Wig Update #2

I am 98% certain this is my hair. (And you know, the hair of my friends and family.)

Merria didn't tag me in her Instagram post, but based on the color lineup (blonde to brunette, left to right) and the texture (how cute are all those natural waves/ringlets?), I'm pretty sure this is the last step before the hair will start to get tied into the wig.

Here's are a few samples of wigs in  process. (Yeah, more posts I took from her Instagram. Obviously not my wig, but it's kind of cool to see a wig in the middle stages. ... I'm SO hoping that she does the thing with the pins to set waves into my wig!)

Now that the hair has been culled and processed (cuticles removed and chemically treated, so it will stay smooth and not get ratty), it shouldn't be that long before it starts to come together.

Stay tuned!

Wig Update #1

So...

Yesterday, I had my first skype session with my new friend wig-making friend, Merria. It was super awesome!

Since my laptop is basically a dinosaur and was created before there were cameras installed in computers, and also because I knew I was going to need another body physically present to measure my head, I went over to Jo's for the call.

Jo and Dean and Sally and Maggie and I were glued to the computer screen for almost a solid hour. It was fascinating to get to see a little bit of the backroom in a wig shop. Merria showed us what the inside of the wig looks like, the super fine lace that will line my head, and the mesh that the hair will be tied through - strand by strand. I learned that I will still be able to pull my hair into a low pony, or back in a barrette. (Hooray!) And get this, you only have to wash a wig once every three weeks. Hello! That's even better than my old 5 day rule!

Oh, and Mom... you'll be pleased (albeit very surprised, I am sure) to learn that MY HEAD IS AN AVERAGE SIZE. ... It turns out that it really was my hair that made my head appear so unspeakably large. My noggin actually measures a little on the small side of average. (Who knew?!)

Anyway... the work on the wig will start next week, and it'll take about four weeks to finish.

And the best part?! She'll be instagramming the whole process, so I can see the work as it's taking place.

I totally told her I was screen shotting her every move and would be putting it on my blog. She didn't tell me that wasn't allowed, so... I figure it's alright. Stay tuned for future pics. (It's all just so fascinating to me, and not just because it's my wig. The entire process is so precise. There are so many painstaking details, and yet... it's something that's being created, by an artist who has a vision of what it will look like in the end. It's amazing to me.)

I'm so freaking excited that the wig is actually happening (RIGHT NOW!) that I can't even tell you how happy I am.

Again, many (MANY!) thanks to all the women and children who cut their hair for me. It means more to me than I can say. Thanks for making it possible for me to get my own hair back on my head, because as much hair as I had, it wasn't enough to make a wig on my own. This is something that, literally, never would have/could have happened if I didn't have so many people who loved me enough to give me their hair. Thank you.

Three things

Tonight, I am full to the brim with happy thoughts about the city I live in.

I'm not even kidding. ... I really am.

I'm pretty sure I could go on and on about all the stuff I love (listen, when I'm all giddy and happy, I could just about EXPLODE all over people with joy), but due to time constraints (I should have been in bed an hour ago), I'll limit this list to three things I LOVE about the city I live in.

1) Tempe Town Lake

I love it.

I mean, I LOVE IT!

I drive past the lake every day on my way to and from work. I can never decide if it's prettier with the sun on the water (as it is here) or after the sun's gone down, when the twinkle lights are on the water.

2) Whatever those yellow flowering trees are...

I love those silly yellow flowers. I have NO IDEA what kind of trees those are, but I know they're everywhere. And I love them. I love that I get yellow flower dust in my hair when I walk down the street. I love that little yellow flowers fall down into my car if I leave my window open for 30 minutes. I LOVE THEM!

And, tonight, I realized that, even in the dark, those little flowers are just... well... perfect.

3) Classic movies in the theater.

I love that I live no more than two miles away from two different theaters, and that BOTH those theaters run classic film series. Last week, when I was home visiting with Uncle John, he mentioned that he's seen The Sound of Music a dozen times - and at least half of those were in a theater. ... I countered with I HAVE NO IDEA how many times I've seen The Sound of Music, but I do know that I've seen it TWICE in a theater. (No small feat for someone of my generation, I like to think.)

I'm so grateful for the opportunities I have had to see movies that I love - movies from my childhood and adolescence - on a big screen again.

There are few things that I love like I love going to the movies, and when the movie that you're going to see is as familiar as an old glove... well, that somehow makes it even better.

Tomorrow, tomorrow... I love ya, tomorrow. You're only a day away!

Don't mind me channeling Annie there for a minute.

It's because I'm so excited for tomorrow that I can hardly stand myself.

Why, you ask?

Because.... TOMORROW is the day that I fly to California for the Ball Cousin Baking Retreat!

Fourteen women, two little babies and a whole lot of baked goods (all under one roof) = ONE FABULOUS WEEKEND.

Here's a little sneak peek at the shopping list:

Flour - 25 lbs
Sugar - 16 cups
Powdered Sugar - 11 cups
Eggs - 4 dozen
Cocoa - 2 1/2 cups
Heavy Cream - 3 cups
Butter - 5 lbs

That's a heck of a lot of cousin bonding goodness right there, kids.

I'm so excited that I can hardly stand myself! (And now that I've told the www about it, I'm thinking maybe I can muster up the self-control to make myself pack. Wish me luck!)

Starting to feel a little more like me...

It's Cinco de Mayo, people!

Ole!

Do you see those cute little sombrero sugar cookies up there? I made them with my own two hands.

That's right.

I made sugar cookies.

Something I hadn't done (outside of the batch I made for Dr. H last year to make him love me) since December 2010.

It doesn't matter to me that I made the frosting and the cookie dough on different days (I have a hard time standing for very long, esp when part of that standing is going to be spent bent half over), and it also doesn't matter to me that by the time I'm done baking/frosting the cookies, I need to take a nap to recover enough to wipe off the counters and do the dishes.

I don't care how long it took the make, bake and decorate the cookies. I don't care that my counters may or may not have had flour and cookie crust on them for over 24 hours before I got up the gumption to clean them.

I made sugar cookies.

It's been almost a year since my last surgery. I'd love to blame Dr. G for taking my energy out of me (right along with the slew of organs he removed), but the reality is, I never got strong enough after my second surgery (in March 2011) to go back to baking the way I used to.

It's not a double batch of rolls or whole wheat homemade bread (like I used to do on any given weekend), but it's more than opening a box of cereal or boiling a pot of noodles, which is all I've been able to do for months.

I'm nowhere near the cook I used to be. I still get tired, and I have to work in increments, but... it's AWESOME that I'm starting to feel a little more like the old me!

Stats

Here's fun fact about me: I loooooove numbers. As in, raw data.

I do. I love numbers.

It's totally nerdy, but I love to see percentages and stats. I like to know how things break down. (It's one of the things about me that makes me really good at my job: I can do interest accrual calculations all day long and never get bored - or frustrated - because I truly enjoy calculating a per diem, down to a fraction of a cent.)

What I'm saying is, no one loves a pie chart more than I do.

So, you know I'm going to be totally enamoured of the new stats tab that Blogger has tracking my online life.

Get this:

That's right. It's, like, 8:30 in the morning and I've had 32 page views. I'm not sure exactly who wakes up on a Saturday morning and decides they should go online and read about my new food rules. But thank you, whoever you are, for your time. (All 32 of you.) I appreciate your dedication to reading my weird posts more than I can say.

And speaking of how I don't know who's reading my blog first thing on a Saturday morning, please allow me to show you what countries people are reading my blog in:

How fun is that?!

I mean, I knew I had a US readership. (Most of my friends and family do live in the continental United States, so that totally tracks.) But that number is higher than I'd have thought it would be.

I know a couple in Russia (Tom Wing!) on a mission for my church, but I have no idea who the other 12 are. I have a cousin in England, so that's one of the UK kids, but I don't know who the rest of you are. I have a friend from home whose husband is stationed in Germany, but that's only one person. South Korea?! SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! I didn't know that South Korea knew I existed! Mexico is my aunt and uncle (again, on a mission for our church). I didn't know that I had one single fan in the Ukraine. ... It turns out that I do.

I feel so glamorous, what with all of these people all over the world reading my blog. (Maybe it's to make fun of me and how I had to make a rule to eat fruit every day. I don't even care.) Over the summer, I had some readers in Australia and Canada who seem to have disappeared. ... Or maybe they moved to South Korea and Germany. And multiplied.

I'm just so glad that you all have taken an interest in my life.

Speaking of which...

Do you see the sudden spike in page views between 2/28 and 3/2?

Heh heh heh.

That would be March 1st. Also known as The Big Reveal.

It made me laugh out loud when I saw the jump on the day that I showed the world what my dreamy doctor looks like. (Also, I did report a clean scan that day. I'd like to think that one or two of those readers came to check on my current cancer status. But hey, I get that most of you wanted to know what Dr. H looks like. I just wish I could figure out how to turn the comments back on so we could talk about it amongst ourselves.)

Raw data. Stats. Numbers. Percentages. Fractions.

I love all of these things. ... Also, I love you. All of you. Whoever you are, wherever you are. Thank you for making time for me (and my craziness) in your life.

The Big Reveal

Behold:

Dr. H.

It's a bit of a bummer that he isn't smiling. (Dude has a wicked smile.) But at least this gives you all an idea of what I'm talking about.

His hair's a little longer than this now, and it's sort of wavy. When he gets surprised (say, when a patient tells him that she's been blogging for years - and specifically, writing about how dreamy her single oncologist is for the last several  months - and then asks if she can put his picture on her blog so her followers can see what he looks like), his eyes get wide and his eyebrows go up. And then he laughs and says "Sure, you can put my picture online." Its pretty adorable.

His condition was that I link it to his match.com profile.

I'm sorry, but... WHAT does that man think he needs Match for?! Hello. No, that's not happening. And I told him so, in a rather screechy voice. (I've been told men love to be screeched at, so I'm sure that was enjoyable for him.)

In semi-related news, he did not say no to Sunday dinner. He didn't say yes, either, but he didn't say no. (Does anybody else see a pattern here?)

Jo had sent a formal invite by way of a text to my phone that I handed to him and made him read.

Dr. H,

I hope that you will give us the pleasure of your company by accepting our invitation to Sunday dinner. We would love to have you.

Sincerely,

Jo and family

He took my phone number, and is going to look at his schedule and let me know what Sunday will work for him. That's right, he had me write my phone number down for him.

Also, he had me write......

The blog address.

So he can read  my blog. 

A normal person would be mortified right now. I, of course, am not. In fact, I think it's kind of hilarious that he wants to read what I've written about him. (And you can be darn sure I told him to look up June 16, 2012. That is, after all, the post that went viral and let 2,500 people know that I had a crush on my oncologist. It seemed fitting. ... Plus, it's pretty much the best thing I've ever written.) I figure how much harm can it do for him to read the silliness about him that gets chronicled here, when he knows darn good and well that I think he's dreamy and have designs on his future? In fact, we got into what could lightly be called an argument today over whether or not he could afford to marry me and pay for my life. Effective Tuesday. ... He's willing to cover my scans. I say his insurance would cover my scans, and he can cover everything else. ... Don't worry, kids, we'll work that out. Probably not before Tuesday, though, so don't hold your breath.)

Speaking of Dr. H reading my blog, he asked if he would be able to comment. My gut is that he's gong to want to refute whatever it is that I say, but on the off chance that he wants to write something about how funny I am, what a great writer I am, how much he enjoys my visits, or that he's thought about it, and maybe he can fit me (and my bills) into the rest of his life, I am going to open comment functionality back up.

That's right, people. You will be allowed to comment once again.

And before you give me any crap about making special conditions for one person, let me just say... I would have done it for Nathan Fillion, if he'd asked. So there.

(Besides, this gives you all an open forum to discuss how dreamy he is. Oh, and did you know the man cures cancer? ... Ups the ante a bit, doesn't it?)

Also, my scan was clean. The Tootsie Roll looks very much the same, only more like scar tissue. Whatever that means. ... I'll take it!

This day gets gold stars, all the way around!

October 13

This past week, I received notice that the website for the upcoming LDS Phoenix/Mesa Singles Conference was up and running. This morning, I got the email with the schedule of the speakers.

It is official. It is in print. It is online. ... And now I feel like I can publicly talk about this thing that I have been SO EXCITED about for the last several weeks.

Back in August, I got a phone call from my good friend, Charla, who is on the committee behind the workshops for the conference, asking me if I would be willing to do at least one - with the possibility of more - workshops for the singles conference. Because I have a personality disorder that renders me a fool who actually enjoys (read: loves) public speaking, I jumped at the chance to both help her fill some speaking gaps and tell a small portion of the world my story. (Who loves a captive audience? This girl!)

The theme for the conference is: An Abundant Life, taken from John 10:10: "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

The workshop theme is paraphrased from a talk given by Pres Thomas S. Monson:

"Just as we learned the ABC's in school, I offer my own ABC's to help us all gain the abundant life:

A is for having a positive ATTITUDE
B is for BELIEVE in yourself
C is for facing challenges with COURAGE"

I was asked to speak specifically in the capacity of Cancer Girl, to share experiences that I have had in living with - and through - the cancer. I was asked to provide a professional bio and a workshop summary (which was tricky, as I ... uh ... thought it might a little too smart-alecky to use the words "I am a professional cancer survivor" in a bio - oh, and I hadn't written my talk yet ... still haven't, btw).

Charla named the course: "Candid Quips from Cancer Girl: Facing obstacles with humor, candor, and love."

My somehow-brief-and-at-the-same-time-very-wordy bio:

I've been fighting cancer off and on for over two years now. While it has been hard, at times, to declare a true winner in the war of Me v. Cancer, I am currently ahead with a full three months of being tumor-free. I love butter, bacon, good chocolate and tall men.

Synopsis of my presentation:

One of the - very few and far between - gifts of cancer is that is has shown me who and what is of most importance in my life: friends, family, the gospel, humor (when you can't beat something, you need to be able to laugh in its face!) and love. I am so grateful for the clarity that being sick has given me, for my faith, for my support system, for my life.

To see the conference info, click here. (If you want to check out my own personal page, go to Workshop Speakers and click on my pretty little face and it will expand. You'll notice that Charla beefed up my not-so-professional bio and mentioned my everlasting love for both my people and my hometown. She's awesome like that.)

I am so far beyond thrilled at the opportunity to share some of my experiences - from diagnosis to surgery to the miracle of the fundraisers, etc. - with a group of singles from my church, that I can't even begin to explain how I feel. Being asked to speak, and specifically about this thing that has changed me and has brought a deeper awareness and gratitude for all that is good in my life, is both humbling and exciting for me.

I'm torn between having ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what I'll say and knowing that I could talk for HOURS about the exceedingly low lows and high highs that the last two years have brought.

At the end of the day, I am grateful. Grateful for this opportunity to speak in such a forum. Grateful for my life. (Literally. Grateful for my life.) Grateful for all of the people in it, whether they live around the corner, over a state line, across the country, or on another continent. I lead a charmed life - well, except for the cancer thing - and I'm so looking forward to having an opportunity to share even a little bit of that gratitude with a live audience.

It's less than a week away. It's public information. It is print, and it is online. ... I am officially giddy.

As always, a big thank you goes out to my readers - the original 13, and all the new kids on the block, too - for putting up with my parenthetical comments, my run-on (and fragmented) sentences and the general loony-bird style in which I write. Thank you for having an interest in my well-being, in my life.

I have always maintained that I write for myself. It is cathartic. It helps me process. ... Oh, and I love having an outlet that is sometimes sarcastic, sometimes sappy and sometimes downright silly. ... But you, my dear readers, have not only read what I have written, but you  have also shared my stories with your friends - some of whom are now my friends, too. Because I have written what I felt/thought/ate/drank etc., over the past several months, my four tumors and I have had exposure that we would not have had otherwise; and that exposure has put me on the radar of countless more people than I ever would have thought would have an interest in the details of my life.

I started this blog for fun, on a whim, several years ago at the insistence of some girlfriends. It has turned into a lifeline, and has brought more blessings - and more people, and more love - into my life than I ever could have imagined it would. (And, as you well know, I have one heck of an imagination. So, that's saying something.)

I am, as always, so grateful for the ways in which the www has brought me closer to the people that I love, and I am so looking forward to seeing how this opportunity to speak at this conference, with this subject matter, will continue to change things in my life. (Fingers crossed that there'll be at least one tall, single, bacon-loving gentleman in the audience who'll have reeeeeeally good medical benefits and a burning desire to take care of a cancer patient for the rest of her life. ... A girl can always hope, right?)

The best part of the "no chemo" news?

I could (FINALLY!) cut my hair.



It had been too long for a while, but on the off chance that I'd need it for a wig, I felt the need to keep it long and flowing.

But guess what? No chemo = no need for a wig made of my own hair. Which translates directly into "chop, chop!". Six inches, gone.

I am, once again, overwhelmed at the thickness and curliness of my hair. (It's not like it's thin and wispy when it's long, but when it's short? HOLY MOLY, I have a ton of hair. A ton of unruly hair, to be more precise.) Some day I'll actually curl it, or take a round brush to it and it'll look a little more "done", but for now this'll do.

It's short. I'm happy. The End.

Reason #743 why I love Joe Fox. (F-O-X.)

Joe Fox is pretty much the most perfect internet chat room BF of all time. Why? Because he knows when his mango's ripe. (Don't mind me. That was just a little inside, once-you've-seen-it-1,439-times-you-can-throw-lines-like-that-out-in-your-sleep, joke. I can't help myself. Sorry, there I go again. Thank your, ladies and gentlemen, thank your. ... Again. Sorry. I'll stop now, I promise.)

Anyhoo, it's no secret that I love this movie. (It's only been one of the two predictable contenders in Laurie's List of Top Five Movies Ever for ... oh, I don't know, forever.) I love Joe. I love his humor, his witty banter and depreciating humor. I love his empire (a man who owns stock in a book store? oh, be still my beating heart) and I love him for his caviar garnish stealing ways.

But one of the things I love best about Joe is that he read Pride & Prejudice because Kathleen Kelly told him that she loved it.



Oh, Joe. I love you, and if anyone but Kathleen had ended up with you, I would be beside myself.

The End.

Have I ever told you how much I love sweet potatoes?

I haven't? Well, shame on me for keeping my love for all things sweet potato hidden under a bushel.

I'm going to make that up to the sweet potato here and now by writing them a poem:

Sweet Potato

I love you so.
I love you made into french fries.
I love you baked.
It mattereth not to me whether you are salted and peppered or covered in brown sugar, as long as you are smothered in butter first.
I love you salty.
I love you sweet.
Basically, I just love you.
So much.


Now that you know my love of the fair sweet potato, you can imagine how much this made me drool. (Both figuratively, and - I'm sorry to say - literally.)

Be still, my beating heart. (And gushing taste buds.) I think I may have found the holy grail of all sweet potato recipes. (Can I get some back up on wanting to substitute cream for the milk? Anyone? ... Anyone?)

Uh, yeah. I'll be making these this weekend. (You know, when I'm not working 10 hour days and I have time to cook delicious food and enjoy life again. Until then, it's Cereal-For-All-Meals-R-Us here at Casa de la Laurie.)

The End.

Today, I'm eating like it's October.

So what if it's a sunny 88 degrees outside, the birds are singing and the winter grass is just starting to come in? I decided I was going to act like it was October today.



That's right. I made stew. In my magical pan. (I heart this pan. And Santa, who gave it to me.) I had to turn the A/C down (and the ceiling fan on) so I wouldn't overheat while eating - thankyouverymuch - two bowls of the stuff, but it was worth it. You just can't beat the warm and delicious feeling of stew in October.

*Oh, and yeah, I know, that's not the most appetizing picture of food you've ever seen in your life. There's a reason I'm not a food blogger, people. When lunch is ready, and it looks and smells delicious, I'd rather eat it than take a break and photograph it. So, what you get is a picture of a pan that used to be full of stew.

**Also, I'd like to state for the record that Millie and I have a lot on common: My stew can stand on its own two feet, too. (112 points to the first person who can call out the name of the movie I just referenced.)

I don't care if they're funeral flowers

I love them.

I really do.

I always have.

(And the fact that I could get 10 stems for $4 at Safeway sure didn't hurt.)

Aren't they lovely?

I heart fresh flowers.

The End.

For my cousins - name that fabric

*Disclaimer: I know, I look more than a little like a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup in this pic. It was the apron I was going for when the photo shoot took place, so I moved my arms back and out of the way. Who knew that act was gonna make me look like a giant, full color, life-sized bottle of mapley goodness? I mean, who knew?!

Aunt Jemima aside, it's the apron that's the focus here. Why? Because I am a braggart. I have a new apron, and I had to show it off my cousins. I'll give 117 Cousin Points to the first family member who correctly guesses the origin and age of the fabric here. (And Julie doesn't count as an entry, because she made me this fabulous thing, and knows exactly where the floral beauty came from.)

Here's a hint: I've been instructed to sing "Do, Re, Mi" whenever I wear it (which I have done, thankyouverymuch), as that's the song you sing when you wear clothes made out of these.

... And now I'm oddly wanting to watch The Sound of Music and have a sing along. I think I will. Singing is good exercise for my diaphragm - and we all know that my stomach muscles need all the help they can get these days.

So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, adieu (for now, anyway).

YouTube, I love you so...

We all know that I have a love affair with YouTube that borders on the ridiculous, but here's the thing. I'm still waiting for all the digits to come on my celeb phone list, so I need something to do in the middle of the night when I'm up and I don't have anyone to call.

Behold, a ridiculously long preview for The Deathly Hallows:



I'm so excited that I can hardly stand myself!

On the upside, the music was somehow soothing and I think that now I can go to sleep. (Here's hoping any dreams that may be inspired by this little beauty will be full of Fred and George, and that Bellatrix will stay far, far away.)

Jane rocks the 3 piece suit

Here is a true story from my real life.

I went and saw Ironman 2 with some of my favorite people a few days ago and though the whole movie, I had this niggling feeling that something was wrong. It was hard for me to put my finger on it, but after some time (read: after multiple scenes with Hammer in them), it came to me.

Dudes, the 3 piece suit is only a genius wardrobe call when it's Mr. Patrick Jane sporting the look. On anyone else, it is... well... foppish.



The End.

For more true stories from my real life, stay tuned. You never know what my wacky brain's gonna come up with next.

This makes me want to break out in song/dance...

I'm not even kidding.



It doesn't matter how many times I've seen this little beauty, every time someone forwards it to me, I watch it again. (And now I'm posting it here, like it doesn't make enough forwarded email rounds on its own.)

This makes me so happy that I want to sing and dance. (It also makes me want to go to Belgium and hang out in a train station, just to see if I can catch a repeat/live performance.) I'm such a sap about this movie (and this song, in particular) that it makes me tear up when the first couple starts dancing. ... Ahhhh, the tears of joy brought on my Do Re Mi, those are hard to beat, man.

I hope you folks like this even 1/10th as much as I do.

I love these puppies...

I really do. They're delish.

And I don't even like dried fruit, so I really can't explain why I'm so drawn to these little guys. (Except that they're dried fruit, dipped in two different kinds of chocolate. So, really, maybe that explains it all right there.)

If you've never had these, you must try them. You can get them in the candy aisle at the WalMart for about $3. (And if you don't like them, you can drop your opened bag off at my house. I'll be happy to finish them off for you. I know, I'm such a giver.)

Victory is mine!

There are few things in life that thrill me more than peeling an orange (a softball sized orange, not a Cutie) in one peel. (Though I will be honest and say that's part of the charm of Cuties, that I can always get the peel off in one piece.)

Check this out. I love it when I can work off a whole orange peel in one piece. I mean, I LOVE IT!

Book Signings: a place for making new friends & semi-stalkerish behavior...

So... I know my last post was about the PW book signing, which was last Thursday, and it's a little boring to do two posts in a row about the exact same thing, but hey... I'm her #1 fan, (and my two new friends from the signing posted pics on FB over the weekend, which I'm now feeling the need to share with the world - or, at the very least, my own little corner of the www). That being said, sit back and I'll show you some pics - and give you some commentary - that I hope won't bore you to tears and make you never want to come back and see me again.


I'll start here with a pic of Ree and me. (Ree and me. Doesn't that have such a great sound, kind of like we're best friends? Yeah... I'm pretty sure we'd be super tight if she knew me in real life.)

Speaking of how sure I am that we'd be best friends if she knew me in real life... here's a still-life of the part of the night where I was trying to convince her that she'd love me if she really knew me. (Yeah, I'm not even kidding. I told her that I knew we'd be best friends if we knew each other in real life. I told her that I know I can come off a bit like a stalker, but it's just my natural enthusiasm - that I'm not dangerous, just excited.)

And here's where I told her about how she really (REALLY) should invite my cousin Julie and me to the ranch. I told her that we love butter, that we're super funny, and that we both really want to come and see the lodge.

You can tell, by the look on her face, that she was intrigued with my story of how much I wanted to come to Oklahoma. I'll bet she really wanted to just pack me in her suitcase and take me home with her, but she didn't want to hurt the feelings of the other 627 women who'd come to her signing and take only me home with her. (Even if I was one of the few single women at the signing. I'm talking the kind of single woman who could set up house with Cowboy Josh and be the kind of neighbor she could call whenever she wanted to borrow some butter, garlic, cream cheese and/or taragon from.) It's so sad that she didn't want to crush the other women... by now, I could be home on the ranch. (Totally just had a little song-fest here in my apartment. I know the words are "home, home on the range" - but just now I busted into "home, home on the ranch" and had to giggle. Oh, dear. I'm an embarrassment to my own self.)

Here's a shot of me and my giddy grin while she signs my book.

And here's a list of some of the things I said while I was talking to her, that I am now more than a little bit mortified about:

Ree said - "I love your hair!"

I said - "I love YOU!"

Ree asked - "How do you want me to sign your book?"

I answered - "You can say that you love my hair. Or not. You can write whatever the heck you want, I won't care. I love you that much. ... Tell you what, you write in my book that you love my hair, and when I write a book and you come to my book signing, I'll write that I love yours."

I also said:

I'm your #1 fan. No, really. I am. ... But not in a stalkery way, don't worry.

I love YOUR hair!

I want you to invite me to the ranch.

No, really, I know it's not appropriate to invite myself... but I really (REALLY) want to come.

And a bunch of other embarrassing things that I've luckily blocked. ... I'm telling you, I was giddy and I was sleep deprived. Not a winning combination, as far as me behaving like a cultured, refined, well-bred lady, if you know what I mean.

Since PW didn't invite me to the ranch, I took my sales pitch (oh, and my needing-their-autographs cookbook) to Nan and Missy. You can see that they enjoyed me. I told them, "Imagine how much you'd like having me around the ranch - get Ree to invite me, okay?". (Yeah, I only wish I were kidding. I really said that to them.)

While we were talking - and laughing (I'm telling you, we had a good time) - height came up. It turns out Missy is 5'9" and Nan is 5'10" - but Missy was wearing heels, so she appeared to be over 6'. Nan came out to measure up against my 5'10", but I got giddy and made this STUPID face and bent over like a freak of nature who had so much excitement in her body that she couldn't hold still. (I'm, even now, before I post this, regretting putting this picture online, because I look like such a freak... but hey, you all love me, right? ... Erm, maybe don't answer that right away.)

And because this post wouldn't be complete without a nod to the women I met and friended at the party - I mean signing - that night, here's an introduction to my new friends...

This is Susan and Sharon (yeah, I know, Susan and Sharon, like in The Parent Trap ... I knew we were destined to be friends forever when I knew their names). They are a mother/daughter combination, and just so much fun. Susan (the mom) learned how to cook from her grandmother and is making a blog with step-by-step pictures (ala PW) for her daughter, so the family recipes will live on. Isn't that fabulous?

Here's Carolina with Nan. Carolina's a mom to two little kids and she wishes she didn't have so much tile in her house, because she hates sweeping and mopping. She prefers laundry to sweeping. I can't imagine preferring laundry to any household chore - but I instantly liked Carolina. (It's because we're fellow PW fans, I'm sure.)

And here are my friends Monique and Missy. (Okay, so what if Missy wouldn't remember my name? ... But I'll bet she'd remember I was the tall girl who laughed loud enough to bring the house down, right? I can only hope she tells Cowboy Josh all about me.) Monique had the most fabulous sparkly eye-liner (you know how I feel about sparkles - I knew we were kindred spirits before she even talked). We're both intent on making the mushrooms on page 202. I'm gonna go out and buy some red wine tomorrow for that very purpose. I'm not even kidding.

Seriously. The. Most. Fun. Night. Ever.

I love PW.

I love making new friends.

I love my life.

The End.