I didn’t take a lot of photos. I also didn’t take a lot of breaths. At one point, on the second night of the conference, I couldn’t hold back tears, and I ran up to the hotel room and cried. Yes. I did. But when I forced myself to lie down, pick up my novel and just relax, I felt better. (Awesome book, by the way.)

That’s when I realized I hadn’t taken a single break that day. While I may seem outgoing and (at times even) natural in social settings, inside I’m often anxious and tense. I’m really as shy as a turtle.

I need to make time to crawl into my shell and just collect myself for a bit — otherwise, I’m just all over the place. If you caught me JUST before I broke into tears, you would have thought me boring and spacey in a withdrawn sort of way. If you caught me AFTER the tears, you would have thought me just a weeee bit spacey and gullible in a Three’s Company‘s Chrissy sort of way….

Despite the social anxiety issssues, I had a great time. I partied HARD. And I haven’t done that in a long time. Those friends of mine, they dragged me out at a whopping 9pm for dinner and drinks, not at a quiet bar down the street from the conference hotel, but a longish cab ride away to the Lower East Side of NYC. The 15 of us (ahem) piled into an already PACKED bar in which there were men in plaid button-downs standing on the bar taking photos and swigging beers. Kind of like the gorj Miss Daniela Syrovy here in the green (with some seriously awesome and hilarious ladies — Joanne Acri, Theresa Albert and Emma Waverman [who's either yawning or showing off her FAB Martha-Stewart-party "ring" craft])….

…who stood up on a chair in her fab green dress and took this pic of all most of us….

Can you see the social anxiety on my (distorted) face? Hmm, maybe not, since by then I’d had a glass of wine (it doesn’t take much). Look at all the lovelies! Where to start? Let’s see, next to me, Corinne, Nadine, Rebecca, Brandie, Rebecca, Emma (sweet WILLER), Maureen, Cora, Lianne, and Tracy. The only person missing in the photo, if I’m not mistaken…, is Ms. GREENERS, who earlier that night did THIS….

Her fab keynote speech moved us all to tears…. Here’s a link to all the Voices of the Year keynotes, including Karen’s. LOVE!

Despite the short and very therapeutic cry, the conference was an amazing experience. I got to meet a lot of my online friends in person, and I got to hear some incredible, inspiring people speak, including “international activists” who risk their lives blogging and make a real difference…for all of us.

Another really rewarding and memorable part of the conference was meeting LINDSEYJAY and SANDYEL! They met each other through MY BLOG! They’ve both been commenting here since the dawn of Cheaty Monkey, pretty much, and there they were, ROOMIES in NYC. Can you say FAHKLEMPT! I need to get a picture of the three of us, HELLO? Picture, anyone? FAHKLEMPT.

[PLACE PICTURE OF LINDSEY, SANDYEL AND ME HERE]

I left the conference early, alas, because I had to get back to work Monday morning — and we drove to NYC. When I got into the car, I was greeted by a very-desperate-to-see-me THIS….

She covered me in kisses — like I HAVE NEVER. It was good to be back….

And I’m back! When I got to work this morning, I found this month’s issue of Today’s Parent on my desk. Look for a feature on my CELEBRITY BLOG on p. 22 and on the “What’s on the Web” page, and, again, my name in the masthead (much to my mother’s delight!). FUN! My spoofy PINK article on Celine Dion will occur in the October issue.

How was YOUR week?

Love! xo Haley-O

Credit: Photo of turtles by cygnus921.

I just spent about an hour sitting with my legs up on my suitcase just people watching and waiting for Emma to arrive with the keys to our hotel room. Familiar thoughts rolling around in my head: “WHY am I here?” “I could totally just bolt!” “Is that…?” “Should I say ‘hi’ to her or just turn the other way because it’s, like, 1000 degrees in here and I’m schvitzing and not ready, I mean, ‘hi’ can wait…we’re here all weekend.” “WHY am I here?”

The BlogHer conference can be a little overwhelming at first. I remember last year: I got in to the hotel, looked around the lobby at little groups forming, listened to the echoing “squeeee”s, and then I ran up to my hotel room and just stayed there for a bit. I think I must have changed three times: went down in a green shirt, went back up to my room, came back down in a black shirt, went back to my room, and went down again in a different black shirt, and finally started saying some hellos.

I’ll be okay. I just take a while to acclimatize.

I’ve actually been in NYC for a few days now (after a lovely few days in the country). We stayed at a hotel in Brooklyn — right across the street from the JAIL. Talk about JEEBIES. We walked alongside it, and a car drove by with a bunch of SCARY-looking dudes yelling up at the barred windows: “YO JOOOOO! YOOOO! JOOOOOO! JOOOOOOOOOO!”

JEEBIES!

My family and I spent the day in Manhattan yesterday, walking along the sweltering streets, past one-too-many crackheads and a sunglass store at which I purchased these babies….

I was in mid-sentence at the time of this picture-taking, FYI. They look a little big on the sides, but it’s just the angle (I hope). I went in thinking — “I will not buy mom-glasses, I will not buy mom-glasses.” Success, I think!

So there’s that. And this….

Betteh White in NYC! It was VERY hard to leave her this aft….

OY!

Gotta go. Party at the Canadian Embassy. Promise I’ll start being more social.

LOVE!

xo Haley-O

We actually got back from the country on Tuesday. But then Tuesday night we went to my parents’ house for the second seder, and Wednesday night I was preoccupied with a screaming boy who refused to go to bed, until, that is, I tucked him into my bed with the promise that I’d be back in ten minutes. And, well, of course, ten minutes turned into something like ten hours because I’ve been busy obsessing over THIS….

(He was fast asleep within two minutes, anyway, of course….) So, here’s the thing. If I’m going to call myself a social media consultant/specialist, I’d better have a Facebook account of my own — and not just sneak around Josh’s account (*cough*). If I’m going to continue working on clients’ Fan Pages, I’d better have a Fan Page of my own….

So, there you have it. I HAVE CAVED. Yes, I have caved. And, whad’ya know? There’s a whole space right down there in the comments for you to tell me that (let’s see, what have I heard so far on twitter, Facebook, email, and PHONE [what is "phone"?]), “Haha,” I have “caved,” I “couldn’t resist,” “It was only a matter of time,” “Welcome to 2006,” etc., etc.. Go for it. Have a BLAST. I deserve it.

While you blast me in the comments, I’d love some advice. What do you think a blogger should be doing on Facebook? We tend to overshare…. Do you want to see all our tweets (I’m thinking no…)? Or does that get annoying? How much is too much status updating (I have a debate going on). If you become a FAN of Cheaty Monkey (DO IT), do you expect some extra goodies (I’ll see what I can do) — like REAL fan pages?

Discuss.

Love!

xo Haley-O

When I was around eleven years old, my parents took my brother, sister and me on a boating excursion. We stayed on a big houseboat. My sister and I slept head-to-foot in a narrow bottom bunk bed, my brother got the top bunk, and we all ate and drank out of red-and-white plastic dishes. My dad wore a sailor’s hat, and my mom wore light, large-rimmed glasses and barrettes in her hair. We were the picture of leisure.

Until we got back on land. The parking lot a bed of stones. Ripe for throwing. At my sister. In the stomach. Or so my brother said. Bad aim. MY MOUTH. MY TOP RIGHT FRONT CENTRE TOOTH. Broken. Badly.

My brother got his allowance taken away, and he lost his TV privileges for a week. I, on the other hand, got a bonding on my tooth, years of tooth anxiety (since that bonding kept spontaneously breaking off at, of course, the most inopportune times), AND 10+ root canals and other surgeries — I stopped counting after the 10th, but trust me when I tell you I know every endodontist in Toronto. It was what my brother likes to call, “the gift that keeps on giving.” So not fair.

Two days ago, I learned that the gift will give no more. ALAS, I am losing my FRONT TOOTH.

It’s going to be a lo-ho-hong process. Within the next month, after many, MANY consultations, I’ll have my front tooth knocked out, bone surgery and gum surgery to make this thing perfect. In the end, I’ll have a permanent implant put in, which will apparently be GORJ. But, again, it’s a long process. While my gums and bone heal and prepare for the implant for nine months — ARE YOU READY FOR THIS (if you haven’t already heard me exploding about it all over twitter)? — I will be wearing what I’ve heard called a “flap,” “flipper,” or DENTURE in place of the tooth. This wouldn’t be so bad…, IF ONLY I DIDN’T HAVE TO TAKE IT OUT AT NIGHT!

And, of course, I’m going to the BlogHer conference in August, sharing a room with other bloggers…. I better not drink ANYTHING. Because if my toothless grin ends up on the internets I don’t know what I’ll do.

A-ny-way.

That was Tuesday. The weirdest day of my life. That same day, I got a gap in my front yard to match the impending one in my mouth — the universe, like all my friends online and off, poking fun at me. (I was way late getting my camera out.) WEIRD….

That same day, I took the Monkey and Rascal to the YoGabbaGabba show at the Elgin Theatre (with EMMA, Sandra “MAMALOOPER” and their adorable kids). And YoGabbaGabba is, like, a trip on TV, let alone LIVE. WEIRD….

I played FREEZE with Chris Murphy from the band SLOAN. WEIRD….

From YoGabbaGabba, I learned Rascal has a new dance move: the stripper hands-slicking-the-hair-back move. Here are the hands on their way down. WEIRD….

After YoGabbaGabba, Emma, Sandra and I bravely walked all five kids to Terroni. Trust me, WEIRD….

…and they were all CRAZY. BIG PROPS to the staff at the Terroni on Queen. After Terroni, we were all zonked. I schlepped the kids four blocks from the restaurant, through the EATON CENTRE, back to our car….

And, when I got back to the car, I found the perfect evidence of the unspeakable kid craziness that transpired at Terroni. A dirty fork — IN MY PURSE. WEIRD….

That night, as Josh and I relaxed in front of the TV and our respective drugs of choice — him Facebook, me Twitter — someone started BANGING on our front door. We both shot up, looked outside, and saw someone run away. I ran to the door, and Josh said “NO,” then ran downstairs, and came back with a BAT, a police flashlight, and a hat. He was a man on a mission. He opened the front door, saw everything looked okay, said, “LOCK THE DOOR,” and stomped after the runaway. I waited nervously by the window, Macbook in hand. I was frozen, though. Shockingly unable to tweet until he was home safe.

Turns out a bunch of teenagers were egging the street. We’re lucky all we got was a loud knock on the door. Apparently, the boys FLED when they saw Josh-O stomping after them with flashlight and bat in hand. Scary dude.

WEIRD!

Tooth out!!!

Love!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: THERE’S A GIVEAWAY AT CHEATY GOODIES. My fave online/offline store and spa PURE + SIMPLE IS BACK! Check it. And enter! Their stuff is the BEST.

As you may have noticed in my last post, I’m on a bit of a spiritual kick. And, I know, that doesn’t explain a thing about WHAT THE HELL that post was, but that’s the point (or the non-point). Maybe “spiritual” isn’t the right word. And hopefully this isn’t a “kick.” Because, as I said in that last post, I’m happy — happy not trying to be happy. Because trying to be happy presupposes that I’m not happy. And if I step outside my bumbling brain for a bit and look at things as they are, I’m damn happy. Yeeaahh.

“Spiritual” is definitely not the right word either. I’ve sort of been-there-done-that, and it didn’t stick. It was definitely a “kick.” I don’t even really care if the psychic across the road from the big bookstore I frequent is really psychic or not, or even if I have a “spirit guide,” and what his name is, or if my dead cat is communicating with me when I’m sleeping. Because, at least for me, it doesn’t matter. Matter.

Regular yoga practice is teaching me this. How good practicing yoga makes me feel doesn’t matter. Matter. What matters is what’s here, what’s clear. My cat sitting on my lap, purring, now turning to me with stinky wet kisses, the click-clicking of the keys under my fingertips, my daughter upstairs serenading her dad: “it’s not my fault, the police gave me a ticket once because it’s not catching up to you, na-na-na-na-na” (#wtf?). Time passes quickly, and I’m done squandering my life.

So there are things to let go of. Me, the clinger. Addictions, fears, desires, anxieties. This doesn’t mean I plan on repressing or transcending these things, or never-ever-having-a-Starbucks-soy-no-water-tazo-chai-ever-again-EVER. It just means watching, noticing, observing the patterns, the wanting, the cravings — human stuff that we all get sucked into, stuck in. Not caring where it all comes from or why.

This is all a little something I’m learning from him (ignore the old caption — try)…

…and through him (who happens to have been my best friend when I was around 4-6 years old — so, kind of kismet)…

One day, I’ll have the guts to go to Michael Stone’s studio, maybe take a class, maybe let him know the impact he’s had on my life and, so, the lives around me….

Don’t worry, I’m still loving The Real Housewives. Just dancing more to the beat of my own drummer. And maybe even to a little Alicia Keys, because…

…because that’s what my girls are playing because we’re going to NYC — Blogher ’10 — this summer with a whole bunch of other fabulous people whom I genuinely love. Come with us!? God help me, my family’s coming, too! But they’ll be staying with Josh’s sister and husband in Brooklyn. Yes, it will be quite the roadtrip. And I expect to overhear many a backseat conversation, such as this little nugget from today:

TANGENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All that matters: my amazing family, good friends, authenticity (but not the cliche kind), the world, this earth, “this ground.” What doesn’t matter: “big bloggers,” stats, twitter followers, fame, what-if’s, what so-and-so thinks of how my kid behaved in the restaurant, or what so-and-so thinks of what I’m wearing (again)…. None of it matters. Too much squandering. Squandering.

So, basically, while I’m not going to give up squandering altogether (you’d have to PAY me to give up Housewives right now, and, hmmm, twitter), I’m a little more focused on what matters, on what’s real, here, and now, on this earth.

One more tweet for the road – because it came out of nowhere last week and is, dare I say, très apropos….

It’s about being here and now and balanced within an extremely unbalanced society, ecology, economy, etc., etc….

Kind of like this wonderful boy, my blog friend (and fellow T-Dot book clubber) Sandra Diaz‘s eight-year-old son Zachary, raising thousands of dollars for assaulted women, and volunteering any way he can for other important charities. He was honoured at Disney on Ice the other night. That’s yoga — as opposed to “blissing out” in hot pink lululemons. I got to take a picture….

Though it’s a fabulous workout and great for the nervous system, the heart of yoga is in the here and now. In not escaping but being present and active anywhere that you’re needed. Most people don’t realize it. Most people don’t realize how enlightening it is to really be in the here and now — through yoga, meditation, and even just reading (maybe even a blog post?) about it.

Bottom line in 140 characters or less? I don’t care about small stuff anymore. Dunzo. (Okay more than 140 characters.) I will continue to wear my flaws on my sleeve. But I’ll let them be. I’ll go with the flow and focus on what matters. Really matters.

It’s a work in progress…, of course.

People ask me about yoga and yoga books/dvds all the time. So, basically: Michael’s books (he has three of them now) — Cheaty RECOMMENDS.

Love!

xo Haley-O