Tag: humor
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Is That Your Daughter’s Bra Hanging From A Tree?
Because it’s not my daughter’s bra. Or at least, not yet. I took my girls to the mountains last week for some didn’t-get-around-to-doing-all-the-cool-things-I-promised-you-this-summer-and-sort-of-need-to-fit-it-all-into-one-day family fun. Well, family – two + two, because my husband had to work, my son was already back at school, and each of my daughters decided that bringing a friend would…
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It’s Not Easy Being Me
If the word “Mom” is supposed to be a term of endearment, why do my kids use it as a four-letter word? Even though “Dad,” by default, should elicit close to the same response, its aura is closely guarded by the lovely ankle-biters who buzz around my being like well-intended gnats in the same way…
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Why You Can’t Pimp My Ride
Most people view the car they drive as a direct portal to their super-shiny souls. O.K. that’s not true. They actually see their wheels as a reflection of the bulging, glossy, shark skin wallet poached off an endangered Great White on some spendy dive trip to Belize. Not me though. I consider my car, or…
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If It’s True You Can’t Go Home Again, Does It Matter If You Get Close Enough To Knock On The Door?
Everyone on earth yearns to connect with someone, to find meaning in the moment and value beyond the day-to-day. Unless you’re that dude wearing yellow crocs and a vacant stare trolling up and down the street. If that’s the case and all you want is a Butterfinger and a ride on your pet unicorn so you…
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How Do You Move Forward When You’re Grinding All Your Gears?
As humans, we’re constantly in motion. But motion and movement are two very different things. Just because you’re in motion doesn’t mean you’re necessarily going anywhere. Trust me on this, I know. If I could catch a ride with Richard Branson on his uber-expensive Virgin Galactic Gateway to Space, I’d easily be able to assess…
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I Think I’m Smarter Than You
No, not you. The you I’m referring to in this post is my seven-going-on-seventeen year-old daughter, Essa. Running short on time and long on things to do, I had a simple conversation with my little girl the other day that went something like this. Me: Essa, we’ve gotta pick up Taylor and Grace. Get in your…
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Coming of Age in a Jeep Wagoneer
During a Christmas break sophomore year in college so lame it seared a slow burn straight through the shelf, my mother released me from the death-grip of boredom and into the open arms of memories being made. The call to adventure went something like this: Susie, college friend from not-so-sunny Cleveland: “Hey Stacie, wanna go…
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I Am Not A Farmer (Part I)
After creating two posts a week since the inception of this blog, I’ve written nothing for the last three. Zero. Nada. Zilch. I’ve been on vacation mode, and I can’t bring myself to do anything that doesn’t involve self-tanning, a cocktail, and my DVR. For the Type A, sometimes over-achieving, often napping Gemini that I…