Before I dive into this story, you have to know that I loved Swarovski crystal figurines. In fact, every time our family goes on a trip, I get a piece to commemorate our travels. If it's a small trip, I usually get a small figurine. If it's a big trip, I get a big one.   When Rick and I took a trip to Austria's Salzburg and Vienna, I got a big one: a crystal piano.

Now back in the day before kids, Rick and I used to travel quite a bit. If we'd bought crystal for each trip it would have put us in the poor house so we decided that some trips didn't wouldn't warrant it.

The tale I'm going to tell you now to tell you is about one of those crystal-free trips.

It was 1993 and we had just moved to Germany. Rick was especially pumped. "We're so close to the Alps!" he would say. "I can't wait to go skiing!" Um...yeah.

You see, I wasn't a skier. Not even a little. Sure, I had skied a couple of times, but both had been on small Wisconsin hills. And even then I'd sucked. We're talking black-and-blue-butt sucked. Still, Rick loved skiing. I knew my destiny was doomed.

The first Thanksgiving we were out there, Rick made arrangements for us to go skiing with friends at Steinplatte Ski Resort in Austria. Man, was I nervous. Before we went, I told Rick I wanted lessons from a ski school instructor. Rick balked, "Lessons? You don't need no stinkin' lessons," he replied with Blazing Saddles flourish. Rick was an expert skier. He could easily teach me. Why throw good money away?

When we arrived at the ski lodge, I brought up the subject again. I may have even begged.. "Rick, you have no idea how bad I am. I really think I need lessons."

Rick still brushed it aside. "Well, you have no idea how good of a skier I am. Trust me, you'll be fine."

The next morning, after I composed my last will and testament, we suited up and hit the hills. As we rode up the chair lift, I swore the mountain grew before our eyes. It got bigger and bigger. Taller and taller. There was no way I'd make it back down. Just getting off the chair lift proved too great. As soon as I skied off the bench, I landed on my butt.

"Don't worry," Rick said with the gusto of a cheerleader trying to will their losing team to win. "Chair lifts aren't easy the first few times. You'll be fine on the hill. Just follow me."

We started going down the mountain and I did follow him for about ten seconds or so. Problem was, I didn't know how to stop or slow down. Before I knew it I was way ahead of him. And I was going fast -- too fast -- and a big turn was coming up. I screamed back to Rick, "How do I stop?" Rick bolted forward, doing his best to catch up with me. I forgot what he told me to do.

What I do remember is the mountain. You know those banked turns that keep you from skiing off a cliff? Well, this ski run didn't have one. As for those fences that catch you if you do run off a cliff? Nope. Didn't have those either. As I careened toward the turn I couldn't make, I realized what would happen if I didn't stop. I'd Wile E. Coyote off the cliff and then plummet to my death.

HOLY HAND GRENADES!

Rick realized it, too. "Just crash!" he yelled. Now that's something I could do well. Just shy of the cliff I tumbled backward --  a sea of arms, legs, skis and poles.

It wasn't pretty. When Rick caught up to me, a slew of creative and crude expletives burst from my mouth. He just stood there, stunned. Then he smiled at me rather sheepishly. "How would you feel about getting some lessons?"

Needless to say, I got a HUGE crystal figurine for that trip.

Do you have a date for Valentine's Day? I do. It's February 14th. Which is today. Woo hoo! I hope you have a good one. So far, mine hasn't been great. I had wanted to post a sweet photo of my cat wearing a construction paper heart around his face. Similar photos have been floating around the web and thought they were cute.

Now I hate them.

Have you ever tried to stuff a uncooperative's cat's head through a little paper hole then tried to photograph them? Well, Annie Leibovitz I am not. The best photo I could muster was this:

So I improvised, deciding to use inanimate objects because the are much easier to pose. The first victim was a silly Howard Dean bobblehead my son found on clearance and purchased as a joke.

Then I found a dancing hamster dressed up like an army soldier....

And, of course, I had to dress up my beloved Thor. The poor guy's been through so much.

Anyway, I'm sorry my project was a bust. I hope your Valentine's Day is still awesome. If it's not, don't sweat it. The whole thing's kind of silly, though it does involve chocolate. And chocolate doesn't care if you're attached or single. Huzzah!

As for those of you who are curious as to who won the autographed copies of my book, the winner in the evil clown naming contest is Agit8r. He had me at Beezelbozo. As soon as I read that I knew it was the one. Not only will I be sending him an autographed book, but a bonus, as well. It's another terrible awful gift exchange present. Ain't it beautiful!

As for the other winner, who was picked randomly though her suggestions were mighty fine indeed, it's Helena Fortissima. I'll be contacting both winners via email to make shipping arrangements.

Thanks, again, to all who entered my giveaway. It was fun reading all of the names. Hope you all have a happy Valentine's Day, too.

Ciao for now!

Before I start, please know that while I have little problem writing personal things about me, the same isn't true of my children. I am usually wary and always make sure to ask permission from them first. Until today, my daughter has always said no. Why? Because she's private...and smart. I have to say, in this world of irresponsible disclosure, I'm proud of her for that.  This time, however, it's different. There's a situation we both feel strongly about. So, just this once, she's said it's okay for me to talk a bit about her. For that, I truly thank her.

I received some very sad news in my email box yesterday that's left me and my daughter reeling. Our local Girl Scout council has recommended the sale of all four of their camp properties: Camp Little Cloud in Dubuque County, Iowa; Camp L-Kee-Ta in Des Moines County, Iowa; Camp Tahigwa in Allamakee County, Iowa; and Camp Conestoga in Scott County, Iowa.

For those of you who don't know me well, I was a Girl Scout troop leader for many years. My daughter -- a scout for close to twelve years now -- is currently a volunteer ranch hand for Camp Conestoga's equestrian program. As much as I'd love to talk about all the great experiences I've had as a leader, I'm telling my daughter's because it's more important.

Let me begin by saying my daughter is unique. I won't go into what that means. There are as many definitions for the word as there are kids who can be described that way. It doesn't matter what kind of unique a kid is. All that matters is that they don't always fit into the standard mold or standard crowd. With many, making friends can be a challenge because it's hard finding other kids like them.

I still remember a particularly rough patch in her life between sixth and seventh grade. Girls had already started breaking up into cliques and my daughter fit into none of them. She spent a lot of time alone -- partly by choice, partly not. It was a quiet time in her life. She felt in order to be accepted she had to be someone she didn't want to be. She chose to be alone, instead.

My daughter went to Girl Scout resident camp that summer -- something she'd done every year since the second grade. This time she went by herself, which concerned me. There was a good chance she wouldn't know anyone. When I told her this she just smiled and said, "Don't worry, Mom. It's Girl Scouts."

While she was away at camp I kept wondering how the other girls were treating her. Were they being nice or was she finding herself alone, once again? I breathed a sigh of relief when I picked her up five days later. She wore the biggest grin.

"I made a friend, Mom," she said, tugging my arm. "Come on. I want you to meet her."

So I did. I'll be honest, I can't remember the girl's name. I do remember her being very nice. In fact, she reminded me a lot of my daughter, a fact that made me smile inside. Their friendship didn't last long. The girl lived a little too far away from us. But my daughter knew she was out there -- a friend was out there. She was no longer alone.

I can't say she ran out and found a bunch of friends after that and all was well. But I can say she held her head a little higher after that. She became more confident. She realized that what made her unique made her someone special instead of someone who didn't belong.

Right now my daughter is a junior in high school and, yes, she has friends. They accept her for the great girl that she is. She doesn't feel pressure to be anyone but herself. Girl Scouts played a large role in making that happen. Even when times were tough, she knew that summer she would go to a camp where everyone belonged. The combination of its staff, activities and mission makes Girl Scout summer camp...hmm, what's the word? I think I'll use "unique." Somehow that seems appropriate.

Even now, as a sixteen year-old who is no longer what I'd call a traditional scout, my daughter still treasures her Girl Scout experience and loves to pay it forward. As a ranch hand, she not only takes pride in her horse riding skills (which she gained from Girl Scouts camp) but also the fact she uses them to assist younger girls. Camp Conestoga has given her the opportunity to take what she's learned and pass it along to others.

It saddens me that girls in the future might not have these opportunities.  I understand that fewer girls are going to camp these days. What I don't understand is why. The memo said, girls are more interested in "adventure and travel opportunities than the rustic camp experiences that our camps were designed for." Well, can we redesign them? Why throw the baby out with the bath water? Once the camps are gone they are gone. They say less that 10% of girl scouts go to camp but that still represents 2000 girls. There's data saying 75-80% of girls want to attend camp or outdoor activities. In fact, in an interest survey given by our council, girls were asked to rate their interest in/importance of 43 different activities. Only one got the highest ranking from all six age groups, calling it the "soul" of Girl Scouts. That activitiy? Camping. Only six other activities got the "soul" ranking, and of them not more than four age groups ranked them as such. So clearly, the girls love to camp and want it continued as part of the Girl Scout program. The big question is why aren't more girls going? And how does closing all four camps address this problem? These are the questions. I wish I had the answers.

I'm not going to bash the people who made the recommendation to sell all four camps. I'm sure they've spent a long time deliberating their decision and that it was a tough one to make. I also know that the camps are in the red, with more money going out than coming in. My hope is now that more people know the situation we can work together for a better solution.