Mission Complete

We have a traditional around these parts that is as American as apple pie, as boring as Pirates baseball, and as regular as grandma after drinking five gallons of prune juice. It is the annual Alexis-with-daisies portrait.

Every year I go out in my garden and pick a bunch of daisies, dress the kid in a white dress, and haul her cute little butt to Picture People to have her portrait taken. It's all a very carefully thought out plan, one that I will continue for as long as the kid will let me.

Last year I had trouble with the dress. It was truly ridiculous how hard it was to find a simple white dress in her size. This year I scored one a wee bit early. Let's just pretend that I didn't practically tackle the rack holding the white dress way back in March. Although, I did. Ahem.

This year I knew the challenge was more likely to be around the daisies. While I did transplant some from our old house to here, I didn't expect that there would be much in terms of bloom action. I was right. Honestly, though, I didn't think much of it. After all, they're just white daisies. I should be able to find them absolutely anywhere that sells flowers, right?

WRONG.

It took six grocery stores, two florists, and a HELL NO to spending $40 on them online before I finally got lucky. It's all water under the bridge, though, because I finally found them (at the first grocery store I ever checked, no less). My mission is complete and I now have these five portraits hanging together in my dining room:

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

Drive-By Waffling and a $100 Visa Gift Card

I'm going to need you to tell me that it's OK. Just remember that.

We suck at breakfast in my house. SUCK. For as much as we all love homemade pancakes and scrambled eggs and faux bacon and freshly squeezed orange juice (in gold-plated crystal glasses, of course) and leisurely sitting around together watching the TV in the morning, it doesn't happen. Ever.

To continue reading and for a chance at a $100 Visa Gift Card, hop on over here.

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

I said I wouldn't talk about BlogHer here. While I said it many times and many places, I am a liar. That is to say, if you aren't interested in reading a a post about bloggers and blogging, you should probably mosey along. There are a few things that sort of stuck with me, and I want to hash them out.

Anyway.

I'm sort of a dork when it comes to paying to learn. Way back in the stone ages (aka college) I never skipped a class, in part because I had broken tuition down to an hourly rate in my head. I'd be damned if I was going to let a professor get away with not earning some of that rate.

Along that same vein, I knew exactly which sessions I was going to attend during the BlogHer conference. I had a list and that list had a list and then the lists had some babies, except that it was all very hypothetical and subject to change at any given moment. So I went to a session and it was so awful that I walked out after less than five minutes, but then I went to another session. It was also awful, so I went to Central Park to take pictures, but I still rushed back so I could make it to yet another session. That one was certainly entertaining, but I didn't learn anything, and yet I still insisted on going to yet another session over and over, again and again.

Insane. That's me.

That's how it came to be that I went to the Closing Keynote. The description of the session was certainly of interest and goshdarnit, I was going to get my money's worth out of the conference, even if I died of boredom and suck doing it. As the moderator introduced the participants for the session, I started to see flashing lights lowering from the ceiling and I'm pretty sure they were blinking in Morse Code. "Danger! Danger! This is going to be a waste of time!" they said. I pulled my phone out and prepared to publicly mock what I perceived was going to be a load of feminist crap.

While I am all for a feminist agenda, it seems like when you get a room full of women together to talk about power and influence and ROAR! WE ARE WOMEN! I get annoyed. Quickly. It's not because I don't think we have a voice that should be heard, it's that oftentimes those roars come with a side of degradation towards men and insults towards those who aren't aboard the bandwagon. It's not the lifting of strong women that bothers me, it's the lowering of everyone else. If that makes sense.

I was wrong. Woah-howdy, I was wrong. The session was fantastic, the speakers very engaging, and the message very strong. Female bloggers ARE important and their voices should be heard and their influence does reach far. Why else would the conference be absolutely smothered in sponsors and vendors and such if they didn't think that the women in attendance were influencers who could make or break their brand?

I heard the message, loud and clear, and yet I walked out of the room not really thinking about how it affected this space. I blog for me. I blog for Alexis. I don't generally pay mind to trying to change opinions and fix the world or any of that stuff. It's all very narcissistic around here. I own that fact, even if it sometimes feels as if there is everything wrong with it.  I kind of thought of the message of the session was everybody else is doing the influencing.

And then I ran into someone outside who said some kind words and I blew her off. Hard core. She may have later called me out on it publicly, but I won't link to it because I still suck at seeing kind words (especially in writing).

She got under my skin, though. She made me think. Hard. And, I realized something.

This space is influential.

It's not influential because of ginormous readerships or fancy statistics or shiny awards (although, this one? ZOMG. My head cannot comprehend the amazingness). None of that stuff matters. What matters is what a blog manages to achieve . . . what it does for others.

This space is influential because of you.

Yes, you.

You are the ones who came together so that my March of Dimes team could be one of the top fund raisers in the state. You are the ones who demonstrated loudly that you have not forgotten the victims of Flight 93. And, perhaps most amazing, you are the ones who gave dozens, if not hundreds, of kids a chance at a memorable Christmas.

So, thank you. Thank you for using your powers for good.

Thank you for using your voice to influence and, hopefully, make the world a little better place.