This post comes to you with a sheepish, yet polite, request for help. I hate talkin’ shop, but wanted to just toss a few little things out there. Don’t worry, though. This post won’t be all dry. I’ve got a gem of a story to tell you at the end.
It’s my dangling carrot.
So here’s the deal, friends. I stink at self-promotion. It makes me wildly uncomfortable. As I told someone recently, it makes me feel a bit like the girl standing on top of a table in a crowded room and screaming LOOK AT ME!! And I’ve never been much of a table top kind of girl.
But, my goal in the next few months is to beef up the readership and participation on my blog. And to do that, I need your help. If you read something on here that you like, would you mind forwarding it on? You can hit the little Facebook button at the bottom of the page, or if you’re the Tweetin’ kind, you can give a little Tweet.
You know…if you want.
Also, well I don’t talk about it much and, to be quite honest, I don’t utilize it much, but I DO have a Minivans Are Hot Facebook page that you can like by clicking riiiiiiight…here. You don’t have to drive a minivan to like the Facebook page, but I will warn you that should you choose to follow the blog AND the Facebook page, you will likely start to feel the pull of the minivan.
Because minivans are bringing sexy back.
If you do read something you like and have a second or two to respond, well, I’ll confess – I’m a bit of a comment whore. I promise I will respond to you…or you can respond to one another. I like community so let’s build a community of minivan lovin’ (or hatin’ – you know who you are) women…and men, too. I know you guys are reading.
Finally in the manner of business, I would like to ask if there’s anything you guys would like me to specifically write about. Is there are particular topic you like better? Is there something you’d like me to avoid discussing (the frequency of my childrens bowel movements? DONE! – Look how accommodating I am)?
Seriously – let me know.
Now, on to that carrot:
A beautiful, sunny Florida afternoon. The kids are playing outside while I enjoy a few quiet moments alone to do whatever I want – which means I’m cleaning the kitchen…again. The windows are open and a beautiful, cool fall breeze is drifting in. Nothing can break the perfection of this moment. Nothing, that is, until I hear a scream that rattles the glass throughout the house.
The back door flings open aaaaaaaaand CUE DIALOGUE!
“Mooooooooommmmm!!!” Tia shrieks, running into the house all sweaty and red-faced. Sloan comes running after her with a tormentuous (this is my blog – if I say that’s a word…it’s a word) grin on his face.
“What in the world?” I say as she throws her arms around my waist and cries. “What’s going on?”
“Sloan stole my gun!” She cried. Sloan throws his hands up in mock innocence. “What’d I do?” he yells.
“What gun, Tia?” I ask, detaching her from my leg.
“My pwetend gun! I was fightin’ the bad guys with it and Sloan took it and now the bad guys are gonna kill me!”
“Tia, if it’s a pretend gun, can’t you just get another one?” I try my best to say this without rolling my eyes.
“Nope, she can’t,” Sloan says with a smirk. “Because I destroyed all the guns in the imaginary gun shop.”
“Yeah!” Tia cries again. “And he ate the pie I made for Justin Bieber who was gonna come over for dinner at my pwetend house! I don’t LIKE Sloan.” She stomps her foot and runs to her room, slamming her door.
“Whatever!” Sloan yells in return, huffing to his room.
Landon walks in at this moment and strolls past me with string and a crowbar tucked under his arms.
And this folks is why I am slowly but surely losing. my. mind.