Baby needs a new pair of shoes. In other words:

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Question: What is your best tip for hosting a gathering, get-together or party that is enjoyable and stress-free for both the host and guests?

This is really a hard question, because some gatherings are stress-free for the host and some are stress-free for the guests, but seldom are parties stress-free for everyone, right?

Stress-Free for the Host

• Make everyone bring their own food and beverage.
• Host the event in your backyard.
• Rent a port-a-potty. Don't allow your guests to use the bathroom.
• Hire security to throw everyone out after two hours.
• Keep children enclosed in an inflatable fenced-in area.

Stress-Free for the Guests

• Design five menus, including gluten-free, peanut-free, fat-free and kid-friendly. Make enough for each guest to have one of everything and then give them a choice when they walk through the door.
• Pay a housecleaner to shine up your house before the party.
• Hire wait staff to make sure their glasses are kept full of high-end drinks all night.
• Hire taxis to drive anyone home who has overindulged in said high-end drinks.
• Have open starting and ending times to the party so that no matter what else your guests have to do that day, they can still make it.
• Move your house so it is exactly five minutes from everyone on your guest list.
• Hire a babysitter for all your guests with children to occupy their children at their own house while they come to your party. This does double-duty: the parents will relax and have fun and those without children won't be subjected to anyone's spawn.

So, tricky Life Well Lived editors, what the heck are you trying to do to me?

The Happy Medium

• If you live in a nice climate or it's at least a pleasant season, have the gathering outdoors. You'll worry less about red wine on your upholstery, and they won't sweat to death. 
• Allow your guests to use your bathroom, clean it ahead of time and make sure there's smelly spray in there or at least matches, for heaven's sake. 
• Let your guests bring their children but either a) hire a sitter to hang out and keep them occupied or b) have a ton of outdoor toys, sports equipment, water balloons, bubbles, what have you so the kids can play and the adults can talk and there needn't be a lot of overlap. We once rented a bouncy house for a party -- it was like $75 for four hours and worth every penny. 
• Provide the main course and a few kinds of drinks (lemonade, water, and if you're the alcoholic beverage type, a bit of beer and wine) and ask your guests to bring any special beverages for themselves or their kids that are desired.
• Specify start and end times on your invitation, especially if you have kids you need to get to bed.
• Send real invitations as well as an evite so it's not as easy for your guests to forget all about your party.
• Follow up with those who don't RSVP so you have a better idea of headcount.
• Don't allow your children to deliver the invitations (mine invited several people in the neighborhood I've never met to a party we hosted the day I got home from a business trip).
• Prepare as many finger foods as possible to minimize utensil needs.
• Have garbage bags or bins and recyling bins at your party location to minimize clean-up or trash blowing around your yard later.
• Be cognizant of food allergies and make sure there is an alternative if you know one of your guest has one or is vegetarian or vegan.
• Check out the much better and more sophisticated tips than mine by Get Buttoned Up at Life Well Lived.
• Enter to win a Kindle Fire, because even though it has nothing to do with throwing a party, who doesn't want a Kindle Fire?

Last night on the way home from a two-hour meeting all the way across town, I called my sister in the hopes she would cheer me up. I'd had a really rough day and was feeling really insecure about my writing.

(Editor's Note: This is going to be my memory of the conversation and therefore probably not what she said at all. But isn't that how life goes? And if we didn't go with it a little we'd have zero material, so bear with me. Also, it was really nice of her to cheer me up when I totally called HER and interrupted her evening with my hunger-fueled angst. Thank you, Sister Little.)

She started telling me about this series of books she was reading by Isaac Asimov and how the first couple of books he wrote in this series were almost exactly alike and therefore really boring but how the last one was written twenty years later and it was so amazing it changed her life and she wants to have his cryogenetically preserved babies.

Okay, I made the last part up.

And I was all, "I'm feeling like a suck writer and you tell me how Isaac Asimov is so awesome he changed your whole worldview with one novel?"

And then she was all, "Well, you shouldn't compare yourself to the greats."

(pause for souls to be crushed and angels to fall from heaven)

In the pause, she may have heard my psyche keening for its hold on perspective. 

<insert uncomfortable silence>

And then she said something like, "This is sort of like when you told me about how giving birth completed you right after I broke up with my boyfriend, isn't it?"

And I was all, "YES."

(!!!)

But then she reversed and started distracting me with how eventually -- as Asimov went on to write forty gazillion books -- he decided to bring all his fake worlds in line with the same planets and everything. And so then, there I was -- standing in my kitchen starving to death because it was eight at night and I'd just gotten home from the world's longest meeting and hadn't eaten since noon -- listening to my sister wax on about Asimov's genius and I started thinking about Asimov standing in his kitchen in the eighties and making that newfangled microwave popcorn and stressing the fuck out because OMG THE PLANETS ARE ALL NAMED DIFFERENT THINGS. And maybe even the great Asimov pulled his hair out and drank some extra wine and stressed over HOW THAT THING HE COMPLETELY MADE UP WASN'T QUITE RIGHT.

And every time I'm sure that it doesn't matter a bit whether or not I try to make my completely fake world right, I should remember that Asimov getting his completely fake world right changed my sister's whole life.

And so it's worth a shot.

Hi everyone!

Yesterday I had a post go up on BlogHer about the sources of stress. Not sources of stress like deadlines and traffic jams and being out of orange juice at 7 am, but sources of stress in your brainz. Here's an excerpt:

That said, I've spent most of my stress-fighting career thinking about how tohandle stress rather than what caused it in the first place. Things are rough all over, Ponyboy. And I've blamed myself a lot for not being tougher.

I recently read Stress Less (for Women) by Thea Singer, a book that appeared in the mail for review. One passage struck me in particular -- one that talked about stress research being flipped on its head when researchers stopped thinking about stress or age atrophying parts of the brain and instead studied whether people who stressed more started out less equipped to deal with the stress in the first place:

The vulnerability hypothesis of stress -- that is, that a smaller hypocampus, whether due to genes or early exposure to stress -- can predispose you to the damaging effects of stress, rendering you more vulnerable to age-related memory loss and disorders such as PTSD.

There was good news at the end! Read the rest on BlogHer!

PS: Last night the little angel asked for a drink of water while in the bathtub. I handed her the crappy hot pink water bottle we got with Culver's points. She took one drink and gagged. Then she said, "I don't know why, but yesterday I put Goldfish crackers in here." I opened it and there were bloated Goldfish floating in two inches of tepid tap water. And then I threw up in my mouth. 

Hi y'all -- I know, three posts in one day! But I want to send out this poll and it has to live somewhere, so here it is! I'm working on a post about electronics depreciation and would love to know how you think about gadgets and money. I myself am a wait-until-it-has-dropped-at-least-$100-and-then-try-to-buy-it-with-gift-cards stingy-ass person. How about you?

http://www.zoomerang.com/Survey/Poll/Embed/WEB22EGZ87C38S?e=tOnline Surveys - Zoomerang.com

Because I enjoy a little healthy debate (and also because I've been thinking about it a while), I posted yesterday on BlogHer about marital term limits. I actually don't care for that terminology, because it sounds like you're required to stop being married at some point, which was not what I was arguing for. If you want to be married, you wouldn't have to stop -- you just re-up. I actually like Mexico City's proposal (though two years seems a bit short):

The minimum marriage contract would be for two years and could be renewed if the couple stays happy. The contracts would include provisions on how children and property would be handled if the couple splits.

"The proposal is, when the two-year period is up, if the relationship is not stable or harmonious, the contract simply ends," said Leonel Luna, the Mexico City assemblyman who co-authored the bill.

"You wouldn't have to go through the tortuous process of divorce," said Luna, from the leftist Party of the Democratic Revolution, which has the most seats in the 66-member chamber.

It might seem odd that someone happily married after ten years is a fan of this idea. On Twitter last night I took a lot of heat for banging on "the sanctity of marriage." I don't see it that way at all -- the promise and commitment you make to your spouse can be spiritual, it can be religious, it can be personal -- but it needn't be legal. We all know plenty of people who are deeply in love and committed to each other for life but for whatever reason not legally married. The sanctity part has to do with the relationship, not the legal marriage. I believe in the sanctity of the relationship, not the sanctity of the legal marriage. Give to Caesar what is Caesar's.

Legal marriage is a legal contract and has nothing to do with love. Usually, they go hand-in-hand, but legal marriage as an institution is rooted in property ownership. In Missouri, where I live, it means this:

There are numerous legal benefits to marriage. There are both federal and state laws available only to married people. Other benefits include Social Security benefits, inheritance rights, property rights, the ability to sue third parties for the wrongful death of a spouse or loss of consortium, and the right to make medical decisions on a spouse's behalf.

There is nothing about love or sanctity or eternal commitment in the legal definition of marriage.

In my BlogHer series How to Get a Happier Marriage, I kept coming back to the concept of daily choice. Whether you're legally married or not, if you're in a healthy relationship, you're aware every day that you don't have to be there -- you're there because your life is better with that person than without him or her. You're there because you want to be. You're not enmeshed with the other person or controlled by him or her. I'm not saying it wouldn't be incredibly painful to leave, but if something happened to that person, you could go on putting one foot in front of another. You have to believe that if you don't want the other person to worry themselves to death over you. 

I think it's actually detrimental to love to think to yourself, well, we're married, so this other person has to put up with me no matter how I behave. I wrote in April 2010:

The fact is that I can't see the future. I learned a long time ago that you don't just say "I do" and it's done. I'm a different person than I was when I got married eight years ago, and so is my husband. We have to wake up every single morning and -- without so much as coffee -- choose each other again. And when I choose him, I'm not choosing the man I married when we were 28. I'm choosing the man he is now.

If you keep choosing that other person with your eyes wide open over years of good times and bad, that love deepens. While bagging on Twilight, I wrote:

Diana's romance illustrates what I know to be true about many happy couples -- they met when they were young. Maybe they even fell in love when they were young. But, as she writes, true love -- the kind that lasts fifty years -- is something that brews over time spent bailing each other out from crises, from facing real life and sometimes mundane challenges and achievements.

I realize my opinion in favor of marital term limits won't be a popular one, even with members of my family. I do hope it's clear that I'm not talking about spiritual or religious marriage -- I'm talking about the legal documents that make separating in the case of two people falling out of love something that requires lawyering up and involving the family court system. Falling out of love with someone is bad enough -- to have to be financially devastated and prolong the experience just adds legal insult to emotional injury.

I do think people should be very sure before they get married. I do think people should commit to working things out if at all possible. 

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the U.S. has the highest divorce rate out of us, Denmark, Canada, Japan, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, the Netherlands, Spain, Sweden and the U.K.

I have some other arguments for term limits in my BlogHer post. I hate to divide the conversation, so I'm going to close comments here and ask that if you'd like to respond that you do it there. 

I'm not anti-love. I'm not anti-commitment. I think it's incredibly romantic to choose the other person every day for the rest of your life, as I do every day with Beloved. I don't see how separating the legal from the spiritual hurts my bond with him in any way. I'm actually surprised people are unwilling to see the difference between the legal bond and the spiritual or romantic one. Am I insane?

I took the little angel to The Nutcracker yesterday. Since she is still in ballet, I thought it might be time to go view the big guns in their gorgeous new home downtown. I bought the tickets the minute they went on sale, back in November, for the Sunday matinee. Because I've never been to the new performing arts center, I just angled for the closest seat I could find to the stage, even though it was sort of over on the side, which can sometimes suck.

This did not suck.

It was a frickin' box. With five chairs in the whole thing. And a WAITER.

The coat check guy looked at our tickets and mentioned it might just be a box, and I thought, oh my gosh, I have never sat in a box in my life. My child's head will explode.

We wandered through the gorgeous glass lobby so bright I needed sunglasses and wound our way around to the box. 

We were the first ones there, soon to be joined by a sweet family with a little tiny girl who will no doubt demand to be driven to prom in a limo following this experience. My girl and I marveled at the view. We could see the entire orchestra from that angle, as well as almost every single person in the audience. 

"You know, I didn't do this on purpose," I told my girl. "We may never achieve this level of seating here again. Now that everyone's seen it, it's going to be hard to come by."

She grinned ear to ear.

The waiter came by and asked if we would like to order some holiday cookies or drinks for intermission. Why yes, we would! 

"Can you believe it?" she kept asking, echoing me, I'm sure, who probably sounded like the world's biggest hick to the family next to us with enough money to take a two-year-old who had to leave halfway through the second act to watch her first Nutcracker from such an awesome seat. But I didn't care. I'm not wealthy, and I don't get to treat my girl to such things every day. 

As we walked out, I hoped she would remember her first trip to see the Kansas City Ballet, the first time we sat in the new performing arts center and the first time we experienced the glory that is box seats together, just the two of us, giggling like idiots through the whole thing.

I know I will.

---

Read my review of The Literary Ladies Guide to the Writing Life by Nava Atlas on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!

Recently I watched the first two episodes of Lifetime's new eating disorder reality show (yes, I really typed that) starring Tracey Gold called Starving Secrets. It's a subject I keep coming back to despite the ickiness of it, because only 30-40% of anorexics ever fully recover, and I did. I understand how hard it is to break the cycle. It's really important for that those of us who have done so talk about it, just so those still suffering know it is possible. And so, the show.

I really do want to like this show. I DVRed it but it took about a week before I watched the first episode. I was worried it would be like Dr. Phil, though I had high hopes because of the presence of former anorexic Tracey Gold.

After I tweeted about watching the show, I heard from Michelle Leath of unlockyourpossibility.com and michelleleath.com (her new bulimia blog), who is a recovered bulimic and a Certified Food Psychology Coach and life coach specializing in helping women create a healthy relationship with food and life.

I was eager to get another recovered woman's perspective. She had this to say (extended quote used with permission):

Although some may disagree with me, what I take issue with is not the exposure or the depiction of these women engaged in their (not so) private struggles. I actually felt a great deal of compassion for them, and I think its valuable for others to witness the pain and suffering that come with bulimia and anorexia. What really turned my stomach was the way these women were treated once they got into treatment!

Read the rest on BlogHer ...

Yesterday I covered the Virginia Tech shootings for BlogHer. I am intensely relieved it didn't escalate the way it did in 2007, but it was tough to sit and watch and wait for updates via Twitter from student journalists locked inside buildings. I'm hoping today the news is a little less exciting. Maybe a politician will say something stupid. 

Twitter just told me rockets hit Israel. (sigh)

But it's Friday and I've been crabby about the holidays (the wrapping! and the buying things for a million people! and the decorating! and the cards sitting in a huge pile that I haven't dealt with yet! and the gifts that need to be hand-constructed for second grade gift exchanges! and the homework!). I don't want to be crabby, don't mean to be crabby, and today I am going to choose not to be crabby. And we'll see how that goes.

Does that work for you? Can you decide to be in a certain mood? I will check back in later and see if it worked.

Yesterday on BlogHer I wrote about my hair.

As a child, I had long braids that I refused to cut, much to my mother's chagrin. I fancied myself Laura Ingalls Wilder. As a teenager in the eighties, I was a spiral-permed, ratted, claw-banged glory. In college, I shoved my ponytail through the hole in the back of my ever-present ball cap or let it pour out from under my do-rag. (I looked more Axl than gangsta.)

After college, I embarked on a fifteen-year fight with my hair. It's very fine -- so fine I can fit my entire ponytail into the smallest hair bauble or elastic band. My hair, when long and uncurled, resembles the head elf in the movie version of Lord of the Rings. The boy elf. The hot one. It looked good on him, not so much on me. So I resigned myself for many, many years to one of the best styles for fine hair: the chin-length bob. And during the entire reign of my chin-length bob, people I met always thought they already knew me, because I looked exactly like half of the upper Midwest.

Frustrated, I tried to grow it out again. I did The Rachel in the late '90s. It looked terrible on me. You could see through the layered parts if the sun was strong. Why did I do it? Boys. Men, I guess they were, but I still thought of them as boys. Boys liked long hair, and I wanted to be liked by boys.

Credit Image: Wikipedia

But when I really thought about it, I wanted to be the girl with the short hair. I wanted to be Helen Slater in The Legend of Billie Jean. I wanted to be Winona Ryder in Reality Bites. I wanted to be Demi Moore in G.I.Jane.

I wanted to transcend my hair.

Read the rest at BlogHer!