Mozart’s Concerto for Piano and Orchestra #26
Cake’s “Frank Sinatra”
Goo Goo Dolls’ “I Wanna Get Married”
The Cardigans’ “Love Fool”
Aretha’s “RESPECT”

You never know when that information is going to come in handy. And that, my friends, is precisely how I am Here For You.

You’re welcome. Happy Monday.

(Don’t forget to show up here on Wednesday. Because we have the fabulous, brilliant, lovely Ally Condie returning for a second interview, and I’m totally giving you a chance to win CROSSED. Already have one? Have another. Want to know how many copies are in my shelves? Or, just wait. Many, many more prizes throughout February. But our Ally is first. So get here.)

Gimmicky Crap. Let’s make a band.

Okay, so maybe not.

But. Fun. We’re going to have it. In February. We are. And you’re invited, and so are all of your friends.

There will be BOOKS to give away! (At least 4 books. Maybe more. Given away. Maybe to you.)

There will be TREATS! (or at least recipes. But maybe really real treats, if I’m back on sugar by then. Now that I’ve given this some thought, don’t count on really real treats.)

Kid 3 will return with BELLE’S BOOKSHELF!

There will be some GREATEST HITS!

There will be HAIKU!
And it might make you giggle
Or simply weep, weep.

There will be INTERVIEWS and GUEST BLOG STUFF and LINKS to more fun things.

The whole month is like one of those Oprah episodes where she did that “Favorite Things” thing. (I never saw one of those. I watched Oprah a few times, and it didn’t actually agree with me. It mostly gave me new things to be afraid of, I’m afraid.) But Becca’s Favorite Things should be free from fear. Unless you’re afraid of Broadway musicals. Or butter. Or Creepin’ Death, the Dorm Cat. Like that.

Also, I promise, if you want to win something, you won’t have to do anything other than comment and maybe answer a private email wherein I ask for your address. I don’t do tweets or followers or “mention this on FB and win my eternal devotion” — although eternal devotion does have its plusses. So come on back. Stay a while. And we’re all in for some FUN.

—

Want to be a guest? Want to pimp your product? Want to get some face time? Email me and let’s discuss.

—

ALSO: Looking ahead to March, don’t forget to sign up for the STORY @ HOME conference – whether you’re a family history kind of person, or a blogger, or a storyteller, or none of the above but just want some excellent ideas on writing your story. DETAILS HERE and HERE and HERE. Also in the sidebar.

Eight. Really?

Oh, yes. Really.

And I never want you to forget that I tried to surprise you with the Angry Birds cupcakes, but you saw the file hidden on the computer, and you gasped and you grinned and you hollered, “ILoveYouMommyILoveYouMommyILoveYouMommy” just like on Kid History.

(I did. I made them. Following this woman’s seriously adorable advice. )

Little boy, you bring a huge wad of joy to our house. We all adore you to the maximum allowable limit, and just a little bit beyond. You make us laugh when you say things like “It’s a Trifle Trifecta” as you put away the dishes. We get giddy when you can spell words for your weekly test that still stump the rest of us (government? privilege? independent? in the second grade?) We love to see you being in the middle of the kid-ish clump because everyone wants to be near you BECAUSE YOU’RE SO NICE.

You completed our family, and we couldn’t ask for more. Really, we couldn’t. We’re not allowed to. And we wouldn’t. Because we love you so.

Really.

I’ve been about three thousand percent[1] better than any other time in my life in the writing of the thank-yous this month, but still not getting it done every day. But if I could keep up the 2-a-week thing, I think it would change my life. At least a little.

But I’m here to talk about the other kind. The kind that SOMEONE ELSE WRITES TO ME. Oh, that kind of thank-you notes is THE BEST KIND. I got a package of them in the mail this weekend. A whole package. No kidding. From dozens of the brilliant and lovely kids at Hillcrest Junior High. And not only were they kind and generous, they were clever.

Remember how I like my kids clever?

Oh, yes. I do.

I got origami thank yous. I got ones tied with ribbons. I got illustrated ones, and ones with practical pet suggestions, and ones with brave statements of Goals. I got one folded to look like a book cover, with blue tonenails. A Bright Blue Thank-You Card. Some in verse. Some on colored paper. Some so funny I had to read them out loud. Some just shamelessly telling me that I’m awesome. (Um, thank you. I needed that.)

Do you know what I think would be a good habit for me to get into? Writing You’re Welcome Notes.

So, here we go.

Dear Hillcrest Junior High Honors English Friends,

I loved your package. It made my day. Couldn’t have been more delightful if it contained a coupon for the capture of the next skunk. Or a package of caramels. Or a dozen helium balloons. It was a real pleasure to come and play with you guys and talk to you and listen to your awesome comments and meet your fantastic teachers. I’m so lucky to get to have days like that in my life, days full of eager readers and learners and new friends. You’re very welcome for the visit and the chat, and I hope our paths will cross again. (Please let me know if they do, will you? Because there ARE 200 of you and only one of me, as far as I know.)

Love,
Becca

—

[1] I know. Math is not my strong suit.

Dear Almond Snickers,
Where have you been all my life?

Love, Becca

I love that she works hard to do the things she knows she should do.

Like practicing the violin.

And letting her daddy take pictures of her. That part makes us all happy.

Also I love her blue fingernails. I may have been accused of thinking that blue fingernails only belonged on a corpse. I MAY have been proven wrong.

Kid 2 is funny. And sassy. Oh, so sassy. She’s smart. She devours books. Song lyrics heard once take up permanent residence in her head (oy). She draws the best cartoons and stick figures I’ve ever known. She has wit and charm and a highly developed sense of irony.

She has perspective. (Get it?)

She cries in sad books, but not when she’s angry. She laughs at me when I do stupid things — all the time, and laughs at herself enough to make it all right. She runs, she sings, she draws, she gets incredible grades, she makes people laugh. She’s learning piano, getting fantastic on the violin, and sings like an angel or a rock star, depending on the song and the moment.

That’s my Kid 2, and I think she’s pretty amazing.

Oh. I do.

For a lot of years, I have been a vocal proponent of email over telephone. Because, hey — if I can give you the information you requested at your ungodly hour (any time after 10:00 p.m.) at my own ungodly hour (between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m.) then everyone wins. And I love when everyone wins.

But text? Oh, text. I love you. And I would love to kiss the face of the clever person who invented you.

Here’s why.

I love my Kids. So much. And as they get older, they still like me, too. But they spend a lot more time away from here than they used to. I love to be able to sneak my way into their lives for a quick moment, whenever I feel like it, just to tell them something that started as a normal mom-message and was auto-corrected into the most bizarre mystery of the day.[1] Some day I’ll share with you some of the intended vs. received messages we’ve done lately. Proofreaders, beware. It may be painful. [2]

Also, I love that people can tell me something really fast, in not-very-many-words, and I can respond or not, as the mood strikes me.

And it’s instant (unless you have the Wrong Phone Plan, as I once did, when messages would arrive 24 hours later… but we remedied that by having Kid 2 take my phone to DC with her and leave it there. Forever. At Arlington Cemetery, because we’re nothing if not appropriate.)

And people are clever and send texts that make me laugh.

And we all know how I love to laugh.

Also I love love notes, in the middle of meetings (mine or Husband’s).

And saying, ‘Hey, Kid, I’m here to pick you up,’ without getting out of the air-conditioned car.

And the messages that say, “I’m inside the store. What do you need?” Oh, I love those.

Not to even mention emoticons, of which there are more than I would ever care to try to learn. My favorite is this one ;>}. (the ever-popular “winking face with beak, smirk, and chin-mole”) or this one .{<; (“upside-down winking face with beak, smirk, and chin-mole” which carries a bit more of the sinister with it…)

HEY! LET’S HAVE A CONTEST! Comment with your best emoticon. And a description of what it is. Do it. You know you want to. I’ll send the winner a book. (One I wrote, your choice.) [4]

Don’t you love it when I let my stream of consciousness dictate my blog posts?

So anyway, today I shall virtually kiss the face of the inventor of TEXT MESSAGING. Ready?

:*

*Mwah*

(And one for reals - a kiss IRL, if you will...)

—

[1] I am well aware that the iPhone is too much tech for me. I know it. This knowledge does not make me love it any less.

[2] Because, really? Who puts the “send” button right where the delete key goes? Who? Who does that? Nobody who’s getting his face kissed, that’s who. [3]

[3]… but wouldn’t it be ironic if that was the same guy who invented texting? Wouldn’t it?

[4] United States or Canada only. Contest closes Sunday at midnight (hahahahahah!) or when I get up early on Monday morning. Winner will be chosen by a panel of experts (who live in my house).

* A little stalk of bamboo growing in a half-pint jam jar on the kitchen table.

* All my fingernails are the same length.

* Started reading the beginning of the work-in-progress. Maybe it doesn’t completely fail.

* Road trip yesterday got us more than half-way through Adam Gidwitz’s “A Tale Dark and Grimm.” Husband asked last night, “How does it end?”

* It’s lawnmowing day (provided I can navigate the rainshowers, which are, as you recall, likely).

* S told me she saw someone reading my book, and she said she liked it.

* There’s a watermelon on the counter. I think there should always be a watermelon on the counter, don’t you?

* Kid 2 said (of her own free will and volition) “I need to practice today.” (*insert angels’ sighs*)

* Poetry is cool, even if I am not entirely cool. Or even if I don’t really get it the first few times through.

* The dishwasher is not currently spewing water over the kitchen floor.

* I have 2 DVDs of North and South, which I have not taken the time to watch yet. Maybe during that rainshower we’ve heard so much about…

* I’m in a collaborative project. Perhaps details will follow.

* Birds. Lots of birds.

* I don’t have any pets, and my house smells like — wait for it — people.

* Between Kid 2′s X-country run this morning and Kid 1′s Shake-making work this evening, I have all my Kids home with me for HOURS today.

]]> http://www.beccawilhite.com/blog/2011/07/11/things-to-be-happy-about-today/feed/ 4 http://www.beccawilhite.com/blog/2011/07/05/today-is-the-day/ http://www.beccawilhite.com/blog/2011/07/05/today-is-the-day/#comments Tue, 05 Jul 2011 12:36:30 +0000 becca http://www.beccawilhite.com/blog/?p=1096 Hooray — it’s time to get moving. Bills are paid. A few meals planned. Snacks purchased. Car vacuumed,  full of gas and oil. Windows clean.

That’s right — road trip!

Kid 1 and I are off to drive through the desert to party it up in Vegas. (That sounds way more sketchy than it really is. We’re not really the “party it up in Vegas” kind, especially since she’s sixteen.)

We’re going to see Phantom tonight, and then lounge about in DeNae’s pool until she kicks us out.

I hope your week is shaping up to be nearly as great.

Yes to you, and your very important question.
Yes to a life together, built on huge dreams and heady hopes and used furniture.

Yes to the laughs and the kisses and the hand-holding,
And the game playing, and the movies.
Yes to the budgets and the bills and the wishing.

Yes to the Kids. All of them.
To the hilarious, the witty, the talented, the dramatic, the adorable, the brilliant, the kind, the surprising, the adored and adoring Kids.

Yes to the schooling and the jobs and the moves.
Yes to the trying and the succeeding and the sometimes-not-so-much.

I said Yes to honing the kitchen skills, to the making and the stretching and the inventing.
And you said Yes, it’s good.
Every time (except those two times, of which we shall never speak again).

Yes to the adventures.
Yes to the boring parts…
(And the boring parts are my favorite parts.)

I said Yes to the funny parts and the sad parts and the undeniably ridiculous parts.
And Yes to the hard parts, and the tragic parts and the I’d-really-rather-not parts.

I said Yes because you took a chance.
I said Yes because you believed. And still believe. In all the things that matter.
I said Yes because you have the most beautiful eyes, and I wanted those eyes to look at me Just Like That, forever.
I said Yes because I knew, beyond every other thing, that you would be kind to me. (I was right again.)
I said Yes because I really, really wanted to say Yes.

Thank you for asking.

Yes. Yes. Forever. Happy Anniversary, Love.