But ...

I think it's because I walk fast. And am incapable of whispering.

Technically, it's not really interrupting. It's more enhancing an already intriguing conversation. You know, adding teensy nuances of girlie-girl commentary, that clearly can only elevate the understanding of everyone else.

Might also be because the story is so good, so compelling, fabulously fascinating, and I just can't wait for the punch-line.

OK, so there's that.

About the loud talking: Once there was a princess. She lived high up in the cloud-covered mountains, next to purple daisies and rain-drop-filled sunflowers. The rest of the village lived far, far below. Deep in the heart of a green-and-orange valley. The princess was very wise. And super-cute. Every morning, the valley peeps would gather at the base of the sunlit mountain, awaiting their sparkling & magical morning greeting.

Moments of silence.

Then, in the far, far remotest distance, way up high, they heard their glorious princess:

"Happy fabulous Monday!" she'd glitter.

The jubilant crowd would cheer. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Moral of the story: princesses are obligated to speak loudly. For how else can they make sure everyone gets to share in a slice of star-lit magic?

Twangy Truth

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

You don't have to be in love with country charisma to appreciate that. Thank you, Lee Ann Womack.

Girlfriends

1. Understand the magic inherent in a great pair of black heels.
2. Let you know when you're being ridiculous and over-analytical.
3. Tell you how fabulous you look, always.
4. Immediately grasp why you're laughing, uncontrollably.
5. Share.
6. Inspire.
7. Remind you that boys are silly -- sometimes adorable-- but still, silly.
8. Know that John Frieda's Ocean Waves is a must-buy.
9. Give perfect cards.
10. Encourage, believe and mostly: love you unconditionally.

You're Already Running Late ...

... So why rush?

Slow down. Breathe. Sip coffee. Wave for the sunlight. Primp. Glamorize. Accessorize.

Funny how madness propels everything forward, but it's the less-than-speedy nuances of time that bring out the luxuries.

Like a good shower. Lavender. A blooming sunflower. A brilliant photograph. A favorite sparkly hair-clip. Long-forgotten winks. The hum-hum-humming of the dryer. Great, memorable, addictively-true song lyrics.

See? You would have missed all that if you didn't take the time to mosey.

Bye. Gotta run.

Poignantly So

My dad tells the story fabulously.

I was three, maybe four -- possibly even two. Wearing something super-cute-and-girlie, no doubt. On vacation with my parents deep in the Swedish heartland. Somehow, somewhere we entered a building. A theater? A museum? Or maybe it was less grandiose, just a room with an elevated part in the back.

They lost me.

Momentary panic. Frantic searching. Calling. Scrambling.

"Here I am!" I practically beamed, appearing -- of course -- in the middle of the stage.

Funny how circular that really is. Three decades later and I still crave the limelight. And yes -- definitely still plan on donning something insanely adorable.

When your day entails gulping wine and devouring fine foods, it's best to look the fancy part.

Je Voudrais

It's petite. Tote-able. Perfectly purse-sized. Translated from French into Swedish, the short stories as told by author Anna Gavalda are -- without sounding trite -- immaculate capsules of what is.

Slices of life, be they luxuriously Parisian or farm-fresh and jewel-free.

She crosses a street, glances over her shoulder and meets instant attraction. Hours later, she gazes into his eyes ensconced within a candle-lit corner bistro, sipping an '86 vintage, contemplating her luck.

When his cellphone rings, he mutes it quickly, apologetically. She shrugs it off. But then, what could have been a night of perfect beauty, makes a U-turn, as the would-be-suitor glances at his missed-calls-display, not realizing that she's watching his every move.

She leaves. Disappointed. But proud.

That's the entire opening novella. I'm hooked. Not sure I would have left attraction and appeal over a ringtone ... but still. Love that she did.

According to BB

Find your person. And make them smile.

Impossible not to immediately see the wisdom in that, especially when declared by an 80-year-old legend, who clearly has no doubts about the love of his life. Lucille may not be able to sip wine or chatter about current events, but she's always there, no matter what the blues extol.

As we sat in row GG, seat 106 & 107, nodding and swaying and feeling the tunes, it hit me.

It's not about giving so that you can receive. It's really just about finding your groove, being that which you always wish to be, and most importantly, singing for your one and only.

Oh yes. And realizing that there's never not a time to sit poolside sipping parrot-bedecked pina coladas ....

Suburbia, 8.30am

Neighbor Down the Street: Did you get a new dog?
Princess Malin: Yeah, she's a stray.
NDS: Wow. She looks really young.
PM: She's three.
NDS: Well, I am sure they're having fun.
PM: Yes. Especially since I'm at work all day.
NDS: You work?!?
PM: Um, yeah.
NDS: OH! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A HOUSEWIFE! When do you go to work?
PM: Oh, depends. Try to be in by 9.
NDS: OH! BANKER'S HOURS!

It's abundantly clear. I need an immediate, dramatic appearance change. Rockstar? Clearly. Hipster, cool, girl? Definitely. Super-fabulous and insanely interesting? For sure!

But housewife? Ohmygosh not yet.

Heavenly 'Cue

Friends. There's never really a time to not invite them over for dinner. All it takes is a super-speedy grocery venture, a few minutes of marinating prep and a good corkscrew.

1. Place the pork tenderloin in a deep dish. Add reckless amounts of olive oil and vinegar, as much minced garlic as you dare, red pepper flakes, salt and dash upon dash of thyme, oregano, paprika and Herbes de Provence.
2. Bake the potatoes. Halve lengthwise, scoop out the good stuff-ever-so-daintly (leaving the outside intact) and place in mixing bowl. Add a couple spoonfuls of sourcream, splashes of milk, more minced garlic, all appealing herbs from your spice rack, sharp cheddar, gobs of butter, and -- super-key -- Chipotle Tabasco sauce. Tons of it.

Grill the pork. Sprinkle the spuds with more cheese & place in oven until nice and bubbly.

Pour wine. Light candles. Play tunes. Devour.

Happy August.

Yes

Before I left for Madrid as a 20-year-old going on 16, I paused, if only for a moment. Slightly worried how I'd get around without really speaking the language, I had a slivery slice of second thoughts. Then my parents said, of course you can do it. It's no big deal. Go.

When my sister's dreams of dentistry led her to Witten-Herdecke -- deep in the unknown heart of Germany -- she clearly realized she didn't know anything about placing verbs at the end of sentences, much less the weight of the formal Sie. But of course she went. Why? Our parents always believed we could and should. And we all did.

So, wish. Believe. And always go.

Because those secrets that you've whispered only to falling stars really do translate to magic. But only if you stay true.

Pretty Much

• Pompeii Purple is your best bet for toe-nail-polish.
• When in doubt, play a Willie song.
• Try everything once before you make up your mind.
• Sometimes, try it again. And again. And again.
• Cereal really isn't a good breakfast on the run.
• Coffee is.
• A fabulous belt translates to fancier jeans.
• Smile.
• Remember.
• Drink good red wine.
• Act before you think.
• It's way more fun.

Bottle the Good

It would undoubtedly be one of the best inventions of all time. Shelves upon shelves of pink-or-blue-or-yellow-hued glass, each one containing a slivery slice of personalized magic.

The perfect run. Cheesy, oregano-kissed lasagna. Twenty-five seconds of dance-able bliss. The last chapter of your favorite book. Beach-flavored sunsets. Three soaring stars. Fields of tulips. Lemon butterflies. Clogs. Your favorite jeans.

As madness seems to circulate the globe, the super-smart and brilliantly savvy know that the best way to live is to do just that: live.

It's never too late to begin, by the way. If you're slightly hesitant, find that deliciously comfy T-shirt and worn-in pair of sneaks and take on the day.

Besides. It's August. Clearly the best month ever.

Pieces of Heaven

Stand by what you believe in.

Sometimes, easier said than done. But mostly, I think, forgotten along with whatever tricks-and-tips your 11th grade Algebra teacher tried to sneak into your mindly file-cabinets.

But if an 83-year-old little-bitty-lady can represent infront of Senators, wiry spectacles and all, then so can you.

Not saying you need to travel to D.C. to show support for your causes.

Just avoid compromising on that which would alter fundamental you. Besides, if we all did, then the fascinating fabulousness of convictions would disappear in plumes of smoke.

Sweet Tail Spots

His cat carrier was flawless. As Pippi and I waited our turn, he found three stray Calico hairs and immediately flicked them to the ground.

Samantha, the black lab to my left, had a funky spot on her belly. And an older man in Wranglers and crazy-big buckle cradled a miniature mutt with unusual freckles on her nose.

Two hours and $152 later, Oskar greeted us at the door. "One-hundred-and-twenty-minutes sure seemed like a life-time," he seemed to whisper to his golden-haired beauty, who immediately gave his left front paw a friendly nudge.

For all the whirl-winded-ness of chaotic days, our four-legged buddies always seem to remember the joys of routine. Calm. Predictability. Super-appealing same-ness.

Next time you're tempted to go-go-go, consider the wisdom of those who clearly appreciate the value of Iams-inspired sleep: there's nothing wrong with indulging in that which makes you smile. And if given a chance, pamper your fabulous friends.

They, too, love you unconditionally. You just have to figure out if they prefer tennis balls or the indestructible Kong.

Je Ne Sais Quois

I could probably have lived without "Blink."

And so, the fact that I'm slightly mesmerized by "The Tipping Point" either means that I, too, succumb to gas-station-literature -- or this time, Gladwell makes a few noteworthy points.

Consider this:

"There is a simple way to package information that, under the right circumstances, can make it irresistible. All you have to do is find it."

Ponder that. As you pour coffee, flip the radio dial, chitter-chatter at work, shop for jeans and train your uncontrollable pooch.

I'm not going to call it brilliant just yet. But it certainly made me think.

Dear Ralphs

Aside from a beat-up Dodge Caravan and a non-descript pick-up, I was the only car in the parking lot. Rushing past the baskets and carts, I glanced at my pink-and-glittering watch: 11:45pm.

Fifteen minutes til closing.

Moments later, clutching my morning-must-have: 2% milk for splashing coffee and dousing Grape Nuts, I checked out.

Sleepy. Dreading the 5am wake-up call. But mostly, oblivious to anyone.

"Well aren't you just a bright spot of sunshine?" chirped Norma as she counted my change.

"You just brightened our day," she continued to beam.

I'm clearly never shopping anywhere else.

Magical Medicine

Forget Advil and Band-Aids. And while there's certainly a time for lotions and potions and glittery powders, that's still pretty run-of-the-mill.

On those trickster days when the moon temporarily forgets to dance with the sun, focus on that which changes blues to polka-dotted-pinks.

• Running shoes
• A really good book
• Long-forgotten journals
• Swedish flower saft
• Cheese and raspberry jam
• Girlfriends
• Flip-flops & baseball caps
• Lucky stones
• Mellow melodies
• Reaching for the sky & touching your toes
• Circularity, not to be confused with clarity
• Crayolas
• Freckles

Once-In-A-Blue-Moon

1. Sometimes, what you think you want isn't necessarily what the stars have in mind for you.
2. Sometimes, you have to remember that a couple actually translates to two.
3. Sometimes, it's the little things that are the trickiest to forget.
4. Sometimes, it makes sense to take a step back instead of jumping ahead.
5. Sometimes, analyzing isn't the answer.
6. Sometimes, focusing on happy makes you sleepily sad.
7. Sometimes, it's OK to dream with your eyes open.
8. Sometimes, choices are the opposite of simple.
9. Sometimes, your best bet is to believe in the universe.
10. And most of the time? Most of the time, try to remember to stay true to who you are. Even if that means letting go.

When You're Three

• Little, plastic dinosaurs are more compelling than people.
• The best way to eat pizza is to shove the entire crust into your mouth, then wait a couple of minutes before attempting to swallow.
• Apple juice tastes way better from a juice box.
• A chef's uniform complete with plastic pots and pans is your favorite present.
• Wasps and bees are fascinating.
• You know exactly which kitchen drawer is hiding the screwdriver.
• You're really good at clutching a trapeze and not letting go.
• The top of your head emanates solar energy.
• You like to wave your hands and stomp your feet on your birthday.
• You get a blue, big-boy bed and un-baby haircut.

Appealing, isn't it? Why are you still sitting there? You're late for your meeting.

Sneak Peeks

I've always admired their flowers. It's the corner house, right next to the school. Blues, pinks, yellows and reds, perfectly aligned, never a blade of grass out of place. But the window screens are torn. And the hallway is littered with bits of paper.

Sunny and her family have lived here for 18 years. Their German Shepherd is always outside, in the back driveway. Within three minutes she'd asked me 50 questions and relayed snippets about most everyone on the block.

Which led us to the young couple across the street. The neighborhood newbies. I rang the doorbell at a quarter to seven in the evening, but the house was already pitch-black. The girl who answered was wearing my glasses. Identical, Chanel frames and all.

I never knew suburbia could be so fascinating. It's like my own little city, only filled with small-town intrigue. And the morning has just begun...