Have you aged out of the profile picture you use to identify yourself on social media? Come on, tell the truth. Is your Facebook picture you, or a version of you? Are you older/fatter/balder/thinner, maybe browner/grayer/blonder/wrinklier than your avatar? Or do you think you look the same as you did on that vacation um, many many moons ago? This pic here is a favorite, and I use it a lot, partly because
Last Christmas, I got invited to a popular people party. Like the really popular pretty people who are über cool, not in an annoying I’m better than you snot-faced attitude, but in an I wish I were more like them-can’t we just be friends sort of way. It may have been a mistake, but I didn’t care, I rsvp’d absofuckinglutely and showed up with bells on. Maybe not bells, but spanx. I wanted to
How did it happen? Why is that what every wants to know? Easy enough, I suppose. But TMI? Iphone was in sweatshirt front pocket. I sit, pee, wipe, reach around and flush, stand, pull up pants, turn towards sink and – kerplop! Before my eyes found the bottom of the bowl, a swirl sucked up something, and that something was my cell phone. Or so I thought. I emailed the
Little known secret: I never ever cried on first days of pre-school when I had to peel my kid’s arms off my legs and leave them sobbing with tear-streaked faces, reaching for me desperately from the kind arms of their nursery school teacher. I never looked back. When the kindergarten bus arrived to scoop my kids up and take them away for a few short hours, I didn’t cry. I was thrilled for a
We took the floor sample right off the floor in a department store, Boscov’s I think it was, in the suburbs of Cleveland, and had that couch delivered to its new family the very same day. It was beautiful, fun and bright flowers of hope and sunshine, to hug and hold our little family for years to come. This couch was the first new piece of furniture we ever owned, with
For much of my life, I have avoided Black Friday shopping. In fact, I avoid most shopping, opting only to go to the mall under extreme distress, or when the pants don’t fit anymore. For almost all of my 50 some odd years, the Friday after Thanksgiving was for putting the house back together, hiking, and eating, maybe catching a movie, but never, ever the promised discounts for early bird shoppers.
There are people in my house, making noise, and in every nook and cranny there are so many shoes, on the couches sleeping kids, cousins, and friends How I missed these shoes and their respective bodies. Here is Thanksgiving in pictures, for which I am very grateful. *NaBloPoMo National Blog Posting Month. Thanksgiving Day.
My job here might be done. Not the pie baking, but kid making. Actually, the kid making is long done, so I guess I mean kid growing, because the youngest gave me the best Thanksgiving ultimatum ever, so I may now claim, my job here is done. Here’s how the pie making went down: Every Thanksgiving Eve, Boy is the pie-maker, taking over from his grandma when she stopped making the over the river and