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valzane's avatarValerie Zane

Today, we celebrate two groups of people: Those who prank and those who get pranked!

Admittedly, I have fallen into both categories. Here’s my advice…

  • If you don’t want to get pranked, this may be a good time to cash in a vacation or sick day. There’s no shame in hiding. I’ve done it.
  • Even if you love a good prank, keep your guard up. You may have planned the best prank ever, but it might not matter if they get you first.
  • Try not to hurt anyone. Before you go yanking a chair out from under someone or wiping out the back of a knee, please be sure they aren’t suffering from a previous injury or disability. You don’t want to cause permanent physical damage, and you will look like the biggest A-hole on the planet when you find yourself being sued or serving prison time for a poorly…

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Blocked Blogger

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As I’ve mentioned before, I use my blog mainly when I have writer’s block in my novels. I absolutely love blogging. It’s a great creative outlet and it serves as the ideal distraction to jump start my literary engine. Usually I blog for a few minutes, hit post and then I am able to write for hours in one of my novels.

But recently, I haven’t been a very good blogger. If I so much as think about blogging, I get blocked. Or I get a few words down on a particular blog entry and then I almost immediately get smacked in the face with inspiration for whichever novel I’m immersed in at the moment.

Fortunately, I’ve been writing up a storm in my manuscripts, both new and revised! That has been awesome. Unfortunately, I’ve been neglecting my blog. Not so awesome.

I have dozens of blogs started and just sitting in my draft folder waiting to be finished. I promise to finish each of them eventually and blog again (hopefully very soon) when the inspiration strikes.

In the meantime… Sorry.

But I must go where the inspiration takes me.

Write on!!

xoxo

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My wonderful friend Sonia Aurora has a fantastic new blog, called “The Loneliness of the Long Distance DateR.” Please check it out! In doing so, you’ll see that I won a beautiful necklace by helping her promote her site! Help her grow her readership and you, too, could win something since she’ll be having another contest later this year. xoxo

Hello world! It’s me, Val…

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I’m not the most tech savvy so please bear with me as I try my best…

About a year ago, I created my own website and started blogging. It’s been great! But recently, I’ve outgrown my host. So I’m testing the waters with new (to me) options.

While I’m adventurous in so many aspects of my life, this isn’t one of them. And since I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this, I’m taking baby steps. I’m starting by transferring a few blogs from my site (www.valeriezane.com) over to this one. I also plan to post new things once I find my footing. And eventually, I plan to (hopefully) move my URL entirely. But in all honestly, I have no idea how to do that yet. Stay tuned.

If you have tips, please feel free to share them. Thanks!

xoxo

Lyla Calling

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When I was a teen, my parents complained that I was always on the phone. It’s the classic battle between parents and adolescent girls. My daughter Lyla is just a toddler, and I can already relate.

Last week, after searching for my cell phone for nearly three days, I finally found it inside her crib, under her pillow. She’d managed to somehow smuggle it in there and hide it. She made good use of her time too, managing to change my ringtone, make a few calls, and delete my incoming call list (leaving me no way of knowing who may have called). Last but certainly not least, she took two pictures of the ceiling in her nursery and one of her hand. While impressed, I was also grateful that she hadn’t yet figured out how to get into my voicemail. I’m sure she would have wreaked all sorts of havoc there too.

It probably goes without saying that Lyla loves playing with phones. Any phone will do. Cell phones, blackberries, land lines, mine, yours; she has no preference. She has plenty of toy phones, and she practices on them. But, she prefers to play phone on real phones.

While playing, she occasionally dials out. If you’ve called me recently, she might even call you back. Typically she dials the same people, mostly relatives and friends, usually those on speed dial, but she also likes to switch it up every now and again by pecking randomly at the caller ID list or by making selections from my contact list. She’s partial to names that begin with the letter “A.”

Whenever our home phone rings, she runs to answer it – not a problem when it’s someone familiar. But, about a month ago, a telemarketer called and she answered. My plan was to let it ring until the voicemail picked up, but she felt compelled to take the call. I assumed that the caller would realize she was too young to buy whatever he was selling and eventually hang up, but he was persistent. My daughter listened politely to his whole pitch before handing me the phone, at which point all I heard was, “can you put your mommy on the phone?” At least she listens and takes direction! Not planning on buying the New York Times, I apologized profusely and hung up.

About a week ago, we were at the pediatrician’s office for Lyla’s 18 month checkup. While she and I waited our turn in the waiting room, of all places, the office phone rang. Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, Lyla had already put her own hand to her own ear and said, “Hello?”

To be fair, she actually says, “Huh-whoa,” but still.

Whenever our home phone rings and I answer, she mimics me (or mocks me, if you will). She runs around me, in circles, with her little hand to her ear shouting “Huh-whoa? Huh-whoa!” the whole time. It’s 100% impossible to ignore.

On Friday, she was playing with my cell phone when she, accidentally or perhaps on purpose, called my husband’s cell. His is usually the last number dialed out, so that was an easy one. When he answered and realized it was her calling and not me, he expected to at least hear me in the background laughing. When that didn’t happen, he quickly dialed our land line from his blackberry (AKA: his work phone).

“Are you with Lyla because she just called me?” he asked. “She’s playing in the other room,” I replied as I promptly ran from one end of our apartment to the other. We live in New York. Believe me, it wasn’t far. When I got to her, she had my cell phone in one hand and our second house phone in her other hand. My husband voice echoed through both. Lyla had removed the land line from its cradle and “answered” it. When I entered the room, she looked up at me innocently and handed me the home phone, as if to say “it’s for you,” while maintaining her current conversation with her daddy on my cell.

In all fairness, friends and family frequently call and ask to speak to Lyla. She’s an excellent conversationalist. When her grandma calls, Lyla walks away with the phone, takes it into her nursery for a little privacy, sits on the floor and has a full conversation. She says things like “bubble” and “cookie” and “baby.” Her grandma listens intently and occasionally propels the conversation forward with questions like, “can you say puppy?” Lyla responds accordingly. After 30 minutes or so, depending on how chatty Lyla’s feeling, eventually she simply says “bye” and hangs up.

I think back to the time before Lyla entered my life, back when I knew everything. A close friend and I, both childless at the time, were having a typical conversation about kids these days, and I recall saying something like, “Well, part of the problem is that 14 is way too young to have a cell phone.”

People often say that motherhood changes you. And, maybe I’ve changed. But these days, I have to laugh when I hear myself wondering out loud, “Is 18 months too young to be added to our family plan?”

I Look Great Drunk

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It was recently brought to my attention that I look great drunk. I don’t mean to brag…

OK, stop it. I didn’t say I’m more attractive when you’re drunk. I have no idea whether or not your alcohol consumption has any direct or indirect link or influence (so to speak) on my appearance or your perception of my appearance. I’d like to think that a few drinks in either direction wouldn’t entirely change how I look to you.

But, if a drink helps, well, then drink up!

This isn’t to say that I think I look awful sober or anything. It’s just that I look more attractive while intoxicated. It’s true. Pictures don’t lie and while flipping through hundreds of them (not all of myself, I promise) the other day, I started seeing the pattern.

Granted, it took me a while to identify the actual pattern because I’d had a few drinks (not true).

Anyway, the photos in which I was either holding a drink, in a setting where drinks were being served or clearly slightly-to-somewhat-more-than-slightly (I’m 1/2 Irish, but aren’t we all?) inebriated were notably more attractive than the no drink, dry setting and sober selections.

I even asked my husband to confirm my theory and (after first confirming that it wasn’t a “does my butt look big in these jeans?” type trick question) he actually kind of agreed.

What can I say? I’m a good-looking drunk! It seems, the alcohol may have given me a glow of sorts, an unexplainable airy quality, a certain gin-es sequa, if you will.

In layman’s terms, I looked hot.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and when I was beholding a margarita (on the rocks with salt, please!), I was looking (and feeling) quite fine.

It’s hard to say for sure, but I imagine this phenomenon probably has more to do with the increased level of confidence and reduced inhibition that comes with having a cocktail (or two) than the actual alcohol itself. And, while I admit there weren’t any photos of me stumbling, falling to the floor, completely shit-faced, ‘where the hell am I and how did I get here?’ drunk, I doubt those pictures would have been as attractive. I probably wouldn’t have saved them either.

While few and far between, I’m sure I’ve had those moments (i.e., college, 21st b-day, every St. Patty’s Day and New Year’s Eve for as far back as I can recall, my NBA going away party, my 20s). Luckily, my friends and family were never so mean as to snap and save blackmail shots of me. Or, maybe they were too drunk to remember where they put them? Either way, phew!

Now, before you jump to any conclusions… I’m not planning on adding beer run to my weekly To Do list or making daily trips to the liquor store to improve my outward appearance. I have enough to do already, and besides, it’s just not a priority for me these days.

Being a mom, my outward appearance is more about sweat pants, headbands and hair clips. I’m satisfied with that. My satisfaction increases exponentially when I manage to make it through a whole day without getting pooped on, peed on, or covered in apple juice. But, had I discovered this link between beauty and binging 10 or so years ago, perhaps I’d have been singing a different tune. Of course, I didn’t need a reason to drink back then.

These days, the drinks are even fewer and further between (and thank God, so are the pictures). As a full time writer and stay at home mom, coffee is more often my beverage of choice (and necessity). Don’t get me wrong. I still enjoy the occasional cocktail and the even-less-occasional buzz. But, now, I’m happily married and the mommy to a very sweet and mischievous toddler. Most days, I’d choose a shower or a nap over a drink.

Besides, since becoming a mom, my tolerance (the one I worked on for many, many years) has diminished. Back in the day, I was proud to say I could hold my liquor. Hell, I could hold yours too! To this day, every time I see an ice sculpture, I remember the days when I’d happily step up to the ice luge, ready and willing to take a shot of Jim Beam. Yep, I was that girl! I laughed at the notion of being hung over, and I could drink most of my friends, guys included, under the table (or even over the table when properly challenged).

It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a party with an ice luge. In fact, the last seven parties I’ve attended each had balloons, bubbles, ice cream and cake instead. I honestly can’t recall the last time I was challenged to a drinking game of any kind. And, that’s OK!

I’ll happily work the bubble machine, instead of the funnel. I’ll make cupcakes instead of Jell-o shots. And, as for “quarters,” well, it’s no longer a game. It’s a choking hazard. We try to keep those and all small objects as far out of our daughter’s reach as possible.

These days, I have a completely different list of priorities. I’m someone’s mom! She tops that list, and you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing.

Plus, I’m a much cheaper date. I still look great, but it only takes one drink to get me there.

Cheers!

A Wii for me? You shouldn’t have!

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In addition to flowers, cards and candy, my husband got me a Wii for Valentine’s Day. I’d wanted (dropped hints, begged and practically drew a treasure map for) a basic Zumba DVD. Being a good man, he naturally went the extra step, getting me the Wii and Wii Zumba. Even though he claimed they were from our 1-yr-old daughter, I knew better.

I was immediately grateful and blown away by its extravagance. Admittedly, I was a tad intimidated. I’m technology-challenged and have been since birth. I was convinced I’d break it trying to remove it from the box. So, once he removed it from the box and properly installed it for me, it was on! And, it has remained on ever since.

It started with Zumba, the original reason for the gift. I loved it from the very first Calypso and wanted (needed) more!! So, we bowled a round. That was fun. He won the first. I won the second. Best two out three? OK! Before we knew it, we were 100 pin bowling with matching shirts! Then, out of curiosity, we checked out Wii boxing. The rush of adrenaline got the best of me, and I knocked out my opponent in the third round. I kicked his Wii ass, and it felt so good! An old friend said, “You can take the girl out of Kensington, but you can’t take the Kensington out of the girl.” If you’re from Philly, you will understand.

Now, in addition to Zumba, bowling and boxing, I’ve been partaking regularly in Wii basketball, tennis, golf (I’m good at Wii golf, like pre-sex scandal Tiger Woods good), skydiving, badminton (honestly, I just like saying ‘shuttlecock’), fencing, various water and air sports, Frisbee, cycling and even baseball (the sport I hate most in real life).

I have had to come to terms with the fact, rather quickly, that I’m currently addicted to Wii.

And, so is my husband.

Seriously, he and I may need to go to Wii counseling or have a Wii intervention. I wonder if they have a Wii patch for this sort of thing? It’s spiraling out of control, and more than just a Wii bit.

It’s not just about us. We live on the top floor, and I feel bad for torturing our neighbors below. I recall past years when we did not live on the top floor, when we had noisy upstairs’ neighbors. We were at their mercy. Back then, I’d find myself wondering out loud if those people had built a bowling alley in their living room. That’s what it sounded like. Of course, that was long before the Wii’s time. Now, suddenly, we are those people! And, thanks to Wii, we (or wii) actually have a bowling alley in our living room whenever we feel like bowling… Our poor neighbors!

But not just a bowling alley, we also have a dance floor, hockey rink, boxing ring, tennis court, among other things. For over a week now, wii’ve been bowling, stomping, dancing, boxing, jumping, and even wave running above them… every… single… day… and night!

Through this experience, I’ve learned some new things about myself and my husband. For example, I had no idea that he was so good at tennis! Nine years, and you think you know someone. Also, I rediscovered that we share a similar competitive, adventurous spirit. I’ve always known that, but it’s nice being reminded. And, clearly, I’m not the only obsessive one in this relationship. He loves the Wii just as much as me, probably more. The Wii was, after all, his idea. At one point, he even thanked me for “letting” him keep it.

In learning about us, I’ve also figured out why it’s called a Wii.

Here’s my Top 10:

  1. It makes you say, “Wiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
  2. After playing non-stop for six hours, I realized I’d better stop to go wii or I might wii my pants.
  3. Whenever I leave the room, hii tries to sneak in a quick solo game, proving this Wii was not just a gift for mii.
  4. Wii want (NEED) more Wii games ASAP!
  5. Playing as a team, wii rock!
  6. Playing against each other, wii are waaaay too competitive!
  7. Wii go “Wii, wii, wii, all the way home to play our Wii.” It’s kind of sad, really. But, it’s winter. Ooh, Wiinter!
  8. After playing all night for four consecutive nights, wii really need to get some sleep.
  9. Wii are way too old for this. Please pass the Ben Gay.
  10. Wii need help… professional help… and perhaps a second Wii controller.