When I'm old and grey, I'll spend my days remembering all the terrific things in my life and where I was when they happened to me.
For instance, I was sitting on the floor in Ken's apartment polishing my oh-so-cool sandals with the oh-so-high cork platforms when he proposed to me. It's fortunate that I was not actually wearing platforms at the time cuz in my excitement, I most assuredly would have fallen off of them and broken something.
And when I got the phone call that The Nicest Boss in the World asked me to come work for him, I was walking out of Target. (In case the nice lady in the cherry 1965 Mustang reads Scrapinator, I'm sorry I scared you.)
This weekend, I was blessed with yet another terrific bit of news. And while I'll never forget that moment, I don't care if I ever remember where I was when it happened.
Because this weekend I was asked (oh my gosh) to become a member of (I'm jumping up and down now) THE STAFF AT SCRAPBOOK NEWS AND REVIEW!!
You want to know where I was when I found out??
Cleaning gooky hairballs out of my bathtub drain. (Ladies, make a note: when you're husband goes bald, you can no longer blame clogged drains on him.)
If you've read Scrapbook News & Review magazine, you know that it's chocked full of the most incredible projects and articles. I have every issue I ever bought, and they're all fringed with post it notes marking fun stuff I've returned to again and again.
If you're not familiar with SNR online, though, you should be. It's a Mayberry-on-steroids kind of website full of the nicest folks, amazing articles, crazy cool creations and some of the most talented scrappers anywhere.
If LeBron James' talent was scrapbooking instead of basketball, he would be SNR.
OK. Speaking as a Clevelander, maybe that wasn't the best analogy but you get my drift. And since SNR won't ever turn it's back on you and leave town like some people we know (cough, cough), you can peruse it's pages - both IRL and on the web - at your leisure.
And you should, because SNR is just that good.
While you're there, if you see a short woman wearing platform shoes wondering around looking lost, that'll be me, the New Girl, trying to find where I'm supposed to be.
Maybe you could just direct me to Lost and Found, pretty please with sugar on top.
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