Yup, that's me- circa 1996

It’s not every day that you hear the words, “You’re going to be single until you get rid of the dead Christmas tree on your balcony!”

It was the Spring of 2007 (I’ll get to why I still had my tree in a minute- no judgment please!). The Indianapolis Colts had recently won the Superbowl, The Departed had just snagged the Oscar for best picture and I’d just been dumped. Hard. On. My. Ass.  So, I did what any self-respecting dumpee would do. I called in a professional. No, not that kind. I already had Liz on retainer for all my psychological needs. I called a Feng Shui expert.

When Los Angeles Feng Shui expert Jayme Barrett got to my condo, she looked around, made some notes and gave me several suggestions of what to do to bring new energy and love into my home. Everything was going along swimmingly until she walked out onto my balcony and gasped.  “What. Is. That?” she said, as if she’d stumbled upon a dead body rather than a dead Christmas tree.

“Oh that? I haven’t gotten around to dumping it. Work’s been really busy,” I said nonchalantly.

“It’s April!” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wider.

“Um, I know…there was just no way I could get that out of here on my own. I’m five floors up,” I stammered, knowing how pathetic I sounded.

“Well my dear, that dead Christmas tree is in the love corner of your home. And you’ll never meet a man until you get rid of that.”

Cue “oh sh*t” expression on my face.

Faster than you can say match.com, 1-800-Got-Junk was knocking on my door and hauling away everything from that dead tree to dozens of garbage bags full of, well, junk. I cleaned my house from top to bottom, bought new furniture (and a new bed- for obvious reasons!) and Feng Shui’d the shizat out of things just the way my expert had told me to.  I’d never felt better.  And four months later, I met my future husband-proving to all those who had made fun of me that this Feng shui sh*t was no joke!

Cut to this past weekend. Six months after I schmoved, okay, moved to the Midwest. The fabulous wedding was over and I finally decided to unpack and sort through everything I’d carted down Route 66. Consulting my trusty Feng Shui book, Feng Shui Your Life I decided to  de-clutter and clear away any negative energy that might be looming. Matt and I rolled up our sleeves (yes, the man jumped in!) and worked non-stop for two days clearing, hauling, organizing and Good Will-ing just about anything that crossed out path.

But the thing about Feng-Shui-ing is that you have to let go of everything and anything you absolutely do not need, brings you a bad memory, causes you any stress in any way. You have to PURGE.  And I’m not a hanger-on-er at all, but I still had stuff that I looked at and said WTF am I still doing with that? Like my never worn “wide belt” that Matt joked looked like something I’d put on before entering my first WWE wrestling tournament. Or the binder full of articles about the Toyger “designer” cat I came dangerously close to buying. (Long story!)

But my biggest WTF moments came when I sifted through my pictures. There’s just something about old photos. I cannot throw them out. And why should I?  Don’t I need something to dissuade me the next time I’m thinking about cutting my hair like Ellen DeGeneres and bleaching it blonde? (It was fashion-forward at the time, I swear!)  Or what about when Matt (and I) are trying to cut “unnecessary” expenses from our budget?  Just one glance at my pre-waxed brows will keep my monthly appointment with Tatiana on the list.  So, Feng Shui Land, I may have finally given up my collection of eighties hoop earrings, but you’ll never get me to give up the pictures of me wearing them! And, c’mon, you can see why I hang on to old photos like these, right? Give a girl a break. Maybe she just wants to feel a little better about herself now.

xoxo, Lisa

Um, I had the look before Ellen!

As if dying it brown was going to make it better...

Ha! Guess I got Liz on the short hair bandwagon...(Sorry, Liz!)

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

Just throw ONE flower. PLEASE!

Over the years, I’ve found myself in A LOT of wedding parties.  I always seem to snag that last bridesmaid spot, edging out a distant cousin or a old friend who just hasn’t been pulling their weight the past couple of years. In fact, if my writing career doesn’t work out, I’ve always thought I could rent myself out to desperate brides who are lacking a bulldog bridesmaid.  Because doesn’t every bride need a McGyver on their team on their big day? Someone who can perform miracles with a safety pin but who will also do tequila shots and the chicken dance?

When I said “I Do” last Fall when Lisa asked me to be her MOH, I felt slightly panicked.  It had been a while since my last tour of duty and I wondered if I still had it in me.  The last time I had served, I had been three months pregnant with my son and had to have my purple chiffon dress taken out more times than I care to admit and secretly worried I might throw up on my bride if the wrong smell crossed my path.  But on that special day, I put my 24/7 nauseousness aside and bustled like nobody’s business.  And as I waved goodbye to them as they sped off in their limo to their honeymoon, I sighed and decided it was time to retire my status as perpetual wedding party member.  Putting all that work in without the free drink payoff just didn’t feel the same.

But when Lisa got engaged, I was ready. I’d had four years off and was ready to get back on the wedding party circuit-and the fact that I’d be reporting to a couple that I adored was just a bonus.  And for the most part, Lisa was the most easygoing bride I had ever worked for.  She let me choose my own dress and didn’t make me have big ol’ prom hair.  In fact, she really didn’t make me do much of anything before the big day.  But I think that deep down, we both knew that was because she wanted me to be ready for battle when it counted.  And I was!  That morning, I wrangled guests, acted a photographer and DJ in the bridal suite and even held my tongue when I had my makeup done (She was great-but because of my alligator skin I gave “pancake face” a whole new meaning!).  I had my A game on people!

Until my children showed up.

When Lisa generously asked my three and five-year olds to be in her wedding party, little did I know that having them there might mess up my MOHness.  I was too blinded by visions of them floating down the aisle in their Sunday best, although the reality included, me, bent over, walking down the aisle with them while begging my daughter to throw just ONE damn flower.

So when they showed up in the bridal suite, demanding my attention, I was torn.  I had made a commitment to serve my bride.  How did I merge that with the fact that my daughter was walking around with her gold ballet slippers on the wrong feet and wanted to color on her cream tights? Or the guilt I felt when I whacked my three-year-old’s head with my papparazzi camera as I tried to get the money shot of Lisa’s toast at the rehearsal dinner the night before?

So when crunch time arrived, I was a bit flustered.  Trying to smile as the photographer snapped pictures of me applying Lisa’s lipstick, (What can I say, I’m a full-service MOH!) I prayed that he’d crop out the crying child hanging on to my leg and begging to come play “just one game” of Old Maid. And I’m crossing my fingers that my son was too busy with his hot wheels to notice that I drank half the bottle of “Mommy apple juice”.

But at the end of the day, we all had a wonderful time. Thanks to a great friend, the hubs and I were able to party that night with our peeps in peace and sleep in the next morning. (Thanks Patrice!) And even though it was way more stressful to have my little rugrats taking part of Lisa’s big day than if they had stayed home, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

I’ll never forget how it felt to hear my daughter take a deep breath in when she saw Lisa for the first time in her (gorgeous!) dress or the way my son shyly watched her from the doorway as we arranged her veil.  I’m always amazed by how much more work everything is when the kids are involved, but at the same time infinitely more rewarding. As always, the joys of parenting are always in the little things.

xo, Liz

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

Don't Watch!

As much as I love my children, I must admit there’s one aspect of my pre-mommy life that I miss so much it hurts sometimes…

Sitting on the couch for hours watching bad TV.

These days I’m lucky if I can keep up with Project Runway (forget about that Models of the Runway show) and usually just have the hubs give me his dramatic reenactment of that week’s Amazing Race. (Which, btw, he never quite seems to do it justice…)  My Tivo is constantly erasing my fave shows in favor of Hot Wheels, Battle Force 5 and I’ve had to re-prioritize my priority manager more times than I care to mention.

So, I had to learn the hard way how to become a more discerning TV watcher. And because I know many of us have the same problem, I’m happy to help ya out a bit by cutting through all the bullshit and letting you know to Watch this, not that!

Watch The Good Wife

There’s a reason that EW chose The Good Wife as one of the ten best TV shows on right now. I was originally drawn to this show hoping to get my *Mr. Big* fix but ending up staying because of Julianna Marguiles. It’s a story about a woman who stands by her man through a political scandal and finds herself entering the work force after staying home for fifteen years raising her two children.  The storyline is so layered, so well acted, that my stomach does a little flip each week when I see that Tivo has recorded it.  And the best part?  It’s got enough criminal procedural stuff going on that your hubby won’t feel like he’s emasculating himself by watching it with you each week!

Watch The Millionaire Matchmaker

With less time to watch TV these days, I think this is the kind of show I miss most.  The Millionaire Matchmaker kindly runs marathons constantly, just begging you to sit your lazy ass on the couch and watch as Matchmaker Patti cuts through any and all BS. She. Is. Genius. From the way she handles the enormous millionaires’ egos or catfights with a drag queen, she is fantastic.  Whether she’s telling the real estate developer that cuff links are so 1987 and that his haircut channels that guy from Greatest American Hero or she’s telling off an NBA player for mistreating one of her girls, she has the balls to say exactly what we’re all thinking.  If you only have time for one guilty pleasure on your Tivo, I highly recommend this!

Not Cougar Town

I really wanted to like Cougar Town.  It sounded right up my alley-alums from Scrubs, Friends and Dawson’s Creek (don’t judge!) and also featuring the ridiculously hot Josh Hopkins.  Not to mention the fact that, at age thirty-six, I’m *gulp* entering cougar territory myself and was hoping to relate to some of Courtney Cox’s antics.  While watching the pilot, I told myself that it was just a fluke that it seemed, um, awkward and forced.  But since I was determined to become a Cougar Town fan, I gave it a few weeks to get it together.  But I then returned to discover that they were STILL trying too hard.  And while it may still have a place in my Tivo, (right next to the twelve episodes of Desperate Housewives I can’t bring myself to watch) Cougar Town lost it’s place in my heart.

Not Tool Academy

Wanna feel better about your own relationship?  Then Tool Academy may be right up your alley.  It’s about women(and a few good men) who, in a last ditch effort to save their relationship, bring their bandana-wearing, fake tanning, cheating significant others to the Tool Academy. After spending thirty minutes with Neander-Tool, Looney-Tool and DoubleTalking-Tool, I didn’t blame that girlfriend one bit for screaming I’ll cut your ass! at the therapy session.  I felt like screaming too.

For those of us who loved bad boys back in the day, this show will make you squirm, remembering what it was like to date a complete DOUCHE BAG and rejoice in the fact that you pulled your head out of your ass before it was too late.  New favorite quote: You can’t turn a ho into a housewife~Daniel a.k.a. Glow Stick Tool

What are YOU watching this week?

xoxo, Liz

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

Mt. Everest

Some might say climbing Mt. Everest is an accomplishment. Others might argue that a true victory is winning a gold medal or being awarded an Oscar.

And although we salute all the incredible people who fall into those categories and agree that those would be amazing achievements, we’re not athletic or skilled enough to join them in those ranks so we’ll settle for believing that writing a query for our manuscript The D Word is one of the toughest challenges we’ve ever faced. (Liz would like it duly noted that she deserves a close second for giving birth- twice!)

And to celebrate not only finishing our query, but making it through the process alive (more on that below), we’re giving away two $20 itunes gift cards (because music helps us write) and six autographed books by authors who’ve inspired us-Sarah Pekkanen (THE OPPOSITE OF ME) and Kristin Hannah (WINTER GARDEN). Just leave a comment (you know the drill–we’re fabulous, you love us, love the blog, blah, blah…) and you’ll  be entered to win.

So back to the query quandary…Condensing the plot of our novel into two paragraphs was only half the battle. Agreeing on what the content of those two sections should be was the other. And although we feel we have an incredibly successful writing partnership, that doesn’t discount the cold hard fact that we’re both Type-A control freaks who always want to be right.

Let us take you back to the day we decided that we’d each independently take a stab at the query and then reveal our work to the other. In Southern California, it was an El-Nino-esque rainstorm that included a hurricane. In the Chicago ‘burbs, it was eighteen degrees, gloomy and included a “delightful” present from Mother Nature- Eight. Inches. Of. Snow.

Cut to Lisa holed up in her house, wrapped in an afghan blanket, tears of sadness spilling down her cheeks as she cried for the sun (okay, so maybe that’s a wee bit of an embellishment- there was no afghan). She put in her ipod headphones and typed away as she imagined she was in Maui as she listened to Bob Marley belt out Don’t Worry, Be Happy (alright, so maybe she was actually listening to Party in the U.S.A.- don’t judge!). When she finished, she smiled broadly. “This is damn good,” she said to her fountain of prosperity in the corner. It was time to send it to Liz who was going to be so pleased!

Open email form, attach query, add self-congratulatory quip to Liz, send. Wait….

Two thousand miles away, Liz stared out at the pouring rain, part of her ecstatic that she finally had an excuse to wear her new Burberry wellies, the other half of her semi-panicked that, as a result of the hurricane in SEAL BEACH, her daughter’s school was on lockdown. As Jordan Sparks sang in her ears, she wrote fast and furiously, taking the time to pat herself on the back along the way because she was still able to crank out such great content on such a miserable day. It was time to send it to Lisa who was going to be so pleased!

Open email form, attach query, add self-congratulatory quip to Lisa, send. Wait…

I’m sure you see where this story is going. Well, it’s safe to say that neither of us were as in love with our partner’s work as we were with our own! Lisa got up on her soapbox and actually said the words, “How do you not LOVE this?” and Liz retaliated with, “Um, because mine is So. Much. Better!” For an hour we debated everything- including the true definition of divorce. There was even a particularly ugly moment when someone threatened that both queries should be sent to an “unbiased” party who would decide which one should “win”. Finally, exhaustion took hold and the right-fighters agreed to sleep on it.

The next day, with much-needed perspective, fresh attitudes and plenty of caffeine all around, we decided to merge our work.  Over the next week, we methodically deleted, rearranged and reworked until we were as close to satisfied as we were ever going to get. Then, we were lucky enough to have brilliant authors including Allison Winn Scotch, Laura Dave and Sarah Pekkanen agree to review our query and give us invaluable feedback. Thank you, ladies! We are forever indebted to you!

And now as we write this blog post, our query for The D Word is complete and sitting in the inbox of our dream agent.  And now we wait. And wait. And wait some more. And it will probably be harder than when Lisa waited by the home phone (literally) to find out if she’d made the junior varsity cheerleading squad (she didn’t-and they FORGOT to call-long story!) or when Liz waited at her graduation lunch for her date  to show up (he never did- even longer story!). But many moons and hopefully more maturity later, we’re all about positive thinking- affirmations, fountains and the whole nine yards. And because of that, we know find the right agent to rep us. (That is, if we don’t kill each other trying to perfect our synopsis-but that’s a whole other blog!)

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

The Bride

Some might say the President of the United States is the most powerful man in the world. Others might argue its celebrities like Madonna, Elton John or Brad Pitt who dominate. I say there’s no doubt those people are all important, but there’s someone with a lot more influence and authority. Someone who red carpets roll out for, champagne constantly appears for and anyone will do anything for.

The bride.

For one day, more important than any other uniform in the world is the white dress and veil. And more exclusive and powerful than even the elusive black American Express is another card. A card you only get to carry for one day. A card that you can milk for access to anyone and anything. A card that gets you a yes to any question you ask. A card that allows you to act however you want and still get whatever you want.

The bride card.

Even my award-winning Matron of Honor, Liz, (more on that in a minute) used it. In fact, I might even argue she became drunk with power as the words bridal suite rolled off her tongue with such ease you’d think she’d lived in the 650 square foot space all of her life. If I so much as blinked or even slightly furrowed my brow, Liz was on the phone faster than you can say bridezilla expertly using some combination of the words, “the bride wants”, “the bride needs” or “the bride is REALLY, REALLY thirsty and will ONLY drink White Star champagne.”

The Bride & the MOH

Or even when the bride card wasn’t being used for me, but was not so secretly being used for her (um, like rush ordering a hamburger the night before my wedding because the “bride was hungry”) as far as I’m concerned, she was entitled to use it. She deserved to whip out the card because she blocked and tackled like there was no tomorrow. Forget that dude from The Blind Side, Liz may as well have been 6′7″ and 350 pounds of rippling muscle as she watched my back.

Like when she offered to kick the asses of certain people who got a little over excited about the concept of an open bar or when she promised to personally rip the wildly inappropriate ensemble off a certain someone and replace it with something far more acceptable like a burlap sack or when my photographer asked us to “dolphin kiss” (not Matt and me—Liz and me!) for the second time (the first was traumatic enough) and she whispered through her toothless smile, “if he even infers we should hold hands, I’ll shove his camera where the sun don’t shine.”

And all the while, I got to float along behind her with a huge toothy smile on my face- wondering if this was what the Queen of England or a mob boss felt like- having someone else to do their dirty work for them.

I’d like to take a moment to give Liz the Matron of Honor of the Year award and thank her for:

• Wearing four-inch heels during the ceremony even though the highest she ever goes is 1.5.
• Reminding me to keep things in perspective. Most notably when I called her in a heated panic over a mysterious rash that had appeared on my back and she sternly yet softly warned me that I’d better get it together and realize there were people out there with real problems- like in Haiti.
• Telling me it was okay that I cried with joy when I saw and loved myself in my wedding dress.
• And also that it was okay to say out loud that as a producer I thought my wedding was a damn. Good. Show.
• Sticking her entire head under my wedding dress to put on my “something borrowed” garter and smiling bravely as she got more up close and personal than even my Russian bikini waxer, Tatiana, and saw things she should’ve never had to see. In. Her. Entire. Life. (We’re close, but not that close!)
• For doing her bride proud and giving a kick ass, laugh out loud MOH speech. (Hilarious highlights include, but are not limited to, the reminder of the pure bred cat I came dangerously close to ordering in the height of my singledom, the list of former metrosexual boyfriends including the Ryan Seacrest wannabe and the very astute and simultaneously frightening observation that my husband, Matt is practically Liz in a wig.)

Thank you, MOH!!!!

Well, I’m happy to report that my wedding day was the best day of my life. And it’s not because I got to play the bride card (okay maybe that was a tiny part of it) but because I have the best friends and family anyone could ask for! And I married the best man I could ever ask for.

Oh, and I wore the best. damn. dress. evuh!

On that note-would it be weird if I arbitrarily decided to wear my wedding dress, say, out to dinner or even to run errands? The thought of packing her away makes me too sad for words and the thought of not being the bride anymore, well, I can’t even talk about it!

xoxo,

Lisa

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

We’ve made no secret about the fact that we LOVE Sarah Pekkanen. Her debut novel, The Opposite of Me, will be published by Washington Square Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, next week.  But before it hits bookstores, she’s holding a Sarah Spike Day with a big raffle for everyone who pre-orders her book this Wednesday, March 3.

So, what’s in it for you if you pre-order The Opposite of Me on 3/3?  Here are the raffle prizes:

• A small, sleek HD camcorder from DXG USA’s Pro Gear line for 2010 (www.dxgusa.com). It retails for $300.  We gave them away at our Girls Night Out book signing last summer-they are AWESOME!

• A gift bag containing five hot new Simon & Schuster releases

• Five high-end, cotton t-shirts from Heart Threads Clothing (www.heartthreadsclothing.com). You pick the size, color and secret message printed on the inside of your shirt and worn close to your heart. Five winners!

• A 30-minute phone consultation with Sarah, in which she’ll explain, step-by-step, how she got signed by a literary agent and publisher. This will include an editorial critique of your manuscript of up to 40 pages. If you’re not interested in writing a novel, you can gift this prize to anyone you choose.

• This last prize is one a character in her book, Lindsey, would especially like:  A $35 gift certificate to MAC cosmetics (Lindsey is a fan of their eyeshadow) and a gorgeous red bustier from Affinitas Intimates. It would probably look best on a woman, but we won’t pass judgment if the guys want to win it!

If you want to be entered in Sarah’s raffle, here’s what to do:

1) On Wednesday, March 3, order The Opposite of Me online from places including Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com or Powells.com. If you buy more than one book, you’ll get more than one chance to win.

2) Email your receipt within 24 hours to this address: sarah@sarahpekkanen.com and make sure to put CONTEST as the subject line.

3) Wait to hear if you are one of the winners!

Now for the even bigger news…#1 New York Times bestseller Jennifer Weiner, author of seven blockbusters including Best Friends Forever and In Her Shoes, which was made into a major motion picture staring Cameron Diaz, is supporting The Opposite of Me by holding an extraordinary giveaway of her own! Please visit Jen’s website for the details of how she is giving a free, autographed copy of one of her books to everyone who orders The Opposite of Me!

Remember, these are separate giveaways. So you can enter Sarah’s raffle, or Jen’s giveaway, or both! The possibilities are endless!

If you’d like to read the first chapter of The Opposite of Me, a Redbook magazine book club pick, it’s on Sarah’s website, www.sarahpekkanen.com. And trust us, it’s as good as everyone is saying it is!

And just when you thought things couldn’t get ANY better, we also asked Sarah to share five things we didn’t know about her.  And, if it’s even possible, we think we love her even more after reading them!  We think you will too.

Five Things Liz and Lisa didn’t know about…Sarah Pekkanen!

1. I was rejected as a contestant on Wheel of Fortune, despite the fact that I have a Rain Man-like ability to solve puzzles with no letters showing. I’m still bitter; I really wanted to spin that wheel!

2. I wrote part of The Opposite of Me at Chuck E. Cheese. I’ve got three young boys, so I bring my laptop with me wherever I go and squeeze in snatches of writing time. I’ve got this system down at Chuck E.’s: I keep all the tokens on my table and my kids have to come to me every time they need one. So they’re checking in every couple of minutes, and in the meantime, I’m pecking away on my laptop.

3. The Opposite of Me isn’t even the slightest bit autobiographical. The first thing people ask me when they hear the premise of my book – it’s the story of twin sisters who are complete opposites – is whether I’m a twin. Nope; I don’t even have a sister. But I’ve always been intrigued by the complex relationships my friends have with their sisters, so I tried to make the relationship of my main characters, Lindsey and Alex, as juicy and competitive and loving and tangled as possible. I’ve heard about twins who are so close that they create their own language, and can feel each other’s pain from miles away – but I wondered what would happen to twins who were completely different. What if two sisters had nothing in common, but were constantly being compared? How would that shape their relationship?

4. I started writing books when I was a kid. A few years ago, my niece discovered an old letter I’d written on Raggedy Ann stationery asking a publisher when my book, titled, “Miscellaneous Tales and Poems” would be published. I carry that letter with me every time I go to New York to meet with my publisher, as a reminder that dreams really do come true. Well, at least some dreams. Brad Pitt has yet to show up on my doorstep wearing nothing but a toolbelt and a knowing smile and asking me if I need anything fixed. So maybe it’s only G-rated dreams that come true.

5. When I’m not writing, I love to run marathons and study Latin and organize the clothes in my closet by color and season. Naw, not really. I watch reality TV and eat too much chocolate and worry if my butt looks fat in my favorite jeans.

To read more about Sarah, head on over to  www.sarahpekkanen.com or become a fan on Facebook.

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

March is going to be a great month!  Not only  will we be featuring fantastic authors like Sarah Pekkanen and Jodi Picoult, we’ll also be revealing the mystery author we’ve been hinting about on our Facebook fan page.   But right now we’re ecstatic to find out five things we didn’t know about…Wendy Wax!

We first discovered Wendy  last year when we devoured THE ACCIDENTAL BESTSELLER, a wonderful story about four best friends who discover how little they know about each other. We LOVED it!  Now comes MAGNOLIA WEDNESDAYS.  After she’s fired from her job as an investigative reporter, Vivian leaves the big city after her life falls apart to write an anonymous column about suburban life in the South.  But after moving in with her recently widowed sister and her teenaged children, Vivian learns more about herself and the suburban life she mocks in her column than she could have ever imagined.

And we loved learning 5 things we didn’t know about Wendy. We smiled at the very cool way Wendy met her husband and loved learning more about her secret chocolate addiction.  And how can you resist anyone that quotes Gone With The Wind?

And, today, we have not one but TWO giveaways.  We have three copies of MAGNOLIA WEDNESDAYS-just leave a comment and you’ll be entered to win!

AND…you can also enter for a chance to win a cougar tank top from  CougarsandCo.com by leaving a comment about which twenty-something you secretly pine over. (We have a special place in our cougar hearts for Robert Buckley!)

1.  I met my husband completely by accident the first and only time I ever took the Carey Bus from JFK to Grand Central while visiting New York City. That was twenty-six years ago just after my mother, who thought I’d never fall in love or get married, asked, “What, do you think you’re going to be walking down the street and it’s just going to…happen?”

2.  I’ve read Gone with the Wind way too many times. It’s the reason I originally chose to attend the University of Georgia even though I knew no one there, and why I’m able to recite large portions of dialogue by memory. I fell in love with Clark Gable the first time I saw the movie and have never understood how anyone could choose Ashley Wilkes over Rhett Butler. Ever. Under Any Circumstances.

Whenever possible during an argument with my husband, I try to work in at least one, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”  and have even considered uttering the occasional ‘fiddle-dee-dee!”

Speaking at the Margaret Mitchell House last June when The Accidental Bestseller came out was an incredible thrill.

3. Birthdays in our family always begin with birthday cake (preferably chocolate) for breakfast. This began in my single days when a roommate and I started the tradition. It feels wonderfully decadent and allows you to get to the best part of the day first thing. I’m not all that into delayed gratification, which sometimes makes writing a four hundred page manuscript, well, difficult.

4.  I hosted a live radio show in Tampa, Florida called, Desperate & Dateless, back when I was both. Every Friday from 8:00PM to Midnight I would take calls from men and women and match them up on the air.

One couple called into the show from their honeymoon to thank me. It was great to hear from them, but I thought they should have had better things to do!

5.  I am a chocoholic. There, I’ve said it out loud. I’ve been this way since birth (I think it’s genetic) and crave it pretty much all the time. (Even at breakfast on my birthday—see #3 above) When I was pregnant with my sons, I considered it the fifth food group. A day without chocolate is, well, I don’t even want to go there!

To read more about the fabulous Wendy Wax, head on over to her website or become a fan on Facebook.

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

Happy Monday y’all!

To celebrate Mommy Monday, we’re giving away two copies of KEEP YOUR SKIRT ON by Starshine Roshell. It’s a smart, sassy collection of her kicky columns with legs for GenX Moms everywhere that will have you LOLing.  Just leave a comment to enter!

Considering the fact that I had to squeeze time in to write this post in between softball games, swimming lessons and soccer signups, I’d thought that today we’d discuss why the hell we overschedule our children(and ourselves) to death.

Now, before we go any further, let me just say that I’m a huge part of the problem. I find myself in a constant frenzy, not only trying to figure out when and where to sign up for all this shit, but how to find time to get them there. (Btw, Coach Steve, 1:30pm weekday practices are NOT convenient. Doesn’t anyone have a J-O-B around here?)

I’m almost embarrassed to admit to the meltdown I had two weeks ago when my daughter’s softball league was up in the air due to a lack of sign-ups.  I literally thought to myself, Great! She’ll NEVER make it in softball now. I envisioned her blaming me for years to come whenever the subject came up.  That I was sentencing her to a lifetime of inadequacy on the softball field.   Oh, did I mention that she’s barely FIVE YEARS OLD?

And it doesn’t help that sometimes our well-meaning Mom friends make us feel as if we just stepped up on stage to pick up the Lamest Parent of the Year award.

Geez.  That’s too bad.  Because you really should have her out on the field by five.

That’s okay.  She can still play for fun!

And you missed AYSO signups too? (insert silent judgement here)

It seems that often we are so obsessed about giving our child every advantage, or to righting every percieved wrong from our childhood, that it can be pretty damn easy to lose perspective.  I’m sure I’m not the only mom who’s stomach churns when she realized that her friend’s children are swimming like Michael Phelps while her little rugrats are still hanging on to their floaties for dear life.  Or when she saw the adorable photos of her niece’s dance recital on Facebook and second guessed her decision to sign her little princess up for soccer instead, secretly wondering if she’s doomed her to tomboy status her entire childhood.

And just for the record, I don’t know what the answers are. I’m down here with you in the trenches, trying to figure out how to find the balance between active and overscheduled kids. I’m just saying that the next time your Mommy friend calls you up in a panic that little Johnny is never going to make it in the big leagues because she missed his tee-ball sign ups, just remind her gently that she’s losing her damn mind.  And then help her put things in perspective. She’ll love you for it, I promise.

xoxo, Liz

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

We’ve made no secret about the fact that we love TV. All kinds of TV. From the good to the really, really bad (in a good way) kind. And we’ve also never had a problem hopping up on our soapboxes and giving our two cents about shows like The Bachelor. So…our love of TV + our love of sharing our opinion= our latest feature, Watch this Not that.

Watch this:

Say Yes to the Dress I’m not sure if it’s the fact that my wedding is *gulp* TEN days away or that I’m just strangely obsessed with brides and their entourages as they shop a gown that makes them “look like a princess”, but I’m in LOVE.  I. Can’t. Stop. Watching.  I’ve even got my fiance hooked (don’t tell him I told you!) and scratching his head as he tries to figure out why so many grooms-to-be have an opinion on what type of dress their fiance should buy. I say a groom who knows what a mermaid dress is= gay.

The Bachelor First of all, I don’t know about you, but when I picked up this week’s Us Weekly and saw “Vienna’s Secret” on the cover, I thought I was going to read that someone finally uncovered a picture of her penis because she IS A MAN. Not that she used to dance topless (bore-ring). When dull Jake was picked as the Bachelor, I thought this season was going to suck ass. But thanks to the women, it’s been one mental breakdown after another. (um, Ali, you work in ad sales for Facebook, not in the White House) And now that it’s down to the Penis and Tenley, I’m wondering if Jake picks the Penis and then reveals that he’s gay. And then he’d suddenly become very interesting. So…I say even though we all want to slit our wrists with the overplaying of “On the Wings of Love” hang in there and keep watching- especially Monday’s “The Women Tell All” when crazy pants Michelle, a.k.a. “Um, Jake, I know we just met five seconds ago, but I need you to know that I’m ready to get married and give my mother grandchildren” is baaaack!

Not that:

Grey’s Anatomy Okay, so I have a confession. I broke up with Grey’s earlier this season. But then Ugly Betty got canceled (how am I going to live without bitchy Mark’s one-liners?) and it freed up some space in my DVR and I gave Grey’s a second chance. Well, just like you shouldn’t take an ex-boyfriend back when he comes a beggin’, you should not get sucked back in by a show that’s clearly jumped the shark. No need to doubt me on this. The highlights are: Bailey still gives about five speeches an episode that are all some version of I’m angry, single and did I mention angry? The Chief is in rehab and Derek is taking his place (yawn, snore) and little Grey died her hair blonde. Um, yeah, they don’t really do medicine on the show anymore.

Dating in the Dark I just read that it got renewed. Now, I’m into the good kind of bad TV as much as the next gal (um, even I got sucked in by Snooki). But  I have to draw the line somewhere. And I’m sorry, but are we really supposed to believe that even though people are tugging on each others love handles and going through their underwear drawers, that they’re really basing their decisions solely on their personalities? Sorry, but if you’re going to be so shallow, can you at least give me some better lighting while you do it?

xoxo, Lisa

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

Truth be told, I’ve never been much of a “runner”.  While my friends were off running track in high school, I could usually be found up on the tennis court flirting with boys in my short skirt and favorite orange and green Nikes.  Even when it came to exercise, I demanded that there be some sort of social component.

But part of me has always envied those joggers as I sat at the stoplight, sipping my Starbucks, watching them run in place while impatiently waiting to cross the intersection.  And each time we would cheer on my brother-in-law in his latest marathon, part of me would think, I could do this!  Even though I get winded after walking up three flights up stairs, I COULD complete 26.2 miles without any body parts breaking and/or falling off. And because I also tend to be a bit lazy, I also thought, And you know what? I probably wouldn’t even have to train that much!

So when my Brother-in-law announced his intention to run the  Surf City half marathon, I jumped at the chance to do the 5k.  I mean, everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?  I formulated my training plan, bought that thing that holds your iPod on your arm and the only flattering pair of runners shorts this side of the Mississippi. I even purchased a choke chain so my unsociable German Shepard could train at my side without traumatizing every cat and small dog in the neighborhood.  I. Was. Ready.

But then something strange happened.  It began to RAIN in Southern California.  And for those of you familiar with the weather patterns out here, you know how rare it is to get more than a few inches per year, let alone a few inches per storm.  And by the time it finally stopped, my 5k training schedule, much like that show, Conveyor Belt of Love, was just a distant memory.

So, on race day, I decided to do what I do best-fake my way through it.  I pushed away the memory of getting winded walking to the registration tent the day before and did my best impersonation of someone who knew how to stretch their muscles by lifting my leg repeatedly.  And with my iPod firmly secured on my arm and bib fastened on my shirt, I was pretty damn sure that no one knew my secret. That I was going to FAIL MISERABLY.

Well, except for my husband.  I didn’t miss the small smirk on his face as we ran in place waiting for the race to start.  After all, I was the one who dragged him over to the “Twelve minute Mile and WALKERS”  section.  And at the time, I mistakenly thought they were referring to people WITH walkers, not people walking.

Although I literally did not jog ONE STEP before the day of the race, I did finish, thanks to my plan to WOG. (walk and jog, emphasis on WALK.)  And while I will admit to *thinking* about taking the kids 1 mile U turn because my lungs felt as if they would collapse, I didn’t do it. Even though my end time was a completely shiteous 38 minutes, a part of me was really proud of myself.  Because as I heaved and gasped did that arm thing that people on  The Biggest Loser do when they’re forced to run a mile on the first show, I knew that all my humiliation would provide excellent blog material!

YOU KNOW IT’S TIME TO HANG UP YOUR RACING BIB WHEN:

1. An overweight guy wearing jorts and Converse passes you like you’re standing still.

2. When you stop all conversation around you by shouting that your going to “kick all the people with walkers asses” at the start line. (Note to self: take headphones off before speaking!)

3.  When Adam Lambert and Lady Gaga just aren’t providing the inspiration you’ve hoped they would.

4. When you realize that if you double the time it took you to run the 5k, it almost equals your brother-in-laws’s HALF-MARATHON finish time.

5.  When you dramatically tell your husband to “save himself” at the two mile marker when you realize a nine-year old just lapped you.

6. When you are unable to bend your legs for THREE DAYS after completing a 3.2 mile wog.

See you in April at the Seach Beach 5k!  Hopefully this time I’ll actually break in my running shoes before hitting the course!

xo, Liz

©2010 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.