I have a feeling I’m only the first woman who will fall in love with those eyes of yours.

I don’t know if it’s their dark blue color, those ridiculously long eye-lashes or the ever-present sparkle that melts my heart every time.

Whatever it is, they will serve you well. Of course, you seem to already know that you little stinker.

I wrote this post from a bar Saturday night and for some reason rather than posting here it created a new blog. Confusing…

It’s NaBloPoMo so I need to post but I’m actually out on a Saturday night!!!

I know it’s hard to believe.

We’re celebrating Kris'(http://www.notyetawino.com) birthday. I am happy to report she doesn’t look any older than last week–it might be the new cute haircut–and we’re having fun.

Stop by her blog, wish her Happy Birthday.

Oh yeah, Devra (http://www.parentopia.com), Laurie (http://www.lauriewrites.typepad.com), Kim (http://www.kimsnotebook.com), and Ryan (http://theplatinumyears.blogspot.com) are all here too–plus many more.

Okay, i’ve written enough for doing this from a BlackBerry in a bar. I love you, but I love my night out more.

Cheers!!

Did you ever have an idea that you knew everyone would think was crazy?

Did you proceed with it or did you put it aside and always wonder “what if?”

Well I have an idea and I think I’m going to go for it.

There are enough regrets over missed opportunities in my past because I was too afraid to fail. Here I am trying to raise three boys to understand that failure is part of life and you have to just keep trying and yet I’ve been too afraid to fail.

Not this time.

So here it is.

I want to organize a HUGE tweet-up in conjunction with President-elect Obama’s inauguration. I want to organize it entirely using social media and relationships developed through social media. I want it to draw main stream attention to social media and Twitter. Frankly, I want it to be so big that the President-elect actually stops by to say hi.

Who am I to pull this off? I’m a mommyblogger of three, an almost 40 year old woman with a full-time job and honestly that more than qualifies me to make it happen. Right??

I won’t be able to do it alone.

I’ll need the help and connections and sponsors of fellow social media devotees and those who want to reach them, but isn’t that what social media is all about–one person starting with an idea, bringing it to the group and growing it from there.

Want to get on board?

Join up here.

I don’t know if I’ll really be able to make this happen, but I’ve been inspired by the words I keep hearing from our next President.

Yes We Can!

How can you help out??

Everyone gets doughnuts on Election Day!

Obama-supporting firefighters are very cool and will take pictures with kids visiting the polls.

See what I mean? Everyone gets doughnuts on Election Day!

And kids get special stickers from the poll workers at the Obama table–the last ones.

Obama poll workers are incredibly friendly–and they didn’t even know the outcome yet.

Maybe it’s because they had doughnuts AND all of these snacks to keep them going.

Oh yeah! Lots of snacks to keep them going.

I whispered “I hope so.” when this screen came up.

By now the boys thought I was crazy for photographing every screen, but it felt important. I was voting for…

YES I Did!!

I had the boys check to make sure I selected all the right buttons.

These are the machines Fairfax County is phasing out. I used one to vote any way.

From now on you’ll hide behind these cute little cubicles to fill in your paper ballot.

The poll monitors didn’t seem to have a whole bunch to do.

All walks of life in line, which I may add wasn’t that long.

I’m not sure of the point of carrying this easily copied piece of paper from one table to the voting booth, but I complied. I’m law-abiding like that.

We found the place! Also known as the 8th grade gym at my son’s school.

We were out by 10:30 a.m.

Helpful signs on the school monitor.

Isn’t that a friendly school? I waved back.

We had to put the brochures back after the picture because we couldn’t carry them inside. All three of our candidates won. VA is BLUE!!

This just made me feel good. I knew they were looking out for us.

And we were out so quickly, because there were no lines when we got there.

The signs were crammed in all the way up to the last inch before the no campaign zone. Before you even entered the school you could feel the excitement of the day.

And it was an exciting day. Of course that’s because it turned out the way I’d hoped it would, but I had a really good reason…

I’m so proud that they wanted to come with me, because my vote? It was all about them (and their sleeping little brother at home).

On Election night eight years ago, I was at a trade association poll watching party at about this time. These were the days when news outlets were still calling results based on exit polls.

I stood in a large crowd, one of the lone Democrats, when Pennsylvania was called for Gore. You could hear the collective groan as the news popped up on screen after screen throughout the
room.

My heart started racing. It took everything I had not to let out a loud “Woot!” but I was surrounded by clients and I was new to my job.

With Pennsylvania over, the party started dying down which gave me the opening I wanted to head over to the party I REALLY wanted to attend–the Democratic Party party at the Mayflower Hotel.

I jumped in my car, raced through downtown DC wanting to be among my people–old friends to hug and new friends to high five. Throwing all caution to the wind, I pulled into the valet, threw the bell captain my keys and ran into the ballroom. And I was so confused.

It was quiet.

Had everyone cheered too loudly and lost their voice? Were they worn out from jumping up and down and just taking a rest?

No. The news outlets realized they had prematurely called the race. In the time it took me to get across town, the whole election had turned around. We stood in the ballroom for hours and continued to hug, but the hugs were not to celebrate they were to console.

It would be weeks before we all knew the “official” outcome of the race–weeks before I gave up.

Tonight I am far more hopeful for a Democratic win, but I’m far more cynical too.

I hope the main stream media doesn’t screw it up again.

You, mere mortals, may look at my kitchen table and see only a mess.

It’s okay. Not everyone has “the gift.”

Because the message I read in the chips; however, is so important I’m going to share it with you today.

You don’t wanna mess with the force of the chip.

Today we were up with the birdies to head south for the last baseball game of the season. Waking up at 6:15 a.m. on a Sunday morning isn’t my favorite thing to do, but the drive was beautiful with all the fall colors and it was just me and my boy.

It’s not often we get to have that much time together alone.

We were done by 11:20 a.m. and ready to head home having just lost by one run in the bottom of the last inning. He just wanted to get out of there.

“I hate losing mom.”

“I know but you got to get out there and play a sport you love with your friends. Think about M who played a whole season without winning and still had a smile after every game.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it doesn’t hurt to win every once in a while.” “And you know what I hate about losing? It means we didn’t do something right. We could have played better.”

He was really okay. He doesn’t take it as hard as some kids. And I love that he thinks about how he can make changes to affect the outcome next time.

Sorry–little bragging.

The terrific thing about living in Virginia is that we are surrounded by historical landmarks. How often do we take advantage of them? Not often. But we were up and out and it was still early and we actually had a Sunday afternoon with no plans, so I suggested a detour to Fredericksburg–just me and him–on the way home.

What a great day!

We visited Kenmore, the home of Fielding and Betty Lewis (George Washington’s sister). It was built before the Civil War and is going through restoration right now.

Big A wasn’t too psyched about the idea of taking a tour, but it was just the two of us on it and even without furniture in the house he was filled with questions.

He really was interested in how people lived, in how old things were, and had clearly paid attention to some of his history lessons being able to talk to the docent about Virginia history.

I walked around with a perma-grin the entire time.

Done with our tour, he then begged me to go over and visit the Fredericksburg Civil War battle site. How can you say no to a kid who wants to do more “hysterical” stuff as we joke in my family.

He could barely contain his excitement. He kept saying “do you think a confederate soldier stood here?” (I’d move one step to the left and say “no I think they stood right here.”)

The Civil War has never been something that interested me greatly–until today. Walking along the trails and looking over the fields where thousands of young men were killed fighting to protect a version of their country, I was struck by how much we take for granted even in at a divisive political time such as this election.

It wasn’t lost on me that those boys on that battle field could have been my boys. I owe it to those soldiers and the families who lost them to think of them and remember their sacrifice. And to be grateful for their passion to protect a country that really was still such a new experiment.

It’s easy to forget sometimes.

There were plaques around the cemetery with stanzas from a poem(s?) (I still don’t know which one, but will research it.) that say it better than I ever could.

I titled this photo above “hope.” For the words are my wish for my boys, their children and their children’s children.

I have quite a bit I’d like to tell this girl (other than the name of a good eye brow waxer and hair stylist).

There’s so much she doesn’t know. There’s so much she’ll fret over that isn’t worth the energy. There’s so much she’ll miss because of unnecessary fear.

I’d tell her to spend more time enjoying the little moments. I’d tell her there are some people she should spend more time with and others who don’t deserve even a minute.

I have so much I’d like to tell her, but I can’t.

What will I want to tell this woman in twenty years?

The brunette, not the blonde. The blonde is already brilliant.

And no, that’s not me. I still can’t get all of the paint off from the balloons I had done for the hub’s birthday.