I am not a Baby Person.  (I mean other people’s babies; of course I love my babies.)   I will pinch their fat legs and say “awww” at their universal cuteness, but I won’t ask to hold your baby.   I’m good.  I like my clothes without spit-up and prefer the smell of fresh air to poopy diapers.

I like dogs in the same way that I like babies: I notice, I coo, I pet them if they look well-groomed, but I won’t let your dog lick my face; I can only guess where his tongue has been.   I’m sure his breath smells bad and he may have fleas.

But my dog, MY DOG, I love.  I kiss him, rub his belly and snuggle his nose.  He may have fur (and fleas and stinky breath) and I know where his tongue has been (ewww) but he’s more than a dog to me, he’s family.  He’s home.

The last few years have been stressful for me.   It was pretty traumatic moving away from my beloved New Jersey town and although we have been in Georgia now for 7 years, it still doesn’t feel like home.   I live here, but I’m not rooted.   Adding Chili Dawg to our family last year made me feel a bit more anchored.

Of course I have a human family that I care for everyday.  I plan, I cook, I drive, I play.  I love and propel them towards their dreams.  It’s both what I love to do and feel called to do.   But they are humans and as such they are complex creatures intellectually, physically, emotionally and spiritually.   Those relationships are as rewarding as they are exhausting.

Humans: can’t live without ‘em and can’t throw yourself off a cliff when they get on your nerves.

But my relationship with Chili Dawg is wonderfully simple: I love on him and he loves on me.   That’s it.  No words, no deeds, no negotiations necessary.

That’s love.  That’s home.

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Help!  My favorite boots are ruined!  I was rearranging my closet for the fall (moving sandals in the back, putting boots in the front) when I noticed that my favorite boots had these stains:

Apparently the dye from the neighboring brown suede boots transferred onto these boots.  I have googled.  I have taken them to a cobbler.  Sadly there doesn’t seem to be a remedy for removing stains from patent leather.

I first wrote about my unique connection to these boots April 2009:

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These Boots Were Made For Walking And Dancing And Looking Fly

Now that spring is here, I am packing away my favorite boots for the season.  Why are they my favorite?  I’m glad you asked….

When I was in kindergarten, there were two groups of kids: the morning class and the afternoon class. I was in the morning class. Both classes had the same teacher, we both said the pledge of allegiance every day and learned our ABC’s. But for me the afternoon class held a certain cache because of a little girl in that class who wore white patent leather go-go-like boots. I loved those boots and wanted them for my own! But that was not how my mother dressed me; I wore beautiful dresses, matching bows in my hair, tights and patent leather shoes. By the time I grew old enough to dress myself those boots were no longer in style and it remained a hidden (but not forgotten) desire.

Shopping in Nordstrom with some friends last fall I saw these boots on display and I swear it was like the light from heaven shining down illuminating them just for me. Like two long-lost lovers in a Lifetime movie, my friends, other shoppers and salespeople all faded away; all I could see were those boots.

Yes, I bought the boots; I wear them all the time.  And I look good!

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Well, I used to look good.  Curses!  What shoes will I wear now to my fantasy B-52s concert?  The one where the band sees me as a kindred spirit (because of the boots, naturally) and invite me on stage to sing Love Shack with them.

I am so distraught; I fear that I may never be able to wear my boots again.  Or rock with The B-52s.

Please help! Do you know of some magical solution to rid my boots of these seemingly permanent stains?

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

*Today I am participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop by answering the prompt:  3.) Write about what blogging means to you. Why do you blog? What purpose does it serve you and how have you benefited from sharing a piece of yourself online this way?

I wrote this post after attending my first blogging conference, Blogalicious 2009.  Inspired by all the wonderful bloggers around me, I left the conference asking myself these questions:  Am I blogging with purpose?  Am I passionate?  Am I even doing this right?  And mostly…Why do I blog?

I asked and I answered:

I blog to give information in categories like Techknow Mama, Things I like and Ma-Gyver.

I blog to entertain in Kickin’ It Old School and through many of the silly travel family videos that I post in T as in Tango.

I blog to build a community through posts about myself and my family in What About Me, My Charmed Life or Word From the Mother.  I hope that the more you know about me, the more you will share about yourself; that creates community.

I blog Deep Stuff to foster discussion and conversation.  I’m a thinker and I know you are too.

I blog to save the world from mediocrity.  We’ve got to keep the bar high people.  We’re all fabulous; let’s live it!

Through it all, I blog to tell stories.  As Scott Rosenberg says in his book, Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It’s Becoming, And Why It Matters, “A [blog] post is a shared memory….And in the end, that’s what we want and need to remember about our lives, and the lives of others: not factual details but meaningful stories.”  Whether I am writing aboutDisney World, my marriage, Henry Louis Gates or the best cupcakes, I aim to do it with passion, transparency and authenticity in a way that hopefully makes you remember your own stories.

I blog because I have a voice and I have something to say.  And that is reason enough.

Visit Mama Kat’s Losin It to write a prompt of your own.

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

*I don’t get paid for my opinions in any way; this is just me sharing stuff that I like and I think you will too.

We had been in L.A. for a good week before I finally agreed to try Pinkberry.

Please, I thought, how good could it be?   I was alive during the first frozen yogurt craze, saw it fizzle out, but have enjoyed the recent resurgence.   The frozen yogurt shops here in Atlanta are pretty good, so how much different could Pinkberry be?   Frozen yogurt is frozen yogurt is frozen yogurt.

Reluctantly I strolled into Pinkberry with arrogant non-chalance……

…..where I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.  It was delicious!  It didn’t taste like other frozen yogurts.  It wasn’t cloyingly sweet, but fresh and clean-tasting.  It was tart, smooth and creamy.  The flavors were recognizable, but not over-bearing.

Everyone in the family agreed that it was the best frozen yogurt that we had ever tasted.  Over the course of several trips we tried mango, original, pomegranate, coconut, chocolate and watermelon.  My favorites were chocolate and mango swirled with original.  Sometimes I ate it plain on a cone and sometimes I added fresh fruit toppings like kiwi, raspberries, mango or blackberries.  I loved that the price included unlimited toppings because my kids really piled them on.    Their favorite toppings were mochi, animal crackers, cheesecake bites, brownies and gummy bears.   Those toppings kind of negate the low calories of frozen yogurt, but they didn’t care.  I do and I was thankful for the teeny 150 calories in a small cup of mango or original.

We ate Pinkberry several times while in L.A., sometimes several days in a row.  We couldn’t get enough!   It was that good.

Frozen yogurt is frozen yogurt is frozen yogurt; it’s true.   But then there’s Pinkberry.

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*Alas, it’s not all good.  There is now a Pinkberry in Georgia, but why, WHY in the name of frozen yogurt did they open the first Pinkberry way out in the ‘burbs?    I may eat it in L.A. or New York before I eat it in Georgia because I rarely leave the city.   I’m really salty about that.

Other posts you may like about frozen treats:

LA Stories: The Best Thing I Ever Ate, SORBET (Bennett’s Cabernet Sauvignon)

The Best Thing I Ever Ate: Disney Treat (Dole Whip)

The Best Thing I Ever Ate: Popsicles (King of Pops)

© 2010 – 2011, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

So Facebook changed the “fan” pages to “like” pages.  Honestly it was a bit weird asking someone to become a “fan;” kind of narcissistic, you know?

But now if you don’t “like” me, well, I can’t help but to take it personally.

*sniff sniff*

I know you don’t want to hurt my feelings (you’re good people!), so just go to Facebook.com/Funkidivagirl and click the “Like” button at the top of the page for all the funki goodness to appear in your news stream.

*Or just click the Facebook badge below.

Funkidivagirl.com

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© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.