Navigating life as a (second)wife, (step)mom, and (frazzled)bear with inappropriate laughter and near-perfect hindsight.
To be fair, I didn’t see the story here until I was relaying to my mother the details of a minor injury to our doodle dog, Finley. It wasn’t the injury that caught my attention. It was the statement of “Oh no, it’s okay, Finley is absolutely thrilled” and its supporting information.
Girl Math was invented long ago by Sally Struthers. When Sally begged for our help, many of the Girl Math pioneers were lying on living room couches next to a bucket. We were home from school, sick, and Sally popped in during the Price is Right pleading for our help. Honestly, I’m not sure what she needed my help with, as I was too locked into my first lesson in Girl Math.
I smell like a goat. Or maybe smelling like a goat would be an upgrade. I smell more like a goat if it was eaten by a horse and then shit out days later, spread across a pig pasture, rolled in for weeks, and then deposited on the floor of a barn during a heatwave.
I know I am of a different generation than my children, but there are still topics on which I refuse to accept side-eyes that scream, “Ok, Boomer.” Take my favorite past time.
The benefits of a work hiatus? More free time. The "maybe this isn't a benefit?" More free space! Welcome to my brain.
When I decided to write a book three years ago, I wasn't kidding (although I did think it would only take a minute). You are never too old for new goals.
I wish I had a Fast Pass that said “I started journaling a thousand emotions ago!!!!” so I could skip the line. One of the side effects of the pandemic was an abundance of writers - now flooding publishing houses.
The first time my now-husband told me he loved me, we were standing next to his car in the parking lot of the same restaurant in which we had met four months earlier. It was awkward on many levels.