Gone.

Distractions are welcome these days, so early this morning I threw on some clothes and prepared to give a presentation about social media to a group of real estate agents. There was no reason to cancel, even if a lot has happened in the month since I agreed to give the presentation. I needed to be there. For me.

As I stood in front of the mirror, I fussed with my hair. I'm generally a very no-fuss kind of person, but that's mostly because I long ago learned how to just go with the flow. My hair knows what it wants to do, so I let it do it. But this morning nothing seemed to work.

I primped.

I combed.

I sprayed.

I flat-ironed.

I primped some more.

Over and over and over, I ran through the cycle trying to figure out WHY my hair looked wrong. Why was it not laying right? Why was it so uncooperative?

I sighed as I figured it out. I had parted it on the wrong side. I have parted my hair in exactly the same place every day for the past fifteen years (at least), but this morning? This morning I had it all backwards.

It was the second time in just a few days that I've done that exact thing.

It doesn't take a degree in psychology to figure out that I've lost who I am. There's no way to be the person I was back in November before everything started to fall apart. That person is gone. I'll never again be that person who fights to create a culture of learning at a construction company as she drives around in a Nissan Rogue, complaining about a noisy bulldog and remaining hopelessly optimistic about . . . well . . . everything. But most certainly hopelessly optimistic about that.

She's gone. That version of me is gone.

I haven't found the new me yet, but I'm looking. Bear with me as I try to find her.

When Monsters and Haiku Collide to Benefit the March of Dimes

One of the most amazing things about being active in the social media universe is that I've had the opportunity to meet some incredibly diverse and talented people.

Allow me to introduce you to my friend Rachel:

That's Rachel on the left and then 3-year-old Alexis on the right. Alexis was hanging out in the bleachers during one of my softball games happily coloring when Rachel stopped to chat with her. And to steal her markers. You see, Rachel is one of the most talented artists I've ever met. It's her day job as well as her passion. If she sees markers, she's going to pick them up and make something absolutely magical with them.

For example, a monster. But we'll come back to that in second.

First, though, I'd also like to introduce you to my friend Will.

Will is another incredibly talented and amazing person who I'm fortunate to be able to call a friend. Will is passionate about a lot of things. What may surprise you, though, is that he is passionate about haiku.

What happens when two incredibly talented people combine their talents?

Magic. That's what.

Monster Haiku is the collaborative effort of Rachel and Will. It combines their passions into a super adorable book that is perfect for the monster lover of any age. Including me. Definitely me.

You guys, I love this book. It's entirely too adorable for words.

But it's not just adorable, it's for a good cause.

Rachel and Will are selling a limited number of Monster Haiku books, as well as posters and cards. All proceeds will benefit the March of Dimes.

Neither Rachel nor Will have kids, but they are donating the proceeds from all of their hard work to the March of Dimes. That makes them superheroes in my book.

Check out Monster Haiku. IT'S FOR THE KIDS!

 Cross-posted at BlogHer.

Nine Weeks

I planned to tell you about the "huge brick wall" on February 25th. Or, maybe later. Possibly later because how fun would it have been to unveil the news on April Fools Day and then enjoy y'all trying to figure out if I was serious or not?

Instead . . . I . . . I still can't type the words. I can't make myself say what happened because that will make it real. I don't want it to be real. I don't want to admit that the "huge brick wall" fell so hard this weekend. It fell with a million punches to the gut and it felt like my heart was being ripped out along with every ounce of joy I had left. It's gone. The "brick wall" crumbled to pieces and there's nothing left but tears.

The "brick wall" was the most poorly timed thing that has ever happened to us. And, yet, it was the most amazing and hard-fought and wanted sort of news.

He or she was so incredibly wanted.

But now it's over. Far too soon.

We're still incredibly lucky, but I wish with all my heart that we had been given the chance to be luckier.