Don't Forget the Hostess Gift

I haven't done this in awhile.

I really long while!!

I am not sure of the proper etiquette any more.

Okay I really do but I felt like starting the day out dramatically.

What am I doing you may ask....that is simple.

Today I am guest posting over at The Butterfly Mom!!!

I am talking about the some times confusing world of being a "pseudo" Step-mom.

Brittany is one of my favorite bloggers, twitter friends and pins really cool stuff on pinterest.

Have you met Brittany the driving force behind The Butterfly Mom? 

If not go over there and check out my awesome post and then check out Brittany and her blog.

If you have then what are you waiting for...go read my post.

You can also follow Brittany on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

And in case you missed when Brittany guest posted here be sure to check out How We Met - My Grandmother Did What?

How We Met - My Grandmother Did WHAT?!

One of the first people I asked/begged to write a guest post was Brittany. I have been blog stalking her for some time now. Her blogs (yes blogs) are full of blogging advice, product reviews, parenting tips and most recently an ode to Brad Pitt. She is always kind and full of encouragement. 

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While I would love to tell a massively romantic Twilight Saga-esque tale about how my husband and I met, alas it would bore you to death. We met at the Internet. No I mean that as AT the Internet no ON the Internet. We both started working for America Online {remember that dinosaur?} on the same day. It went downhill from there. 

Digressing....

So instead I could tell you how my  my parent's first date was at Disney Land.  I could make you giggle at the story of when she flew into LAX to be picked up by this guy she was about to go on the world's most epic date with when he shows up on a motorcycle. 

He showed up at an airport to pick up a girl who was flying in for the weekend on a motorcycle. 

Boy that had to be a fun trip with all her luggage balancing on her head. Yes, my Dad was blond. I miss that man. He made me laugh.

And once again it all went downhill from there. So let's try my grandparents.

A few years before my grandparents passed away, the subject of their dating life came up. Who would have thought that my grandmother's 80+ year old memory worked so well? Let me set the stage.

While the men (and by men I mean my father, my uncle, and my grandfather) sat in the living room watching some sporting event they were all pretending to care about (cool factor you know) the ladies of the family surrounded the dining room table at a heated game of Yahtzee. 

(Seriously, our Yahtzee games are viscous)

Between dice rolls we would crack jokes, make threats, and tell stories. Suddenly my eighty something year old grandmother (who I swear cheated at Yahtzee, I mean seriously no one is THAT good) announced she had a secret she had to tell us about how she snagged my grandfather. Well of corse at this point we were all ears, not just because we KNEW that it was a shotgun wedding (we all could do basic math...you know, the eldest child's birth was just a few months after the wedding so like, um, duh) but because the fact my grandmother was this quiet, innocent old woman who couldn't hurt a fly and she had a secret to spill. We just had to hear this.

You also need to keep in mind this was the late thirties, when certain things just weren't done. Well obviously they WERE done, just nobody talked about it.

Anywho...she was so proud of herself when she recounted how she was so in love with my grandfather. She loved him so much but she just knew he was interested in another girl besides her. Some days he would come visit her, others he would not. She would see his truck at another girls house and she would see red and green (anger and jealousy folks). One day she had had enough. He was over at her place and they were talking about getting serious when he mentioned leaving early. She didn't want him to go, she wanted to have some extra time making him fall in love with her, so while he was busy getting freshened up for his next date (she assumed), she ran outside and poured all the sugar from her mother's sugar canister into his gas tank.

Yes, my meek, mild mannered grandmother poured sugar into her boyfriends gas tank.

So of corse he never made it to his next date, he spent the evening at my grandmothers waiting for one of his brothers to come pick him up and tow his truck to the shop to figure out what was wrong with it (he had no idea what she had done). Not to get into too many details but obviously something happened that night because less than a year later they were wed and had a baby. My grandmother was a conniving woman.

The funniest part about the whole story was after she was done telling her devilish deed, my pretty much DEAF grandfather yells out...

"It was YOU?! You poured the sugar into my gas tank?!" 

Yup, after over 60 years of marriage she had never confessed. Bravo, grandma, bravo.

You can find Brittany on Facebook, twitter, her blog The Butterfly Mom

Guest Post: Dreaming Big in Oklahoma

Today I am very honored to have Lindsey from Dishwater Dreams guest posting. She was one of the first people I met when I entered the wonderful world of twitter. Lindsey has often made me laughed in one comment and then been supportive in another. With out further ado....here's Lindsey.

Some days my life makes no sense. I wake up in a haze from a severe lack of sleep, throw on some clothes and make-up and try to avoid mirrors for the rest of the day just in case I look like a circus clown. I shuttle my kids out the door with juice boxes and pop tarts in hand while trying to down enough coffee to make the world seem a little less fast and make me move at a little more the right speed. I can't live all day in slow-mo.

After a day of work which ticks by in a blur of Facebook posts, Tweets, feigning productivity in between daydreams, and a lack of sunshine (my office in right smack dab in the middle of the building. No windows) I pick up the boys and head on to whatever after school activities we have that day.

I'm pretty sure my subconscious knows the driving routes by heart because I'm not sure I actually steer much between all the bickering in the back seat over which song to listen to. Doesn't matter that we have a set rotation rule of who gets to pick.

At our after school activity I delve into a book, or sew, or somehow find myself deep in my own little world.

I realize that to the outside observer, I must seem like a total scatter brain. Or a neurotic genius. I'm hoping the latter.

The thing is, I'm not scatterbrained at all. I'm a dreamer.

I believe that just about anything is possible, but before you can achieve it, you have to dream it. You have to start the journey. You have to work hard at it.

The thing with having big dreams is that your destination is a moving target. You have to be willing to grow and adapt.

If you had asked me 10 years ago where I would be today, I would have told you I would be living in a tiny loft in New York City trying to make it as a writer. Instead I'm still living in Oklahoma and am a mother to two amazing boys. And I'm still a writer. My dream didn't change, my destination did. I'm still publishing poems. I'm still writing, mostly for my blog, Dishwater Dreams. But I'm also attending soccer games, karate lessons, and school parties. I'm struggling with having enough hours in the day and giving up sleep to write after my children go to bed. 

But I wouldn't change a thing.

Lindsey Renuard is a published author and poet. She is the Internet Content Editor for Community Publishers. She manages local newspapers and community web sites in Oklahoma and is a social media expert. She is a former Professor of English teaching both in the classroom and online. You can follow Lindsey on her Facebook page, Twitter and of course her blog Dishwater Dreams.

How We Met - How to Let Your Batshit Crazy Brother Help You Get Married

Today I have a very very very special guest blogger. Its some one I have known for more years than I am willing to admit out loud (*cough High School*cough). he is also very worried about what I may or may not say in my introduction....I promised I would not say anything his wife could hold against him in divorce proceedings. So I will just say he is one of my favorite people and even after all these years he still makes me laugh so hard I get stomach cramps....Please say hello to my friend Patrick.

Oh yeah Pat wanted me to add a disclaimer that for today and today only I am nor responsible for the content of my blog. 

My good friend MJ asked me if I would write a guest post for her blog. Ok, actually, her exact words were: “I was wondering if you would be willing to impart some of your mad ninja wisdom on my readers and do a guest post on my blog. Please say yes.” Who could say no to that??

So I said yes. I mean, obviously, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting there subjecting yourself to this. And so, as sort of a parallel to her “How to Date Your Best Friend’s Ex” post, I humbly present the following:

How to Let Your Batshit Crazy Brother Help You Get Married

(I came up with that title all by myself)

Let us turn the proverbial Wheel of Time back about 9 years. Picture, if you will, a young, handsomely tanned, rather muscular young man with white teeth, a winning smile, abs upon which you could grate cheese, and a killer butt.

 Now let’s picture me. (I’m Grim, by the way. Hi! How are you?). I was living in a one bedroom apartment, peacefully enjoying my bachelorhood, and when I say peacefully, I mean trying to figure out how to kill my neighbors who thought the whole complex would enjoy hearing ranchero music blared at full volume at three in the morning.

I work during the day as a government nobody (ninja by night) and found myself, one day, peacefully enjoying the conversation between two female coworkers who were discussing the unpleasantries of a mammogram. And when I say peacefully, I mean…well, never mind.

I look to my right, out the window, hoping to find something that will hold my attention until the two elephantine masochists are done commiserating, and this is what I see staring back at me:

Ok ok, not exactly that. I mean there was no shotgun. The rest is pretty spot on though.

It occurs to me that I’m staring at my batshit crazy brother S____, who, rather than wave like a real human being, gives me a “bro nod”. I look back to my left…sure enough; the Pachyderm Princesses are still there discussing breast flatulence. I look back to my right…batshit crazy brother. Tough choice, really, but in the end, family won out.

Now, understand that I hadn’t seen or heard from S____ in about three years. He was still wearing the same clothes though, and he’d brought a friend, whose name was Bob. I’m not sure Bob was actually alive. S____ says to me, “Hey!!! It’s my birthday next week! We should go do something for my birthday!! ‘Cause it’s next week!” I looked up this phrase in my S____-to English translation book and it said, “I would like you to buy me something.” Ok, fine, I thought. A brother is still a brother, right?

S____ goes on to tell me where he’s living and what time I should come pick him up. Bob stood there and stared open-mouthed at a smudge on the window.

We agree on the time and place, and I go back inside where there are now three coworkers standing in a small semi circle and looking very concerned. 

“Are you ok?” One of them asks.

“Fine. Why?”

“Well, we saw you out talking to those two transients and were wondering if you were ok.”

“Oh, them. Yeah, one of them is my brother. I’m not sure the other one was actually alive.”

The look of horror on their faces was truly magnificent. Whether for implying that my brother was a transient, or that he might be best friends with a zombie, I’ll never know. Either way, people don’t talk to me much at work anymore and that’s ok.

During the following week, S____ called me three times a day and left a message each time. I told him, after the first day, that I couldn’t always answer my phone at work and that if he wanted to talk, one message would do just fine as I would get back to him as soon as I was able. Apparently, he thought I was lying. One thing he did ask me was if I had had a crush on a certain girl in high school. I answered that, no, I had a crush on a different girl.  “Are you sure?” he says.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’d remember which girl I was too much of a puss to ask out. Thanks for the reminder, though.”

He goes on to inform me that he’s staying with a girl whose best friend apparently had a crush on me in high school. My immediate reaction to this was to think to myself, Well that’s nice, where the hell was she when I was sitting at home every Friday night drowning my sorrows in Taco Time and Super Nintendo??

So I go to this girl’s house and pick up S____ and we head out to take on the town. Taking on the town consisted of getting Mexican food and heading to the Sportsman’s Warehouse where, of all the things he wants me to buy him, he picks out an 80 dollar water purification straw thing meant for wilderness survival. The gift that keeps on drinking, I suppose.

With nachos and salsa coursing through our veins, we spent the rest of the day terrorizing the city with our flatulence and threatening gang members with S____’s water purification straw thing. We were two crazed single men, rampaging through a sleepy town till the wee hours. And by the wee hours, I mean 9 PM.  

We got back to where he was staying and he decides we should watch a movie. – You know, as I’m sitting here writing this, it occurs to me that this is all sounding like a really horrific date. I’m calling my therapist in the morning—

Apparently while we were watching whatever movie it was, the owner of the house calls up her best friend, Sarah, and tells her that I’m over there right now! (SQUEEE!)

A little background on Sarah: I had known her since Junior High. We had a science class or two together and hung out in the same circles. We sat next to each other in a science class in High School and I remember that she had a nice ass.  But that was ten years in the past.

So, as I’m sitting there, in walks Sarah wearing this…shirt. I should say that it was a shirt in the strictest sense, and we’ll just leave it at that. We start to talk and eventually we all end up on the front porch just talking. I’m not sure she was ever able to make sense of whatever I was telling her, because I think I kept stopping and trying to remember what the hell I was saying. You see, she was…sitting…a certain way to maximize the shirt’s full potential.

This is a hint, right girls? I mean, I would have preferred a neon sign that pointed at her and read: “PLAYGROUND OPEN. THIS MEANS YOU!” but I figured this was all I was going to get. 

I called her up a day or so later and asked her out. For various reasons, her gay roommate being one of them, we ended up going out sooner than originally planned. The plan was, of course, to have nothing serious. We were old school friends just getting together to hang out, right?

I picked her up and we went to Olive Garden. Yeah, I know it’s cliché, but I was hungry so stuff a breadstick up your ass, ok Paisan?  

After dinner, we walked back to my car and she runs up next to me and takes my hand. This is friendship??  It’s at this moment in time, and I want you all to know this, that some neuron in my brain fired that has never fired before, and I decided that I would do something “smooth.” I have never been known to be “smooth” or to have “smooth” moments. Ok, there was that one time at Belch Canyon, but that was more of a “creepy smooth” sort of thing. Said canyon was named as such after my “creepy smooth” moment. And let me just say, guys…if you EVER find a woman who is physically turned on by your ability to belch so loud that it echoes off a canyon wall, DO NOT LET HER GO!  I’m not even sure such a girl exists, but I’m sure the government could spend a couple billion trying to find out. I digress…

Sarah and I drove all over the state and chatted and flirted. My “smooth” plan was now perfected. 

When I finally got tired of driving, or the car was almost out of gas, I’m not sure which, I took her home. She figured her gay cousin had finally passed out and it was safe to enter. I walked her to her door and she invited me in to chat for a minute. We chatted and I asked her out again, to which she agreed…and then came my “smooth” plan.

Remember we had stated to each other that this was just two friends going and hanging out. But, the gauntlet had been thrown when she held my hand! I had been one-upped and would not stand for it! So, yes, that’s right, I grabbed her, planted my lips against hers and pressed her up against the cupboard.  After a minute, I let her go, said good night and walked out, just like that. 

Ohhhh I cackled all the way to my car! I was more pleased that I had caught her off guard than that she had willingly let me kiss her! I was EVIL with a capital AWESOME! And the best part???

IT WORKED!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!

She went to work the next day and COULDN’T FIGURE IT OUT!!

“ HE SAID HE WANTED JUST FRIENDSHIP!!! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???? “

Our next date proceeded as planned, and the next, and the next. We just couldn’t see enough of each other. I began finding strange female artifacts in my apartment. I went into my bathroom to get ready for work one morning and found a small purple tool rack of some sort, sitting on my counter. It appeared to be made to hold brushes of some sort. 

You know that moment in plot driven movies where the hero finally discovers the source of his betrayal, and you see his face slooowly change as the truth finally dawns on him? This is what I saw my face doing in the mirror. My brain then said, “What the??? We’re in a relationship!!! RED ALERT! EVASIVE MANEUVERS!”

But it was too late for me. When she beat me to my apartment and cooked a four item dinner for me and had it waiting when I got home…I was finished. She had me. I surrendered. Gladly, mind you.

We were engaged within three months, and were married in another nine. We just celebrated our eighth year together and haven’t even tried to strangle each other yet.

I suppose the moral of the story (sorry for the length, but I did warn Mj that I can get long winded when making fun of people) is that you just never know when life is going to say to itself, “Hey, that guy needs a little help. We need to figure out how to gently nudge him down the correct path, because he just doesn’t seem to know what the hell he’s doing anymore.” And then one day you think you’re doing everything right, and BAM!

 Enter batshit crazy brother, stage right.

Oh yeah….I made Sarah keep the “shirt.”

To read more of Patrick outrageous ramblings please check out his blog Confessions of an Arm Chair Ninja.

Guest Post: Meeting Violet

When Sarah agreed to write a guest post for me she was unsure what to write about. I mentioned my feature How We Met but really I was open to anything she felt inspired to write.  Soon I got an email saying, "The story of how I met my husband isn't exciting (even to me and I am married to him) so I decided to write about how I met my baby cat." Being an animal lover (and having a fun how I met my cat story) I was so excited. Met Sarah and Violet.

It was three days before Christmas 2010 and I was in tears.  I’d just held one of my best friends as he slipped away from this life and while I knew he was also slipping away from pain and disease I missed him immediately.  Jimmy was a ten-year-old stray cat who’d been my friend from his kitten years all the way until blood clots claimed his life.  I was heartbroken, but it was another friend who was truly aching.  Jimmy had a brother – an enormous yellow tabby named Julius who’d live with Jimmy all his life.  When I’d left Jimmy at the vet the night before he died, Julius responded by crying forlornly and searching for his four-legged pal room by room into the wee hours of the morning. 

As I held Jimmy for the last time I knew the greatest difficulty would be going home empty-handed to a creature who loved his brother and to whom I’m couldn’t explain what had happened.  I shared this concern with the veterinarian.  She had been so kind throughout the ordeal and said gently to me “maybe Julius needs a kitten for Christmas”.  It was the last thing I expected to hear.  Everyone was telling me to take my time mourning Jimmy and that someday I could get another cat when it felt right and here was the vet, planting the idea that a kitten was OKAY because my other cat needed a companion.

I was sold immediately.  And so, off to the animal shelter I went with my now-husband in tow to look for a new kitten to give to Julius as a Christmas present.  Only December isn’t exactly kitten season.  There were three cats available who were under the age of 6 months:  a pair of really energetic brother tabbies with kink tails and a 4-month-old cow cat who was cowering in terror in her cage. 

I was immediately drawn to the brothers who were lively and friendly and started to talk with an adoption volunteer about them.  She answered a few questions and then stopped me.

“Are you an experienced cat owner?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve never lived life without a cat, so I guess I’d say yes,” I answered.

“Let me tell you about this little girl over here, then,” she said, pointing to the frightened cow cat.

She proceeded to describe the little kittens weeks in the shelter, telling me how she and her siblings had been the only little kittens available for quite some time and as a result they’d been handled endlessly.  The volunteer told me that the kitten’s siblings had slowly been adopted, one by one, until only one remained, and that one was exhausted and afraid and traumatized.  The volunteer shared that the kittens had been fostered and were really quite personable and that all the little cow cat needed was a few days of rest, some good food, some patience and maybe even a big cat brother to show her the ropes.  Besides, she said, it would be better for the kink-tailed brothers to be adopted together.

I was sold.  The cow cat’s name at the shelter was “Bonnie”.  She let me hold her for about 8 seconds and then squirmed out of my hands to hide under the bank of cages.  While she hid, I ran to the adoption desk and “reserved” her so no one else could adopt her out from under me.  Then we completed the necessary paperwork and returned to the kitten room where a couple was attempting to coax Bonnie out with a toy.  I said “excuse me” and pushed past them, got down on all fours and dragged her protesting self out from under the cage.  The man who’d been trying to play with her looked at me, disgusted.

“Um are you adopting her?  Because we’re trying to play with her.”

“Yes,” I said, “She’s mine.”

He snorted.  “Thanks for telling us,” he said sarcastically.  I just smiled, holding Bonnie close to me, and thought aren’t you glad you’re not going to live with that jerk?

We wrangled Bonnie into a box, but not before renaming her.  She had – and has – such a pretty feminine face and delicate little paws that “Violet” fit her to a tee.  As the volunteer predicted, Violet hid from us for days, terrified of Julius and not interested in cuddles.  Still, we fed her good food and talked to her in soothing voices and let her “meet” with Julius through the bathroom door.  On the third day, Violet mustered a calculated toe attack against us while we lay in bed, running in delight back to a bunker under the dresser when we tried to catch her.  On the fifth day, Violet snuggled up next to Julius for a nap.  Over 500 days later, she cuddles constantly, talks incessantly and is a delight in our lives. 

I can’t help but think that Jimmy left his best qualities behind for Violet to absorb and for that we’re blessed.

Sarah Pardieck is a board-certified foodie, stress-fueled runner, enthusiastically mediocre gardener, born and bred Southerner, 30-something, self-employed, etiquette-aholic, Army officer’s don’t-call-me-Army-Wife.  She blogs at Notice the Dirt where she’s inspired by C.S. Lewis who said “It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us; it is the very sign of His presence." 

You can also follow her on Twitter. 

Guest Post: Lazy Gingersnaps

What can I say about today's guest? A lot!!! I have known her for years...she is one of my favorite cousins. When she agreed to write a post I was secretly hoping she would post one of her recipes. Lucky for us she did just that. She always has the best recipes!!!


Gingersnaps have been one of my favorite cookies since I was a child. My parents would break out the trusty Fannie Farmer's cookbook, falling apart at the seams from overuse, and we would make the recipe for old-fashioned Gingersnaps. The original recipe says to roll them out "as thin as possible", but as I remember my father finding out, if you can see through the dough, you've rolled them too thin. Paper-thin is too thin, 1/8" is just about right. 

These may be the very best cookies to eat with a glass of milk, and as a bonus the dough contains no raw eggs, so it's completely safe to eat raw! 

Traditionally the dough is rolled and cut into small circles with a cookie cutter, but I find that the dough hardens and becomes impossible to work with the more you work it... so instead I cut it into pieces with a pizza cutter. The cookies might not be as pretty, but it's a lot faster and the flavor is exactly the same. 

I tend to make these cookies with whole wheat flour, but white flour or a blend of flours works just as well. I've even made them with a gluten-free flour blend and they were just as delicious. 

These are super simple, and mix up and bake fast, so there's no excuse to not make some up!

Gingersnaps

1/2 cup dark molasses

1/4 cup butter

1 1/2 tsp ginger powder (or 1 Tbsp fresh grated ginger)

1 1/2 cups flour

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 350*

In a small saucepan, melt the butter with the molasses, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon until the mixture boils. 

Remove from heat and quickly throw the dry ingredients on top, stirring together well with the wooden spoon. 

While it is still hot, dump it out onto a clean, lightly-floured countertop, press to flatten, and then roll quite thin. (about 1/8 inch thick)

With a clean pizza cutter, cut into squares or rectangles, and place on an ungreased cookie sheet. They do not spread as they bake, so they can be placed very close together. 

Bake for 5 minutes, until the cookies are slightly puffed. Remove them to a cooling rack. They will be soft, but should crisp up and become properly crunchy once they cool. 

Enjoy!

P.S. Get better soon Michael!

- Zay

You can find more wonderful recipes and fun crafts on her blog Chocolate Coated Crochet Hooks.

Guest Post: No Consequences

Today I have the honor of having Arlett from Chasing Joy guest blogging. She has been one of my most encouraging friends.


The last few days some friends and I have been discussing a hypothetical question. What would you do if there were no consequences? What would you do if you could not get into trouble, if no one’s feelings would get hurt, if you could not be punished, and would not feel guilt? I told you it was a hypothetical.


Answers I received included kill someone, torture someone (obviously some of my friends have anger issues :-), and something sexual that could not be discussed, LOL. I said I would probably curse a few people out and really speak my mind to a few others. My favorite answers were stealing and not pay taxes. Steal was my favorite because it was the last thing I expected from the person who said it (I’ll give you a hint: she taught me not to steal). Not pay taxes was my favorite because I wish I’d have said it.


I know Michael is reading this saying “What?” “What is Arlett talking about?” My blog, Chasing Joy, is the go to place for optimism, gratitude, and happiness and here I am doing a guest post on A Girl Named Michael and I’m talking about killing, torture, sex, stealing, and tax evasion. Don’t worry Sweet MJ my question was all in fun and I do hope my guest post will bring a little joy.


While this hypothetical question is about as hypothetical as it gets it is fun and a good conversation starter. It is definitely a question you think about seriously. Fear of consequences often stops us from doing what we really want. Granted sometimes the consequences are very real and it is good to consider them before, I don’t know, slapping your co-worker or cursing your mother in law. However, sometimes the consequences are not so dire and are really just in the way of us going after what we want and experiencing the Joy of pursuing our goals and dreams. I’m talking about consequences like someone may make fun of me, or I may look silly, or people will know I failed if it does not work out. These are the consequences we need to pretend don’t exist and go for any and everything that will give us more Joy.


So ask yourself, what would you do if there were no consequences or more realistically what would you do if you were not afraid of the consequences?


Thanks MJ for letting my guest post :-)



Arlett R. Hartie is the author of the Blog Chasing Joy and is a Girlfriend Guru for the online community for women Girlfriendology.com. Arlett writes about Chasing Joy by conquering fears, embracing new experiences, and focusing on happiness and positivity while taking in life’s lessons.

Guest Post: How do You Know You are a Woman?

One day while killing time online I met Chelle....we started talking and laughing, then when I broke my wrist she offered to help me with a guest post. Its her first one and very thought provoking.

Hi everyone! This is my first guest post! I was super excited and nervous when MJ asked me to do a post. I had a hundred different possible posts outlined in my head! It was pretty busy and cluttered  in there!!! Eventually, one subject stuck out in my mind. Hope it gets you to thinking like it did me.

The other night, I came across a documentary about a teen transgender girl, Gwen, who was murdered by several of the men with whom she'd been intimate. The men were unaware that Gwen was a transgender female.  I knew of the case and was curious to learn more. The accused men were found guilty of murder in the second degree.  Surprisingly, they weren't convicted of a hate crime. The producers of this documentary took a slightly different twist as they shared Gwen's life story. I thought some of the questions posed were extremely thought-provoking.

Are you a man or a woman? Easy, enough. I'm a woman. (Most people who answered this question gave a little chuckle before answering.)

How do you know you're a woman? What?? I've never thought about this before. I've always thought of myself as a woman.  I just know I am but when I really consider the question, here's what I came up with. I know I'm a female because when I was born, the doctor made that call based on my body parts. I have a female name. I have a monthly renter who needs to be evicted! My twin fun bags have a warped sense of humor regarding gravity. I have carried 3 children in my womb. Women have wombs, right? 

What if a DNA test came back saying you're genetically a male? My first, honest response would be: No wonder I'm so damn hairy! It makes sense now. I've always had the pleasure of having a mustache. (As I'm heading into the land of menopause,  I have those hairs which pop up overnight on my chin and jaw line. They also have their own sense of humor by coming in white! Do you know how long it takes to find one after days of feeling it but not being able to see it?) I don't have a particularly feminine voice. I'm not girly girl; more like a girly tomboy. I suppose I could change my name from Michelle to Michael fairly easy to accommodate the DNA test. 

Would you live as a male? This one made me step back and think. Would I choose to live as a male because a test said I was a male? If after 43 years of believing I'm a woman and living as a woman, I'm told, you're not........ I can't even fathom the turmoil and thoughts as it rocked the foundation of a very deep-set belief.  At the end of the day, I have the belief I am a woman. A test isn't going to change what I believe. I am who I am.

If you were in a relationship with someone and they revealed they are transgendered, would you remain in the relationship? I like to think I'm a pretty open-minded person but as I mulled over this question, I realized I do have some set beliefs. Could I be in a relationship where, at some point, I'd be sexually intimate with a transgender male? I don't think so. If we have the same body parts, I don't think I could be intimate. I like biological men. Then I thought about the emotional aspect of the relationship. What if we'd really connected and did have an amazing friendship and relationship? Would I still say I couldn't continue the relationship knowing at some point we would probably be intimate? I don't know. I think, for me, this is one of those situations that you really don't know what you would do or say until you're in that situation.

I've never struggled with  my gender. I haven't thought about it or questioned it. I'm a woman. Do I have some "male" behaviors? Sure. Am I hating this pre-menopause thing because DNA test or not, I feel "manly" with the extra facial hair? Yep! Do I have some beliefs about male and female behaviors? Yep. I know I have the stereotypical belief that pink is for girls, blue is for boys. Although I don't have that view if I see a female in blue,  but I do when I see men wearing pink.

One reason these questions were posed is because the defense was based on an emotional reaction:  "gay panic."  This is the theory that the defendants reacted the way they did because it triggered their fears of being gay or thought of as gay. A law was passed eventually in Gwen's home state which doesn't allow this as a defense any longer.

Another reason was to educate people on what transgender men and women go through. Imagine, whatever sex you are, and feeling like you're the opposite sex. How would you deal with that? How would  you handle family, friends, and societies views? Would you, could  you make the decision to live as the sex you believed you were suppose to be?

What are your thoughts on the questions that were posed? Is it something you've ever thought about?

You can find Chelle writing away at Bein Me and on twitter.

Guest Post: A Book Review

Today's guest blogger is Erica Cresswell. When I asked for guest blogger Erica sent me a awesome post on Autism but then she asked if I would post a book review instead...I totally loved the idea. 

I can guarantee there is a story for everyone in Mike Speele's first book, “Pen & Platen: Short stories written the long way.” Whether you're looking for humour, fantasy or a chilling story you're sure to find it in this book.

In his story, Loading dock, 2am, I was immediately sucked in by the vivid scene description of two workers at a loading dock. Speegle instantly introduces the reader to the characters and their long standing connection, never making the reader have to work at filling in the details or leaving us with plot holes. Nope, he gets right to the point. Of course almost every writer loves to read a story about writing, correct? The narrator is described as having failed at multiple MFA applications yet he never gives up on his writing. But the story is about much more than that. It is about putting life's challenges in perspective.

The narrator tries to get help from his co-worker Rudy for a story he's writing about an “ex-pat... from Cuba.” This is something Rudy has first-hand experience with. Rudy gives in and tells the story of how he came to America--the “Promised Land”-- as he refers to it.

He tells us about the struggle to find food back home in Cuba and how the struggle to get water proved even more challenging. The story goes on to tell very vividly Rudy's trip with his family from Cuba to the United States. Rudy's wife does not speak on the trip nor say anything when introduced to the new place where they would be staying nor anything about the fact that “the room” they would be staying in “was the size of our entire house back in Cuba.”

In a dramatic scene, Rudy and the cousin find Rudy's wife sobbing “like a little girl” in front of the sink as water pours from the tap. Rudy says, “...It was all too much, and she didn't understand that she had made it until she turned on the water and it just worked.” When asked if that was the kind of story the narrator was looking for the narrator remains mute feeling ashamed about how he is a “Fuckin' white kid all sad about how he didn't get into his top five schools and here's Rudy all glad that he has running water.”

In Media Res is a chilling story that starts off innocently enough. I won't spoil the ending but I will say you won't see this twist coming. The tension in the story is fabulous. I was totally drawn into the story from the get-go.

Speegle does a great job of childhood first-person narration. The piece starts by looking back on a simple event at school (“It was twenty-five years ago that I raised my hand and asked if I could use the bathroom.”) The narrator, Stanley, doesn't seem totally sure but believes that it was that event where everything started to go wrong.

All of us have had teachers that seemed to make it their duty to torture us. In Media Res that teacher is a “hatched-faced shrill named Moreno” who has a sick obsession with defecation. Strange yes but Speegle makes it work. There is nothing unbelievable about Stanley's early school experience, it's all there: the public humiliation at the hands of Moreno; the taunting by his peers after he gets caught peeping at a female in the washroom (who as it turns out in a very unfortunate set of circumstances is his own teacher, Moreno.)

The effects of being “caught” have clearly left a strong mark on Stanley who feels he must defend his honour 25 years later. Speegle interweaves past and present narration smoothly, flawlessly. Stanley tells the reader, “I'm not a fucking pervert. Every woman, every woman I ever fucked was over eighteen...” Speegle describes the effects of “peeping” on Stanley's wakening sexual arousal, the
associated guilt to the peeping experience and the impact the experience will later have on his sexual life.

Speegle writes: “But the sight of that brown thigh, the hem of that print dress hiked up to the hips, the fact that I was seeing her when she couldn't see me awakened something within me. Something that lived inside me for the rest o my life, returning to me at the moment of release, whether I was with a woman or the hollow company of my own hand. Something dark and barely acknowledged.”

Speegle seamlessly shifts the story to Stanley's placement in boarding school. (After being caught peeping his parents decided they had to “do” something about the “problem.”)

Speegle vividly describes the sexual abuse Stanley receives at the hands of the teachers and the humiliations endured by cruel upperclass men. Needless to say these traumatic experiences all have a strong negative impact on the narrator and the reader can feel the tension rise to a boiling point. We feel that Stanley is careening to certain doom but we don't know how that doom will represent itself or what damage will be done along the way. The reader is hooked, unable to stop watching the “trainwreck.” We're brought along for the ride- the highs and lows. At a certain point the “love of a good woman” as the expression goes—seems as though it will save Stanley but it does not. The ending is very chilling and memorable. You'll have to read it to find out.

Speegle's writing is crisp and vivid. He writes, “On numb legs I walked out into the hallway and sat in one of the plastic discipline chairs that flanked the door.” Who among us has not walked on “numb legs” as a child knowing we're in trouble?

Speegle writes: “From a poster on the door, a happy bookworm was encouraging me to DEVOUR A BOOK TODAY! Creepy bastard. He didn't have to take a piss. He was easy like Sunday morning.” He could simply have written he was “relaxed” but instead chose to evoke the image of an easy Sunday morning instead. The story is littered with evocative and playful images.

The stories are truly enjoyable and I would recommend “Pen and Platen: Short stories written the long way.” Support our Indie authors! They work hard and deserve our recognition. If you're on Twitter use the hashtag #AmazonLikes to show your support. Review “Pen and Platen” on GoodReads and Amazon or on your blog. You won't be disappointed. Enjoy!

For more about the author please visit: www.mikespeegle.com
He's also on Twitter – go say hello @Mike_Speegle and see what projects he's up to right now.
If you're at all interested in typewriters he's your go-to guy. He has his own collection. In fact, he wrote “Pen and Platen” on his Olivetti Lettera 32 typewriter.

You can find Erica writings on Erica Cresswell: Read, Write, Repeat and on twitter and be sure to check out her great post about Autism.

Guest Post: Lessons My Husband Taught Me...Not

Today my guest blogger is Heather. One day I meet her on Twitter and it was a meeting of the dysfunctional minds...seriously dysfunctional. We even invented a new word.

Hi everyone! I am Heather and I am here to take over do a guest post for MJ. I am genuinely honored that she asked me, I hadn't done much blogging on my own lately. And as honored as I am, I wish it were under better circumstances. I hope your hand feels better my "blitter" buddy.

Mr. Husband and I hit our 1 year anniversary just a few days ago and while the last year has been great, we have had our share of ups and downs., What couple doesn't right? I have also come to learn some lessons about Mr. Husband and our relationship...

1. My husband should never be allowed to work for Hallmark. - He thinks up his own poems like "Roses are red, Carnations are Pink, Man I just farted, and Boy does it stink." He has a great imagination and he has a whole line of these ready for Hallmark to rush in and pick up. As I am writing this, he is attempting to argue his point about how great that poem really is. You be the judge.

2. He can not behave himself at all - No matter what we do or where we go, he is always up to no good. Did you know that Disneyland has a jail? Yes, the happiest place on earth has a punishment jail. Not an actual cell, but a room under the Small World ride that you will be escorted to if you misbehave. And not only do you have to sit in this room, but it plays the song on repeat, nonstop. Might I also mention, Disney frowns upon you leaving the rides to play on the sets of the rides...just saying. Ask my other half, he knows all too well.

3. Bedtime is NEVER normal (nor will it ever be) - Mr. Husband was injured on the job almost two years ago, and he's still waiting to get a knee surgery done before he can go back to work. I have crohn's disease and have had to stop working until I can get back on my medications. So we are pretty much together 24/7 right now. We try to give each other plenty of space so not to work each others nerves. So bedtime is no holds barred. We pick, we call names, we tease, he sings annoying made up songs or makes up really screwed up stories. It's where some of our best conversations come from. And it's honestly my favorite time of the day. No bedtime is ever the same, and I guess I love the spontaneity of it all.

4. There is no movie he won't watch - While we have a lot in common, movie choices is not one of them. He loves the sci-fi made for tv movies and cheesy b movies. Just the other night, we had a slight argument over whether or not I would be joining him for Alien Tornado. Yeah, I passed on that one. He's convinces I will be joining him for Frankenfish, when he can find it. We'll see.

5. He has pretty good taste in tv shows - Don't tell him I told you, but when it comes to television shows, he has gotten me hooked on some pretty good stuff. Thanks to him, I will never forgive FOX for cancelling Firefly, but on the bright side, I have love for Nathan Fillion, and his role in Castle.

6. He tries to act like an asshole, but I know better - Mr. Husband is a big guy, with a love for tattoos and martial arts. He is always trying to convince us what an ass he is, but when I look at him, I see a funny, smart, giant teddy bear. Sure, he can have his moments, and I have only seen him mad once. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger, that's for sure.

I have so many more things I could list here, it seems like the list is never-ending. But as this isn't my page, and I have a movie to finish before I go to sleep, I guess I'll turn MJ's page back over to her. Do any of you other people have spouse like mine? I'd love to hear about them if so...

You can find Heather ranting away at Chaotic Rantings of a Housewife and on twitter.

Guest Post: My Life with Boys

Angela is another one of my blog friends that I can not remember how we connected. Just one day we started talking and when I need help she immediately offered multiple posts. Yup, I said multiple. I cant wait for whatever else she has in store for us.

I am a single Mom with 2 boys. Actually, I am the only girl in my family. I have 2 brothers and they both have two boys. I am surrounded by boys it is so crazy.

People don’t understand there are so many things that I have missed out on. I never get to have girl time, tea parties, spa days or shopping days. I look at other Moms with their daughters and I wonder how it be to share those moments. I actually have to drag my boys shopping with me from time to time just like most men they lose interest real quick.

I have had to come with other ways to have fun with them. We have fun watching movies, dance contests, and wrestling matches. Yes, I wrestling or should I say I use my ninja moves. I have had to become a ninja to sneak up on my boys to catch them trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I guess that is a boy for you. I have to laugh at some of the things they do. Like release gas so toxic it makes you want to cry. Or their lame lines they say to girls they like. (Tragic)


I think funniest thing they do is try to act like my Dad. They make sure I am appropriately dress or my hair looks right. They don’t want me going out looking like a hoochie moma. Oh, and don’t let a man approach. They are checking him out before I even see him. It is nice but at times it can be a little over the top.

Even though, I would love to have daughter I am totally happy that I have 2 wonderful boys. We share love and laughter. We have had ups and downs. What we have is something I would never trade for all the money in the world. My life with boys has definitely made me a better person and Mom.

If you have boys and love spending time with them leave nice comment sharing your story.

My name is Angela Johnson Mom of 2, writer, social entrepreneur, PR, social media marketer and social media consultant. 


Angela inspires people to live an empowered life over at Livin Life With Purpose and on Twitter. You can also find her on facebook.

Guest Post: Running for Sanity

When I broke my wrist I sent out a request for guest bloggers and one of the first people to agree was Ashley. After reading her post I was inspired despite my cast to get active again. 

When I turned 29 I had an emotional break down. I looked in the mirror and saw my youth disappearing. I don’t want to offend anyone, but after two children, I had a “mom” body. I had been using my title of mommy as an excuse to let myself go.


I made a rather rash decision. I was going to start running. I was going to run 3 miles in 30 minutes on my 30th birthday. Weird, I know. I have always thought of running as a punishment, but I figured I had a year to train, so it was doable. I began the Couch to 5k program everyone raves about. I had to repeat weeks because I skipped or I thought it was too hard and it seemed like I would never get it right. But, on my 30th birthday I met my goal. It was hard, but I did it.


Something clicked in me. I realized that I could run, but I was going to have to take this serious. I invested in a real training program and I started posting my weekly running schedule on the fridge. Everyone knew that this was my time. Mommy was going to run, no matter what. This spring I started running local benefit 5k races. I am proud to say, I won my age division in the last 5k I ran, a few weeks ago, with a time of 25:44.


Oh and I also lost 28 pounds in this process and gained a huge amount of confidence. I ran 8.5 miles yesterday in a hour and a half. If you would have told me a year ago that I was going to be able to run for 90 minutes straight, I would have laughed hysterically.


Let me leave you with this: you can accomplish whatever you want, in any area of your life. Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t stop because it is hard. As the famous saying goes:

Ashley from The Ederington Family
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Guest Post: Lessons Learned From Reading A Girl Named Michael

I cant remember when or how I met Susan...It may have been #commenthour or The Sits Girl. However it was I started stalking her writing and blog tips and learned several ways to improve my blog...Now I just need to do them. I was very excited when she agreed to help me out. 

When Michael asked me to blog this week. I was really wondering what I would talk about. Her blog is much more personal than mine. Much more out spoken. Much more about exploring life.

Then I took a little look up there at the taglline, “a loud mouth small town girl full of contradictions. “

And I knew exactly what to write about.

There is a lie we get told in the blogging universe. Find a niche and fill it.

Traffic wise, It will be better. But how interesting is going to be if you don't find something personal. Something to be loud mouthed about. Something to show off your own contradictions.

That is something Michael has captured beautifully with her own blog and why I find it such an entertaining read.

Over time you begin to realize, that people have all sorts of backgrounds. Readers who come to your blog, want you to occasionally talk about yourself. In fact if they stick with you for several months they may actually become invested in your well being.

That is because readers turn into friends. Twitter supporters, care. Maybe it doesn't have the effect of our family or offline friends, but they still impact our day. I know getting one thoughtful tweet can turn my day around.

That is why I heeded Michael’s call and I am writing for you today.

Ways to inject your personality into everything you do:

1.Know yourself.

Think about your personality traits. The things that make you happy, sad, or angry. How have they helped you in your life. How do they bleed into the things you do.

2.What is going in your life?

How can you connect it to the world in a way that will make it a better place.

3.What are you passionate about?

I love listing my passions. They remind me of my goals and ambitions. I am always pushing myself to make more of them happen.

4.What are you Grateful for?

So many studies have been done now that we know that listing things that we are grateful for everyday can make us happier. Let the people in your life know what they do that you are grateful for.

5.Accept that you don't know

When we give ourselves permission to not control he universe, we find ways to really be present and aware. When you feel less stressed, you find the freedom to just be yourself instead of a superwoman/man all the time.


How do you let your little light shine?

Susan is the founder of the 1UP Project, giving bloggers another life. She works as a contract copywriter and has written for several online publications on the topics of social media, marketing, and pop-culture.She is a weekly contributor to the popular website 12most. 


You can also found her on twitter.