First off, I should say I wouldn’t even be here without the kids. No, I’m not talking about their love or unerring support–have you even met my kids? They will cut you for a cookie. (But then again, so will I.) No, I mean that without their destructive, logic-defying antics, I wouldn’t have been writing as long as I have. The whole blog is just a protracted focus group meant to answer the question: Are they crazy or am I? Now there is a book. It’s about the insanity I am subjected to every day, be it from the kids, my hillbilly husband or my own inner, and clearly dysfunctional voice. Bowing to popular opinion, I have not given up my day job. And why would I? It’s clean, it’s quiet, and none of my co-workers demand that I wash their dirty socks or steal my earphones. I may move in.
Sometimes my husband has flashes of brilliance. For instance, he recently informed me that we met exactly 25 years ago on Super Bowl Sunday. “I think we’re going to have to celebrate,” says he, then proposes that we have his mother’s diamond engagement ring retooled...read more
Because 2017 was so stressful, both politically and personally, we have finally sought out professional help. It was a move that surprised exactly no one who knows me, I'm quite certain. Unfortunately, I am terrible at it. First off, I can barely handle the lobby....read more
Yesterday I took my boots to be resoled. Found a lovely, old-timey shop run by an tiny elderly man in an apron, with wire rimmed glasses and handsomely calloused hands... he couldn’t have looked more like a cobbler elf if he tried. The shop certainly bore up to the...read more