Wheel Spinning

I try to lead a productive life. This is what it gets me:



I turn my back to, say, scrub a toilet (hypothetically). Or to pluck my eyebrows, which have, sound the alarm, grown together in the middle of my forehead from neglect. Or to stand in front of my closet wondering how, exactly, I came to Spring 2010 with not one weather-appropriate shirt that is fit to be worn in public. And in those precious, fleeting moments, one or more of my children starts to weep, needs help applying rubber cement to his or her eyelids (!) or spills an entire, full box of cereal on the stairs.

And still we press on, don't we? Trying to get something accomplished during the daylight hours? Here are a few of the items I cannot seem to scratch off my list:
~Editing a manuscript about a quirky girl and an Amish boy, to be released next spring. Incidentally, the Amish are woefully productive, as is my friend and fellow writer, Erik Wesner, who just released his book on the Amish. Check out his book and his fascinating blog and further decrease your productivity but have MUCH more fun than organizing your silverware drawer.
~I've been getting some speaking things together for The Sweet Life this Friday (Come on out to Connxions, Des Moines girls! There will be chocolate!) and some upcoming fun in Austin, Texas, and Sioux City, Iowa.
~And I've REALLY been trying to pluck my eyebrows with more regularity. It boggles the mind how quickly one can go from looking sufficiently groomed to the female counterpart to a Yeti.



What are you up to? What happens when you turn your back these days? Anybody else in need of one of those weird vacuums that follow you around like a stray cat, picking up your messes? How's the productivity quotient out there?

In Glowing Terms

I had coffee with Anita Renfroe last weekend. Do you know this woman? You might have seen her Momsense song on YouTube. Or heard her spots on Good Morning America. Or read about her in the New York Times. Or laughed yourself to painful sensations listening to her at Woman of Faith. Anita and I write for the same publisher and met through the book bih-nuss. Let me assure you, she is the real deal. Smart, funny, kind to minions like me, AND she has great skin.



This photo does not do it justice. When I look at this photo, I have a hard time getting past the WIDTH and BREADTH of my forehead. Mammoth. I also get distracted by the beginnings of double chin. Forehead-y and chin-y. Sweet.

If you can get past those issues, and I have faith you can, you need to look at Anita's skin. It is phenomenal. Clear of any signs of problem areas, shiny spots, and altogether glow-emitting. And this was after two solid days of speaking to a crowd of 7000 Women of Faith goers! I get cold sores after watching athletic competitions WHEN NO ONE CAN SEE ME, people. I can't imagine the riotous shape of my skin after public speaking in an arena equipped with hot dog vendors.

So she has great skin. And she's very patient with people who can't get over it. Anita promises I, too, could glow if I could only move to Atlanta and become a client of her "facialist". I don't think I'd know a "facialist" if she hit me in the T-zone, but Anita assured me I would because her facialist is a Hungarian woman who beats the living daylights out of a tense facial muscle and can tighten even the most stubborn pore. I think Anita talked about other stuff, like what it's like to film the pilot of a sitcom and what she's thinking about the book industry and what it feels like to fly to four cities in the space of one week. But all I could think of was how soon I could get to Atlanta to track down the Hungarian woman and let her get to WORK.

Now that I've seen this photo, however, I might have to wait. The forehead alone is going to require a special kind of "facialist," one who can see beyond the vast, untethered landscape and right to the well-intentioned heart.

I'm off to exfoliate, but you should visit Anita's site. Watch the video clips and check back, because I saw the first bit of her not-yet-released cover of Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Anita's version: "Wrinkled Ladies."

Not that she'd know anything about that.

Lessons Learned

Well, it's over. All the glory, all the drama, all the weeping people who'd just like to thank God, their parents, and Red Bull. I'm older and wiser after this Olympiad, and I'll take this chance to share the lessons learned.

Number One: We should host next time around.



Do you see the cement at the bottom of the pile? That's our driveway. Do you see the child at the mountain's summit? That's my Mitch, who would like to take up aerial skiing or snowboarding, whichever involves pizza and chicken nuggets in the winnings.

Number Two: Speed skating is too stressful for my constitution.



(I don't remember anyone looking like these two at the Olympics, but they do have admirably feathery hair. Counts for something.) After the first night of watching Apolo Ohno and the Koreans come close to knife fights, Marc couldn't get to sleep for two hours and I sprouted a cold sore. A SPEED SKATING COLD SORE, people. So Marc made the rule (he loves rules) of no speed skating after 9 pm Central Time.

Also, speed skaters are built like T-rexes.


And I mean that with all respect, by the way.

Number Three: Olympians are a rare breed. I understand that technically they are human beings, but they are a tidge crazy. The commentators cracked me up when they'd read down the litany of struggles and ailments preceding the Games. One of my favorites: "So-and-so has had a great year of skiing. You know, she blew out both knees and broke her jaw at the beginning of the season but she's been skiing GREAT."

I can identify because I started skiing up to my potential only after I broke my jaw and my kneecaps. And I write WAY better novels after surgery. Surgery and near-death falls on mountainsides.

Speaking of writing, my manuscript of The Next One (not its real title) is in the able hands of my brilliant editor, which is best because I have a lot of make-up laundry and dusting after the Olympics. Literature is so distracting. But don't worry-- I'll be more focused after my jaw's feeling better.

p.s. For those of you living in Host City Des Moines: Come to Connxions Friday, March 26, for a night out! The Sweet Life is what they're calling it and I know COPIOUS amounts of high quality chocolate will be consumed. Also, I'm one of the speakers and I promise I won't wear my speed skating unitard. You have my word.