continue to amaze me and the kids). He's also hot-blooded like Jake (letting me put my cold feet on his long calves every night when I crawl into bed) and completely loyal (I'm not as pathetic as Bella, but I do have one or two character flaws that Big Daddy continues to overlook and loves me in spite of). Who needs the "just crawled out of bed 'do" and the 12-pack abs?!? I'm Team Big Daddy all the way!

To conclude, the BBC did come prepared for a discussion on Twilight. At that point, I had not yet read the final book (was only able to squeeze in first three in the month before the meeting) - so most of them were ahead of me on the material. Later that fall, we showed book club solidarity as we went to see New Moon in the theater (begrudgingly, they even took a photo in the theater lobby with our wax fangs in, but they'd die if I posted it), and I'm sure we'll be there for Eclipse in full strength this summer.

It's been five months since our last BBC wine tasting. As much as I long for a real book club as opposed to the bookless variety I belong to, I wouldn't trade these neighbors for anything. The gossip-rag reading, let-your-dog-out-while-you're-gone, meals-on-wheels for those in need, let's-order-pizza-on-the-deck, watch-my-kids-in-your-backyard kinda crew I live amongst beats "The Jane Austen Book Club" any day of the week and twice on grill-out Sunday.

End of Story.
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*Pain In The Ass