A[tipp]ical Thoughts

Ed. Note: Today is another one of my favorite bloggers, Chickbug! We became blogging friends through our fabulous web designer Jess at Delicious Design Studio, when she did both of our blog designs! Chickbug is a great blogger who lives in NY and lives to tell us about it! Serving jury duty with Mark Consuelos certainly counts as exciting in my book! Go read all about her and her many other stories!

They say blogging about blogging is boring and unnecessary.  Sorry. I’m breaking that rule.  I have a lot to say about blogging, especially during this weekend of BlogHer.  Thanks to Tipp (and her hand) for allowing me the space to sort out my feelings. 

I have five quick questions for you.  Questions I’ve pondered over the last year since I started my own blog. 

1- Is blogging selfish?
When I started chickbug I wrote a few posts and then emailed my friends and said “look, I started this blog…you should read it!”  I needed an audience and they seemed like the obvious group.  But really, how self-centered was I?  Maybe they don’t have any interest in reading about my life everyday…they can just pick up the phone and call me.  I still feel uncomfortable talking about my blog a lot with my friends.   I know they all read it but I feel a little self-conscious about it.  And I’m very sensitive to make sure if I have news to share or a funny story, I tell them about it first.  Am I the only one who is concerned with this type of stuff? 

2- How do you decide which blogs to read?
When I started to branch out to the world of “networking” with other bloggers (20something bloggers, BlogHer) I was so excited to add people to my google reader.  But soon this task became overwhelming!  20sb has over 1,000 members!  And it became this weird superficial game. Who has a nice profile picture?  Who was apart of the same groups I was?  I’d click their link to their blog, read an entry…and if it didn’t grab me…off I went to next blog.  How horrible is that?  How could you ever judge a blog by one entry?  I’ve become a little more “savvy” with my blog reading….going through the blog rolls of bloggers I read, clicking on links when someone I haven’t seen leaves an interesting comment. How do you add people to your list? 

3- Do you ever get jealous?
When I blog about my inner-most thoughts and get 5 comments…and someone else blogs about their dog and gets 45 comments I stop and thing, what am I missing?  First, let me say, I know I’m not suppose to “blog for comments” but sometimes it’s hard not to be jealous of other bloggers who seem to attract such a huge readership.  Am I the only one?  But, I’m about to contradict myself in question #4.

4- Can you ever have too many readers?
I might be jealous of the blogger who gets 45 comments, but I also think that might be a little overwhelming!  Does that mean you read 45 other people’s blogs and comment on them? Do people really read ALL 45 comments?  If I see a blog entry has a gazillion responses sometimes I don’t comment myself, because I feel like what I would have said, has already been written.  See, clearly I have jealous issues.

5- Blog friends in real life?
If BlogHer was on the east coast I might have considered going, but I would have felt awkward, out of place and a little shy.  I love all my blog friends. The little community formed online is pretty amazing.  But I don’t know how I would fair in a real-life situation. Maybe these are my insecurities coming out…because in reality, my blog friends know ALL about my life. I just don’t know how I would do in a “meet-up” or attending BlogHer.  Have you met a blogging friend in real life?

Ed. Note: Below is a post by the lovely EP of Stylish Handwriting, one of my first and favorite friends in the 20SB crowd. Pop over to her and say hello and a big THANK YOU for filling in for me. Thanks to all who have asked, my hand is healing, a bit numb at the moment. Should this concern me? I am tweeting again. It’s a nice start. I should be back in the mode again soon, but I am sure you will miss all the great guest posts! Enjoy!

Since Tipp is currently out of commission due to a wrist injury, I thought I would tell y’all a little story from my past that involves a significant injury — one that ended my high school basketball career (and any career that would have happened after that).

As a child, I dreamt of playing varsity basketball at my high school. I practiced hours per week on my dribbling skills, shots and lay-ups. I played on numerous teams, went to multiple basketball camps and did all in my power to ensure that I would be good enough to make the team.

My sophomore year, this dream came true when I was asked to step up from JV to practice with the varsity team. I was ecstatic. And while I spent most of my time riding the bench, it was incredible simply being a member of an esteemed team and practicing with the girls who lead us to a semi-regional game at the end of the season, something that hadn’t been done for a few years.

Junior year rolled around, and after volleyball season ended, I was ready for basketball. I was ready. But when the games started up, I still wasn’t playing as much as I should — so much so that the assistant coach and the head coach had numerous disagreements about me and other girls not being subbed into the game when the team was up more than 30 points. (I learned this later on, not when it happened.)

I became increasingly frustrated. Like most girls my age, I began to have doubts about my abilities since I was not seeing results from all my hard work. And while I tried to shake these thoughts from my head, it became more and more difficult as I saw teammate after teammate substituted in while I sat the bench, cheering for my friends on the court and praying the coach would look down the bench and notice me.

Somewhere along the lines, I began dreading going into the games because if I went in and screwed up, the coach would have even less reason to play me in another game.

January rolled around, and the more games that passed while I sat on the bench, the more I dreaded going into the game.

My new basketball shoes that the coach had ordered earlier in the season had just arrived, and my teammates and I loved them — they were the new stylish black and white Nike basketball shoes. The only problem was they were in men’s sizes and mine were a little too big.

I shrugged this off and wore them every practice and every game without fail. About a week after I started sporting them, I noticed an ugly blister had reared its head on my right heel. After consulting my coach (who told me we would wrap the blister with athletic tape and gauze, much like an ankle, and it would go away), I didn’t think much about it.

Another week went by, and my heel still wasn’t feeling any better. In fact, it looked worse.

Still, the coach told me to wrap it up, and it would be fine.

About a week later one Friday evening before a game, I was having major issues running during warmups and the assistant coach (bless her heart) told me to consult the physical therapist who worked with our boy’s team.

The PT was surprised I could even walk when she saw my heel and demanded I not wear the shoes again or even play until the blister had healed. Apparently, it was incredibly infected. And I hadn’t really noticed. (How disturbing is that?)

My injury — lame, I know — kept me out of practice for a month. I still attended practice, but instead of running suicides with the girls and shooting foul shots to determine how much we ran, I sat on the sidelines. Most of the time, I worked on homework or read books while occasionally cheering my teammates on or chatting with them and other students during downtime.

By the time I was ready to play again, I had lost a lot of time and was scrambling to catch up physically.

I never enjoyed running, but it was even more challenging because I had spent a month of the season sitting on my butt instead of sprinting with my teammates. My shot was off because I didn’t work on it — I would have been standing on one foot taking the shots with this blister. And, all in all, I was having a really rough time keeping up with everyone else.

A few weeks after trying (and failing miserably) to get back into shape, I made the ultimate decision to quit the team. I wasn’t playing, still, and it didn’t look good for the rest of the year since I had fallen significantly behind. And while I wanted to pull out the rest of the season, I just didn’t have it in me.

I had given up and for the first time in my life, I was OK with it.

I told the head coach first, who told me he didn’t understand why I was crying as I uttered the words. (He didn’t know of the lifelong dream I was giving up.) The assistant coach told me she didn’t blame me and would have done the same thing if she was in my place. My teammates understood, too, knowing just how frustrating it had been for me to be on the sidelines when everyone else had gotten to play.

Something as simple as a blister — an aggravated, infected blister — was the turning point of my basketball career and led quickly to the closure of a lifelong dream for me. It wasn’t the numerous sprained ankles I endured or the countless bruises, scratches and scars I carry still today from rough play on the court. It was a blister. A BLISTER.

The next season, me and a few friends (all of us actually played varsity basketball) formed a church league team. We goofed around the ENTIRE time, and it brought joy back to basketball for me — the reason I wanted to play the sport to begin with. And it was much needed, too.

I had fun playing basketball again, something my coach had sucked out of the game.

And while I still find the story of that life-changing blister amusing today, I’m thankful it happened. I’m thankful I learned my limit. And I’m thankful that I finally came to the conclusion that some things just aren’t worth fighting for because I was a lot happier and at peace when my tenure on the varsity team had come to an end.

Hi, there! I’m Ashley. I normally write over at my blog, Our Little Apartment, but seeing as how our friend Tipp is currently unable to write (Those steel rods at church will get ya! Watch out!), I’ve come over here to chat.

When Tipp’s husband emailed soliciting guest blog posts {An aside: I know! Is that not adorable! How sweet is he?}, I immediately thought about sharing tales of my own unfortunate injuries. How about that time I was go-karting too fast, spun out, crashed through a wall, and sprained my knee? Or when I was riding a bike and fell into a thorn bush? Or when I got a black eye from my wisdom tooth surgery? Sharing stories about our scars, injuries, and mishaps can be fun, right?

However, inspiration didn’t strike. Plus, that’s such an obvious subject, right?

Rereading Hubby’s, I mean, the Dukemaniac’s email, I laughed when he expressed his bewilderment at this whole blogging thing: “Learning all of this stuff is like another world.”

I don’t know about you guys, but I know my husband sure does NOT get this blog stuff. Or get blogging friends. Or why I care about getting to know people I may never meet in person.

“You just tell the whole world your feelings?!”

Honey, don’t flatter me.

It makes me wonder, though: What is it about women and blogging? Why aren’t more men getting into this enjoyable creative outlet? How come 99% of my readers and the blogs I read tend to be females?

Women are largely relational creatures – we love being social, developing relationships, and having friends. We know little girls are more likely than little boys to define friendships, be social, and express their emotions. And I remember reading a study that showed when at least one woman is present in a conversation, the depth of the conversation increases, because there are more meaningful, probing questions asked. So, maybe we love blogging because it’s another avenue for meeting and caring about some fantastic people. (Because, um, I’d definitely like to think it’s more than narcissism and self interest!)

Girls rule, right?

Guys (it there are any reading), you don’t know what you’re missing out on.

So, my husband may continue to laugh when I update him on my blogging friend’s lives, not understanding my weird hobby*, or he can create his own little blog world and enjoy the friendships created. (He actually just talked about creating a blog for “Men Who Love Blogging Women,” although I think he was planning on commiserating with other guys who don’t understand this whole thing.)

How about you ladies, does your boyfriend, husband, lover understand? Or are they as bewildered as mine is?

And any guys want to stand up as a man who blogs and is proud of it?

*Disclaimer: My hubby is actually quite pretty supportive. I love him. Mwah!

Happy Birthday to literally the best Mom in the world!

I love you so much and am so thankful everyday that I was allowed to be your daughter.

You are an the glue that holds us together, the wheels that keep us moving, and the base on which we stand. Without you we would all be lost. 

Love you so much,

Tipp, Favorite Son-In-Law (who might as well be your natural born), Lily and Ellie

Hey guys,

This is Hubby.  Tipp hurt her hand at church yesterday.  Typing is hard for her today so she asked me to blog for her.  She hit her hand on a steel rod while participating in the rough contact sport of setting up the kids area at church.  She joins the growing list of casualties that include the pastor’s wife nearly severing a toe last summer while setting up.  As for me, I managed to escape with just slightly sore arms from holding chunky babies.  And to think, she does not want our boys (if we have any) to play football because they might get hurt. So you tell me, what is more dangerous? Football or church work???  As Tipp spends a few days on the disabled list icing her hand, she needs some backups to step in and guest write for her.  But rest assured, she will still be on the computer, watching Ghost Hunters on youtube.

Any takers for guest blogging?

Meet Gabe. I have had him three weeks now. I have not killed him yet. Fingers crossed.

I have been late to work three times now because of these guys. Do you know how long it takes for a turkey family to cross the road? I do. And it is no joke.

When we want to eat in peace cook-out, we are forced to gate out the kids.

Lily had a rough day at the Vet.

And she didn’t want to talk about it.

We spent last night watching The Sound of Music, the new digitally restored version, and I have to say I could tell the difference. It was amazing. What was even more amazing to me is that Hubby had never seen The Sound of Music. How this is possible I have no idea. I realize he is not really a movie person, but, really, The Sound of Music?

Hubbs never really invests in a movie he actually is forced sits and watches with me, but last night he invested. I have never seen him get so fired up. My biggest mistake was telling him that there would be Nazis. This was my meager attempt to get him interested from the very beginning, whereas if I told him it was a musical he would have jumped ship very early. So, for the entire course of the movie he is on war criminal watch like it is his career. 

Is he a Nazi? I bet he is. Hate him. 

First, he said it about Christopher Plummer, then about the boy Von Trapp children, but when he moved on to Maria and was trying to make the nuns from the abbey be in cahoots with the them I had had it.

JUST WATCH THE MOVIE. They will explain it all-I promise!!!

That’s when I realized why movie-watching is hard for him. Quite simply, he is as impatient as a kid (and quite possibly ADD) when it comes to waiting for something, like a movie plot, to unfold. Same goes for reading books for entertainment. He can’t do it. Books about sports, historical figures, and instructional books are no big deal because he basically already gets the gist of what is going to happen. But, put him in a scenario where he is forced to wait on an outcome, and it drives him crazy.

This is very strange for a person who is very laid back and patient in matters when it comes to real life. Who would have thought that some simple movie-watching would have sent him over the edge? After the movie, I had to look up the personal history of the entire Von Trapp family because he could not rest until he knew what happened to them after they crossed that green mountain. For me, I am happy knowing that they made it safely somewhere ( I used to firmly believe they lived in the woods behind my house) and I was content to believe that all was well in their world, but not him. No. I had to google all things Family Von Trapp and was forced to map their entire singing trek through America after they fled Europe. I was exhausted and didn’t get to bed until after midnight.

He was still asking me questions about the story as we went to bed. 

This is quite possibly the very reason we don’t do movies together. 

Or perhaps he is way smarter than I give him credit for and he thinks that if he takes all the fun out of the movie experience I won’t ask him to watch with me anymore. By Jove, I think I’ve got it! 

Oh, he is in trouble now.

BEEP

I am really not here today, because I am Katelin’s playing in her part of the world. No, not California, just her blog land. *Le sigh* But, we are playing a game, so come and play!

I love a good book. There is nothing better than carrying a book around with you for two days straight because you can’t wait to see what happens. It has been a while since I have found a book like this, but I just finished Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers and it is going in my list of top five favorite books I have ever read. It has been out for sometime, with almost a million copies sold, but I wanted to wait until I could buy it for myself, just to see what all the interest was about.

Redeeming Love is a retelling of the Old Testament book of Hosea. Hosea had a wife who was a prostitute and God had told Hosea to marry her. He did and in facing the turmoil of her past and the uncertainty of her future she ran away from him. She never knew or was shown love and for someone to want to love her was very traumatic for her. She messed up, she ran away, she fought him. He followed her, brought her back, and loved her through it all, even when she did many things that are hard to love someone through.

Even in knowing the story of Hosea, I found this story so inspirational and more relevant in a more present day telling. It is set in the gold rush of the 1800’s when Angel is sold into a life of prostitution as a young girl. The story follows her through tragedy, heartache, and loneliness. Then there is a man. A man who is lead to take Angel, love her, and make her his own. He does and even though she is unable to understand or comprehend the love he has to offer, his patience and perseverance is astounding. Still Angel felt lost and unsure. Still she couldn’t understand. To follow her on her journey was so sad, so frustrating, and so heartbreaking. There are many ways that many of us can relate to Angel in our own lives.

I think all women should read this book, no matter what your stage in life. If you are single, dating, engaged or married it is a great reminder that there are men out there who are wanting to love you unconditionally for who you are and not who you could be. Hosea in this book shows that there are great men out there, yes, even in present day time. Men who honor and respect, who give and don’t just want to take, and who will love forever. For men it is a great read to remind them of their place with women. To show patience, to show love, and to show forgiveness, just like we all need to do. Such a great reminder too that our God loves us all no matter what our past, our situation, or our circumstances.

This tidbit is for free, no charge.

This

plus this

equals a crazy, sleepless night.

Seriously, what was I thinking?

I will be having dreams about Jack Nicholson coming to get me. That man is scary enough looking in real life without me thinking he is some mob leader.

Darn you two at a time Netflix!!!