. Intention .

Let's have a little heart to heart, okay? 

Here's what I've got going on in my life: 

• I was asked not long ago to present at a conference with three other people (manly men). I emailed my madre and told her and she lovingly sent me four YouTube videos on how to present well ... probably because the last time I presented anything in front of a group of people (that weren't eleventh graders listening with obvious rapt attention), I got spooked and talked about sliding down poles at a fire station and BFF Suzy and I staying out until four a.m.. Either moms remember that kind of thing, or she could sense through my email that I am downright terrified (and this shiz is still two weeks away).
• My house is a disaster. And when I say disaster, I mean that I can see the dust under the TV and I can't remember the last time the sheets made it into the wash. I accidentally took a drink out of a can of Diet Mountain Dew that was sitting on the counter tonight ... I think it was from three nights ago. Team Thumann hasn't been home enough lately to make cleaning a priority.
• I got dressed in Tucker's room this morning because he was a spaz case (obvi his morning attitude comes from his mother). Nothing fit right, you guys. Nothing. You should see the rocking chair in his room. It's covered with stuff that I'll probably try on again tomorrow.

So this is my every day right now. And I don't tell you to complain - in fact - I gather that this is probably the norm in houses everywhere. I'm telling you because tonight I got a lovely email from a lovely woman that wasn't really all that lovely. She just wanted me to know that she was on to my imperfect life, and that my world wasn't as "glittery" as I thought it was. She is so right (mostly because I hate glitter). Of course my world isn't perfect. I'm not sure how she ever got that impression, but #bitchbewrong. If she knew how often I swept under my couch, she'd probably have a coronary. 

One of my favorite, favorite quotes of alllll time comes from Dianne Von Furstenberg. I think about it ALL the time. She was being interviewed for Harper's Bazaar and she is obviously gorgeous and eloquent and everything perfect:

You know, there's a thing about the woman across the room. You see the woman across the room, you think, She's so poised; she's so together. But she looks at you and you are the woman across the room for her.

And I'll be damned if it doesn't all fall together just like that.

What you think is that this girl has it somewhat (and I use the term somewhat very loosely) together i really just a girl trying to get through each day without teaching her kid how to say shit as his first word. She also takes awful drinks of three-day-old-soda ... and then she leaves it on the counter. 

I'm not quite sure what had this lady so fired up tonight, or even why I was her target. Does she read this blog? Does she read my books? Follow me on Twitter? Does my recipe board on Pinterest offend her? I have no real idea, but I really, really hope that somehow -- maybe after I send her a giant F you disguised with a perfectly placed "bless your heart" (which is a total lie because my parents totally taught me better) -- she'll start to understand the real deal: we need to be looking out for each other. 

We need to start living our lives with just a little teensy, tiny bit more intention. We need to get our shit together and we need to start putting our hands on people's shoulders that need it and we need to be aware of our actions. We need to start putting on our big kid pants, we need to start smiling at each other more, and we need to start giving our best self to each other. Because anything less than that? Anything less than that just sucks.

That's what I have for you tonight. I'm off to sweep or something. Or maybe work on my portion of the presentation that makes me break out in the itchy-armpit-sweats. Take note: Neither of those things are glittery.

Over and out.

B.