The Day Greta Van Susteren (Probably) Became Weaselmomma's BFF

My partner-in-crime, Weaselmomma, had a Skype chat last night with Greta Van Susteren from "On the Record" on Fox News.

How did this happen? I'm sure she'll probably post about that, but if I didn't know the story and had to guess, I'd guess that Weaselmomma sent Greta a few fan letters, some baked goods, and quite possibly a case of Coors Light, asking if she wanted to come to the Weasel house for dinner the next time "On the Record" does a Chicago show. I'd guess that Greta was charmed by Weaselmomma's nouveau-Midwestern hospitality yet a little scared by her South Philly heritage, and she got on the horn yesterday, asking her to cease and desist. Eventually, about 5 minutes into the conversation and after appearances by no less than three Weasel children, Greta realized that Weaselmomma is a lovely person after all, and when Mr. Weasel called during their conversation, the sight of Weaselmomma trying to get him off the phone "because I'm talking to Greta Van Susteren right now!" (YES, this really happened!) was so adorable, that she decided to visit the weasels for Thanksgiving.

Okay, maybe not. But anyway, watch the video below, as Weaselmomma hits the big time. Watch the entire thing; you won't be able to stop smiling. Also, I have to note, because I am Weaselmomma's faithful friend, that Greta spoke to her for TWICE AS LONG as the other viewer she Skyped with yesterday. Neener neener!



My turn to "ride your coattails" for a while, my friend! :)

For Anissa

On Tuesday, the blogosphere received yet another rallying cry to pull together: Anissa Mayhew, wife, mom of three, blogger extraordinaire, and all-around funny person, had a major stroke and landed herself in the ICU in her new-ish hometown, Atlanta.

Anissa's family has been through so much already. She had her first stroke years ago, and then her youngest child was diagnosed with cancer (and is now in remission). She and the kids were separated from her husband, their father, for months because of his job (it was far from where Peyton was being treated), and they finally settled down, all under the same roof.

And now this.

I finally met Anissa briefly at Blogher '09 this past July. She was every bit as funny in person as she is online.

One day, Anissa and I caught each other on Facebook. We had a great little Facebook chat, which ended with us each laughing hysterically. (How do I know that? Well, I know that I was, and she told me that she was, so that's how I know. Stop asking questions.) The reason for the uncontrollable giggles?

Anissa, who had just learned that I work in a nail salon, told me about the time that she went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for her daughter Peyton, and she was the victim of racial profiling.

The pharmacist asked her which nail salon she was employed by*.

(Maybe you had to be there?)

(Nail salon humor?)

(Asian humor?)

Anyway, for a while after that, I sent her tweets like this**:

@anissamayhew I sure could use a manicure!

@anissamayhew Can you come over and do my nails?

@anissamayhew Do you do pedicures?

Her sense of humor is extraordinary. I join in with the rest of her slice of blogosphere in wishing her a full recovery. Her family loves and needs her. Her friends love her. And need her.

Speaking of her friends, before you go, I just want to take a moment to go off on a tangent. Anissa started a group blog a while back, called Aiming Low. It's written by Mishi, Heather, Angie, and others. When Anissa's husband Peter posted what happened on her Facebook page, the Aiming Low ladies (along with other friends of Anissa as well) jumped right into action, setting up a way for people to donate money through Paypal to help the family with expenses, opening up a post office box to receive assistance in the way of gift cards and whatever else anyone wants to send, communicating with Peter so that they could put updates on the Aiming Low blog as well as The Spohrs Are Multiplying, and probably many other behind-the-scenes things that we will never know about.

The "About" page on the Aiming Low blog says:

Here at Aiming Low we strive for anti-perfection.
It’s not about the failure to attain perfection….it’s about understanding that perfection is not only over-rated, it’s a big fat whopping lie-burger with cheese…and fries…and onions.

In my opinion, those Aiming Low ladies have attained the closest thing to perfection this week as they became some of Anissa's angels. I am hoping and praying for Anissa's recovery so she can return to her family and friends, and then someday discover how the whole blogosphere, led by her best friends, wrapped their arms around her tightly in her time of need.

*If you don't get it, e-mail me.
**NATURALLY I was joking, people. Get a grip.

Perpetually Behind, But Thinking Ahead

I'm really thinking, with it being November 18th and all, that I should change the perpetual calendar that hangs in my kitchen so it reflects the current month. I'd hate for December to arrive without my getting to enjoy a few days of a November calendar.


That's how life in this house is, though, lately.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future...

(Steve Miller's words, not mine.)

This year is flying by. I knew it would; having a high school senior in the house and having the added life elements of his college applications, scholarship applications, work schedule, girlfriend, school work, yada yada yada...it's enough to make a Mom (or Dad) go mad.

That's the crux of the last few days, as a matter of fact. I've been quite moody. I've been a little snappish to my family. I've felt overwhelmed with life in general. I couldn't place why, and then suddenly I had my first uncontrollable crying jag on Monday night and realized: my kid is leaving home...next fall.

I know, I know, it's sort of like a "When Harry Met Sally" thing ("I'm gonna be forty...someday!"), but not completely.

I never thought I'd be the crying mom. I am, admittedly, not one of the moms whose entire existence revolves around her kids. Though I am fiercely connected to my kids, I also have things going on that aren't related to them directly. I mean, I knew I wasn't going to be all, "SEE YA!" or anything like that, but I NEVER thought I'd cry in November of the year before he is due to leave. Big, ugly tears. And once I started, it was a good while before I could stop.

The logical part of my brain tells me the following things:

1. If he ends up at his first choice school, he's only 90 minutes away.
2. I will always be his mother.
3. I'm totally normal.
4. This is a natural part of the mini-grieving process that Jim & I have to go through: next fall will mark the end of one era of parenting him, and the start of another.
5. This is a great step for him, as well as for us.
6. We've raised a GREAT kid. He'll call now and then.

The emotional part of my brain tells me the following things:

1. I miss him already.