If you ask for relationship tips from either my husband or me, there is a high chance it will involve an acronym. And it's not even WTF.
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.
God bless you, Drew Barrymore. You always were a Firestarter.
One of the most common things I hear from people when I tell them we are cruising (again) is, “Oh, I could never do that … “ I always volley back with, “Oh, but you could and you should and go sign up immediately because you will still have two years to hem and haw.”
Me: “Oh, I’m going on vacation in a few weeks/days” Random People: “Yeah, but you’re like always on vacation now, right?
If your child is experiencing their terrible-seventeens ... you might want to upgrade that vacation WiFi package.
Are you there, God? It’s me Jyl. It’s me Jyl and, for the third time in five months, I am back on the healing couch. Also, are you mad at me?
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.
A tale of how I closed my eyes and jumped in feet first, fears be damned. Did I have to jump into the clear waters of the Carribean? Maybe not. But I sure won’t tell my family that.