Jan. 14 - "And then Usher taught me this move..."

Today I learned that this happened:

I just couldn't keep the awkwardness to myself. You're welcome.

Jan. 13 - As the Page Turns

Today I learned that just when you feel younger than ever, Old smacks you in the face.

I celebrated my 40th birthday last year and, unlike my 30th, I welcomed this milestone with open flabby arms and joyful exaltation - I am WOMAN! I am FULL OF VITALITY! I have MY WHOLE LIFE STILL AHEAD OF ME! Maybe it was the wine, or the weekend at Universal Studios, complete with a visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

But I digress... The point is, I feel really good about my life at this age. I'm doing what I love professionally (writing) and personally (raising my family) and striking a great balance between the two. I'm not at my skinniest, but I'm still reasonably fit and can keep up with daily life. It'd be great to have a little more comfort financially, but we're far from broke and we still have our health. For that alone, I am grateful.

But I'm putting together a proposal for an article I'd like to publish in Redbook. This is my favorite magazine, kind of a combination between Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping and People. It has a little of everything - they way I prefer life to be - and for many years I have enjoyed reading it. So it's no surprise that I fit their target demographic perfectly.

So this morning I look at the Writers' Guidelines and the first sentence reads:

REDBOOK is targeted to women between the ages of 25 and 45 who define themselves as smart, capable, and happy with their lives.

Whoa.

I'm merely a few years away from NOT being a part of that cherished advertising range.

I know it does not matter in the practical sense. Redbook will not cancel my subscription. I will still enjoy the articles and benefit from them. I know I'm only as old as my mind will let me feel, blah blah blah. And tomorrow I totally won't care.

It's just a reminder that, not unlike my waistline, my relevance is fading with age. It's one of those little turning points of life that makes you think, or reassess your life.

Or just ramble on with a blog about it.

Jan. 12 - The End of an Era

Today I learned that the pain of losing a friend is far worse when it happens to your own kid.

The neighbors across the street are moving out of state tonight. They have four kids - three boys and a girl - all of whom mesh incredibly well with my own children and the few other kids who live in our small neighborhood. It was especially nice for my daughter, since there were no other girls around to play with on a regular basis. Their arrival two years ago made her jump for joy that she finally had someone to call on. The two became almost sister-like, both in their affection for each other and the squabbles they had.

What followed in the next couple of years was something the likes of which I haven't seen since my own childhood - a bona fide neighborhood gang that harkened back to the days when the word "gang" didn't make people shudder. The boys ran between houses and shouted down the road at each other during endless games of Manhunt (glorified Hide and Seek, pretty much), while the girls made up songs and dances and drew with chalk on the street. They gathered together on driveways for impromptu after-parties during New Years Eve or the Fourth of July. Everyone from the six-year-old girl to the sophomore in high school played summer kickball games together, not stopping even when the sun had set and the ball could barely be seen.

In reading that, I wonder who's more bummed - the kids, or me.

But I know it's heartbreaking for them. It's always sad when a friend moves away; I saw a few of those back in my day. But when you see your kids go through the same heartbreak - when you hold your daughter as she sobs because her neighbor-sister won't call on her this weekend, and when your son mopes because there are no longer enough kids for Manhunt - it hurts a thousand times worse.

I know they'll be fine. I always was. But it's going to be a tough few days.

Jan. 11 - I'd like to buy a clue, Pat...

Today I learned that I still don't have the answer to an ages-old question, at least for me.

I was watching Wheel of Fortune tonight. Hey, remember waaaaay back when Wheel first came on and you could go shopping with the money you won? Once you solved a puzzle, they would give you a total and then the camera would pan over a rotating set filled with prizes - furniture, jewelry, trips (usually they'd frame a photo of the destination and caption it), all of which had price tags on them. And they'd have the camera shot of the contestant in one corner, naming her selections, as if she was actually hovering over everything herself. I wish they still did that.

Tangent. Sorry.

As you probably know, you get money for each consonant you guess correctly in the puzzle. But you have to "buy" vowels - they deduct a pre-set amount of money from what you've earned. So you only want to buy a vowel if you need help figuring things out, right? Makes sense to me, anyway.

Then why on God's green earth do people who obviously know the answer still buy vowels? Come on, now. The topic is "Place" and the board says "L_ND_N, EN_L_ND" - do you seriously need the vowels to solve this (or at least figure out that the last consonant is a G)? Are you confused that it might be "LINDIN, ENZLOND" instead?

It's especially fun to see when people do that and then try to make up their losses with another spin - at which time they hit BANKRUPT and everything goes out the window. Then the next contestant with absolutely nothing in the bank spins one time, hits the $5000 space, calls out that G and solves the puzzle.

Am I missing something here? And am I the only Austin Powers fan who can't read the above phrase without internally saying "London, Eng-a-land"?

Jan. 10 - Born with a lucite spoon in her mouth

Today I learned yet another meaning for the word "luxury."

By now most of us know that a few days ago, Beyonce and Jay-Z welcomed their first child into the world - a baby girl named Blue Ivy Carter. I've never been a fan of either parent's music, but I can respect that both are talented, hardworking people in a solid marriage. And these people are so rich that this kid will likely shit gold bricks and want for nothing. So in all sincerity - Mazel Tov, you crazy kids.

Little details have since emerged about the blessed event - the kind of birth, the celebrity well-wishes, the alleged closure of an entire wing of Lenox Hill Hospital. But none so absolutely awesome as this:

Courtesy of US Weekly's website... this is the lucite crib that the happy parents have purchased for their daughter. And it costs $3500.

No, I'm not going to begrudge them spending that much on a crib. They earned their money fair and square, and they already raise/donate millions of dollars for worthy causes. A sum that big is fitting for a 2200-square-foot nursery (as is detailed by a "source"). Knock yourselves out, Carter family.

I just think while it's not my personal taste, it's fabulously intriguing for many reasons - all of which I will present in a point-counterpoint format. (Mind you, not all of these are serious. I'm not an idiot.)

1) POINT - There are some conveniences. For one, it's much easier to see the baby. And it's probably easier for the baby to see out as well. That's pretty neat.

2) COUNTERPOINT - What if the baby can't see the slats? Are there any studies done on the dangers of this? Could the baby move forward, thinking her path is unobstructed, and crash into the bars like a bird that doesn't see a sliding glass door?

3) POINT - Clear lucite will match any paint, trim or bedding colors. Again, quite convenient.

4) COUNTERPOINT - That thing is gonna be a bitch to keep clean. Can you imagine how easily fingerprints and drool will show up? Not to mention that the most popular use I've seen for clear lucite is stripper heels. Do we really want to instill a love for this material so early? Will the playroom have a firehouse pole and a lighted stage?

5) POINT - This crib likely has nice smooth edges, which is very safe for the teething little ones. Bonus design point - it's probably firm enough to not show teeth marks.

6) COUNTERPOINT - Apparently the main ingredient in lucite is petroleum. Yum. Sure makes me want to nosh on that siderail.

And on a side note - what's up with the playground balls in the picture? Have babies developed a fondness for crib dodgeball tournaments?

Enjoy the new digs, Blue Ivy. And if you don't like how they arranged your room, you can always ask your mom to move that crib - to the left, to the left...

Jan. 9 - A champion is crowned. And there was much rejoicing. Yay.

Today I learned that if I never hear the words "honey badger" again, I will die a happy woman.

I didn't terribly care who won tonight's BCS cash cow championship game between Alabama and LSU. I preferred the Tigers mainly because I love their crazy ass fans. On one particular band trip in college, a three-year-old kid dressed in purple and gold chased us through the parking lot (while we were in uniform) shouting "TAAAHHHGER BAIT! TAAAHHHGER BAIT!" at the top of his lungs. The sheer gumption of this kid, combined with the shit-eating grin on his face and the laughter of his parents, were almost as entertaining as the kids in the Quarter who asked us "Where you got your shoes?" (By the way, the answer to that is "I got my shoes on Bourbon Street" - or else you owe them five bucks, and you damn well better pay.) So yeah - love them Tigers.

Overall, though, I didn't care because either way the SEC is taking home yet another corporate money haul national championship. And you can't put a price on that. Well, okay. You can.

But after spending most of the game half-asleep on the couch due to a nasty cold that won't go away, I realized that had I been healthy... I would have slept anyway. I can appreciate two excellent defenses, but I'll take an early-90s Gator scorefest over two teams that manage one touchdown over eight quarters of play.

So I enjoyed my doze on the couch. Yet even through my haze of congestion, I heard it again and again.

Honey badger.

Punctuating my sleepy state in Brent Musburger's irritating, fake-folksy staccato, the words cut through my brain like Al Gore's "lock box." At one point he used it four times in a span of about 30 seconds. And immediately after my husband yelled at the TV for that, Musburger added another for good measure.

Honey badger.

Look, I know Tyrann Mathieu got the moniker for his tenacity. But it's irritating, especially when it comes from Musburger (who seems to have a weird preoccupation with the whole thing). And how long can it honestly last? Because there's only so much one can use a nickname before it becomes more of a fake proclamation than anything else. It's like the whiny, spoiled chick who talks about how low-maintenance she is. If you have to tell me you're low-maintenance, sweetheart... you're probably not.

So here's hoping that despite being a sophomore, Mathieu declares for the NFL draft this spring. Because a nickname like "honey badger" teamed with the honey-colored dye job he's sporting is enough to get his ass kicked in the pros. Then maybe the hell can end.

Sure it will. And we'll get a college playoff, too.

Jan. 8 - Promises, promises

Today I learned that this whole "What I learned today" thing might not have been the brightest of my ideas.

It appears that finding something I learned each and every day is a bit harder than it looks. But even more daunting is remembering to blog it, which has led to a few late-night computer reboots as I've realized - after hitting the hay - that I hadn't jotted down that day's lessons. Tonight, in fact, I have been sitting in front of my laptop for about 20 minutes, trying to figure out what to write without boring you all to tears.

But bear with me if you will, because a promise is a promise. I will still do my best to blog every day and learn something new - even if it means trying a new recipe or looking up a word that I've never seen before in the dictionary. I'm kind of realizing that this is more of a personal challenge to myself than a way to entertain others.

Oooooh - see that? I did learn something new today. Hah!