Check this out.

1. Gather some nice bloggers who believe in helping good content rise. The more the merrier. This becomes our group for the project.
2. A good, lesser-known blog is chosen. Everyone in the group will read that blog for two weeks.
3. At the end of the two weeks, the group moves to another blog to read.

I’m in. Don’t comment here, go over there!

In a few short weeks I’ll be taking the kids to a private Jonas Brothers concert at the Roxy.

Wednesday at noon, I’ll be chatting with Nadine Rajabi on XM radio 154 (National Lampoon) about Mommy Blogging.

Can someone tell me how I’m supposed to make the Roxy funny? Should I talk about the time we someone I knew was so coked out of their mind that they ran across Sunset with one shoe on to get more coke from the dealer at TenMasa? I should probably focus on the kid aspect of it all and the fact that AE is a super company with a new line of clothing.

But would they appreciate me discussing the 80′s and hair bands and the early 90′s and grunge and the Sunset strip and all the naughtiness one could ever imagine being fueled by really hot 16 year old girls with platinum cards?

Oh, this is the end, beautiful friend. Taking two children to the Roxy is only slightly more humiliating than driving a mini van to your high school reunion.

We’re getting new carpet, and that means every item needs to be off the floor today. Even the box. You know the box. Everyone has one.

My box was first my Grandmother’s box. When we packed her up in the middle of a blizzard in 1996 and moved her out of the apartment she’d rented since 1945, I stole a box of her belongings. They were her drawings. My Grandmother loved to sketch and I hear tales of my mother having painted a few canvases too.

In 1965 they bore her initials E.E. and sometimes Mom.

In 1970 she signed the sketches Grandma.

In 1973 she signed them Ama, because that’s what I called her, and upon seeing that I determined they belonged to me.

By 1996 my Ama was forgetful and angry, in 1998 she was just tired. By 2001 she’d forgotten that she’d quit smoking and cussing, though dying, she was lovely to me. Hideous to everyone else, but she always loved me best, and I was secure in that knowledge.

I’m embarassed to tell you that I don’t recall which year she died, but I remember her last breath. It was peaceful. I’m not sure what to do with the box today, I can’t quite throw it out and I don’t want to frame who she used to be. The simple act of moving it, of touching it, cautions me of the many hats I will inevtiably wear.

Since y’all won’t leave comments, I’ve been reduced to this.

So do it.

Beth Blecherman and I are guesting at the PR Insider Radio Show.

Starts at 9am y’all so you’d better hurry.

Also, I might let you know how I got my kids into this.

Yes, it’s a Private concert with the Jonas Brothers. 77 kids at the Roxy.