This morning my daughter was wearing an adorable outfit - sherbert colored skort with a blue-green sweater and a pair of mary janes. As she skipped out the door I said...

"Sweetie! You look so cute today!"

Sophie (with the eye-roll and attitude of a girl three times her age): "I don't look cute. Do you see any sparkles??"

"Why do you need sparkles? I see a beautiful girl wearing an adorable outfit."

Sophie (with the look of a girl thinking "could you be more clueless"?): "I am not beautiful!"

"You aren't?"

Sophie: "No! Do you SEE a princess dress?"

If I didn't think this was so funny I might actually be worried.

My husband and kids are visiting friends on Cape Cod for the day, and I am not. Instead, I am doing something that I don't think I have done since we moved into our home over 5 years ago – I'm spending the day, alone, in my house.

I don't have big plans, other than to rest (I'm fighting "something" that makes me feel under the weather but hasn't developed into anything – annoying) and get all the things done that would otherwise be hanging over my head.

In the last four hours I have...
- Cleaned out Sophie's closet and pulled some old furniture out to the curb.
- Put together a HUGE bag of clothes and shoes for Goodwill.
- Cleaned out our front closets (adding 20 baseball hats to the Goodwill bag).
- Changed the sheets on our bed and dug out a clean quilt so I can wash our comforter.
- Started and completed a couple of loads of laundry (I've folded but haven't put away).
- Showered.

Now I'm listening to voice mails from listeners (I love you gals!!) and preparing to mix this week's show, before I turn my attention to returning e-mails and some "real" work. I'm hoping to get it all done before the family is back.

The day I'm having probably doesn't sound relaxing to anyone but me.

What is craziest about today is that I'm alone. Because my husband works from our home, even when the kids are in school the house is never empty. Until today. It's so quiet.

And I'm so happy.

It's been a weird summer.

It's strange that I am headed to Martha's Vineyard on this, one of the final weekends of the summer. My girl friends and I have been doing this trip for years and it's always been scheduled in July. But for some reason this year, we couldn't get our collective acts together. One was traveling, one was at her lake house, I was working a lot. So we settled on this weekend, the one and only weekend we could all make it.

It's not an ideal weekend for me. Tommy is coming back from a week in western NY with my in-laws tomorrow night. I won't be here when he arrives. I'll confess I do feel a bit guilty about it, but I'm sure once I am enjoying a fine meal sans chicken nuggets, I will be OK. It's been a weird week around here with just one child. My husband and I don't know what to do with ourselves. Usually we're playing what he describes as man-on-man defense. Not this week. And Brendan, our younger one, seems to be enjoying his time as an "only child." After all, he is the second son. He's never really had us to himself. Ever!

When I return from Martha's Vineyard I'll meet my husband and the boys on Cape Cod for our family vacation. This, too, is at a weird time of year. When we get back, it's immediately time to start school. First grade orientation is that Wednesday. Preschool orientation is Friday. I don't think it was wise to schedule vacation this way. There are school clothes to buy, supplies to obtain, lunch boxes and backpacks to order, soccer schedules to get on the calendar. It's all arrived just a little too soon!

This year I feel very unprepared. And the cool evenings of the past week are a reminder that the so-called lazy days of summer are turning into mere minutes.

September is on my doorstep. I am definitely not ready.

Those of us who consider ourselves active in the so-called "mommy blogosphere" know that Dooce (a.k.a Heather B. Armstrong) is the Oprah of the Internet. There are lots of reasons to envy Heather, first and foremost being that she and her husband are able to raise their daughter Leta together because they make their living working out of their home in Utah on Heather's wildly successful blog.

As I imagine it, Heather does the writing and design and Jon does the programming and deals with the advertisers. Heather has been interviewed countless times by the mainstream media: The Today Show, ABC's Nightline, the BBC, and most recently the New York Times. She's a great writer and a successful business woman, making money from her words and wit.

And somehow, despite the hundreds of emails I imagine she receives daily, she manages to handwrite postcards to her fans. That's right. Hand. Writes. Postcards.

A couple of weeks ago I sent Heather a copy of a book recently published by a former colleague. I sent a note with the book. I told the author, "Heather is like the Oprah of the Internet. I think we should send her a book, but I wouldn't expect to hear back from her."

Today I returned from my trip to Rochester to find a postcard from Heather. A handwritten postcard in my mailbox.

It featured a photo of her famous dog Chuck and was signed, "Much Love from Utah."

In an instant I was both excited and disappointed. If Dooce can send handwritten postcards, I wondered, what's my excuse? Kristin and I get so many emails here at Manic Mommies that I just don't have time to answer, despite my best intentions. Sometimes an email hits me at the right time, when I am looking for a diversion from work, or I am up late killing time on the Internet. Then I will respond right away. Other times, I flag the message with the intent to reply when I have more time. And yet more time never comes.

But a handwritten postcard? I can't remember the last time I sent one. Can you?

Just one more reason to admire a lady with style.

My son is wise in the way of Star Wars. He owns three light sabers (two "official" versions and one cheap knock off that lights up). And he's happy to tell you the difference between the droids from the Lego set he received for Christmas and the one he received for his birthday.

He, obviously, likes to create Star Wars-based scenarios with his sister, who generally is a bad guy or droid (but never a princess which is what she really wants to be). Most of the times the play is fairly peaceful, but every now and then you have to yell . . .

"Anders! Stop using the Force to choke your sister!"

For those of us in marketing and advertising, this video hits a little too close to home. Sooo funny!

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