I wrote a post just last month about how much I despise gardening. I despise it so much that there are truly no words to describe my feelings.

As it happens, my friend Jen adores gardening. I think she loves it as much as I hate it. In spite of that obvious personality flaw (I kid, I kid), Jen is a sweet person. She has mentioned several times over the past few weeks that she would be willing to come over and give me a consultation on the garden in my front yard. You know, the one that has become overrun with weeds.

Yesterday I called her and said, “Um, I just remembered that I am getting a mulch delivery this Friday. Can you give me some suggestions on how to get the garden ready, short of burning it down?”

Jen said, “How about if I just come over this afternoon and give you that consultation?”

I said, “Sure! That would be great!”

As the time drew near for Jen’s visit, I started to get a little worried because she told me via Twitter to get my shovel out. I laughed, and then I didn’t get my shovel out. Surely she was kidding. She wouldn’t need a shovel just to tell me what I needed to do with this stupid garden.

After she set up her boys with a snack, we went to assess the garden. She stood there looking at it for a minute and said, “Where’s your shovel?” Sheepishly I told her that I didn’t pull it out of the shed. “Go get it!” she said.

I retrieved it, and then she started digging. And digging. And digging. She made piles of the plants that I wanted to keep (lilies, liatris, zebra grass, lamb’s ear…), pulled out the invasive ground cover and a bunch of other greens that I can only classify as garden squatters, trimmed the climbing rose, evened out a portion of the dirt, and more. She claimed that she couldn’t see the garden through the weeds and therefore couldn’t really visualize a plan; that’s why she jumped right in. She’s the Ty Pennington of gardening.

She barely let me help, not that I really wanted to help because, well, you know, but I didn’t expect she was going to go whole hog on my garden and I didn’t feel right about not attempting to labor on it with her. But still, yeah, blech. In fact, at one point she told me I could go in if I wanted to. For a second I considered it and then I was on to her: she’s a master of reverse psychology. I said, “What would I do inside, blog about how you’re doing all the work on my garden??” She said, “Sure! That would be fun!”

The thing is, she likes to garden SO MUCH that she was totally serious. Yet I stayed out there, being (as my sister called it) Jen’s sous chef, taking dug-up plants to a shady spot under a tree, getting pulled weeds out of her way, and asking her endless questions.

One high point was when she discovered I had a toad in my garden. She looked at me in all seriousness and declared, “I AM SO JEALOUS. I HAVE NEVER HAD A TOAD IN MY GARDEN.” I told her she could take him if she wanted to, but she just moved him away from where she was working so he wouldn’t freak out too much.

I was amazed at what she got done in two and a half hours. If I had attempted the same, it would have taken me two and a half days and there would have been tears and shrieking involved.

I wish I had taken a “Before” picture, but I didn’t know she was going to dig right in…so I drew one. Here’s what my garden looked like before Jen tackled it.

See all that green? Those are weeds.

There’s a climbing rose on the left and a Rose of Sharon bush on the far right.

And yeah. Weeds.

When Jen’s boys were about done entertaining themselves (they were great at playing together while we–and by “we” I mean Jen–messed with the garden, even using two six-foot Asian lily stems that I wasn’t keeping to sword-fight each other!), she got ready to leave and told me that my next steps were to dig out the Russian Sage, spray the remaining weeds with Round-Up, and even out the terrain a little bit.

“Okay,” I sighed.

She took a picture so she could design a plan, and we said goodbye.

And Jen said that she would be back Friday. This was happening. Oy vey.

Here’s how the garden looked when Jen finished yesterday.

Today I received a text from Jen after my Zumba class. It contained her sketch of my new garden. The girl can design. Seriously. I called her to say how excited I was about the design, butnotaboutthegardeningpartofitmindyou. She just laughed.

I grudgingly went to Home Depot to get garden soil, Round-Up, some stepping stones, and some new gloves, and then went home so I could get started on my assignment.

I tweeted my misery along the way. Jen says that gardening really works for me because I get so angry that I’m funnier than usual. I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I wish I could be as funny without gardening, though. Here are some tweets that I furiously sent out on my mini-breaks from my homework:

Considering starting a new blog: “The Rage-filled Gardener”.

I enjoy tweeting about gardening a million times more than gardening.

I don’t know, maybe you had to be there. At any rate, I completed my homework with only one injury: when removing some thorny branches that Jen trimmed from my climbing rose, I accidentally hit myself in the leg with them. I was trying to figure out how to junk punch a rose bush but couldn’t, so I had to let it go. I weedwhacked every remaining weed down to the ground and then sprayed the entire area with Round-Up. Tomorrow I have to go clear out the deadness and ohmygosh I am exhausted just thinking about it. Gardening sucks.

I told Jen that the degree to which I adore her almost balances out my hatred for gardening, because it was really fun being outside chatting with her while she was wielding the shovel. She thinks I might end up enjoying gardening. I think she’s delusional. But I love her optimism: my kind of girl!

Stay tuned!

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

In Part One I wrote about exactly how I juggle so many things. In Part Two I wrote about my thought process. I had great intentions with Part Three, but to be totally upfront and honest with you, it’s a hot mess.

I need to begin by saying thanks to one of my blog readers, Susan, for emailing me a really sweet email and asking me “What’s next?” because that’s what kept my brain busy when I was mowing our lawn on Friday, and that’s when I came up with this three-part series.

When someone asks me about what’s next, I honestly think about those Walt Disney World commercials.

“You’ve just won the Super Bowl! What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to Disney World!”

And then I think to myself, “Gosh, you’re ridiculous.” I have no vacations planned in the very near future, and my to do list is never-ending, which means that even if I finish one big thing, there are tons of things that I still need to do.

But I don’t like the way this post is going so I’m switching gears a little bit.

Do you remember the video game Katamari Damacy? It was released in 2004 for Playstation 2 and D brought it home last year. I’m hooked. It’s the dumbest game ever, really, because all you’re doing is rolling a ball around and picking up anything in your path. As the ball grows in size, you are able to pick up bigger items. See?

That’s sort of how I pick up new projects: I never know what’s around the corner but if I find something that’s a good fit, I attach myself to it. If something isn’t working for me, I don’t fret about it: I just tell myself to move in a different direction and find something else.

Speaking of what I tell myself, under normal circumstances my inner voice is saying things like “Cupcakes!” or “My gosh, this dog will not stop barking and she is annoying me to death!”. Those are both helpful things for an inner voice to say but on occasion I become more profound. Some good advice that I’ve taken from my inner voice, to all of you out there as you figure out how to navigate your own path?

There’s room out there for everyone.

Read that again.

There’s room out there for everyone.

No matter what it is you decide to do in life, big or small, there is room for you to be successful at it. You may not be the most successful at it over everyone else–after all, there are so many spots in the NFL or at the top of the Bestseller list or within the most elite group of actors or even at the top of the blogger food chain, but you CAN be successful.

As I mentioned in Part One, I don’t have specific goals, but when I am working on something, I put everything into it. I treat people the same way I like to be treated, and I definitely don’t step on others (or push them aside) to get where I’m going.

Well great, now this has turned into a ramble.

Let me just summarize what I’ve been trying to tell you for three days.

1. Don’t be amazed that I can do all that I do: I work very, very hard but you can do the same.
2. Find some friends who can help mentor you but don’t take advantage.
3. Have a pad of paper and a pen near you as much as possible.
4. There is room for you to be successful at anything, even if you aren’t rated #1 in the world.
5. If you decide to write a three part series and the first two parts are pretty good but the last part kind of sucks, it’s okay. You can always write something totally different tomorrow that will make people forget about it.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

In Part One I wrote about exactly how I juggle so many things. Part two is about my thought process, because that’s where everything begins.

When I say I am always thinking, I mean it. Unfortunately, the circumstances under which I do my best idea-generating aren’t always ideal for remembering said ideas, and the places you would think I could come up with some great stuff aren’t so thought-friendly.

Now, I’m not saying that you have to be thinking all the time like I do. In fact, I often find myself green with envy over those efficient thinkers out there, the people who can come up with an idea and then, when they have to move on to something else (like sleeping, for example), they can just let it go until later. Thinkers come in many different varieties. Unfortunately, the makeup of my genes indicates that what seems to work best for me is to think non-stop and become borderline obsessive about everything. Wait, I take that back. I ALWAYS cross the border into obsession. (Sorry, Jim.)

To give you an idea of how my mind works, here is a list of my favorite places to brainstorm with myself, and why they may or may not be ideal.

In bed
Thought flow: excellent
Advantages: I’m laying down; Can focus 100%
Disadvantages: Keeps me awake; Difficult to remember ideas in the morning even after jotting down key words on bedside pad of paper in the dark

In the shower
Thought flow: excellent
Advantages: Warm water is very helpful when you’re trying to let your mind drift, can focus 100%
Disadvantages: Too cheap to buy one of those notepads made especially for the shower; Too lazy to get out and write things down on a traditional notepad and then climb back in; Water eventually gets cold

While mowing the grass
Thought flow: excellent
Advantages: The noise of the lawn mower and the music I’m blasting in my ears provides enough noise to make me believe that all of my ideas are genius-quality; I get a workout
Disadvantages: No notepad available, which means that by the time I finish the lawn, what I can remember of my once-brilliant ideas becomes half-baked

While ironing
Thought flow: very good
Advantages: Can keep pad of paper nearby for recording of brilliance; Jim doesn’t have to wear wrinkled clothes to work; I can watch tv while I iron-think
Disadvantages: I can watch tv while I iron-think

While driving
Thought flow: very good
Advantages: Open sunroofs on sunny days have been proven to enhance brain power (sounds good, anyway)
Disadvantages: Cannot write ideas down while driving; usually tempted to call someone to discuss idea

While making dinner
Thought flow: good
Advantages: Notepad is readily available; Access to unlimited snacks
Disadvantages: Easily distracted by pots that are boiling over and family members passing through

While working at my computer
Thought flow: satisfactory
Advantages: Can type up ideas as they come to me; Internet availability means I can research idea viability instantly
Disadvantages: Easily distracted by shiny Facebook posts; Cannot focus 100% because I am more than likely doing four other things at once

What’s interesting to me is during the time I’m at my computer–which is where I execute most of what I do–I have the worst time concentrating. It would be great to have some kind of machine that could silently take dictation on my thoughts while I’m snuggled under the covers in bed.

Wait, that’s a great idea. I’m going to work on that.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

I’m a busy girl. This has already been well-established. (If you’re new here: Hi, and welcome! Trust me. I’m busy.)

I am often asked “How do you do all that you do???” The person asking the question usually has a wide-eyed look and typically shakes her head in disbelief, most likely because she thinks I’m certifiably crazy for taking on as many things as I typically do.

The question makes me very uneasy because honestly–though I am proud of my own accomplishments–I am not the type of person to toot my own horn in the company of others. Still, I am always flattered and I smile, thank them for asking, and give them whatever short answer is on my mind at the time.

But let’s get down to brass tacks here. (Where did that saying come from, anyway? I’ll have to Google it.)

The people who ask me how I do all that I do usually follow up with, “I could never do what you do…” or some such nonsense. The truth is, any of you out there could do all that I do, any part thereof, or other activities that you don’t already do but might want to try.

How?

I’m going to tell you, in this three-part series of blog posts that I came up with while mowing the grass. It’s where I do some of my best thinking, but more on that later.

How I Do All That I Do, Part One

1. I don’t have specific goals. I realize how utterly idiotic this sounds. It’s not that I don’t have goals at all; I just don’t aspire to do or be specific things. When I do make a goal, I keep it fluid. At first glance, all of the things I do don’t seem directly related. The fact is, everything I currently do was born out of my love of writing: that’s the connection. (Well, except for the group fitness classes.) Having flexible goals means that when a new opportunity comes my way–or better, if I create a new opportunity for myself–I feel good about running with it if it’s something that interests me. This may or may not be the reason that Jim gets a look of utter terror and–occasionally–mild annoyance on his face when I announce, “Guess what I’m gonna do??” Some people bring stray animals home. I bring home Grandiose Plans which more often than not eventually include a Crazy Phase.

2. I keep an open mind. Most skills, no matter what they are, have more than one application. With each new use of old skills, a person gains experience that will help him or her on the next challenge. That’s why I haven’t limited myself to words on a page. After all, I was a writer before I even knew what a blog was. Writing is my first love (after Jim and Ed O’Neill, of course), but I adore expressing my creative self in many different ways.

3. “I can’t” is not a normal part of my vocabulary. I’m not sure if it’s because I was brought up with parents who had high expectations or if it’s the “Go Big or Go Home” genes that I inherited from my mom (or a combination of both, or something else altogether), but I don’t look at opportunities and think, “I can’t do that.” I think, “What do I need to do in order to accomplish that?” LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER is a good example. I don’t have any theater experience unless you count elementary school in the mid-1970s, in which I had two major roles: Earth (yes, I played a planet) in a play about the solar system and Betsy Ross, in a play about the founding of our nation. That said (or typed), it only took about five minutes from the time I saw that Ann Imig was looking for Show Producers in other cities until I decided that I really, really, really wanted to do it. (I took an extra ten minutes after that before I emailed Ann to ask her some questions. I didn’t want to seem impulsive.) I knew that the show would get a huge response here in Chicago, that it would be great for the Chicago blogging community, and that it would be one of those fun types of challenges. I figured I’d learn along the way, and I was right. The show was great and I consider it to be one of the biggest accomplishments of my life thus far. Had I looked at the opportunity and thought, “I can’t do that,” I would have missed out on something fantastic. I can do anything I set my mind to, and so can you.

4. I have excellent mentors. It’s always interesting to me to hear a friend talk about “their mentor” in the singular, because I don’t rely on just one person for advice. I couldn’t even tell you how many mentors I have. Some of my mentors are good friends, some are only acquaintances, and some, of course, are family members. The reason I have so many is not because I’m worried about bothering one person too much; it’s because my mentors have very different skill sets and when I need help I speak with the person or people who have experiences that directly relate to my current project. I am always careful about how I ask for help, too. For example, I don’t call a friend/mentor up and say, “Can you tell me how to *insert task here*?” Instead, because it benefits me to try and figure it out as much as possible first, I think about it and when I call I say, “Here’s what my plan is. Do you think I’m headed in the right direction?” There’s a difference between asking for assistance and asking someone else to do all of the leg work on your behalf.

5. I am always thinking. My brain is churning constantly. I am thinking about my to-do lists, details, and new ideas at any given time. Mostly this works for me, but admittedly sometimes I hate it, because I don’t sleep well and I’m always coming up with ideas that spread my time and efforts out even thinner. I am a good problem-solver, though, and when you thrive on challenge, thinking is a good thing. I’ll have more on my thought process in Part Two.

Someone recently asked me why I keep myself so busy, if I thrive on all of the chaos. I wasn’t really sure how to answer her, because I’m not really sure which is more true: if I keep taking on new tasks because I thrive on being busy or because I believe strongly in the idea of Carpe diem. Remember the 1989 movie “Dead Poets Society”? Robin Williams’ character said, “Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” I don’t sit around and wait for things to happen: I am an active participant in my own destiny, whatever it is supposed to be.

So, the next time life presents a challenge to you or you see something that you think might be fun even though you have no idea where to start, I recommend thinking about it for a short spell and then jumping in, feet first. And if you need some guidance, I’m only an email away.

(By the way, getting down to brass tacks? I Googled it. Click here if you’re curious.)

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

With all of the hub-bub surrounding the LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER show, I fell sadly behind on posting about a few other experiences I’ve had over the past couple of weeks. I’m back though, and getting back on the wagon…

I don’t keep it a secret that I love to grocery shop. Not only am I a big fan of eating, but I also enjoy the actual act of grocery shopping, especially when I’ve got the time to do it right and as long as nobody touches my meat, because we all know what happens then. (It’s not pretty).

It really helps when the store is a pleasure to visit.

Standard Market has just opened in Westmont, and I was invited to check it out one evening a couple of weeks ago. The store is designed to give you a similar experience to visiting an open-air market, selling everything from handpicked produce to expertly butchered meats to top-quality fish and seafood. There is a fast-casual restaurant called the Standard Grill right in the middle of everything, serving great food made with seasonal ingredients. A great feature of the store is their “What’s For Dinner Tonight?” section, which has a weekly menu (changed seasonally) of freshly-prepared, ready-to-serve entrees for two people for only $15.99-$16.99.

For me, it was love at first sight and since Westmont is a good half hour from my house, I’m really, really hoping they open another location closer to me. Here’s why I fell hard:

1. It’s pretty. Call me shallow, but I like an attractive grocery store. I’m talking about both cleanliness and good design. Standard Market wins on both.

2. I like wine and cheese. Standard Market’s Wine, Beer, and Cheese Shop has 500 varieties of wine, with 150 of them under $15, 150 varieties of beer, and 150 varieties of cheese, not to mention its own Fromagier. Yes, you read that correctly, FROMAGIER: a cheese expert.

3. I like cupcakes. And fruit tarts. And creme brulee’. And… Standard Market’s from-scratch bakery bakes over 35 varieties of artisan breads daily, not to mention the sweets. YUM.

4. I like taking the easy way out. Standard Market has all kinds of packages full of convenience items, but not the kinds you get at the regular stores that are full of preservatives. All natural, baby!

5. I like to pretend I can do it all. Do I make fresh pasta for my family? No. Can I act like I do? Yes. Standard Market has fresh pasta and fresh sauces in many different varieties. I brought some home and served it up the next evening: it was a big hit!

6. So many choices. I haven’t even told you about the Delicatessen, the Butcher Shop, or the Fish Market. They are phenomenal. You’re just going to have to visit them yourself, if you’re in the area!

As it happens, Standard Market owns Bakersfield, a new Patio-Restaurant-Bar that just opened on May 1 and is right across the street. My sister and I were invited to the soft opening and fell in love there, too!

The decor is simple and clean, with lots of wood accents and pretty lighting. Here’s a corner booth. (Nobody puts baby in the corner, so we sat in a smaller, more traditional booth.)

Bakersfield also has its own wine room.

The specialty is steaks that are butchered in-house and prepared on a wood-fired grill, but they had other great selections on the menu as well. When it was time to order, we wanted to sample a few things so we started with the fresh guacamole. I can’t even speak about it, it was so good.

Prime rib for lunch? Only because I was at the soft opening and was told to order whatever I wanted. And I wanted it. I can still remember how much I enjoyed it. SO GOOD.

We ordered an heirloom tomato salad and it was also delicious. Do you see a trend here?

Finally, even though we had to force ourselves (not), we ordered dessert. Mom would have been so proud. I remembered that my buddy Liz mentioned fried Oreos to me a few weeks ago and when I saw them on Bakersfield’s menu I became giddy. I ordered them and they were–you guessed it–delicious. My life was complete.

In fact, it seems like just about everyone is a fan of fried Oreos: I uploaded a picture of them to my Facebook page and everyone raved about how good they were except for one particularly cantankerous relative of a friend I tagged in the picture, who said “I’m sorry. That’s disgusting.” I replied, “Disgustingly GOOD!”

I would highly recommend Bakersfield. It’s not a place to take the family if your family has kids who are loud and don’t behave well in public, but my friend Tracey was there at the same time with her three children–who were angels–and they did just fine, so it can be done.

Follow Standard Market on Twitter here, and Bakersfield here!

Disclosure: I received a gift bag from Standard Market and a free meal at Bakersfield, neither one of which influenced my opinion that these places should be on your must-visit list. I was not compensated in any other way for this post!

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

On Tuesday at 6:30 a.m. I was in my usual spot on the couch, typing away on my laptop.

Seventeen-year-old J, who was getting ready for school and had been in the kitchen just a moment before–presumably eating his breakfast–entered the room.

I looked up as he walked towards me, and noticed the huge grin on his face. He said, “You will NEVER guess what I found!”

Without allowing me even a second to give it a shot, he held his hand out to me. In his palm were two Hershey’s Eggs. Easter candy. It’s like gold around here.

He sat on the couch next to me and scooted over so he could whisper in my ear. “I found an opened bag of Hershey’s Eggs AND a brand new bag of Reeses’ Eggs on the very top shelf of the kitchen cabinet to the left of the stove!!!!” He was so excited.

I was not. He had found my secret stash.

Still, I smiled as I faked surprise. I whispered back. “Wow! Who do you think hid that candy up there?”

“Dad!” he said.

“A-ha!” I said, “You found his stash! Don’t. Say. A. Word. It’ll be our secret.”

J nodded knowingly and may have even winked as he tossed a few more chocolate eggs into his mouth and said goodbye before walking out the door for school.

Note to self: find a new hiding place for the candy.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

I’m having a little trouble.

I can’t really wrap my head around the whirlwind that was LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER CHICAGO last night.

I can’t keep using the word “amazing” and expect that

1. People will continue to take me seriously
2. People will believe that yes, I’m a writer

…but the fact is, everything about this experience (well, not everything: there were a few snags in the planning process but everything shook out in the end) WAS amazing.

I tend to be long-winded (or whatever that is in terms of writing), and although I can think of thousands of things to report to you about last night, I think it would be impossible, no matter how eloquently I were to write about it, to make you understand how it impacted me, how much I enjoyed it, how great I felt to have co-captained this ship successfully to its final port, or what it meant to me to see all fifteen of our cast members’ faces making eye contact with me and smiling from ear to ear each time Tracey and I gave them direction, pep talks, or post-show props.

And so, I think I will just give you snippets, my favorite little glimpses of the evening.

Seeing the marquee was something I’ll never forget. This is not photoshopped.

When Jen showed up at the theater in curlers, she had me in hysterics. “I can’t believe you came here in curlers,” I said. “Are you kidding me?” she said, “I even went to Walgreens with these!” I love her.

Showing the cast what the inside of the theater looks like–I’m pretty sure that Megan was the only one who had been there before–was something I won’t forget. Katy made a “Hoosiers” movie reference and just for the record Katy, I got it.

We had access to the theater for only 90 minutes before the show was supposed to start, and way more than 90 minutes’ worth of tasks to accomplish. The first hour was mostly a blur as everyone who needed to change clothes did, makeup was touched up, Jen took her curlers out, pictures were taken, and all kinds of other things happened.

Picture courtesy of Vanessa Druckman

In the half hour before the show started, I watched as our cast members dealt with their fears and stress over having to go on stage alone and read words–their own words, but still, they were preparing to give 300 people an intimate glimpse inside their hearts, exposing themselves to a room of mostly strangers. Some of them paced. Some of them walked away from the hustle-bustle of the dressing room, heading down the hall to go through their piece alone just one more time. Some felt nauseous. Some were panicking. Some were giving pep talks. What I think we all had in common was that we felt that we were a team. We were all in it together. The support backstage was incredible and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it before.

There were seventeen chairs just offstage: behind a curtain so we couldn’t see the podium and the person (or people) speaking at center stage, but we could hear, loud and clear. We all sat there in the dark, listening. Tracey and I kept squeezing each other and taking mental pictures, and I was in awe of how fantastically each and every reader handled themselves.

Karen, who seemed to have had about 1,000 people in that 300-seat theater, judging by the noise her fans made, actually stopped in the middle of her piece to say, “This is fun!”

Brandie, who we think was still deciding whether she wanted to take the stage up until the moment she actually did it, read beautifully, and survived.

Alisha read her quiet piece “Walking Wild” with grace and had the audience under her spell.

I’m pretty sure that Jen decided about thirty seconds into her reading that she could possibly have a future as a stand-up comedian.

I loved watching–when Tracey went out to introduce a speaker–each person standing at the edge of the curtain, silhouetted against the stage lights shining around them, giving them a beautiful aura.

I loved hugging readers as they came off stage and I went out to introduce the next one, with whom I would high (or low) five or touch hands on their way out to the podium. As it turned out, and as no surprise to me, everyone was high fiving and hugging readers when they finished their part.

When the last reader had gone, we all took the stage for a final bow. The show seemed to have gone by in five minutes, and I didn’t want it to end.

Just off stage, we had a group hug. Everyone was jubilant, victorious. Our team won. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a competition: we kicked butt. In the dressing room, I told the cast a story that I had heard on Saturday at the ceremony in which D was inducted into his fraternity. It was a story about a man who was riding a bus while it was raining. As he watched the raindrops roll down the window, he noticed how one raindrop would roll into another, making a bigger raindrop. Then, after a moment, the big raindrop would split back into two and they continued rolling down the window alone. For the moment they touched, they left a trace of themselves with the other that would be a part of them forever. I told the cast that this experience and a part of them would be a part of me for the rest of my life. (*sob*) I am so thankful for each and every one of them.

Before we left, the cast presented Tracey and I with beautiful necklaces. I will treasure this.

Outside, on our way across the street to our “after party”, Tracey and I jumped for joy. How could we not?

I am forever changed by my involvement with LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER. It has been a real labor of love, and I can’t wait for the videos to be posted on YouTube this summer, so you can enjoy what our audience saw. I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks to all of you who sent me emails, texts, and tweets, left messages on my Facebook wall, and called me to say “Break a leg!” Your support and encouragement meant the world to me.

In a word, it was amazing.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

For the last nine days, Tracey and I have posted countdown pictures on Facebook. I think these pictures both excited and terrified our cast.

Today is the big day.

More than six months in the making, the very first LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER CHICAGO is finally making its debut, at 7:00 p.m. tonight to be specific.

Where am I, mentally?

So calm I can’t even express it. If you know me well, you know that “calm” is not a word I EVER use when I’m this heavily involved in a project. (Okay, or, uh, EVER. At all.)

I know that I will be nervous as showtime approaches because I am not crazy about public speaking unless I’m in workout clothes and wearing a headset microphone (believe me, I considered this wardrobe option), but overall, even my family has noticed the zen-like attitude I’ve been carrying around in comparison with past projects.

I am so proud of the work that Tracey and I have done to make this show happen. I’m proud of our fifteen-member cast for all of their hard work, great attitudes, and beautiful writing that, face it, makes the show what it is. I’m thankful to Ann Imig for her vision and leadership, Deb Rox for her counsel, and so many other people (and companies: our sponsors have been terrific!): everyone will get a proper thank you in the post-show summary.

Right now I’m just…READY.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

I was on the phone with D the other day when he asked me to go to our local Big Box Toy Store to pick up a specific Star Wars toy that would be part of a thank you gift for his fraternity “dad” (it was meant to be funny). I was happy to do it: the combination of getting out of the house and away from my LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER to-do list and doing a small favor for him–when he typically doesn’t ask for much at all–made this kind of errand a pleasure rather than a chore.

Yesterday I headed out to the store and as I drove into the nearly-empty parking lot (3:00 on a Thursday in the beginning of May must not really be “peak toy shopping time”), I tried to remember the last time I visited that particular store. I couldn’t.

What I could remember was that, though in the old days I wouldn’t have necessarily been considered a “regular” customer, I was there often. Between my own two boys and the countless birthday parties they attended, I knew that store and its contents like the back of my hand.

I walked into the store and noticed the displays of summer water toys and licensed “The Avengers” movie toys, placed on prime real estate just inside the door. I passed through the LEGO section, trying to do some quick math on how much money we’ve spent on LEGOS (they’re still in the storage area of the basement: we could probably retire on them), and I smiled at all the hours my boys used to spend with those little building blocks.

I smiled as I walked through the game aisles, noting to myself that when the boys were little, they didn’t like board games nearly as much as they have in the past few years, the current obsession being “Killer Bunnies”, an extremely involved, expandable, and ruthless card game that D plays until the wee hours with his friends at college and eventually taught us at home. When they were little they enjoyed “Candy Land” the most, but many other games just collected dust in the front closet.

I loved seeing the bright, primary colors of the toddler toys en masse: toddler toys are like fun little pieces of art to me, with their oversized features, smiling faces, and silly sound effects. We had tons of them, but the favorites by far were the telephones. When I had their pictures taken I would often bring their favorite toys at the time for inclusion in the photo shoot, just to remember. We have more pictures of D with phones than any other prop.

The Little Tykes kitchens and grills and other playsets made me think of that little black pick-up truck we used to have that gave the boys so much joy. I remember the night they opened it, they “drove” it around the kitchen while grinning from ear to ear. That night, they took turns driving peacefully. The next day, the arguing ensued. That was a lifetime ago.

I found the Hot Wheels aisle and remembered the phases the boys went through with those: for a while they only wanted goofy cars that were shaped like non-cars: there was an era heavy with “dragon cars”. Later one of them only wanted sports cars while the other wanted garbage trucks and buses. There was even a “if the car doesn’t have parts–other than the wheels–that move, I don’t want it” phase. Almost all of those cars, including the ones I nearly threw against the wall in an attack of in-home road rage from stepping on them while barefoot, are still in the basement with the LEGOS. I consider those two categories to be “legacy toys”.

Once I finally made it to the Star Wars aisle, I grabbed the only toy that was on my list and headed for the register. The cashier asked me if I was a member of their reward program and I wistfully shook my head. “It’s been years since I’ve been here. My boys are interested in cars and cameras and guitars and computers now.”

Suddenly, all of the joy I had experienced in the past quarter hour turned to something a little more bittersweet. My boys are grown.

It’s something I knew, obviously, but that fifteen-minute trip down memory lane hit it home for me once again how fleeting childhood is. I felt sad, but only for a minute. As I paid for my purchase and walked back out into the bright sunshine, I smiled once again upon realizing that all it took for me to revisit my sons’ childhoods–even briefly–was to surround myself with old friends for a while.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!

One thing I’m known for is my habit of making lists. I don’t just make to-do lists, mind you; I make lists for everything. What to pack, what I want to read, what I need to remember to tell someone I’m talking to later on any given day. Heck, I even made grocery listing a fine art a while back when I created my own list (in Excel) of commonly purchased items in the order of the grocery store aisles, with the produce, refrigerated, and freezer sections near the end so that my food would still be cold by the time I got home.

When I’ve got a project going on? Forget it. The lists are out of control. This little ‘ole project I’ve got going on currently, Chicago’s first LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER show, has taken my list-making compulsion into the stratosphere. In fact, THIS happened just last night (I’m sorry it’s a little blurry!):

Oh yes, 54-M. Number fifty-four wasn’t even the end of the list, in fact.

What I can say is that out of all the tasks on our to-do list, three favorites of Tracey’s and mine are numbers 53-E, 53-I, and 53-O, which say, “Eat chocolate”. (Okay, technically they say “eat chocolate and drink wine”, but the chocolate always comes first. ALWAYS.)

Number fifty-three and all of its letters made up the to-do list from Sunday’s work session at Tracey’s house. I was there for seven hours and by the time I got ready to leave, I was droopy and just…done. (Only one glass of wine for me though: the droop came from mental exhaustion!)

We used 53 E, I, and O as perk-up breaks, and that’s when we enjoyed some chocolate from Fannie May, which is our Megaphone level local sponsor of LTYM. Specifically, we enjoyed their new line, which is called FM Artisan by Norman Love. And we LOVEd it.

Norman Love is a world renowned chocolatier (wouldn’t you love to be known as a world renowned chocolatier??) and the chocolates he created for this line are almost too pretty to eat. (Notice I said almost. Oh, we ate that chocolate. YUM.) I mean, look at it.

These ultra-premium chocolates are made in small batches, and flavors include Candy Apple, Swiss Milk Truffle, Vanilla Cake, Bourbon Vanilla, and so many more. Check them out here.

Oh, and here’s Norman, with a little more information about this awesome new line.

Thanks so much to Fannie May, not only for sponsoring LTYM, but for being a company that says “CHICAGO!” to me, and for all of the Trinidads I’ve eaten over the years. Oh, those Trinidads are good. Lifetime favorite, in fact.

Must. Get. Chocolate.

If you are not reading this on Suburban Scrawl or your RSS reader, then it's been plagiarized!