Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The Little Big Things

I was interviewed by a major Tampa news anchor yesterday to discuss my book, Opening the Kimono. Guess what I was most freaked out about: answering her questions intelligently, coming across as engaging, or how my hair would look. Yep, you guessed it.

Contrary to what movies would have us believe, all TV studios are not the same. There were no artsy hair and makeup people scurrying around to make me look beautiful. Any beautification would have to take place in the confines of my own bathroom two hours before the interview. Upon waking at 5:30 in the morning, I said a quiet prayer to myself...

"Dear God, please let today's interview go well. Please help me to say the right words in the right way. Please help me to deliver my message of power and healing to as many people as possible. And for goodness sake, God, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE help me look pretty."

I then got out of bed, stumbled toward the bathroom, and proceeded to check on the first potential landmine: my complexion. Mercifully, the zit I acquired on Thursday evening after eating two minuscule bites of chocolate cake at the fancy shindig hubby and I attended had nearly disappeared. The concealer usage would be a minimum. YAY! Victory Number One.

After having a healthy breakfast, I hopped in the shower. After the suds, shampoo, and shave, I emerged feeling fresh and perky. It was now time for the next challenge: the makeup application process. With a surgeon's precision, I applied my foundation, eye shadows (all three of them), liquid eyeliner, mascara, blush, lip liner, and sassy new mocha lipstick I purchased for just this occasion. (My typical hot pink lipstick was not recommended by the media coaching books I recently devoured.) Happily, I had no cosmetic catastrophes to deal with; no mascara on the lids, no errant eyeliner. Everything looked as if I actually meant to do it. YAY! Victory Number Two.

Next, it was time for the Big Kahuna: taming my lion mane. Some days my hair looks wonderful, and other days it looks like I stuck a finger in a wall socket. I have lots of hair, and it's as curly as all get-out. Depending on the moon cycle and the generosity of the Follicle Fairies, my hair can go from sexy to scary in record time. Yesterday, I towel-dried my hair, noticing that it had the delightful texture of cooperation. After squirting liberal amounts of goop #1 (Redken Ringlet 07) into my hand, I added a ribbon of goop #2 (Redken Glass 01) and mixed them together. Attempting to mimic my hairdresser's amazing techniques, I grabbed, scrunched, and twirled my highlighted locks for several minutes until they looked ready for the final primping. After dispensing a quarter-sized dollop of goop #3 (L'oreal Fluid Intense) into my hands, I finished up the scrunching exercise and was ready for the climax: Hair spray (L'oreal infinium 4). Lots of it. This sh#t needed to keep my hair in place through an hour's drive to Tampa and my inevitable pre-show anxiety attack. After all product was applied, I was ecstatic to see the results: A Good Hair Day. YAY! Victory Number Three.

Finally, I put on The Blouse. This wasn't an ordinary blouse; it's one specifically designed to be TV-friendly. (Thanks, Stein Mart!) It is a jewel-toned, solid, button-down number made of stiff material which can hold a lavaliere mic. (It is nothing I'd actually wear in real life; I'm more of a flowy, patterny, hippy blouse kind of chick.) After donning The Blouse accompanied by my tailored black pants and cute black Liz Claiborne shoes, I eyed myself in the mirror. Lo and behold, I didn't look (or feel) as big as a house! In fact, I went so far as to say I felt...dare I say it?...PRETTY. YAY! Victory Number Four.

I was officially ready for the trek to Tampa.

As far as the interview itself went, I think I did pretty well. Honestly, I can't remember most of what I said, except I do remember mentioning my sex life with my husband. (Won't he be thrilled to see that on the news?) My publicist assures me that I rocked it, calling me inspiring and having great energy. Who knows? We'll see when the thing actually airs. It's one of those opportunities for me to trust that I did well instead of automatically assuming that I sucked ass. Unfortunately, self-judgment is a hard habit to break.

One thing is for sure: God answered my prayers yesterday morning and gave me the Little Big Things I so desperately needed.


For your consideration and/or comment:

What Little Big Things (hair, skin, clothes, makeup) help you feel the most attractive?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Friday, March 27, 2009


In another life, I would have wanted to be the next Meryl Streep. Alas, I chose to be a writer and speaker instead. However, whenever I am given the chance to act on stage, I jump at it. Even if I have to swallow a heaping dose of humble pie to do so.

I am blessed to live in Sarasota, Florida, which has established itself as quite a little film town. For eleven years, the Sarasota Film Festival has grown in clout, offerings, and celebrity sightings. (Last year, the unrequited love of my life, Edward Norton, was in town. Oh Edward, I love you so.) This year, the film festival is sponsoring YouthFest, a forum in which budding young filmmakers can hone their craft and get their work seen in public.

This is where I come in...

A few weeks ago, I got an email from Pam, the director of a theatre production I did last year called "Got a Minute". Pam told me she was directing the Youth Screenwriters Live performances for YouthFest and asked me if I would like to do a series of film script readings. Normally, I am not able to commit to doing a full-scale theatre production, as the time needed for rehearsals and performances is just too much for me right now. (I love spending time with Hub and the Bean more than I love being on stage. And that's A LOT.) However, Pam assured me that I'd only need a weekend for rehearsals, and the readings would take place on Sunday night in front of Whole Foods and Monday night at the Florida Studio Theatre.

I think it took me approximately 4 milliseconds before I replied "YES!!" and hit the Send button.

The other day, I got to read the scripts that I'll be performing with the other local actors involved. These scenes were written by high school kids, and they are really impressive. These young'uns have talent, but more importantly, they have guts. They courageously wrote personal stories of pain, emotional trauma, and growth (something I know a little bit about). I'm proud to be associated with this program and am looking forward to another opportunity to be on stage. Then I thought, what sort of juicy roles do I get to read?

Here's my list of characters:

Mrs. Bloom (the obnoxious, trauma-inducing teacher)
Julia's Mom
Dexy's Mom
Emma's Mom (hey, I know how to do that!)
Dr. Roxanne Shelly (the affable principal)

So, what did I glean from this list of characters I'll be playing this weekend? I've been typecast! I'm the mom. I'm the teacher. I'm the supporting role.

Oh jeez. Can you imagine how friggin' ANCIENT I felt when I read this? It's as if all of my sexy sass was instantaneously sucked from my body and replaced with a hand-knit cardigan sweater with jewel-toned appliques. Ugh. It made me want to put on my halter top, jam Justin, and break out the hoop. I can't be THAT friggin' frumpy, can I?

Then I remembered. I'm an actress, dammit! I can PLAY the curmudgeonly teacher, the wimpy mom, and the sweet little principal. I'll give it my all, Meryl-style. Those kids deserve to see their stories come to life the way they saw them in their heads when they wrote those first tentative words.

But, mark my words: when the performances are over, I'll do my husband better and badder than ever before. There may even be some extra-special treats in store for Mr. Rose on Monday night.

Suck on that, Mrs. Bloom.


For your consideration and/or comment:

If you were in a show, what would you be typecast as?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Wednesday, March 25, 2009


Below is one of the many fashion ensembles my seven-year old pulled together yesterday while dancing to "Everybody Dance Now" by The C&C Music Factory ad infinitum. Emma is wearing her swimsuit top, a periwinkle pair of capris, a white apron originally acquired for her Laura Ingalls Wilder oral book report, and her Raggedy Ann wig from two Halloween's ago.

The chick certainly has her own style...

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Laundry Mishap

I was hurriedly doing laundry yesterday while attempting to do seventeen other things. Here is the result of me not paying attention.

In my haste, I had inadvertently caught one of the spaghetti straps on my black tank top to the hook on the dryer door. By the looks of how tightly it was twisted, my strap had remained caught in the door throughout the entire cycle. When I opened the door and untangled the web of blackness, I discovered the strap was now twice as big as it's partner.

At first, I was pissed when I saw my shirt. But then I thought of two things: 1) I paid $3 for the thing at Bealls Outlet a year ago (I think I got my money's worth), and 2) I didn't really like how it looked on me anyway, as it made my woman's sized boobs precariously pop out from the top (I bought it in the Junior's section).

Oh well. Another laundry mishap to log into the books. Yet another reason why I shouldn't be allowed to perform that odious task.


For your consideration and/or comment:

Have you ever had a laundry mishap? What happened?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Monday, March 23, 2009

I Love You, Paul Rudd

I have got a serious thing for dorky dudes.

This weekend, my hubby Michael and I were without child -- our seven-year old daughter was visiting her adopted grandma/my BFF Jean FOR THREE DAYS! It was delicious. Yes, I love that li'l peanut of mine, but it was very nice to have some unadulterated quality time with the Spousal Unit. I need not say how some of the time was spent (nudge nudge, wink wink), but some of it was also spent doing our second favorite pastime: seeing movies.

We saw two flicks, I Love You, Man with Paul Rudd and Jason Segel, and Duplicity with Clive Owen and some chick. Oh right, Julia Roberts. We enjoyed both movies very much, but I must tell you that it brought into sharp focus my penchant for geeks.

Paul Rudd is simply the cutest thing on the planet. I adore the way he us utterly fearless in his comedy -- that guy will do absolutely ANYTHING for a laugh. He combines vulnerability with courage; sappiness with sexiness; junior high bathroom humor with touching romance. Throughout the entire move I wistfully stared at Paul with a school-girl grin plastered on my face, fantasizing what it would be like to be with The Goofball Prince.

Of course, Clive Owen is nothing to sneeze at. That man IS The Incredible Hunk. Describing Clive as cute is a gross understatement: it's like calling The Eiffel Tower pretty. Ummm, yeah, he's cute. He's also debonair, exotic, masculine, charming, and built like a brick sh#thouse. Needless to say, it was not unpleasant to see Clive drop his towel and crawl into bed naked with What's Her Name.

But, you know what? I'd take Paul over Clive any day of the week.

Call me crazy, but there's something incredibly sexy about a funny, self-deprecating guy. When one of them stutters and stammers, boldly throws himself into an embarrassing situation, and emerges with messed-up hair and an impish grin, my legs grow weak. I get all tingly-wingly inside. My fantasies of nerd fornication begin.

My list of favorite adorable goofs is long and varied, but here are the top ten in no particular order: Paul Rudd, Jason Segel, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Steve Carell, Vince Vaughn, Jim Carrey, Owen Wilson, Will Ferrell, and Seann William Scott. George Clooney is an Honorable Mention, but he is just too damn gorgeous to be included in the same category with these guys. Running into any of these men in person would make my life.

However, there is one dorky dude that tops the list: the one and only Michael Rose. My hubby has got the killer one-two combo: Humor and Hotness. He does this kooky dance to the Comedy Central promo that makes me practically pee my pants whenever I see him do it, and I've seen it dozens of times. Some of comedy bits that he did when we were dating fourteen years ago still make me giggle. I have spit liquid out of my nose from nutty things he has done. The guy is friggin' hilarious.

(Plus, he's as cute as Clive. At least he is to me...)


For your consideration and/or comment:

Who is your favorite dorky dude?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Thursday, March 19, 2009

A Sad Farewell

My heart is heavy.

When I read about Natasha Richardson's tragic accident on Google News a few days ago, I felt as if someone punched me in the stomach. There are lots of stories on the news about death and loss. So, what was it about Ms. Richardson's' story that affected me so profoundly?

1) She was acting royalty. Notice I didn't say Hollywood royalty. Her family tree was the Who's Who of Kick@ss Actors, each of whom has an impressive resume of work. (Her mother Vanessa is nothing less than an acting genius.) As a girl who wanted to be a professional actress from the age of three, I looked up to women like Natasha Richardson and her off-the-charts amazing thespian relatives: they were beautiful, talented, successful, and respected. What kind of woman wins a Tony Award for playing Sally Bowles from Cabaret? A fanf#@kingtastic one, that's who.

2) She was only a few years older than I am. Anytime someone my age dies, I can't help but imagine what it would be like if I were in her shoes. What about her children, who are only a few years older than Em? Even though I lost my mother two years ago, I can't even fathom what it must be like to say goodbye to one's mom so early in life. I felt the same sadness when Princess Diana died, leaving her two beautiful boys behind.

3) She died because she was skiing on a bunny hill. Not only that, but she didn't even run into anything. How could something like that happen? I've read countless expert interviews on the cause of her death, but it all boils down to the fact that she fell down and died. The name the doctors bandied about in the media was "Talk and Die Syndrome". What a horrible name for a horrible thing. A freak accident like this reminds us all that we don't have to leave this planet from old age or cancer; we can make our final curtain call skiing down the bunny hill. This life is precious, brief, and fragile, folks.

4) She was hooked up to a ventilator before she died. My mother-in-law died several years ago from complications associated with a heart surgery, and my husband's family had to make the excruciating decision to end life support. I was there as gorgeous, graceful Andree took her last breath, and believe me, it is something that one never, ever forgets. PS: I think using the phrase "pull the plug" should be outlawed. One's transition to the Spirit World isn't something that should be described so cavalierly.

5) Liam. Lovely, lovely Liam. I fell in love with Liam Neeson twenty years ago when he lit the screen on fire in The Good Mother. The first sex scene alone was a mini-pad moment for me. From then on, I devoured All Things Liam. I must admit; I had many a fantasy about wrapping myself around his big, strapping bod. Just a few weeks ago, my husband Michael was teasing me because Liam Neeson was on The Daily Show and I acted all school-girl goofy when he appeared. When I look back on that appearance, I remembered him laughing and being as sweet as can be. He was on the show promoting his film Taken.

Taken. The love of his life has been taken from him, and none of us can imagine the horror he is going through right now. The thought of losing Michael like he lost Natasha is overwhelming to me. Frankly, I don't know how I would survive it without seriously going over the precipice. Yet, I imagine that I would do what Liam is no doubt doing: keep it together for the sake of the kids. I bet that is what Natasha would have wanted. When we have a child, new skills are automatically acquired: seeing from the backs of our heads, doing twenty-three things simultaneously, morphing into a mama bear when our young cubs are threatened, and enduring unconscionable pain to protect our kids. What Liam is going through constitutes unconscionable pain.

I wish I could wrap my arms around him and his children, giving them support and love, yet knowing that nothing I say makes any difference whatsoever. The debilitating pain will be there until it isn't. Each day it will get better. Each year it will get better. That's hard to believe when you're in it, but somehow it happens.

As the world says farewell to this remarkable woman, I for one want to take something positive away from this terrible event. Every time I hear, see, or read the names Natasha Richardson or Liam Neeson, I will remind myself of the preciousness of life. I will express gratitude to my family for being with me on this journey. I will trust in Spirit that everything happens the way it is supposed to, even if I don't understand it at the time.

Farewell, Ms. Richardson. I know that Spirit has a new shining light on the Stage of the Soul.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Inside the Twisted (and Normal) Mind of a 7-year old

This morning I discovered the latest literary tome my cherubic daughter borrowed from her classroom. It's called Oh, Yuck! The Encyclopedia of Everything Nasty. And believe me, it is.

When I asked her why she likes reading about such icky stuff, my daughter rolled her eyes at me, as if to say, "Geez, Mom! Are you really that lame?"

When I pressed her for an explanation, she said, "Boys in my class are telling me these lies about gross stuff, so I decided to look it up myself."

(It was at this point when I became impressed with my little girl's outstanding critical thinking skills.)

"Like what?", I ask.

"Pee. And something you shouldn't write."

(She knew I was gonna blog about it.)

"Come on, just tell me", I say in my most hip-mommy voice.

She pointed to her groin area and said with a sheepish look on her face, "A boy's...".

I responded in a not-so-subtle growl, "They have penises in that book?"

She replied, "Yep. They look like a hot dog with crumply sides. Not like regular hot dogs."

(It was at this point when I called upon the Awesome Power of the Almighty to subdue the massive giggle fit that was dying to escape from my lips.)

After looking for the picture of the aforementioned human hot dog, it turned out that the book didn't have penises in it at all (at least that I know of.) However, the drawing of the girl eating a squooshy, crinkly hot dog was actually on the page describing Animal Testicles. Yes, Animal Testicles.

Em's also studying leeches, because she "wants to learn how they get into people's skin." She continued matter-of-factly, "There's also funny stuff in there about pee that's really, really funny."

After I picked my jaw off the floor, I perused the well-worn book for a quick sampling of other gross topics to which my daughter has been exposed. (Based on the condition of the book, it was apparent that many other second-graders have discovered this little gem as well.) Here are some interesting entries that immediately jumped out at me: Eye Gunk, Farts, Puke, Poop, Snot and a delightful little sidebar called "the Amazing, Exploding Zit". To be fair, Emma can learn about that last topic right in the comfort of her mother's bathroom.

Just when I was about to send a scathing email off to the Dean of Emma's school expressing my outrage at their literary offerings, I noticed that Acupuncture was listed in this book of All Things Nasty. I was relieved to see that it actually had a very intelligent, insightful, and open-minded way of describing this ancient healing method that I have personally received. It said, "You know what's the weirdest thing about it? It tingles, but it doesn't hurt and it really works. American doctors didn't believe it at first. But now it's becoming a commonly turned-to medical practice, and many American doctors are learning how to pin the pin in the hurting body part...Cool things, those needles!"

WOW. How righteous is that? I continued to read what I thought would be disgusting entries and found that all of them were written in the same thoughtful, knowledgeable manner. Oh, Yuck! was actually really good at teaching the facts about things that all kids are dying to know. Who'da thunk it?

Ultimately, if reading (and sniggering) about pee, poop, and body lint keeps my daughter learning about the miracle known as the human body, then I'm all for it. I just want her to read it in her room where I can't see the creepy pictures.

By the way, did you know that doctors used to drink a patient's pee to test to see if he or she was diabetic? Ewwwwww!!!!


For your comment and/or consideration:

Would you have wanted to read a book like this when you were growing up and why?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Monday, March 16, 2009

The Perils of Eating Clean

Several weeks ago, I subjected myself to the nightmare known as a Digestive Cleanse. I have since discovered that it is the gift that keeps on giving.

When I finally took my curtain call on Day 5 of the detox drama, I felt like a million bucks, not to mention seemed far less squooshy. I had kicked -- yet again -- my heroine-like addiction to Starbucks Decaf Mochas with Light Whip and removed all traces of chocolate from my system. Fruits and veggies were my long-lost friends who I welcomed back into my life, and my psychotic need/desire for starches had blessedly subsided. Several days after the detox, I continued to eat "clean": no processed foods, no refined sugar, no naughty carbs, and tons of water. Moreover, I was complementing my stellar consumption habits with major doses of fun movement, i.e. hooping, bike riding, and crazysex with the hubster. (FULL DISCLOSURE: My new-found fixation on diet had less to do with health and more to do with the fact that my publicist is now actively working on getting TV appearances for me. Ugh. I've gotten the glass of cold water thrown in my face, reminding me that NOW is officially the answer to "I'll do it when...")

Contrary to the dozens of times I have dieted, deprived myself, and got depressed, I was now eating healthy and moving my body JOYFULLY. Can you imagine? I wasn't even missing my Decaf Mochas, scones, or sausage! My body was feeling a kajillion times better on the inside, and it was slowly, ever-so-slowly, beautifying on the outside. The obnoxious backfat roll I have been sporting for several weeks has decreased in size. Clothes that I hadn't been able to squeeeeeeeeze into now fit comfortably. Even better, my face has been free and clear of any pimple-nasties.

That was until we decided to have Haagen-Daaz.

Sometimes eating steamed vegetables and quinoa just doesn't cut it for the members of the Rose abode. As a special treat, my hubby Michael, daughter Emma, and I decided to get an ice cream cone after consuming our uber-nutritious meal. I savored every last bit of the delectable ditty, (single scoop of Chocolate Peanut Butter on a sugar cone!!) licking it with gusto like a 5-time AVN Award-winner. All was right with the world.

Until the next morning.

My face erupted like Mount Vesuvius. Pimples, pimples, everywhere. It was clear that major blemish surgery was required: hot washcloths, deep cleanser, "manual extractions", toner treatment, and cold washcloth for post-surgerical healing. Over and over and over again. Damn you, Haagen-Daaz! A thirty-nine year-old woman should not have to endure this.

It was then that I realized the fortunate/unfortunate perils of eating clean. Once I get my body clean, it wants to STAY that way. If I decide to roll around in the chocolate peanut butter for a while, my body will make itself known that it is unhappy. This time it was facial eruptions; next time, it may be a God-awful case of constipation or night sweats. My body is now having its way with me, exacting commensurate damage to the toxins I take in. It's new mantra is "You play? You pay."

I guess I'm grateful for my Haagen-Daaz imbroglio. It reminded me to make good choices when it comes to food. I feel so much healthier, more vibrant, and plain ol' prettier when I eat clean, and for the occasional times I want to take a dip -- or double-dip -- into the Dark Side, I better think twice about the choice before I make it. (Especially if I'm gonna be on TV in the near future. As if being videotaped won't be terrifying enough, I don't really want to have to worry about the interviewer calling me Theresa "Pizza Face" Rose.)

Why can't I be one of those freakish chicks that can eat anything she wants and never break out or gain weight? Do they really exist?

Please, Dear Lord, tell me they don't.


For your consideration and/or comment:

What is your favorite "naughty" food?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!

Friday, March 13, 2009

Be Like Morpheus

Normally, I don't blog about the news, but something I saw today on the Internet prompted me to provide my unabashed, totally subjective commentary. It's about the old enemy we can't ever seem to shake: FEAR.

Larry Summers, the top gun of economic advisors to our President came out today with one clear message to the American public: STOP BEING AFRAID. Yes, corporate greed, numbskull banks, and overzealous spenders got us into this mess, but our own rampant fear is keeping us in it. Mr. Summers said what I have been saying for weeks (but no one from any of the news organizations was around to capture my pearls of wisdom): we are exacerbating the recession by moving into a full-blown tizzy. We swung like a 70s dude with seventeen gold chains at Studio 54 from blind greed to paralyzing fear in a New York Stock Exchange Minute. Everywhere we turn, people are afraid...afraid to lose their jobs, afraid that we'll never get out of this disaster, afraid that life as we knew it is dead and gone. This fear has had a negative effect on the recovery effort, but more importantly, it has had a negative effect on our health and well-being. In case you haven't noticed, we are falling apart, folks.


You know deep in your heart that this too shall pass. This dark period of our economic cycle will undoubtedly bounce back, and we'll be buying TiVo's and going out to dinner again. Why not start acting like the recovery is already happening? Why not be a way-shower and start to operate from a place of optimism instead of panic? Why not turn off the media's blah-blah-blah that is permeating you with doom and gloom? Why not be at the forefront of the recovery effort? Each one of us can shift our attitudes; all it takes is the willingness to let go of our own fear.

Please please please...For yourself, for your family, for me, for our country, and for the world, stop running on the Fear Machine and have the balls to jump on to the Positive, Can-Do, We-Rock Machine.

Because we really CAN do it; it's up to us to actually DO it.

Let's do it NOW.


For your consideration and/or comment:

What can you do personally to help fight against the collective fear program?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Thursday, March 12, 2009

She Goes To Extremes

This morning I witnessed a highly-unusual sight in my 7-year old's room: something folded.

As I wrote in my book, my daughter's room often looks like a post-apocalyptic Toys-R-Us. Everything, absolutely EVERYTHING, is strewn about. This is an AFGO for her beleaguered mother (Another F@cking Growth Opportunity). However, I'm getting much better with accepting her slobbiness as-is. At least I've deluded myself into thinking that I've gotten better.

So, imagine my surprise when I saw two (nearly)perfectly folded beach towels with two sets of swim goggles perched atop them. This rare act of organization didn't seem to fit in Emma's room. Then I remembered: She is having a swim date with her new best friend Madison who lives down the street. For the last two weeks, my daughter has been inseparable with this chickadee. My little urchin has yelled the word "Madison!" more than a U of W mascot.

It touched me this morning when I saw how gingerly Em folded her towels for her upcoming liquid soiree. Her careful attention showed me how much she values this new arrival into her life, and for that, I am grateful. Friends are important to a gal...far more important than any made bed or organized shelf.

(Although I may need an extra-large glass of Chianti to deal with the onslaught of "Madison! Watch this!")


For your consideration and/or comment:

Was your room messy as a kid? Do you still keep it messy?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Wednesday, March 11, 2009


I have a very important document to edit, but I can't for the life of me settle my ass down to finish it.

It's not that I'm being lazy. Yesterday, I worked like a one-armed sherpa scaling Everest. Several key projects were completed, and I was a clicking maniac on MacDaddy. My publicist even commented on my rapid-fire emails directed toward her. (I'm sure she was feeling an equal mix of surprise, admiration, and deep annoyance.) I crashed into bed with that warm feeling that I had accomplished some big things during the day -- it was a day of which to be proud.


I didn't get THE document done. For some reason, I have a mental block about the damn thing. I know it really won't be that hard to finish once I just commit to doing it. My writing recipe is typically the same: straighten up the work space area (clutter distracts me), do some yoga (moving my body helps pull in the inspiration), lay in meditation for a while (quieting my mind helps pull in the actual words), play my "Chillax" playlist on the trusty iPod (B-Tribe is particularly good to write to), light an India Palace incense (the scent relaxes any last-minute "I can't do this!" feelings), and flip open Mac.

However, with this particular deliverable, I have been unsuccessful using my typical measures. I have rationalized to myself that for some reason I needed to get EVERYTHING else out of the way before I tackle this one. Hmmm.... an interesting excuse. Since I actually did get nearly everything done yesterday, I will have this afternoon to prove my hypothesis.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will get in the way of me finishing this paper TODAY.

Unless you count my own fear.


For your consideration and/or comment:

What procrastination techniques do you use?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Emma Action Shots

I've got so many things to do today and doing my best not to get overwhelmed by The Dreaded List. As such, I thought the perfect way to kick off my day was to share with you some of my favorite recent photos of my darling little EmmaBean. These pics make me smile, laugh, and otherwise fill my heart with joy that this totally cool kid is in my life. I am so grateful to be her mama.

Em and I having a girls' day out

Tiger-girl striking a pose

The Little Imp snuck in to Mom & Dad's room to sleep last night

My Personal Fave: Emma's Self-Portrait titled, "Rock Star"


For your consideration and/or comment:

Which one is your favorite pic and why?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Monday, March 9, 2009

Weekend Update

On Friday night, the three Roses attended the downtown Bradenton art walk at the Village of the Arts to support two gorgeous gal-pals.

One was my new friend MC Coolidge, who is the cutest li'l quasi-incendiary blogger I've come across in ages. Her book, Sideways in Sarasota, is a literary gem, and I bought yet another copy of it last Friday at MC's book signing at The Village Bookshop. The other artiste magnifique we had the pleasure of seeing is Michelle Donner, a sassy Club Kimono regular who is an AWESOME photog. (She is a Facebook friend of mine; check out my page to find her.) Emma was particularly taken with Michelle's up-close shots of an owl. (Em not-so-secretly adores anything remotely associated with Harry Potter.) We ended up buying several of Michelle's prints she had for sale at Charisma Cafe. It was delightful to enjoy the crisp night air and see two gutsy and beautiful women expressing their Mojo for the world to see.

Now I bet you're asking yourself, "How did Theresa's detox end up?" (Even if you aren't asking yourself that question, you're gonna get the answer...)

I felt fanf#@kingtastic after it was all over! My body was feeling cleaner, healthier, and dare I say, tinier! In fact, I can almost, almost get into my 'skinny' jeans (I use that term liberally). I'm not quite ready to wear them out of the house, nor do I know how they'd feel if I actually sat down in them -- they may very well cut off the circulation in my torso. While I definitely have some time to go before they are public-friendly, I got into 'em and did a full zip-up! :) YAY ME!

Not only did my bod feel better after the cleanse, my mind (eventually) became much sharper. I received clearer visions on what I want to accomplish in my career, and my priorities became a lot easier to recognize. As a result, great things started to transpire last week. It really feels like The Universe is aligning with my desires. The perfect people are coming into my world, and I am able to recognize the signs that are pointing me in the right direction. YAY ME AGAIN!

Last week's challenge reminded me of the power of focus and determination. It reminded me how precious my body is and how it wants to be cared for. Most importantly, it brought me to a deeper integration with mind, body, and spirit. I feel more PRESENT. I feel more JOYFUL. I feel more GRATEFUL.

(Plus the post-detox bedroom romp with hubby was phenomenal.)

Sometimes I need a five-day digestive cleanse which empties my insides to remind me of how full my life really is.


For your consideration and/or comment:

What activity helps you get into your body?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Thursday, March 5, 2009

Day 3 of the Detox

Slowly but surely, I'm crawling out of the nightmarish hole I dug for myself called the Digestive Cleanse.

Today brings me to Day 3 of the Detox, and I'm a little more human than I was over the last 48 hours. Wow...I miss food. Food is good. It's yummy. It smells good too. It feels good in the mouth. It gives you a nice full feeling in your belly. I've had precious little of it for the last three days, subsisting mostly on my superfood drink, red juice, water, colon-blow tea, an apple a day, and a tablespoon or two of raw almonds a day. I'ze hungry.

Yet, even with the perpetually grumbling stomach and the throbbing temples, I am feeling a little better. I think I am past the killer decaf-caffeine withdrawal and the state of near-psychosis I found myself in yesterday. I can actually string a few words together to make sentences. That's a good sign. This morning in the shower I could have sworn there were fewer squooshy parts of me (although that could be the remnants of the quasi-hallucinations I had last night at the thought of devouring a large Filippo's Hungry Man pizza). Whatever the case may be, I'm feeling better, but not get good.

Fasting isn't new to me; I have done this as part of my spiritual practice on several occasions. It is a powerful form of devotion and one that connects me more fully to my body, my thoughts, and my spirit. I got a taste of this foodless bliss during this morning's meditation. I could feel Spirit fill me in the empty spaces, and I received a great deal of guidance about the areas of fear and insecurity that are facing me. I was fed by the energy and light of the Divine, and for 45 minutes, I forgot how damned ravenous I was. Now it's up to me to feel that way the other 23 hours and 15 minutes.

While I can't yet do a lot of quality work - i.e. writing, planning, making calls, etc. -- I am IN my body once again. I am so very grateful for it and the delicious energy that the Earth provides.

All things considered, Day 3 is a good one so far.

(Although I still can't rid myself of my Filippo Fantasy.)


For your consideration and/or comment:

What is your relationship to food? Is it only an energy source, or does it serve a bigger role?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!


Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Starting Down Detox Lane

I started a 5-day detoxification cleanse this morning, and I am already cranky, hungry, and feeling like a hammer got taken to my temples. It's gonna be a lonnnnnnnng week.

My first craving hit about 10:30 this morning. I was pining for my decaf coffee, preferably a Grande Decaf Light-Whip Mocha at Starbucks. Mmmm....frothy, sweet, chocolatey....my throbbing headache revealed to me the insidiousness of caffeine and how it has found its way into my system. Damn you, Buckys!

My tummy is growling, even after drinking my superfood concoction followed by a 2 ounce shot of some red juice that is supposed to be good for me. Honestly, I don't feel very healthy right now. Instead, I am starting to feel a wee bit psycho. I'm blabbering. Sentences are difficult to formulate. The work I was going to do today has gone out the window in favor of busy work whose priority lies somewhere between getting the oil checked and reorganizing recipe cards. Let's put it this way: my 7 year old now has an Airtran frequent flyer number.

Let's all I got today. This is what Day One of the Detox reads like...

Monday, March 2, 2009

Doing It Blindfolded

I'm happy to report that I survived the Hooping workshop I went to this weekend! Barely.

The weekend was as difficult and wonderful as I imagined it would be. Bax, the incredibly talented (and cute-as-a-button) instructor, led us on a physical, emotional, and spiritual journey on the current of the hoop. Through my hooping, I discovered a lot about flow, surrender, focus, and belief. And, as predicted, it totally put me in my stuff.

There were a fair amount of gorgeous, nubile phillies in attendance that caused me to feel like an uncoordinated she-ogre. It was no surprise that I was definitely one of the hoopers with the least amount of "flight time". (Most of the attendees had been hooping for years.) However, that didn't stop me from trying everything that Bax so gently guided us to do. One of his trademark instructional methods is to have each participant feel the energy of the hoop (and ourselves) by practicing blindfolded. Remarkably, I found that I could do so much more when I shielded my eyes from the outside world and the outside world was shielded from me. I was free to explore, experiment, and otherwise express myself in ways that I would never dare to do if I thought anyone was watching me.

What a great lesson that exercise was. Clearly, I was able to let go of my ego, my fragility, my littleness when I disregarded what others thought of me. In that space of the void where vulnerability and trust resides, I could expand into greater depths and heights than I ever thought possible. Then, when the blindfold came off, the hoop invariably came crashing to the ground. My stinkin' thinkin' got in the way -- again -- and I allowed my choices to be dictated by others.

I'm proud of the fact that I went to the HoopPath workshop this weekend. I'm also sore as hell and bruised in places I didn't think I could bruise. Most importantly, I'm aware of my deep desire to hoop -- and live -- with utter abandon. I want to hoop, write, and live like I'm blindfolded.

Ahh...such freedom...


For your consideration and/or comment:

How does the opinions of others affect you? Do you avoid certain things because of how they would appear?


Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!