A Study in Patience

Waiting.

My alarm goes off and the first thing I do, before I’m even fully awake, is reach for my cell phone. I never used to leave it on overnight before…but I do now. I don’t want to miss that call. You know…THAT call. I wipe the sleep from my eyes as I scroll through the messages that came in while I slept. Junk emails, news alerts, a few stray comments on Facebook and…nothing. I toss my legs over the side of the mattress, make my way to the shower, and scrub it all from my memory banks.

Ten-Thirty A.M. I’m in the throes of checking my work email, perusing the internet, or playing Farmville, when my phone sounds. “DING!” It’s the sound I’ve designated for an email coming through. I close my eyes for a millisecond and wish. Hope. Then I reach for my phone again, swipe with my thumb, and guide my operating system to the email folder. When I see it’s another promotional email from this company or that store, I send it to my trash folder, sigh, and go back to whatever I was doing.

Lunchtime, and my four cats are not-so-gently reminding me that they’re hungry. I fill their bowls, and they follow me to their spots, meowing the whole way. Scooter goes on the dining room table, Pip to the bathroom, Dizzy to the master bedroom. Harry goes last, and follows me into the guest room. I pause after setting his bowl down; he doesn’t see me well up as I look around the room that will eventually, hopefully, become a nursery. For now, it is just where he eats lunch, and he goes about the task with gusto. I pull the door closed and dash the unshed tears from my eyes before Brian can see.

As the clock ticks on toward five o’clock, I know that the likelihood of an email, or a phone call, becomes slimmer. I begin to relax. Brian turns to me and says, “What’s wrong? You have your sad face on.” I brush it off. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I say. But I’m sure he knows. I see the same look on his face from time to time.

I stand at the kitchen counter, chopping onions, and the thought occurs to me that somewhere in the world, you may be brand new. The woman who carries you, who will eventually choose us to be your parents, may not even know about you yet. But there you are, waiting to come into the world, our world, to fill that void. I smile as I have that thought, and the excitement quickens in my heart. But I shut down the thought process when I start to wonder what your face will look like, what color eyes you will be, what your voice will sound like. It’s too early for that sort of wondering, just yet.

Dinner is served, and we sit and watch the television, enjoying our meal in silence. A commercial comes on depicting a couple who have finally put their children to bed. She offers him his favorite fruity cereal, and they celebrate their victory over parenthood by playing old school video games. Brian turns to me, a huge grin on his face, and says, “That will SO be us soon.” And there it is. I can see it in the glimmer of his eyes, in the smile on his face–his love for you. You’re not even here yet, and we already love you.

As I climb into bed, I check my phone one last time, setting it to “Do Not Disturb,” but leaving it on. Just in case. I dive into my book, or into conversation with Brian about our plans for the weekend, or a chore we need to accomplish, or a fundraising idea to add to the list. After awhile, my eyelids start to get heavy. I turn off my light, kiss my husband, and snuggle in to sleep.

Just as I begin to drift off, I think of you again. I whisper the words into being, so they have a life of their own, “tomorrow. It will happen tomorrow.” Only then do I allow myself to fall to sleep.

Waiting.

waiting

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

To Me, From My Fiercer Self

Dear Self:

So, you hurt your knee while working out yesterday, huh? I see your ice packs, and your ibuprofen, and your frowny face.

Bum knee

I’m guessing you’re pretty down about the whole thing, and worried that this injury could impact your progress with weight loss. And those tears you cried yesterday? Those were less about the pain you were in and more about the possibility that you might have to miss WERQ© classes for the rest of the week.

Well buck up, little camper. I’m here to remind you of some amazing things you’ve learned about yourself since you shed those 30 pounds while dancing your tush off. And between you and me—it’s a pretty substantial list of AWESOMENESS. Enjoy.

You Can Do 300 Squats In One Day…
…and you’ve done it more than once. That’s right, sister—those legs that you are currently cursing for landing you on the injured list are the very same legs that can squat till the cows come home. All you needed was a distraction from the DIY Network, the ceiling fan set on high, and your hubby behind you reminding you of how dope your bootie is looking. Oh, and those super-awesome, super-shrinking, super-strong legs.

You Are One Funky Cold Medina, Honey.
Oh yes. Yes you are. Turn on some current top 40, put a round fan in front of yourself on high, and watch yourself Werq, girl. You’ve got some moves hidden inside of you that you had no idea you were capable of. Don’t believe me? Turn on Beyonce’s “Countdown” and watch your face in the mirror. See that? Your hip hop stank face is rivaling Bey’s.

Stank Face With BeyonceYou Are a Sweat-er.
And I don’t mean the kind you wear to a Christmas party. When that music starts playing, and you start grooving, you start sweating like a line backer in the third quarter, girlfriend. And believe me, that’s a GOOD THING.

Your Self-Confidence is Showing.
You’re not the chubby girl hiding in the back corner any more. Oh no. Why would you be? You are fierce and sexy and strong. You stroll onto that dance floor like you own it. Take your spot front and center. Wave hello to all the folks watching you embrace your inner goddess and smile. THAT is the power of transformation. THAT is the power of WERQ©.

You LOVE What You See In The Mirror.
For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t shy away from your reflection. Sure, there’s still lumps and rolls and dimples that you dislike. But no longer do you look at them and see permanence. They may be there now, but they won’t be forever. This, your adult body—the one you’ve hated for 11 years–is becoming leaner. Stronger. And you are loving it…and yourself. Victory.

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Click for source

 

So, Sister Warrior, Lover of Pop and Dance, Sex Pot in Sneakers—-I’m just going to leave this list here for you. Now you can come back and revisit it while you’ve got your knee propped up on a pillow. When you’re feeling defeated and like you’ll be fat forever, when you just couldn’t resist that chocolate ice cream and you’re beating yourself up over it, or when you need a friendly reminder that you are SUCCEEDING at LIFE, you just come back here and read it.

Signed,
Your Thinner, Healthier, Sexier, Fiercer, HAPPIER Self

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Summertime Woes

Going to the beach requires a lot of work.

Before you start throwing things at me through your computer screen, let me explain.

See, I live 45 minutes from the actual ocean. Yes, I’m luckier than most because I can still make it a day trip, whenever I want. But still….a lot of planning goes into a trip to the beach for me. There’s the weather watching, and the guesswork that goes into whether it’ll be worth an hour long car ride, only to get to the beach and be rained out. There’s the logistics of the thing: will I also have time to stop for groceries on the way home? Can I make it to the post office before it closes, or should I leave early and go first? I wonder if I can eat at that little cafe nearby in a swimsuit and cover-up?

Then comes the packing. Beach towels for me, an extra for a friend, and another extra because you can never have too many towels. Sunscreen: SPF 50 spray for my body, special baby formula lotion for my face, SPF 15 chapstick. Can’t forget my hat, my sunglasses (because I have to wear my real glasses while I’m driving), headphones, a book or two, maybe a magazine if I’m feeling so inclined. Oh…and the cooler. I’ve got to fill it with ice and add healthy snacks, tons of water, and a trash bag for use at the actual beach.

I load it all into my car as the sweat drips down my brow because HOLY CRAP it’s A HUNDRED FLIPPIN’ DEGREES OUT HERE.

I’m all loaded up, all the i’s have been dotted and the t’s crossed. I kiss my husband goodbye, grab my keys and my wallet, and hit the pavement. Twenty minutes into my drive, I’m ignoring the giant black thunderhead that decided to pop up in the direction I’m heading. It’s July in Charleston…if there’s a thunderstorm this early in the day, it’ll be a quick one. I forge ahead, determined to get my time in the sunshine.

There’s traffic; so much traffic my nerves begin to fray. A dude driving a giant blue pickup cuts me off (because it’s always a dude in a pickup), and those nerves snap. My “Yay For Me, I’m Going To The Beach” mood begins to turn into my “If This Poo Face Doesn’t Start Driving The Speed Limit I’m Going To Scream” mood.

And then, finally, my car crests the bridge over to the Isle of Palms, and I see palm trees, and wide expanse of sand, and an even wider expanse of blue, all the way out to the horizon. My heart releases in my chest, and the smile creeps onto my face without my realizing it. I grin at the giant pelican as he flies lazily over the bridge into the marsh below. I stop at a red light, gladly waiting for a few minutes because I know I’ve almost reached my destination. I allow a tourist, then another, to merge before I cross the street, since I know they’ve probably never been here before, and I want to share this little section of my world with everyone and anyone. I greet the volunteer at the gate and happily hand him my parking fee, and we chat, momentarily, about the weather and the tides.

Parking achieved, I unload the bounty that needs to make the trek across the sand with me: my beach bag, my cooler, my lounge chair. I strap it all around my chest, all twenty pounds of it, sweat dripping down my back, but I do it all with a song in my heart. I nod and smile and speak to all I pass: people are just happier at the beach. And so am I.

And finally, I choose my spot and set up camp. There’s no better moment than this. I whip off my cover-up, douse myself in sunscreen, don my hat and sunglasses, and take a seat.

It is always worth it, in the end.

Beach 3Beach 1 Beach 2

Between you and me, friend, I probably won’t think about how much work it takes to get to the beach when I go again next week. These are the kinds of summertime woes I can deal with. And happily.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Grown-Up Birthday Do’s & Don’ts

Birthdays change the older you get. Once upon a time, it was all about balloons, stacks of presents, and creepy animatronic bears that play the ukelele and sing disco songs. Then, as you hit the teenage years, it became all about how much money you were going to be given so that you could hopefully (FINALLY!) buy that coveted Ricky Martin CD. And finally, as the calendar sent you rocketing toward that all important 21st birthday, all plans involved where you were drinking, what you were drinking, and who you were drinking with.

As the twenties come to a close, and you find yourself looking down the barrel of “thirty-something,” birthdays become something all together different. There may be a fancy dinner out with a spouse, or some cupcakes from your best friend. But gone are the days of “week long birthday celebrations” and “themed birthday parties” and “night of a thousand shots.”

33

Yeah….pretty much.

I find with each passing birthday that I become more introspective; flipping through my memory files of the last year and taking stock of all I have accomplished, making note of the failures and heartaches, wondering how things will change in the next 365 days of my life.

And since my birthday has become such a different event with age, I figured it was high time to create a “Do/Don’t” list for adult birthdays. After all, I’m not the only one on this thirty-something rocket ship heading straight for middle age.

Abby’s Grown-Up Birthday Do’s and Don’ts:

DO: Bring me cake. No restrictions here—all sweets are fair game. Bonus if there’s chocolate!!

DON’T: Ask me how old I am turning. I think that ship sails after your 21st birthday. Besides, math isn’t my strong suit. I’m pretty sure I told no less than 4 people that I was turning 34 today. Turns out, after I pulled out my calculator, that I moved a decimal point or something incorrectly, and I’m ACTUALLY 33. What? Math is hard.

math is hard

See? Told ya.

DO: Feel free to wish me a happy birthday. Facebook messages, Tweets, emails, phone calls, birthday cards, sky-written messages of your love for me—-all 100% wonderful. I love hearing from you, especially when you’re telling me I’m awesome.

DON’T: Spend a fortune on a gift for me. Truth be told, there’s not a whole lot in this world that I need or want. I’d rather you bring me the aforementioned chocolate goodie and spend thirty minutes with me than for you to buy me a diamond studded tiara. Unless, of course, you feel so inclined. Then bring on the bling, baby. I can rock a crown like nobody’s bidness.

DO: Feel free to change the subject. Sure, you can wish me happy birthday, ask me about my plans, even sing to me in Spanish if you want to. But after that, we can talk about anything else in the world and I’d be ok with it. There’s something about no longer being a fresh-faced pig-tailed 8 year old who’s wishing beyond hope for a flying unicorn with pink wings for her birthday that makes them not so sparkly any more. And that’s ok. I’d rather talk about that thing that happened the other day than my birthday anyway.

DON’T: Let me mope about turning a year older. It’s going to happen. Inevitably, about a week before my birthday, you will find me in a melancholy, mopey, morose place. Remind me that 33 isn’t that old, I still have plenty of time to accomplish my goals and chase my dreams. Tell me that I’m crazy–there are no gray hairs to be found atop my head. Shake your head and laugh at me when I worry out loud that I’m getting laugh lines. And above all else, give me permission to keep wearing my favorite nerdy tees, despite the fact that I probably should’ve stopped wearing them at 26.

And finally, DO: Bring me cake. I know….I already mentioned that before. But seriously. I like cake.

If you’d like to give me the BEST birthday gift a girl could ask for, please consider making a donation to our Go Fund Me Adoption Fund. Because finally becoming a mommy is A MILLION TIMES BETTER than cake! 

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Inevitable Changes

Twenty-two days.

I’ve never gone so long without writing. No since I started up Abby Gabs, anyway.

It isn’t as if I haven’t thought about it. I have. Every morning, as I’m singing away in the shower, I have the same thought. “I should write a blog today.” And then, as the soap washes down the drain, I wrack my mind for a topic to write about. And quite frankly, for the last three weeks, I haven’t been able to come up with a single one.

bang head here

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Well, that’s not entirely true. I could tell you all about the success I’m continuing to have with my weight loss. Dazzle you with before/after pictures, and regale you with tales of the gym. But the truth is–the weight is coming off slowly, there’s no major number or picture to share, and it’s just part of my daily life now. —>Don’t get me wrong, that’s a wonderful thing! But I’m not so sure it’s “blog-worthy.”

I could write about the silly thing that happened at the grocery story the other day, or the time I walked into an occupied dressing room at the bra store, or the funny conversation I had with Brian in the car on the way to the movies. But those don’t necessarily feel like headlines anymore. True, they were my blogger’s bread and butter for almost 3 years, but as our lives morph and change into something brand new, I’m beginning to wonder if my writing style won’t change with it.

You see, our lives have been totally taken over by this adoption process. It’s all we talk about, it’s all we focus on, it’s all we do. The last couple of months have been dedicated solely to fundraising, and if we aren’t actively making signs, writing up ads, sending out Facebook messages and Tweets, and setting up for a major fundraiser, then we’re actually DOING the fundraiser. (You would be shocked and amazed at how much time and energy it takes to have a rummage sale—especially when you have THREE storage units filled with donations to sell!) While we’ve managed to put quite a nice chunk of change in the bank, I feel like my brain cells are totally absorbed by this whole process. Creativity has been scarce around here, and when I’ve been forced to use it, the entire extent of it goes toward fundraising.

Let’s get to the meat of the issue here, readers (if you’re still even reading…) When I started this blog, it was with the intent that this would be a silly place for you to hang out. Somewhere for you to come to get your daily giggle. I went to great lengths to be the silliest blogger on the internet, to set myself apart from the rest with my weird faces, silly illustrations, and goofy Photoshopped tales. When I can’t think of a topic to write about that falls in that “make ‘em laugh” category, I wind up not writing at all. And that’s the current predicament which has left us all without our daily dose of Abby Gabs.

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I think, as a writer, it’s important for me to allow myself to grow and change. I also think it’s hugely important not to put pressure on myself to fit in a “niche.” And so, as my focus shifts, I have to learn how to continue to be a writer as it fits in my new life.

My promise to you, readers, is that I’ll do my best to keep it fun to read. It may not always be funny, but it will come from the most honest part of myself.

And my promise to myself is to keep finding the time, and the inclination, to write: without reservation, without fear of being judged for changing, with the same gusto as before.

Thank you for being patient with me on this journey. I know I’ll find my way back to my creative side eventually. For now, my thoughts are consumed with ‘all things adoption.’ And really? That’s how it should be, for now.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Happy Anniversary, FRIENDS

For those of you not in the know, we just celebrated the tenth anniversary of the final episode of the best show ever, Friends.

Friends cast

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Crap. Now I want a milkshake.

Anywho, I am a HUGE fan of this show. So much so that I still use quotes from the dialogue on a regular basis. (Could I BE any cooler?)  So when my newsfeed started lighting up with Friends articles right around the anniversary date, I clicked on and read them ALL. My favorite? A blog by a writer named Tsh, called “The One Where I Love Friends.” It’s hilarious. And I loved it so much I went in search of Friends gifs that I could relate to my own life. Here’s what I came up with.

Me when I get question right on Final Jeopardy:

a woo-hoo!

Me when I’m on a diet:

MINE!

Me when the cats start yowling for food at 5 o’clock in the morning:

shut uuuuup

Me when Brian does the laundry without being asked:

how you doin?

Me when that thing happened on The Game of Thrones and I totally wasn’t expecting it:

huh? What?Me when I’m reading people’s Facebook status updates:

GRAMMAR please.

Me with every single baby I encounter:

a boo boo boo

Me with my iPhone when Brian catches me Twitter stalking Zachary Levi:

not guilty

Me in line at the grocery store when a cool jam starts playing:

groovin

Me at my Werq class:

boogaloo

Me with a particularly irritating customer:

grr

Me when I read that Donnie Wahlberg is engaged to She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named:

Whyyyyyyyyyyy?

Me reading Dune:

bo-ring

Me when I’m right and you’re wrong:

dancin'

Me constantly doing jazz hands for no apparent reason:

jazz hands

And finally….me every single time I watch the Friends series finale:

sob

Ok, that was so much fun. Thank you, internet, for having so many wonderful gifs to choose from. Now…I’m gonna go watch Friends all day.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

The Ellen DeGeneres Campaign

Dear Ellen,

Gee. I’m not sure how to start a letter to a celebrity. I haven’t written one since the love note I mailed to Jordan Knight of the New Kids on the Block in 1990. I was almost 10 years old, and he never wrote me back. So you can imagine how nervous I am that this letter will have the same fate as that one.

At any rate, Hi Ellen! (Imagine me sitting at my desk at work, waving furiously at you with a giant grin on my face. It kinda looks like this:)

Hi Ellen on Make A Gif

I’m a big fan of your show. See, my whole mantra is to find the silver lining in life; I write a blog based solely on the idea that just about anything can be funny. While I’m not a comedienne extraordinaire, such as yourself, I have dubbed myself a goofball extraordinaire, and I love making people laugh.

That’s not what this letter is supposed to be about, though. That’s me getting off on a tangent and trying to get you to like me, because we have humor in common. Sorry about the detour. Back to the letter at hand.

Here’s why I’m sending you this note today: because my husband, Brian, and I are in the process of adopting a baby.

Team Chamberlain Adoption Fund Photo

Click to visit our GoFundMe page!

For the sake of quick reading, here are some important bullet points that you would probably like to know:

♥ Brian and I have been married for 10 years, and we have a love that is unique and unflappable. (I know everybody says that, but in our case, it’s really true.)

♥ In 2010, Brian was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer (Spindle Cell Carcinoma. That’s basically doctor speak for “We don’t really know what it is or what caused it but we have to name it something so let’s just call it Spindle Cell Carcinoma.”) It was discovered very late in the game, and the tumor that had formed on his colon was life-threatening. He had emergency surgery to remove it, and we had no idea what the outcome would be. Thankfully, it was a good one. Take it from us: when you are forced to face your own mortality at the age of 30, it changes you. Brian and I are that much stronger of a team after battling, and ultimately beating, cancer. (And the great news? There’s less than a 1% chance that it will ever reoccur. Yay, science!)

♥ We have been trying to start our family since the beginning of our marriage, and after a battery of tests, a plethora of sadness, and a feeble attempt with fertility drugs, we finally came to terms with the fact that we are Fertile-ly Challenged. (That’s like being vertically challenged, except with a lower sperm count.) We had always discussed adoption as an option for us, and so in February of this year, we started our journey towards bringing home Baby Chamberlain.

♥ We will be amazing parents. This isn’t an opinion; it is fact. We will be the sort of parents that will teach our kids all about the nerd culture we love. (We might even take them to Comic Con–our favorite vacation destination.) We will cuddle up on the couch with them and watch Saturday morning cartoons. We will take them to the beach and dig in the sand and play in the surf. We will laugh together, a lot. And we will love them, as big as the ocean is wide. (Times infinity, because the Pacific doesn’t seem big enough.)

♥ We come from a humble background. Brian is a Registered Nurse at one of our local hospitals, and I run a self-storage facility. We have this dream of becoming parents, and we have the means to support a child. But adoption is CRAZY expensive. Like, Kim Kardashian’s wedding expensive. And that’s where you come in.

Here’s the kicker: I’m not good at asking for help. I wish I had a money tree, or a 3-book deal with a major publishing company, or a rich uncle named Alfred who would write me a check with his fourteen karat gold pen. But the truth is, I have none of those things, and neither does Brian. We’ve got a wonderful group of friends who have donated what little of their hard-earned money that they can, but when you’re raising money for a private domestic adoption…well, $20,000 is a lotta cheddar. Even for someone who likes cheese.

We Like Cheese!

BUT—my desire to be a mother far outweighs my pride. We have wanted this for so long, and to know that the only thing keeping us from parenthood is money…well, that thought propels me to do stuff like write you this letter. If you and your team can find it in your hearts to help us spread the word–even if it’s just a post on your Facebook page, or a Tweet on your feed–every red cent that we are able to raise will help us bring home the baby we both have dreamed of for so long. We have already managed to raise almost $3,000 dollars on our own…we only need $17,000 more! We would only need a fraction of your daily viewers to donate $1, and we’d make that moolah in NO time. (I’m speaking in generalizations because math isn’t my strong suit.)

So please, please, please, Ellen–help us make our dreams come true! Every couple should have the right to be pooped on, yelled at, and ignored throughout their child’s transition through puberty. We REALLY want that chance, and only you can help.

And just on the off chance that it will help, here is a video of me dancing to Pharrell’s song, “Happy.”

Thank you so much, Ellen–for your time and your consideration, but mostly for all the good things you put out into the world.

Sincerely,
Abby and Brian Chamberlain

Alright, friends and family. You’ve all been asking me when I’m going to send Ellen my story. Well, here it is. She’ll probably never see it if I’m the only one who sends it to her, so now I’m enlisting your help! (Again!) Send her this blog! Tweet it, Facebook it, even send it to her website!! Maybe, if we inundate her staff with the Team Chamberlain adoption story, they’ll actually get so annoyed they’ll click the link just to shut us up. Here’s how you can help:

To send Ellen a Tweet, use @TheEllenShowI’ve taken the liberty of shortening the blog’s url, so you’ll have more characters to use: (http://alturl.com/hqiji) Also, use the hashtag #AbbynEllen so I can follow all your tweets! Here’s a sample tweet you can copy and paste: 
 Hey, Ellen! My friends, Abby & Brian, are trying to adopt! We could really use your help!  

To post on Ellen’s Facebook page, search for The Ellen DeGeneres Show on Facebook, or point your browser here: https://www.facebook.com/ellentvSend her the link to this blog (either shortened, as above, or www.abbygabs.com/abbynellen.) Tell her why you’re sharing it, and make it personal! Or, use the message I’ve posted below for your convenience:
Hey, Ellen! My good friends, Abby and Brian Chamberlain, are trying to adopt a child of their very own. They are funny, wonderful, super-awesome people–and I’m not just saying that because Abby herself wrote this message for me to copy and paste onto your Facebook page. Hey–maybe you could read their story and help them out? Thanks, Ellen, you rock! www.abbygabs.com/abbynellen

To send to Ellen’s website, go to EllenTV.com, click on “Send to Ellen,” scroll down to “Dear Ellen,” and fill out the form required. Or, just click here to go straight to it. Copy and paste the words from the blog into the “Tell us your story” field. (If you do that, I would choose one photo from the blog, remove the rest, and link to the blog for “web address of photo,” so she can see the rest if she wishes.) Or, if you’d rather, tell Ellen in your own words why you think she should help us spread the word about our adoption. Be creative! 

And to each of you who will take the time to do this–especially those who will do it all more than once–THANK YOU for continuing to support us throughout this process. I know, one way or another, that this adoption will happen. (Especially if Ellen gives us a $10,000 check from one of her sponsors. Just sayin.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

A Conversation With My Blog

Hello, old friend. How I’ve missed you! I’ve thought of you often these last two weeks, and wondered when we’d see each other again. It’s been far too long, Blog. Far too long.

I hope you’ll forgive me for being so lax about maintaining our relationship lately. I’ve had a full plate, and while that isn’t a terrific excuse for neglecting a friend, it is the only one I can offer up to you today.

Yes, yes … we are fine. Thank you for asking. We’ve just been so focused on the adoption process and all that comes with it. Most of my free time recently has been consumed with creating pages for our adoption portfolio. What’s that? Well, Blog, an adoption portfolio is something we send to the agency that they will, in turn, share with potential biological families looking for a match. In essence, our adoption portfolio is like a giant, colorful pamphlet, filled with all the stuff a bio mom would want to know about us.

Of course! I’d be happy to share a few of those pages with you!

Brian's About Me Adoption Portfolio Page

This is Brian’s “About Me” page.

Abby's About Me Adoption Portfolio Page

This is my “About Me” page.

Abby's Hobbies Adoption Portfolio Page

And look, Blog…you’re right here, included in the pages of the most important scrapbook I’ve ever created! Of COURSE I included you … you’re my favorite hobby!

So you can probably see why I’ve been so preoccupied lately. It took a lot of time to filter through our thousands upon thousands of photos to select just the right ones for our book.

You don’t have to tell me that twice, Blog. I know that organizing my photos in a more user-friendly fashion would have helped me accomplish this project in a couple of days, versus a couple of weeks. But old habits die hard, friend. Plus, I’d rather spend my free time with YOU now that it’s all finished, rather than reorganizing my computer files.

Aww. Thanks, Blog. I love you, too.

I know it’s been a brief catch-up for us today, but don’t fret! I have lots of fun planned for us in the upcoming days and weeks. And don’t worry–even when I might disappear for awhile, I’ll always come back to you. Real friends are like that, you know.

(Click for source)

(Click for source)

See you soon, Blog!

All my love,
Abby

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

ThatGabbyAbby Goes To PubSmart–A Video Blog


If you can’t see the video, copy and paste the following address into your browser: http://youtu.be/bGY9hlEcgUI

Links of Importance Mentioned in the Video:

PubSmart Writers’ Convention (Or, search the hashtag #PubSmartCon on Twitter)
Hugh Howey’s Website
Laura Pavlides’ website

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website