In the end, only kindness matters

This was posted on Facebook yesterday. Fresh Minds, a page that I really love put this out…..and I was surprised at the comments people made. There was a common theme: blame. Of course, the government got it….Obama got his share of it….rich bastards REALLY GOT IT…and I’m not sure, but I think someone was blaming Fresh Minds for even posting it to begin with. The “lazy people” who are homeless were also thrown under the bus by several commenters. Continue reading

The Diet Coke Fairy

Yesterday, I was out running errands, and my stomach started to cave in on itself from hunger. I was near Qdoba, one of my favoritest places to eat ever…and decided I couldn’t live without their black bean concoction of yumminess, and the fresh lemon wedges they offer, to put in your Diet Coke. A definite plus in the fast food world. Continue reading

Eat, Cheat, Love

I’m a wanna be meditator. Have been for a long time, even before I read Eat, Pray, Love…a book that will convince you if nothing else will, to get into the practice of meditation.

I mean look what happened! The woman ended up having more sex than Hugh Hefner, generated money out of thin air, and ate the whole country of Italy without having to resort to clothes shopping at the local  Tent and Awning…. ALL of this from sitting cross-legged, in complete stillness and resisting the temptation to swat at flies on her face. Continue reading

She wore that dress like it was a Saturday

Some people come out of the closet.

Not me, folks. I’m heading back IN. I’ve been out too long.

I was in the middle of a very important transaction at the local drugstore (Diet Coke and Greeting Cards…2 of my vices)…when a snazzy lady came waltzing in. Her shoes were perfection. Everything matched. Her make-up was flawless, and there wasn’t a hair out-of-place.

I became painfully aware of my yoga pants. The ones that have that little bleach stain on the right upper thigh. The ones that are long enough for a Lady Sasquatch to wear to the gym. The ones I have no business wearing in public. My shirt, baggy and lifeless…with stains of peanut butter that the Littlest had on his cute little mouth, and that he accidentally transferred to my left boob area in trying to climb me like a tree. I probably don’t have to tell you about the lack of makeup I had on, and the way my hair was haphazardly thrown on top of my head in a disheveled heap to give you a little taste of Lisa Out on the Town.

It’s ok, you say! Are you assuming I was sick? Up all night with a colicky baby? Or burning the midnight oil studying for a test? Some kind of extenuating circumstance that has led to me looking like a peanut butter loving homeless girl?


This has become my normal. In other words: I’ve gotten on the fast train to sloppy hag.

How did this happen?

In HighSchool, I took fashion seriously. Every spare bit of cash I came upon from babysitting, birthday cards from Aunt Dorothy, or off the floors of phone booths  went towards the most outrageously  priced jeans, shirts belts, shoes, earrings I could find. I got up almost 2 hours early every morning to primp and pluck, moisturize and conceal. My hair alone was an hour-long ordeal.

The girls from neighboring school districts usually just got up….showered..and threw on sweats.

I didn’t go to that school district.

Every day  at WC was America’s Next Top Model, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Math was a major distraction.

The years after high school weren’t quite as much fun…just because my FUN money had to be used for things like food and rent, but I was still IN on the whole fashion scene.

And then came the babies, the first two 17 months apart. I was still teaching with the Firstborn. She came along to the classroom with me, and I could write a book about that experience. I promise to tell you ALL about that later. When the Montessori School I was teaching at changed hands, I was out of job. With the Middler coming any minute, my husband and I decided it was Divine Guidance knocking on the door.

Two babies+ Husband’s growing income+The Zero chance of finding another school that would let me bring my offspring like small dogs in a designer handbag=Time to Stay home.

I had 2 very short people to keep me company, one of them bellied up to Boobybar 24/7…and the other trying to make me “put Babee DOWN!!!”. I was puked on, pooped on, slimed with grape jelly and usually had some kind of leaking situation going on. Either from me (I swear I could have breastfed a small posse of hungry babies on demand)..or from Middler, who had a lovely habit of erupting after ever meal (his little eyes were always bigger than his tummy) or from Firstborn who was potty training, which was always fun since the first few years of her life she spent naked.

My wardrobe consisted of sweats, and if I was lucky, a clean oversized t-shirt that could be whipped up at a moment’s notice. The Middler is my most patient child, and looking back I find it hard to believe the crazy little hellion he became when he was hungry. I’m quite sure after witnessing one of his startling displays of GIVE ME THAT MILK LADY OR ELSE moments, I totally scared a future mother friend of mine into never considering nursing.

My hairstyle always included a scrunchi, and cherry chapstick was the extent of my makeup. And my mood? I could go from giddy to grumpy in 2.3 seconds flat.

Family-wise: Best days of my life.

Fashion/Makeup/Hair-wise: I was featured in Don’t be Caught Dead Looking Like This Magazine.

So, I no longer have little tinies.I sleep almost every night, all the way through…and everyone is potty trained. My chest does not go off like sprinklers at the first hint of fire in a building, and it’s a rare occasion that I am pooped on.

I have no excuse for this slovenly behavior.

I am ashamed.

I want to be snazzy again.

And so I shall. I’ve been getting tickled at my friend Laura’s Posts. I adore the way she puts outfits together, and the time she spends on her appearance. Today, I went to curl my hair, and thought….I don’t even care if it takes an hour! It turns out, it took only 20 minutes!!(I’ve gotten more efficient in my old age.) I’m going casual, but not yoga pants/peanut butter casual.  And now, if I have to run to the drug store, I won’t feel the need to hide behind the cough syrup when I see that person you never want to see when you are wearing assorted condiments and healthy protein sources.

Katie Herzig sings Jack and Jill*

What? you don’t have time? Yes you do. Go back.

Pretty Little Liars…listen up.

We are honoring my dear friend, Dotty Headbanger . She has reached 500 followers, but WordPress forgot to give her an award! I’m sure they get busy, but 500 is kind of a big one to miss, don’t you think? We can’t have that. Continue reading

Brigitte Brigitte Mo Migitte Banana Fana Fo Figitte

Deutsch: Brigitte Bardot Werbefoto

My pal Brig.

 I had a wonderful plan yesterday. My friend Brig also gave me some awards, on top of all those other ones that poor confused lovely bloggers thought I should get.  I didn’t mention her in my Aunt Avis post, because I was going to do a post just for her. I maneuvered it so that her post would be my 3rd of the day (teehee! oh the cleverness of me), because when she nominated me, she called me a MANIAC…..the good kind that sometimes posts up to 3 posts a day! (It’s true. Isn’t that horrible?) Continue reading

The Road to Freshly Pressdom is Paved with Good Vibrations

That’s us up there, top left. Snapper is doing his best impression of Jason Mraz.

Don’t you just LOVE it when people who go from knowing absolutely nothing about something….get lucky and all the sudden behave as if they hold the keys to the universe? It’s like when SmartyBigHead (name changed to protect his big head identity) stared at me with the most condescending gaze a 3rd grader could muster when I asked him why HE always got to be the Class Messenger…the most coveted of Elementary School positions for obvious reasons: hall wandering and free a piece of candy off the secretary’s desk for anyone that could move faster than a slug.  After the longest pause in the world, he had a lot to say on the subject, as if he had dreamed of someone….anyone to ask him this exact question. He went on to explain his greatness, and I gained a sudden understanding of why this kid had no one to play with at recess. Continue reading

Oh Happy Day

I was out walking on the gravel road behind my house that leads to bean and corn fields. Looking over the rolling hills, watching our dog Frodo leap over them with pure, unadulterated joy. I talk out loud when I’m out there. I know it’s kind of weird, but for some reason it untangles my thoughts. If someone were hiding in the ditches or in between the corn stalks they would hear me talking about my hopes, my dreams, and all the beauty in life that I am so blessed to have: my family’s health and exuberance, my day-to-day magical experiences that stop the mental, mundane chatter in my mind.


It’s like, buy groceries…. clean that nasty bathroom…call so and so back…. you have to exercise girl….that chocolate cake will attach itself to your hips otherwise—-Oh! Littlest is laughing so hard he can’t breathe—I have to hug him. What was I thinking about?


I was in the middle of being thankful for all the wonderfulness of my life, when my phone went off. Beep Beep!


Congrats! We’ve picked your post Death and Lemons to appear on Freshly Pressed on the WordPress home page.


Oh. Em. Geeeeeee!!!


I am really excited, not only for me, but for my friend, Snapper, too. He’s a brilliant writer, and deserves recognition.


This calls for Diet Coke.


I’m off to do the Happy Dance.