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Exposing him to his fans

Regular readers of this site have developed quite an affection for my father, who often leaves comments so funny that he totally upstages me. Even now, he’s still badgering me about that damn pony, and my suggestion that adding “clean up pony poop in the yard” to his to-do list would be less than thrilling will not dissuade him from the notion that HE DESERVES A PRIZE. And you know, he probably does.

So here we go, people. Today is your day to love on my dad. I’m going to tell you some important things about him, starting with the fact that today is his birthday.

(And no, I STILL haven’t bought him a pony, because I am a rotten, rotten daughter.) (However, I have it on good authority that having produced children is more or less a “get out of jail free” or—more accurately—”have your past sins forgiven by your longsuffering parents” card.) (more…)

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Gains and losses

Here’s the thing about being FINE FINE FINE in the face of a steady stream of stress: Eventually, something breaks.

When those people came into my house and broke the soap dish off the wall yesterday, maybe if everything else was dandy that wouldn’t have been a big deal. But there’s a lot going on, and so many changes happening, and as a result, it was a big deal. It was a very big deal.

I broke. First I was angry and indignant, as I repaired the tile last night, and as I tossed and turned in bed, trying to sleep. And then this morning, as I tried to pry open the tube of caulking and it squirted everywhere and I needed to start getting ready for church, I just sat on the edge of the tub and wept. (more…)

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Love unfolds

Tonight my children bounced off of one another and careened around the upstairs and generally behaved with good—if somewhat frenetic—cheer. When I flopped down onto my bed and asked if we would be reading tonight, Chickadee rushed to my side.

“No,” she said, putting her hand over our book (which was still sitting on my nightstand), “I don’t want to read tonight.”

“Really?” For my kids to say they don’t want to read is akin to declaring that they’re not in the mood for oxygen. It never happens. “Why don’t you want to read?”

“I would rather have some quality family time,” she replied, while I swallowed my tongue from the effort of not laughing. (more…)

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Love is remembering and sharing

In the last year and a half, I’ve managed to transform my hobby-and-occasional-gig into a sustainable career. Which, frankly, still amazes me. When we were down in Georgia a couple of weeks ago, someone asked me what I did and I answered, “I’m a writer” without batting an eyelash.

I had only a short period of time to bask in this accomplishment before the logical follow-on to triumph took over: Exhaustion. Freelancing is not for wimps. There are no paid vacations, no sick days, and it’s very easy to fall into a pattern of working all hours, every day of the week. And then? What initially felt SO GOOD starts to feel a little bit like the third circle of hell. (more…)

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Love remembers

Because I was raised Jewish and then fell into a rather extreme Christian religion in college, when I regained my senses I was (understandly, I think) a bit wary of committing myself to another church. It wasn’t that I didn’t still consider myself a person of faith; it was that I was beginning to realize that first I needed to know what I believed, apart from what a group of people might tell me to believe.

My (ex) husband (is) was Methodist. I went to church with him. Sometimes. The Methodists seemed nice enough. (more…)

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Love is choosing joy

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.




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I got one thing right today

I walked out of Monkey’s appointment this morning so furious and frustrated that it took me the better part of the day to recover. I feel like I’m a fairly reasonable and educated person; I am used to being treated as such. Nothing gets my hackles up more than someone who I feel is doing my child a disservice… except, perhaps, a person who treat me like a hysterical mommy WHILE doing my child a disservice.

I am not a hysterical mommy. I am many things, and Lord knows I am too emotional about many of them. But I know my kids, and to tell me otherwise is to draw my immediate suspicion.

And here I’d thought it was going to be a good day, too, because we were finally going to get some help, maybe, and because my last post hadn’t even drawn that much assvice! But then we didn’t get much help and the comments I knew would come popped up and then I had to make a big pot of mashed potatoes and stick my face in it. (more…)

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Orbitz sent 3 travel updates. . .

… all after I’d already gotten to the airport. I’m SO GLAD I gave them my cell phone number so that they could… send me email letting me know that the plane was delayed. Those people at Orbitz are ALWAYS THINKING! Why call me there at the airport when I might’ve found the information useful? So much better to find out—after I get back home—that my plane is late. Yes.

I am typing with two fingers and only one eye open, but figured I’d dash this off before turning in. What’s another half an hour once you’re up this late? (more…)

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I am the world’s worst traveller.

World’s. Worst.

I’m prone to motion sickness. I wear dorky wristbands with pressure points. I have to pee a lot. If I’m driving I’m a cranky driver and a lousy passenger. If I’m flying I’m nervous.

Worse than all of these, I like things to be JUST SO. Do you know how often things are JUST SO when you go outside of your tightly controlled home environment? Hint: NOT OFTEN ENOUGH.

Oddly enough, I love to travel. I look forward to it. I get excited about it. I have trouble sleeping the night before, and stare up at the ceiling in the dark, curling and uncurling my toes, willing myself to fall asleep so that I can wake up and get going. (more…)

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Question: How can you tell when I’ve written about having a really great day?

Answer: The NEXT day, the following occurs:
A) A child dons mud-crusted shoes and clomps through the freshly-vacuumed house,
B) My new website is hyped on a larger site and oh, by the way, is suddenly all weird-looking and broken,
C) Two days pre-haircut, I hit the critical “does she need a haircut or did a poodle die on her head?” stage,
D) It starts raining again (because it wasn’t WET ENOUGH),
E) All of the above.


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