One of my favorite people on the internet is dying. Like right now. Dawn is in her final stages of a battle with melanoma and all I can think about are her husband and children and, selfishly, that I will never see her face in my Twitter stream again.

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We heard last night that another friend is undergoing chemo, and we added him to the long list of people we know who have fought or are currently fighting this terrible disease. It’s getting old. Really.

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I went to the dentist today. I’m one of those people who loves lying in the dental chair and getting her teeth scraped, but the scrubbing with the thick paste? BLECH. That makes me want to vomit. I have a love/hate thing with the dentist. I would probably love it more if I got laughing gas.

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The dentist said she could tell that I’ve been grinding my teeth again. I’m sure this is a direct result of my weaning off Zoloft. A custom mouth guard would cost me almost $700 out of pocket, so that’s not happening and the thought of upping my meds again to avoid jaw problems makes me sad. Anxiety is a beast.

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I’m crafting a post about how smart my daughter is, but there is a fine line between pride and disbelief at her accomplishments (considering she came into this world as a 2 lb. preemie), and bragging and annoying people. But, wow…am I proud. That post is coming later this week. If I act obnoxious, give me a blog-slap.

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Although my son is almost 11 years old, he’s still just as literal and honest as when he was 5 and told an elderly woman at Target that she needed to buy moisturizer. Lent provided us with ample opportunity for honest conversations and these were a few that I posted on Facebook.

Me: “You need to do some reading.”
My son: “I gave it up for Lent.”

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At church yesterday, my son looked at the wooden plaque labeled, “Hymns” and asked, “Mom, what’s a hymen?”

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Me: “Did you eat a Peep?”
My son: “Yes…actually, I ate five.”

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In addition to the post about my genius-daughter (too much?), later this week there will be a fun (and pretty) giveaway from Kyky’s Treasures! Stay tuned…and if you’ve never had a skin cancer screening, please schedule one. Now.

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One of my new work duties is hosting Twitter chats every couple of weeks. Mom, Twitter is where you talk back and forth to other people in 140 characters or less. Next week’s lesson will be on hashtags.

Yesterday’s #BlogHerTalks chat was about hair. We talked about natural hair, colored hair, over-treated hair, shrimp gumbo, shrimp scampi, and cocktail shrimp. Wait…

Although I’m a woman, and I have hair, I didn’t have much to offer style-wise to the conversation, because my hair mostly looks like this:

Don’t be jealous.

The fact is, I have very fine, thin hair, so I don’t like to over-treat it. Plus, I work from home so I don’t have a need to impress people with my locks. Thank goodness.

But, occasionally I like to put some effort into it. With summer coming, I know my hair will be in a pony-tail more than ever. Can you say hot-flashes? So I searched for a way to make my plain-Jane-pony a little less boring and I found this.

I followed the advice and styled my hair in about three minutes (see aforementioned fine, thin description…I can practically fit all of my tresses in a curling iron at one time).

What do you think? I mean, besides the fact that I need a dye job.

Other bloggers are choosing their favorite hairstyle tutorial videos and asking for your opinions on which you love most. Each week, BlogHer is giving away prizes to 3 lucky winners: one grand prize viewer will receive a $250 Visa gift card and two more folks will each receive a $100 Visa gift card! Visit the Prizes and Promotions page on BlogHer.com for more info!

Hair Sweepstakes Official Rules.

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Every year, for the past 18 years, my husband has given me an Easter lily. What started out as a sweet offering from him to a (then) co-worker has turned into a tradition in our marriage and it means the world to me. It’s better than Valentine’s Day, because it’s not a romantic gesture we share with the world. It’s just ours.

Ironically, the giving of the Easter lily often follows an argument and there have been at least two years that I had to toss a hint that, hey it’s getting really close to Easter Sunday and I don’t have my plant yet. I’m pretty sure last year’s flower showed up late on Saturday evening. But, that’s okay. Life has a way of sneaking up you like that.

I won’t wax poetic on Lent, spring, renewal, marriage and how the lily symbolizes all of them to me…even though I kind of just did. Instead I’ll tell you that it smells really good and it looks pretty on my mantle.

However, I will say that this kind, little expression of affection; this nod to our shared history, makes me dust off my hands and start anew. I am a sucker for tradition. And margaritas, but that’s a different post.

It is a reminder that under this stack of bills, homework, dog fur, dishes, and my husband’s grouchy exterior, there is something sweet, gentle, and dependable. Just when I feel like I’m getting crushed under the weight of it all, a flower springs forth. It’s like hope in a clay pot. If you could sell it, I think it would be illegal.

Despite the snow on the ground (thanks for NOT listening to me Mother Nature) my hope for you is that you find warmth and kindness in something, anything, like I do my lily.

And if you can’t find either one, just make it an excuse to drink more margaritas.

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It’s long past time that we had a talk, you and I. Quite honestly, your erratic behavior is getting old.

Remember that day in January when we went for a run in the warm sunshine? That was a great day. We got along and we worked well together. You were pleasant and it made the pavement below my feet a little softer; the miles a little less long.

Since then I can’t really remember you showing me any kindness, and that hurts. I know you can be kind. I try to reason with you, but I get absolutely no response other than a cold shoulder.

I wish there was a way to fix this relationship, but I know I can’t do it alone and that I’m at your mercy. I have to go along with whatever you want, put up with your moods, and trudge through my day knowing that you may never give me what I need. I’m ready to move on and you’re stuck in the past.

And, really, Mother Nature? I’m over it.

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