Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul

Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul.  It's coming and fingers crossed, I will be a part of it.

Ever since my stories went into Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul, I receive e-mail  notifications from the Chicken Soup people for each and every new book they're thinking about putting out: Chicken Soup for the Empty Nester's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Diabetic Soul, Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Healthy Living--Sleeplessness Soul.  Be warned: there is no end in sight.

Usually I just delete the e-mails, but the one about the American Idol Soul caught my eye. Yes, I watch American Idol, although it gets more painful each season. I don't like a network encouraging people who can't sing to come on TV strictly so the nation can have a collective laugh at them. But that's a tangent for a different day.  What happened when I got the e-mail was that it reminded me of an episode from when AI first came out.

Blair and I were fans of the show. It premiered during one of my random "It's time I learn how to cook" phases in life and I spent the weeks that the show was on setting dish after burned dish of tasteless morsels in front of Blair. FINALLY, one night I managed to pull a meal together. Nothing was smoking, everything appeared to be the proper color, and the cats weren't under the beds, hiding from the bad smells. I was hopeful.

I set the dish in front of Blair. He took a bite. And then my husband--God love him--possibly the whitest man in America, pulled a Randy Jackson on me and said,  "Yo, yo, yo! You did your thing, dawg, you did your thing. You worked this meal out. I'm proud of you dawg, proud of you."

He took another bite.

"Uh, excuse me," I said from across the table. "But did you just call me a dog?" 

"D-a-w-g," said Blair. "You're a dawg." 

"Right," I said. "I'll just be a moment looking for those annulment papers..." 

The story goes on from there but that's the gift of what I sent in. I received an e-mail the next day from the editor saying she liked my story and wanted to submit it to the next round of readers after some revisions.

Bragging rights to Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul... that will be a hard career high to top.

Peace out.