DENVERETTE has a new home: www.denverette.com

That little surprise I discussed in a post or so ago???

Well, I've been giving Denverette a facelift, and now it's time for all of you to connect with my revamped home: www.denverette.com.

Bookmark www.denverette.com in your websites, blogs and everywhere else.

Hope you enjoy my new look!

Why cancer? Pink is so overdone...

I have a tendency to overextend myself. It's a pro and con of my personal work ethic that I must consciously control or at least try to manage.

My latest endeavor is taking on the position of Co-Chair of Advocacy for the Washington Park Relay for Life Committee of the American Cancer Society. I put my volunteer hand up late last year and now I'm delighted to be in the midst of a pretty amazing committee of people comprised of cancer survivors and advocates like myself. After two cancer battles with both parents, respectively, in less than 5 years... I figure it's an ideal place for me to help. Plus, Relay's proceeds go to cancer research. Without research, my dad wouldn't have had the cyber knife save his life 5 years ago. With more research, perhaps my mother's recent cancer battle would've been less challenging (although I'll never complain about our experience now because her amazing surgeon and team of doctor's are the reason she is in remission).

My role on the Committee will be to recruit Relay attendees to join ACS' advocacy group, Cancer Action Network. I'm preparing for my first lobby day at the Capitol here in Denver in early February, and it's a new new arena for me philosophically and intellectually. I'll also be putting my journalism skills to use and identifying key survivors and translating their individual tales of experiencing cancer, treatment, recovery or simply how it felt to be sidelined up next to a loved one dying of cancer.

When I entered the healthcare communications industry many years ago, I never realized how my personal life would be effected by disease. I've often pondered a new direction... "why not try education?"... or, "why not open a bakery?"... or "why not shelve ambition and simply go work a thoughtless temp job?"

I can't do it. As frustrating as the healthcare industry is in this country, there are amazing stories and science happening right now that the public deserves to know about.

So my new volunteer role at ACS will be a solid challenge for me. As Heidi Montag said in this week's People Magazine about her astonishing 10 plastic surgeries in one day... "It was a personal choice. I did it for me."

She's kinda right. It's easy to face a challenge if you really believe in it.
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I have 7 minutes to write this post

Before I run out the door, literally, for a quick jog and prepare to go drink yucky glucose test liquid that hopefully results in me not having developed gestational diabetes during the longest pregnancy of my life, I have 7 minutes to write this post.

Hubzo and I woke up super early this morning. We think our internal clocks are preparing us for a baby. So, while he catches up on Sports Center in bed, I'm catching up on marketing blogs and other stuff I barely have time for. I ran across Seth Godin's blog.

Seth Godin is one of the more interesting characters in the land of humanism and figuring out to infiltrate the humans of the world with messaging and branding and other effective things. He's a trend identifier and often makes predictions.

He's wickedly touting two new big ideas (that ironically sneak in three ideas) for the new decade: 1) reign all the madness and attention-grabbing newfangledness into something manageable (control you iPhone apps, people) and 2) we're now entering the Frustration Decade. I'm sort relieved to see them, because I was starting to feel so overwhelmed over the past two years of rapidly spreading new media thoughts, coercions, mashups, new software, new technology, new way to communicate... my God, communications and marketing are totally in a new REALM. It's so fascinating.

First off, Seth is tired of all the maddening madness of everything in our life: so many blogs to read, tweets to follow, posts to catch-up on. And, next week all the new social media and marketing mania slips into a new alley with a new trend running through its sidewalks. So hard to keep up! It's time to bring it home and focus on only a few really important daily information meanderings. Read more about this in his free e-book, What Matters Now.

A for the Decade of Frustration, this is taken verbatim from one of Seth's recent blog posts (sorry, 7 minutes isn't enough time to paraphrase and I credit well):

Change: The infrastructure of massive connection is now real. People around the world have cell phones. The first internet generation is old enough to spend money, go to work and build companies. Industries are being built every day (and old ones are fading). The revolution is in full swing, and an entire generation is eager to change everything because of it. Hint: it won't look like the last one with a few bells and whistles added.

Frustration: Baby boomers are getting old. Dreams are fading, and so is health. Boomers love to whine and we love to imagine that we'll live forever and accomplish everything. This is the decade that reality kicks in. And, to top it off, savings are thin and resource availability isn't what it used to be. A lot of people ate their emergency rations during the last decade. Look for this frustration to be acted out in public, and often.

Enjoy, loves!

Linen and lavender and velveteen

I promise to come back to life, to be full of airy condensation that falls and settles as creative juice upon my laptop, to tend to my neglected little kitty, Denverette... but not until this baby is out.

As my friend Brooke kindly reminded me on NYE: there is a thing living off of my body. She's a little piggie, too. In comparison to my own ridiculous need for constant food, water and pressure being applied to my lower back in the form of massage, my creative energy is at a standstill.

Henceforth, for the next 80-some days, I will likely continue to neglect my sweet bloggy and devoted readers who still somehow check back regularly for posts.

I got a new idea cookin' in my little head for ya'll. Changes are a'comin...

Hint: I'm tired of getting my wrist slapped for effort, so I'll be slapping my own wrist before anyone else can, but with yards of fine linen ribbon and velveteen tips. With lavender blooming around me! Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa... my insanity will return!

End of Year Flummox Sale

Here I am, with my pathetic monthly post! Hi! Hi! Hi!

It's December 30th and we're on the cusp of closing out a year of flummox. Yay!

Two years ago today I was planning my last NYE dinner in NYC (as a hostess, that is) and preparing for a long night of dancing with M.I.A. at Hugs in Williamsburg. Yes, I was cool. Ha ha.

Two years later, I'm officially a Denver transplant and six months preggers with a crazy baby girlzo who likes to wake me up at night. (One year ago I lounged through NYE in a one-piece funky jumper with Heidi braids taking more than a dozen tequila shots with my friend Alejandra... it was cold outside and I woke up the next day with my only concern focused on how to get pizza in belly.)

Oh, as all the goofy news stations in Denver put it, what a year can bring!

The challenges of this year, namely my mother's illness, have prepared me (once again) for other challenges and I'm intent on treating our experiences positively. We are so lucky -- despite the fantasy notion that many Fort's refer to as "the Fort Factor" -- because our lives have been blessed with chance encounters and guidance from somewhere that allows us to move forward.

And... we are getting a little surprise baby girlzo to salivate over 4-ever.

I cannot express how excited my little eyeballs are to see her. Hubzo thinks she'll look like Gollum at first, but that we'll get over it. I'm just so stoked to get her out and start insanity of another level I've not yet experienced! If only I can get through the last few months with my smile on straight and learn how to sleep again.

Much of the stress of being pregnant appears to stem from what I'll term as "cracked" and "rabid" societal pressures associated with bring a child into the American existence.

Not only are babies BIG ASS business, but there are more rules than I ever imagined. I ran away from rules almost ten years ago and made my own. I lived. So... I'm struggling with so much outside stimuli associated with pregnancy and babies that sometimes I forget that Americans have a nack for making something "challenging" into a platform for rules. We Americans love nothing more than to blame someone out of the box for doing something out of the box. So, a bunch of rules are made and trends develop and everyone buys into it.

Further, the relentless media feed our need for hooks and every hook is tied to a product, which is tied to our wallets, which is tied to Hollywood and Wall Street, which control the way our entire country operates.

Between the "blame game" and baby mania splashed across the tabloids of our nation, I've stepped into a pool of alligators and I must look like a silly little dodo. Sometimes, it feels like people want to eat me alive if I don't accept their notions of how to progress as a pregnant human. Other times, it feels like people just want to make me think there is one highway through babyville and my car is in the ditch. And then other times, there are a few people who actually make me feel like it's all going to be "OK" and I like those people best.

There are two big trends I've noticed with a baby on board: a) The business of babies is monstrously overblown yet everyone gets sucked in, and b) everyone who's ever touched a baby, which is practically everyone in the world, has advice and opinions and stories to share about pregnancy, labor, newborns, pregnancy pains, pregnancy cravings, OBs, pediatricians, daycare, working as a new mom, how to eat right, how much weight to gain, when to travel with a baby, how to travel with a baby, car seats, how to get a car seat installed properly, how to feed your baby, why breastfeeding matters, why it's OK to have a glass of wine, why it's not OK to have a glass of wine, why you shouldn't jog, why you should jog, how some people jog when preggers, dogs and babies, vaccines, how to teach a baby to read (just kidding), and the list goes on and on.

See? OVERWHELMING.

It's not that I don't appreciate tips. I do. I need answers to basic questions and truly know nothing about babies or how to have one. I didn't even know what "swaddling" was until last week -- NO LIE. I'd heard the term, but had no clue about what it meant.

Anyway, I'm about to enter my third trimester and feeling pretty good with little to no knowledge about what's happening inside of me. You probably think I'm dumb, but I do reach out to reliable sources for knowledge: I rely on my midwife, my upcoming "baby classes", my mom, a good friend who is an OB nurse, and a few trusted coworkers who know their stuff. I'm reading one book about babies and that's it. Hubzo is educating himself and thankfully knows more than me. Plus, babies like his beard and glasses and he's learning calming techniques.

Otherwise, the saturation is too much and has paved a path to insomnia, which I'm curing without Ambien.

But, seriously, can you believe I'm attempting to be a mommy? I can't. Wow.

Ninety-two days to go until I'm officially due on April Fool's Day 2010.

I guess someone decided to let me in on the joke.

Don't care so much about Santa, but the concept is great

Today at work several of us were discussing when we found out Santa wasn't real. I don't remember ever having a conversation about it or having any type of realization or dumbfounding moment of feeling cheated by life. My bond with the art of having a good time sure could have wiped out those memories, but I think I'd remember something that negative.

Apparently, lots of folks get gypped with the Santa story. I don't remember every believing in Santa. I suppose I did. I came from a relatively normal family with a relatively normal background.

What I DO enjoy is Christmas lights. The glowy, ambient feel of a lit-up Christmas tree in a cozy, warm room are so nice. My mom has three trees, sometimes more. This year she has three trees yet again: one on the back deck, one downstairs and one upstairs in the main front room.

Anyway, pregnancy brain has misdirected my thought. I'm lucky to have thoughts long enough to produce a blog post, to be honest. I can't get out of bed early enough to write anymore, because I'm obsessed with getting to the gym on my one guaranteed non-work outing of the day. The gym has turned into Mecca for me. I don't fret about mileage anymore and simply enjoy exercising. It's wonderful. It eats into my traditional writing time tremendously. And, yet again, I have departed from the original paragraphical thought.

Back to Santa.

Yesterday in Denver United Airlines flew a bunch of sick kids to the "North Pole" to meet Santa. Truthfully, the kids were flown to some random hangar a short flight away and Mrs and Santa Claus fell from the hangar sky to greet the kids. For many of the children, it was the first time on a plane or first time away from the parents. For the joy they felt, I get the concept behind such a move. For the logic, I don't get it. It totally fills kids with false hope. The way news spreads on Earth these days, how can anyone that can read truly miss the fact that Santa is fake? Tiger Woods can't keep his girlz under wraps and he has more money than God. If his publicists can't control his image, how the hell can a fake person's nonexistent publicist keep Santa real?

Santa has lots of good, mushy positiveness glowing out of his fat belly. He represents something very good, very true, very simple, very old, very jolly, very inspiring. If kids hear that Santa is fake, then they can decide for themselves if they believe in Santa. I guess. I mean, I have a kid on the way and I know she'll believe in Santa for awhile until I break the news to her.

The one thing I'll be able to say is that no matter how many awful things can happen to a person, gifts come to each of us in mysterious ways. My wish list was delivered and read. No matter the delivery mechanism, someone out of this world brought me three great gifts this year: cancer remission for my momma, a baby girlzo for me and hubzo and a new $80-each-way Southwest Airlines route from Denver to Boston.

If these indescribable presents came by way of a fat man in a red suit with a white beard, I'll take it.

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