Thirty-Three is Alright By Me

I celebrated my 33rd birthday today. I baked at 93 degrees for 6.5 hours. I killed 12 wasps and one very confused bee in a nest under the diving board. I listened to the “Flock of Seagulls” channel on Pandora. I felt warmth, literal warmth, on my face when I bent over to blow out the candles on the homemade Mississippi Mud cake that my mother so lovingly made for me. I got dressed up and wore liquid foundation under my powder. I opened a beautiful typewriter necklace that my daughter purchased off Etsy (all by herself). I ate Fettuccini Alfredo until I appeared to be 42 weeks pregnant with a food baby. My husband and I sang duets in his truck with the windows rolled down, and then in true cheesy romantic comedy fashion, we held hands. We went on a family walk around our neighborhood as the sun … Continue reading

Summer of 99: You Can Leave Your Clothes On (Revised)

After graduation, a fellow classmate announced that she was going to marry her high-school sweetheart. When a mutual friend of ours decided to throw a huge bachelorette party for her and invite half of the girls from our graduating class, well, I was all about it (1999 lingo). When I walked into my friend’s beautiful country home that summer evening to see it riddled with “raunchy” decorations, I was a little taken aback. See, I was only 17-years-old (almost 18) and this was my first bachelorette party. I was also a prude, so I had no idea that a person could legally purchase straws and headbands in the shape of men’s unmentionables. As I put on a feather boa that wasn’t made of feathers (and my innocence rapidly deteriorated), the guests started to arrive and beverages purchased with fake IDs began to fill the fridge. Then I heard words that I hope to never hear again. … Continue reading

Summer of 99: Snake on a Porch

I have a ton of stories to tell. I’m still sort of young, but I’m also like an old wrinkled woman who spends her days sitting in a rocking chair shelling peas and spitting tobacco off the porch while she tells great-grandchildren and curious neighbor kids tales about trekking across the nation in search of California gold and hitching rides with hippies with scorching cases of B.O. so she could see Jimi Hendrix play Woodstock. I’m not sure how one person could witness both the Gold Rush and Woodstock, but that’s not the point. The point is that I am a storyteller. This entire blog is nothing but stories- my stories. Some are better and funnier than others, but they are all mine. And here’s another one. I could write a compilation of short stories about the summer after I graduated high school. Remember the one about the drug dealer … Continue reading

I Can Breathe Clearly Now the Carbon Monoxide Is Gone…

My dear friends, I have a horrible, shameful, putrid and embarrassing secret. It’s a secret that many of my real-life friends and acquaintances don’t even know. I’m a smoker. Like an idiot, I’ve choked down Marlboro Lights 100′s nearly every day since 1998. I’ve hidden behind garages, slumped down in car seats, stood in the rain, snuck out early from work, weddings, movies, baby showers, etc. just to hotbox a filthy and vile stick of cancer. I’ve even waterskied while smoking (very unsuccessfully). I’ve believed that smoking was my friend, my confidant, my crutch and my boost for 16 years. I was looking through an old album to find a photo to include with this post- a photo that depicted my addiction to nicotine at the young age of 17. I didn’t find one photo. I found COUNTLESS photos. Pictures of me, young and able to run without gasping for air, … Continue reading

Running Out of Steam

Writing can be a real pain in the butt cheeks. It really can. I started writing a new book last night. This idea came to me, and before I knew it, I’d written two chapters of what I believe to be an absolutely hilarious and profound work of literary genius. Yes, I said a work of literary genius. And then, as I so often do, I ran out of steam. I put my computer away and said I would come back to it tonight. I went back to it tonight, and my mind was closed up tighter than a fireworks stand on the 5th of July. It was void. My mind was void of what to type next. Two chapters and the book is done. Done. I searched through my documents folder and found 10, no 11, books that I started and then stopped. A couple of them are really good. There is potential … Continue reading

Won’t You Be My Neighbor

As the lightening danced on the lawn and the thunder shook the house, I became a tad bit nervous. I usually love a good summer thunderstorm, but I don’t like it when sirens start blaring and trash cans violently blow down the street like toilet paper. I peered out the window to see if I saw a twister headed towards  the house, but I saw something far more frightening. My neighbor, my kind sweet neighbor, has relatives visiting for the summer. Let me say this first- I am not cool with making fun of people that suffer with mental health issues, but I don’t think my neighbor’s sister has anything really medically wrong with her. I think she’s just plain ole’ crazy in a “Certified Grade-A Batpoop” kind of way. I took a photo of the following scenario, but I cannot post it here for the masses to see. I would hate for someone … Continue reading

Oh Deer

I woke up last week with a tickle. You know the tickle. The one in the back of your throat that predicts buckets of thick, yellow phlegm, labored breathing, a fever and five days of bed rest. Yeah, that tickle. Bad tickle. Bad, bad tickle. I always go to the grocery store on Tuesday. Always. Every Tuesday of my life. I’m at the grocery store. Every Tuesday. That’s where you can find me. Always. On Tuesday. Forever. But by Tuesday, I was hacking up stuff that resembled butter, and I was so fatigued that I couldn’t pull myself out of bed to fix my son’s Pop-Tarts. I was certainly not able to go to the grocery store. As I was lying in the bed on Tuesday afternoon, starving because our cupboards were bare, I turned on the local news just in time to see an amazing story. A deer had busted through the front glass at my grocery … Continue reading

My Single Mother

My husband has been incredibly busy over the last several weeks and hasn’t spent much time at home. Each night as I’ve prepared dinner, washed the dishes, given the baths, checked the homework, tucked the children in their beds, stepped on the Legos and sprayed Shout on the skid marks, I’ve sighed continuously and rolled my eyes and been a big pitiful baby about the whole thing. “Being a single mother sucks,” I thought to myself as the boy smeared ketchup on his white shirt and the girl simultaneously screamed that there was a spider in the bathtub. “I need help.” As I exhaled deeply and climbed the stairs for the 300th time today, I thought of my single friends and my friends whose husbands often work long hours, and I suddenly felt very guilty for complaining because my husband is only temporarily absent. “She’s so strong,” I thought of a friend who solely parents two boys because her husband … Continue reading

Bloggers Lip Sync Battle

Hey friends! I’ll be competing in a Bloggers’ Lip Sync Battle on Mother’s Day. I had a hard time choosing just one “mama-related” song, so here is a compilation video of the songs I considered (minus Etta James’ “Tell Mama” and some Zeppelin “mother” tunes because Windows Movie Maker sucks and wouldn’t let me incorporate those clips). Check back here on my blog or on my Facebook page on Mother’s Day to see which song I picked. And vote for me- not for my mad lip syncing skills but for the ability to thoroughly embarass myself and ruin my reputation in my community. Thanks! Bloggers Lip Sync Battle: Mother’s Day Medley: http://youtu.be/0c-htcxVn9s … Continue reading

Writers Writing About Writing

When I was eight years old, I read a book that I’d checked out at the library about the beautiful bond between a little girl and a big shaggy dog. When the dog died at the end of the story, I remember tears dripping onto the last page. Once I was through panicking that I’d have to buy the book since I’d ruined it with large salty drops, I was amazed that a story could conjure so much emotion. Right there, in my blue and yellow daisy-papered childhood bedroom, I knew I wanted to be a writer. When Lisa Sadikman asked me to participate in a blog hop about the writing process, I eagerly agreed. I love to read what fellow writers have to say about their passion. I also love to share my own sentiments about the written word. I have answered a few questions about the writing process below. The three awesome writers that I have nominated will answer the … Continue reading