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Let’s Sit Here A Spell

For six months, I’ve been listening to my intuition.
Waiting. Listening.
Listening some more.
Ignoring less

That tiny, gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one that made me feel anxious and sad. The one that let me fill a void with snacks and snacks and more snacks. The one that wouldn’t let me sleep.
Or Meditate.
Or Relax.
I forgot who I was. Where I was headed.  I was, plain and simple, just living to live. I couldn’t tell you the last time I painted, sat down and read a book, went to bed early with my husband to just lay there and laugh.

This afternoon, on my final drive home from work, I cut the radio off and listened to myself. The gnawing feeling was gone. I felt this enormous release of energy wash over me and by the time I’d made it to my driveway, I was so exhausted and so drained. Walking up the stairs felt as if weights had been attached to my legs. Once inside, I dropped my purse on the floor and I sat on the couch for thirty minutes in the cool air conditioned living room, listening, to the quiet afternoon.

My dog hopped up on the couch and curled up next to me.
He knew.
He welcomed the calm.

And today, I took one step toward my own personal goals and wept in the shower- which was the final page in a very long book.


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Within Six Hours

My diet has been all messed up recently.

I fell off the food wagon.

A few months back, I bought the Eat to Live book and everything was going really well. And then I saw a recipe where I could eat whole wheat pita and that’s where the spiral started (well, that and work/school stress).

I’m not going to turn this into one of those body sadness posts (even though it feels that way). I gotta get that shit in check, for real. But in all honesty, I did whip up a pretty awesome stir fry with all the veggies that were about to turn over to the rotten side (and I added a thing of tofu) tonight.  The sauce was just a mix of whatever I had on hand: miso paste, fish sauce, balsamic vinegar, honey, blah blah.

It was legit.


Last week I was scoping out ModCloth for some deals. Their entire line has changed from what it was six months ago. Long gone are the dinosaur dresses and pencil skirts with candy on them. Now every article of clothing seems… monotone.  Maybe they’re just gearing up for the Pumpkin Spice season. Who knows.

What caught my eye though, was this mystery grab bag they were offering for $15. I was game and I placed my order. Today, I got a half sweat-shirt that says “Lazy Daisy” on the front with half assed bedazzled daisies.  I’ll probably give it to MD’s girlfriend.  XL my ass.

Inside the package though was a coupon for one of those meal delivery services. The coupon is for $35.00 off my first order.  The hell! $35.00? So I logged onto the website and looked at what they were offering.

First of all, the picture under “Family of four” shows a smiling couple with two small children. So, yes, in theory, that Family of Four package would work out great- we all know that the kids pictured in that photo wouldn’t even dream of eating a kale risotto. More helpings for the parents! Yay kale!

So, I started clicking around for the “Family of three, one of which is a giant teenager” option.


Take heed meal delivery people- you need to start offering meal plans to families with teenagers.

Think of the profit increase! You could include a fancy, thick loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, 18 slices of ham and three different kinds of sliced cheese (and that’s just the lunch portion). There could be a snack option that includes an entire box of cereal and another gallon of milk, complete with a tub of yogurt and three bananas. And if you could, make Pop-tarts a crumbled topping. And Hawaiin rolls to make sandwiches out of. And salad. With veggies. But no cucumbers. Pint sized chocolate milk. AND FOURTEEN BOXES OF MAC N CHEESE.

All for $4.99 per person, per meal.


Hey, a Mom can dream, right?

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Challenge accepted

Five years ago, my girl Cat and I decided to challenge ourselves.

Not to one of those ridiculous Pinterest squat challenges
Not to one of those doodle a day projects either

We challenged ourselves to write once a day on our blogs.

Sounds easy enough, but damn, was it difficult. And that was five years ago.

Cat and I “met” one another through Blogger several years back. I think Miles may have just started Kindergarten when she found my blog. And it wasn’t until Miles was in sixth grade that we would actually meet in person (side note: Cat gives the best hugs, her dogs are hella cute and so is her husband).

The other night we were texting and she brought up doing another round of Blogust. Could we do it? Could we make it? The deal was set- we would try to write at least three times a week. Okay, maybe two.

I miss blogging. Or writing? Journaling? I don’t know what to call it.

I’m going to accept this mini challenge because I need a place to brain dump.

Between work, college and home life- my mind is constantly swimming with To Do lists. Really, all I want is a To Don’t list.  There are nights when I get home from work, that I have zero motivation to do anything. The enjoyment is gone and I must get that back.

So Day 1, in the bag.

Cat, we’re now tied.


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Remember when

A few weeks ago I sent off a batch of letters to pen pals around the globe. Some of them I know personally, some I do not.  You never know when you put that stamp on the envelope if the person receiving your letter will like what you wrote about.  I seriously agonized over this.

Is my handwriting too tiny? Did I doodle too much? Do I sound like a moron?

Who knows.

Apparently, letter writing is coming back! Except for this time, there’s this whole crafty science to it. Like a real craftiness.  Case in point: washi tape. It’s tiny, cute and according to Pinterest, there are thousands of things you can do with… tape.  You can outline the envelope, make little triangle banners, make your own as a stamp, frame photos, get extra OCD with your daily planner (more on this shit later).  The washi tape makes me happy. It’s cute and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I use it. Like, “Hey! I just used this fucking semi-sticky tape with balloons on it to make a statement on my mail!”  When I was in high school and wanted to get fancy with tape I did one of two things:

  1. Used it to hold my eyelids super taut while I learned how to use eyeliner
  2. Used blue or black pen to draw on it, which was then used to seal a note.

I should probably use it on my taxes.

When I was a kid, I had a few pen pals. I remember going to Shoneys and on the way out, they had these kids magazines. On the back, there was a section for pen pals. I KNOW. Looking back, what a recipe for disaster. You never knew who you were writing. Always a crap shoot. Of course, no one’s parents really knew either.  I’m assuming my parents just thought I was doing this letter writing thing with school.

The first letter I received was from a girl who wrote me in pencil. She wrote me on wide ruled paper and her letters were huge. I distinctly remember the entire letter. I’m not sure how that’s even possible. She wrote about how she had a pet guinea pig and she put scratch and sniff stickers all over the top. In my response to her, I wrote in pen (because I was a fancy, smart ass nine year old) and about how jealous I was that she had a pig for a pet! A REAL PIG Y’ALL. I had no idea what the hell a guinea pig was.

She never wrote back.

In high school, I picked up a newspaper of some sort (I want to say it was the Nashville Scene) that had a pen pal section on it as well. So I picked out a few names and started writing away. Within a week, I had a response from an older gentleman who liked to read books and write poetry (go figure). He had read all the classics and I was really impressed that he made it through War and Peace. Not once, not twice, but three damn times.

My god.

I sent my response off with doodles on the margin and explained the only book that I truly loved was Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski. I talked about my boyfriend and probably a slew of other dumb shit. A week later, a response. I thought it was awesome he wrote back so quickly.  When the third letter arrived, my Dad came stomping up the stairs yelling my name.

Apparently, I had been writing a convicted felon in Kentucky.

And that was the end of that.

Writing letters, as we all know, seems to be a lost art form. With texting, snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, blah blah blah- why would you sit down to write someone? Because why not? I had forgotten how difficult it was to actually start a conversation when no one was there to instantly respond or like what I say with an emoji. The struggle was real you guys.

Yet, I made it work. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say to my new found global friends. I tried not to make too many smiley faces with my pen and kept the doodling to a slight minimum. I even used my washi tape to reinforce the envelope. Because I’m fancy n’ shit.

I’m looking forward to receiving those response letters from Germany, France, Norway, Canada, New York, San Fransico.

I see you and I raise my glass.

Because we all know that any mail is better than junk mail.
And bills.
And those damn penny saver fliers.