Time to make the donuts. After I unplug the toilet. It could be worse. It could always be worse. For instance, the 5 days with no internet access. Which means no work communication, or rather one-way communication with no response from me. Not smart. And no Facebook for teens which is apparently inhumane treatment. But I will not complain, as we have power and water and a town still standing,
I Will Not Complain About Driving. I Will Not Complain About Driving. I Will Not Complain.
Where have I been? Driving. And driving and driving. I work until 3, 3:30 sometimes 4:00 if I’m not watching the clock, then get in the car to drive my kids. And the neighbor’s. And other kids, vaguely familiar from preschool a decade ago, hanging out whose moms “work” and since I’m home, can I swing them home? On the other side of the Ponderosa. And it’s a big motherf’ing
This is Only a Test
Gave my rather attractive husband an unannounced pop-quiz. And glad to say he passed, and in fact, is still alive today to brag about it. Not because he actually passed, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about what he doesn’t know. This post is sure to piss-off the dads at Dadcentric, but fellas? It’s my life. Here’s how it went down: See, you may have heard
Early Dismissal Screws Up My Life
Yippee. Kids are coming home from school early today. So work-at-home moms can just fuhgedaboudit. And those in the office can figure out how to bribe a sitter for the extra 1.5-3 hours smack in the middle of the day. Easy-peezy. And the moms of teenagers can keep their fingers crossed no cops, no undesirables, no sex on your couch. Cringe all you want, but us moms with teens know
Not So Fast: Putting the Brakes on the Part-Time Job
Seems I’m working too much. Bossman called yesterday to say the 15-20 hours per week is just too much, and he wants to scale back to 5-10. Immediately. I knew this going in, but after the xmas techno splurge, this news was a little tough to the gut. Combing through the timesheet, he does seem to like the work I’ve done so far. But that work takes time. Just a
Gettin’ Some
In my town, if you start to look good, really good, it is assumed, rather accurately, you’re having an affair. Men or women, this is universal suburban slander for anyone over, oh, say 40. Forty is such an easy target. Too thin, too fit, good hair, nice clothes, shoes. Real shoes, instead of crocs, Uggs, or sneaks. Bingo. Marriage over, someone’s stepping out and so begins the gossip race to
A Decade of Difference
My small-town paper ran an article on a local marketing firm celebrating 10 years of business. It’s a great little firm; all women, minority-owned, successful. In those 10 years, this woman started in her living room and now employs 4 other women, and perhaps, just maybe, me. I sent them a quick pitch letter, congratulating their 10 years of business, and saying coincidently, 10 years ago, I shelved mine to