Pa-dow! Blog pimpin'

I cannot even think too much about BlogHer, I am so excited. I am slowly, surely making sure all the pieces of the puzzle are in place so I can get to it and concentrate on shrilling with glee to meet the amazing women I work with at Strollerderby and Chicago Moms Blog, to soak up all the information and gossip I can and just sink into the weekend with my people.

My hope is that all of it will give me the boost I so so so need as I return to my desk in the dining room for the rest of the year.

For now, the fabulous news -- my business cards are in the mail, on their way to me. They are all glossy and updated and non-corporate and very, very pink.

And speaking of bad ass business cards, this post on Dumb Little Man made me very happy to browse through this morning. If you are still contemplating how to de-snooze your own cards, take a peek at these design ideas sure to inspire.

If you wear one of these to a blogging conference is it kind of like wearing last summer's Dave Matthews concert tour t-shirt to this summer's show? Just wondering.

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The day before

In Chicago, we celebrate our Fourth on the Third. That's just how we roll, all million of us who unfold our blankets and unpack our coolers and have a picnic downtown while we wait for the festivities to begin. And it is amazing. I've enjoyed fireworks in many other towns and cities, but I've never gasped at the exploding flowers of light, reflecting and echoing on the buildings, like I have here. These moments are Chicago at its best.

This evening, we will pack the wagon and take the el toward Grant Park, casting aside the boy's bedtime and the chaos of the crowds and the concern that a potty will be close enough. We will just go, just to introduce Lil E to the whole scene, to these little bits of spirit and energy and magic bursting open. I hope he finds that with me.

So we'll be spending the Third celebrating like it is the Fourth of July, watching fireworks on the lake front with my family, with my boy on my lap and all the grandeur of the city lighting up the night sky.

Happy holiday, wherever the fireworks are reaching out to you.

Photo: EnjoyIllinois.com

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Burlesque, week five: Fanny-tastic

I'm not afraid to go to class anymore and I can't fully express what a relief this is.

Sure, I still wish I was a flat-bellied little porcelain-skinned mama with minuscule pores and no visible signs of birthing. But at least this week I had more confidence. Oh, and a sweet little nightie -- shimmery pale blue with little yellow lacy details winking at the decolletage, all flouncy and flirty -- that I found on the hoochie rack at Sears.

Yes, Sears. And darlings, it was way on sale. I was feeling very bargain burlesque, which I guess is better than the alternative of feeling droopy-drawer yoga pantsish.

This week, Miss Fanny Tastic taught the class and I just loved her style. It was fun to shake it up a bit and we worked more on our boa-flouncing, glove-peeling, nightie-tossing dance. She also showed us a few new moves that I loved. My favorite was an arch lift, which you begin by laying down on the floor, one knee bent, toes pointed, arms outstretched. Then you pull yourself up to a seated position, arms behind you and thrusting out the girls, neck bared and head back. I am sure I am painting a picture that scares the hell out of you, but imagine if you will sitting up in bed but a bazillion times more seductive (erase all thoughts of fraternity t-shirts you stole from your hubs that are now stained with mother's milk and PlayDoh). Glorious.

The best part of it all is how high I feel when I leave. It's not just the feathers sticking to my sweaty shoulders or that I remembered all of the choreography at last. It is that surge of endorphins, that my heart is racing, that my thighs are sore and my abs are exhausted. That I eventually stop looking at all the skinnies in class and start focusing me, right in front of me in the mirror. And that I got all of that by doing this one thing, taking this one hour out of the week for myself.

Of course, the lingerie costumes don't hurt a thing either.

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