Today is Another Day, Too

15b8f2ff541eb0127dbe7fc87e953ab7[1]When I was growing up, I wanted to be Scarlett O’Hara. (Yes, I know, last week I told you I wanted to be Mary Poppins. I also wanted to be Catwoman, Mrs. Peel and Peter Pan). Scarlett was smart, strong and went for what she wanted, without apologizing. She made horrible decisions when it came to her love life, but who hasn’t?

I learned important life lessons from Scarlett:

  1. Self-confidence is a gamechanger. As Margaret Mitchell put it, “Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it…” Scarlett might not have been the prettiest girl in the room, but she behaved as if she were. There’s nothing more attractive than a person who’s comfortable in their own skin.
  2. It’s ok to go after what you want. Scarlett didn’t sit around waiting for life to happen – she plotted, schemed, manipulated and chased down opportunities.
  3. Tomorrow is another day. Scarlett knew that no matter what happened, things always looked better in the morning and that tomorrow is a chance for a fresh start.
  4. Sometimes people need to be slapped. Yes, I know that Sean Connery got it trouble for saying it, but it’s true. Sometimes, it’s the only way to get a person to focus.

I’m older now, and I’ve come to the realization that Scarlett was wrong, and not just because she chose Ashley over Rhett (WHAT was that woman thinking?). Ok, maybe not wrong, just misguided (especially about the Rhett Butler thing.. #scoundralsareyummy)


I still think self confidence and the courage to go after what you want are important. I also think it’s ok (when all else fails) to slap someone who is hysterical (I would know – I slapped a drunk friend years ago, and it’s the only thing he remembered from the night he came thisclose to getting arrested). I’m no longer certain about #3. I mean, yes, tomorrow is another day, but why wait until tomorrow?

We spend so much of our lives waiting. Waiting for things to change. Waiting for things to get better. Waiting to meet that special someone. Waiting for tomorrow, when things will look better.

I won’t say I’m old (as Mark Twain tell us, “age is an issue of mind over matter“), but I have reached a point  in my life where I cannot afford to wait. Instead, I’m learning to focus on the present. I’m focusing on the present and on finding little gifts in the moment because the stresses and strains of Life can be overwhelming. I’m focusing on the present because Eckhart Tolle stresses the power of now. I’m focusing on the present, because, as recent losses have reminded me, we’re not guaranteed tomorrow.


image courtesy of







F-k Perfect

11460_1167528866116_7109996_n[1]Greetings and Salutations! I know it’s been a while since last I wrote – so long that you probably thought I’d:

  1. taken a vow of silence
  2. entered the witness protection program or
  3. “passed on.”

I have no doubt that there are people who wish that #1 was true (I talk. A lot) and I know I wish #2 was true (a fresh start? yes please!) but they’re not – as for # 3, the only thing that died was my creativity (and my lawn). Stress does that. I’d tell you my tale of woe, but it’s not worth our time.

Besides, today is my birthday, and I thought it was time to turn over a new leaf.  No more whining! No more drama! No procrastinating! NO! NO! NO!* I’ve decided that it’s time to get rid of old/bad habits and form brand news ones (I’m open to suggestions if you have any favorites you’d like to share).

Yes, today is my birthday, which makes me a Virgo.


And there we have it, the biggest, baddest motherf-r of a habit out there. No, I’m not talking about “control issues” (as a matter of fact, I don’t even know what that means. I don’t have control issues – I do it myself because I want it done right the first time).

I’m talking about the P-word.

From Miriam-Webster:



per·​fect | \ ˈpər-fikt \

Definition of perfect

 1 a : being entirely without fault or defect : flawless a perfect diamond

b : satisfying all requirements : accurate

: expert, proficient practice makes perfect

3 obsolete : mature

I’m definitely not mature, and while I’d love to believe that I’m “entirely without fault or defect”,  my friends and family would disagree. I may not be perfect, but until today I tried to be.

I don’t know if I’m a perfectionist because I’m a Virgo, or if something happened when I was a baby (it took me a while to walk and I really, really hate dolls). Or perhaps it has something to do with birth order. According to Dr. Kevin Leman, author of The Birth Order Book, I’m a perfectionist because I’m not the baby of the family:

“Firstborns and only children tend to carry a burdensome trait: perfectionism. Even seemingly lazy and unmotivated firstborns and poor students are usually discouraged perfectionists who have given up trying because it hurts too much to fail”

It doesn’t matter why I’m a perfectionist. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember (full disclosure – my childhood hero was Mary Poppins).


I used to agree with Vince Lombardi when he said “Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.”

Vince Lombardi was an amazing man (he gets full props for the fact that he “demanded “Nothing But Acceptance” from players and coaches toward all people, and he would immediately terminate a coach or release a player if that particular person insulted the sexual orientation of gay players and front office staff”), but the world he lived in was very different than the social media crazed airbrushed and photo-shopped illusion of perfection world we live in today. There’s nothing wrong with striving for excellence, but striving for an illusion is exhausting, and perfectionism has stopped me for far too long. Today I say “No more.”

Now I agree with Siski Green:

Striving for perfection does more than take you on a straight no-turns route to failure, it will also cause problems in your social life, work and health. Sex suffers within a relationship with a perfectionist, friendships and work partnerships suffer because perfectionists tend to be more critical of others, too.

TBH I have no problem being imperfect (and not just because the word literally says “I’m Perfect”).



You are, you know. You’re f-g perfect.

*For those of you who were keeping track, I’ve finally learned how to say the “N-word“).





How to Have a Baby

young-sad-couple-scared-shock-surprise-reading-pink-positive-pregnancy-test-overwhelmed-panic-pregnant-girl-looking-69717534[1]Please note – if you came across my post in your search for “How to make a baby”, please keep looking – this is not the blog you’re looking for…..

When I first started blogging, I planned on filling it with tips and tricks to surviving suburbia with sanity (mostly) intact. I wanted to impart my new-mom wisdom to women who might be panicking after peeing on a stick. I’m no longer a new mom (not even close) and, as the mother to a teen, I’m longer certain about the wisdom – but I have a whole slew of half-written posts just begging to be finished. Read on if you dare:

What makes you think you’re pregnant?

a. you’ve been throwing up ever since the condom broke (please note, it takes a while for morning sickness to begin – nausea can be a normal reaction to a lost or broken condom, especially if it was a wild night of drinking that led to the wild night of passion).

b. you’re so exhausted strangers think you have narcolepsy (see notation for answer a).

c. it’s been several weeks since your wild night of passion, and both a and b apply.

d. you’re craving strange foods (as well as things that might not normally fall into the “food” category).

e. your sense of smell has developed to the point where you could be used by a narcotics officer or the bomb squad if their canine partner takes ill.

f. c, d & e apply and you feel fat (this is fat as in “can’t button my fat jeans” fat, not the “trying on a bathing suit in a dressing room” fat).

g. your breasts are incredibly sensitive and are so huge that men no longer make eye contact.

h. you feel great, better than you have in months, but you have a sneaking suspicion that something’s not quite right. This is your developing “mommy sense” (aka mother’s intuition) – mommy senses are more accurate than spidey senses and should never be ignored).



So you think you’re pregnant, now what?

It’s time to kill the rabbit (please note – “The rabbit died” is just a phrase, and there is no longer a need to sacrifice a cuddly little rabbit, even if the future father is married and no longer returning your calls).

Why you need to have a baby:

  1. Because you want to get married.
  2. Because babies will give you unconditional love.
  3. Because babies are little bundles of joy, and every post-delivery day will be filled with love and laughter.
  4. Because your life is meaningless/broken/empty and you need something to fix all the problems.
  5. None of the above.

If you responded to the question with anything other than “5”, please don’t have a baby. Get a dog! Get a cat! Get a goldfish (FYI you don’t have to take a goldfish for a walk).

To be honest, I can’t think of any reason that a person NEEDS to have a baby. You need to eat, you need to sleep, you need shelter, you need to breathe (as an asthmatic, I am reminded of this need on a semi-regular basis). Do you need to have a baby? Nope. Well, maybe. Some people have parenthood on their dreamboard (I wasn’t one of them). If it’s something you’ve always dreamed of doing – by all means, have a baby. If it’s not something you want to do, don’t let society/friends/strangers/family members convince you that you’re being “selfish” by remaining childfree by choice.

The Rabbit Died, Now What?

First, and foremost, take a piece of advice from Douglas Adams and DON’T PANIC.


Next, re-take the test. It’s not unusual to get a “false positive” response on the drug store tests.

Take it again. And again. Take it so many times your local pharmacist thinks you’re running a women’s clinic out of your garage.


The next step is of the utmost importance – I cannot stress this point enough – if you make a mistake here, you will regret it (trust me on this):

Tell your significant other/spouse/partner/baby daddy BEFORE you tell anyone else (I’m serious. Evidently men don’t like finding out from posts on social media)

One last suggestion, from someone who’s been there, done that, bought the postcard – pretend you didn’t read the test results, and have your last sip of wine/beer/shot of tequila. My mom and her friends smoke and drank through their entire pregnancie(s), and I/we turned out ok*. Trust me, it’s going to be a long 10 months (you read that right – 10 months, not 9)

Coming up in tomorrow’s post – the one thing you should NEVER do when you’re pregnant**

*we also rode in cars without seatbelts and drank from the hose – pretty sure our parents were trying to kill us

**couldn’t help myself. I HATE those 8AM reporters who warn me that “something in your house could kill you – news at 11!”


















I Love Me

64-what-is-self-love-all-about[1]I know, I know, when I finished Blogging University’s Fundamentals of Blogging course I promised that Wednesdays would be Weird. Well, guess what? Promises are made to be broken.

Today is Wednesday, February 13th, and it’s time to celebrate Self-Love Day. Christine Arylo created Self-Love Day twelve years ago “to bring awareness to self-love in a way that made it real, tangible and practical to what you are facing in your life today (not fluff.) Because self-love, or lack of it, is at the root of very choice we make…but few people really know what self-love is, and how to apply it to their lives. We cannot guide and model for others what we do not embody deeply ourselves.”

I’ve spoken about the importance of self-love in the past (and no, you do not need batteries to practice self-love). IMHO, you cannot forge healthy relationships with others until you have a healthy relationship with yourself. I’ve seen it over and over with those closest to me – women who searched in vain for a “perfect partner”, finding their soulmate only AFTER they healed their soul.

It’s not just our love lives that suffer when we refuse to prioritize our needs. I’m going to say it again, for the people in back. You need to put yourself first. I know, I know, it goes against everything we’ve been taught as women. We are taught to be caregivers – to put others’ needs before our owns, to take care of all the things that Need Doing before taking time for ourselves.  I’m here to tell you that your relationships with friends/coworkers/family will improve immensely when you put yourself first. Again, for the people in the back – you need to MAKE time for yourself before you take care of anything else.

I have to admit that I’m not good at it. I have a hard time sitting down to read when Stuff Needs Doing, I dose myself on meds and caffeine so that I can take care of my two kids (the one I birthed and the one I married), and I still have a hard time with “the N-word” (not that one).

But I’m working on it. I’ve decided that 2019 is the year I stop telling The Girl to “Do what I say and not what I do” and start modeling a healthier lifestyle. She is rapidly becoming a mini-me:  carrying 17 units at school, volunteering to run lights for church, working towards her next referee badge, and becoming a Cope Health Scholar. I want her to know that it’s okay to say no. I want to show her that rest is not a four-letter word. I want to teach her the importance of self-love, because, as Christine says Self-Love is a path, a practice and a choice. It is the foundation that gives one an inner strength and connection in the heart, body, mind and soul. As a culture, we do not understand, embrace or embody it. If we did, there would be no more bullying, girls dishonoring their bodies, narcissism, abuse, negative self-talk, burnout, destruction of the planet. We are a culture obsessed with the mind, but deeply needing the heart, and scared to actually feel what’s in there.”

Long story short (too late) we need to listen to flight attendants when they tell us to  “Put on your oxygen mask first.”

Christine Arylo has provided some amazing tools to help you learn to practice self-love.

  1. You can get a self-love kit which comes with a powerful process for getting clear on your area of self-love to strengthen
  2. You can join a live class on the impact loving yourself has on your relationships
  3. You can pick up a self-love coloring book and journal

As for me, I started this year’s journey to self-love by taking a quiz to discover who my Inner Mean Girl (aka EIC) is.*


*They said I’m a perfectionist. Color me not surprised. 


Wednesdays are Weird

Finishing line Whoo hooo! I did it! It’s taken me more than a month but I finally finished Blogging University’s Learning the Fundamentals course! Evidently I am finally Becoming an Adult. Well, maybe not, but it looks like I’ve  finally Learned my Lesson – or one, at least. It appears that this procrastinator perfectionist has finally learned to finish what she’s started. So far I’m two for two (for those of you who missed the announcement I finally finished my 13 year WIP). If this continues, I just may finish putting away Christmas before summer vacation (don’t judge me).

I cheated, of course. I whipped through lessons 12, 13 and 14 today. It was either that, or quit for the third time. But the third time’s the charm! Made it to the last lesson – Day Fourteen: Create Your Own Feature. The powers that be instructed me to “think of the type of regular feature you can commit to – something you’ll publish weekly, biweekly, or monthly.”

I have to admit that I have a fear of commitment – it took me five years and threats from my fiancé before I agreed to walk down the aisle, and another ten years before I was willing to commit to raising a child…so today’s lesson is hard – or would be, if it weren’t Wednesday.

I know what you’re thinking. “What does Wednesday have to do with the price of tea in China?” Or maybe not – nobody says that any more. Wednesdays are the best brain day. I have completely recovered from all the activities of the previous weekend, and my brain has not yet run away to get an early start on the coming weekend. And Wednesdays start with a “W” which made it a short alliterative jump to  Weird Wacky Worldwide Stories of the Week aka Weird Wednesday.



A  quick Google search for weird/wacky stories made me realize how popular they’ve become. I know we’re all tired of doom and gloom, but I was surprised to see just how many links I found. Reddit has a page dedicated to News of the Weird, as does NPR . There’s a Facebook group and it appears that even Fox news has jumped on the bandwagon (nobody says that any more either) with Weird News Wednesday.


image courtesy of

I skimmed through the various sites, looking for the perfect story to kick off this series. Then my daughter sent me a link to January Nelson’s post from September of last year.

The post included 50+ stories that she had “curated from funny Tumbler stories”  but it was the first one that had The Girl crying with laughter:

In my junior year of high school, this guy asked me on a date. he rented a Redox movie and made a pizza. We were watching the movie and the oven beeped so the pizza was done. He looked me dead in the eye and said, “This is the worst part.” I then watched this boy open the oven and pull the pizza out with his bare hands, rack and all, screaming at the top of his lungs. We never had a second date.

So okay, it may not be “news” , and I’m not sure it’s as weird as the story about the working usb drive that was found in frozen leopard seal poop, but it made me laugh (because I am an evil, evil person).

Poor boy. Burnt his hands AND lost the girl.










I Survived the Zombie Apocalypse

th[2]We all know that time is relative (one of those asshat relatives who never behaves) – a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey thing that speeds up and slows down depending on your location (work or vacation), cycle of the moon and time of year, but when I started Blogging University’s “Learning the Fundamentals” I had no idea that it would take me this long to complete a two week course.

It’s not my fault. Well, it IS my fault, because I haven’t been writing every day, but I have an excellent excuse – I’m a victim of the zombie plague. It pisses me off, not just because I don’t have time to get sick, but because I got the flu shot and still got the flu. It’s just not fair (yes, Mom, I know that “life’s not fair”).

I blame my coworkers. Patient zero came to work “with a horrible cold”, took time off, then returned to work and relapsed. SHE SHOULD HAVE STAYED HOME. When she returned to work, she infected a second employee, who “tried to stay away from everyone.” SHE SHOULD HAVE STAYED HOME. Instead she decided to come to work with the hope that “staying away” would keep her from infecting anyone.

That’s not the way the flu works.

The CDC says you should “take 3” actions” to fight the flu. Their website includes the recommendation that “Everyone 6 months of age and older should get a flu vaccine every year before flu activity begins in their community” as well as telling people to:

  • Try to avoid close contact with sick people.
  • While sick, limit contact with others as much as possible to keep from infecting them.
  • If you are sick with flu symptoms, CDC recommends that you stay home for at least 24 hours…
  • Cover your nose and mouth with a tissue when you cough…

I spent 4 days alternating between the false hope that I was getting better, and dealing with a headache so bad I was certain my brain was going to explode.  On the fifth day, I woke up to find my unexploded brain was missing (I wonder if zombies are actually looking for their runaway brains?). Since I wasn’t running a fever, I decided to see if I could find it at work.

That was a week ago. I’m not sure where my brain has been, but it’s finally back in my head where it belongs. Good thing, because I need to finish this course. My newly returned brain decided to whoosh through several of the tasks in an attempt to finish the two week course in fewer than two months.

Day 10’s assignment to “build a better blogroll” seemed easy enough, since I already had one. I say “seemed” because I failed in my attempt to edit my blogroll (several of “my people” are no longer writing). I’m still looking for help.

Day 11’s assignment proved challenging as well. The task to “make a prompt personal” including instructions to “visit our Daily Post site and check out today’s prompt – it’s in the dark blue box in the middle of the page.” When I clicked the link, I saw a lot of boxes, but no dark blue box. I kept hitting “back” and clicked the link repeatedly, then searched frantically on the internet, determined to find the missing blue box*. It appears that they are no longer offering a daily prompt, but suggested that I “use some of our prior prompts.”

I was going to write about how guilty I feel for not writing, then considered talking about the fact that I’m better, but still broken. But I’m broken because two selfish people chose to come to work and infect others instead of STAYING HOME like responsible humans.

The good news is that staying home gave me time to start reading Year One by Nora Roberts.


I was only able to read first two chapters (it’s hard to read when your brain is missing), but it seems to me that The Doom is very similar to Captain Tripps. I wonder if Nora Roberts is a Stephen King fan? Both books deal with an ever mutating, highly contagious virus, and both books made me think that the coming zombie apocalpyse is unavoidable. Good thing that both the CDC and youtubers have tips to help us survive.

The best news is that, by isolating myself for a week and using proper hand hygiene techniques, nobody else in my house caught the flu, even though they haven’t gotten a flu shot (somehow that doesn’t seem fair).

*I didn’t find the daily prompt’s blue box, but I did find the Tardis. I’d love to share the details of our amazing adventure, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. The doctor promised to return me home “five minutes before we left,” but evidently she miscalculated, and I lost two weeks instead.






Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

day9[1]My brain has been fried by stress and lack of sleep, but that’s okay, because it’s Friday (I can hear you groan from here). Fried brain resulted in lack of ideas for today’s title (full disclosure – my original post HAD NO TITLE. I’ve updated it thanks to the notification that LittleFears liked ”  “)

It’s also Blogging Fundamentals Day Nine: Get Inspired by the Neighbors. Yesterday’s lesson instructed me to “leave thoughtful comments on four different blogs.” I spent time exploring the blogosphere and discovered that I’m not the only one twisting suburbia.

Lauren Mucklow reminded me of all the weird changes that come with being pregnant – she hit most of the highs (and lows) of pregnancy, but missed one of the strangest symptoms – my sense of smell became so acute I could have gotten a job with the DEA sniffing out contrabrand (any other moms experience this, or was it just me?).

Danelle Bruder reminded me of how I became an accidental mother. Like me, she never wanted to be a mom. Like me, she “liked kids well enough I guess.  I had a niece that I adored but my own kids, that wasn’t for me. No freedom, sleepless nights, sticky hands, snotty noses? Ugh, no thanks.”  And, like me, she has grown to love motherhood. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the “Terrible Twos” are far easier than the “Terrible Teens” because teens are crazy.


And Thrive Global offered excellent advice on what I should tell my insecure teen. The post included great life lessons that this not-teen should remember. including the fact that perfection doesn’t exist, that you should be careful with the words you use to describe yourself and a reminder that “teens often just want their parent to be that safe person, where they can express how they feel without having their feelings denied.”

But it was the most recent post from Must Be This Tall To Ride that resonated with me. Resonated, hell, Matt’s post shook me to the core. He wrote about the importance of actively demonstrating intentional love and patience towards those we love.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “My friend/child/spouse/family knows how I feel – they know how much I love them” – and you’re (probably) right. But, as Matt pointed out, “We grow numb to the things we feel All The Time. We grow deaf to the things we hear All the Time. We grow blind to the things we see All The Time.” We start sleepwalking through our lives, and we start to take things for granted.

I have yet another confession to make (this is the third this month – if it continues, it might behoove me to convert to Catholicism): I take my teen for granted. I take it for granted that she’s polite, that she’s a good student, that she has a generous heart, a loving soul and that she’s becoming a Responsible Adult (better her than me).

I take it for granted that she is a good person. So I don’t tell her often enough.

We had a fight the other day. She did something that we didn’t like, and we told her why we didn’t like it.  She responded by talking back, and the discussion rapidly escalated from “constructive criticism” to slamming doors and stomping feet (and that was just on my part).


Fortunately we have a Talking Chair. A safe place in our house where people are allowed to voice their side without fear of repercussion. She told me that she felt like we are picking on her because we only bring up things she’s doing wrong, and that (at 18) she should have the right to voice her opinion, without sitting in the Talking Chair.

She had a valid point, but I was still mad that she no longer feels the need to do things the way I want her to do them simply “because I’m the Mommy.”

Then I read Matt’s post. He reminded me that I should “actively demonstrate intentional love and patience toward my favorite person in the world. She is my life’s greatest gift. And it’s pathetic that I get angry with her and speak to her in ways her young mind might interpret as me saying she’s not good enough, or communicate that I’m not immensely proud of her.”*

I was flooded with guilt and embarrassment. I wanted to move to another post without commenting, but I wanted him to know how much Always Something There to Remind Me meant to me, so I left a comment instead. I confessed (that’s #4, for those of you who are keeping track) that “Our daughter is 18…and we still have fights. Just the other night, we had a particularly nasty one. At one point she said “I feel like you’re always picking on me.” Your post reminded me that I need to remember to praise her successes more often than I correct her “flaws”. She’s a good kid (a great one, TBH. We’re very lucky) and I think I’ve taken it for granted.” 

I’d like to be able to say that I’ve learned my lesson – that I’ll no longer take people/things for granted, that I’ll remember to praise as well as punish. I’d like to be able to say that, but I’m aware I’m only human. Instead, I promise I’ll  try.

Yoda would be so disappointed in me.

*Matt has a son, I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting the pronouns in my post



I’m (not) the Biggest Loser

Confession[1]I have to another confession to make.


Literally. Not a weight loss loser like my husband (who has lost over 100 pounds in the past two years) and not in a “I can’t do anything right”/pity party table for one way* – but in an “everything I want/need/touch goes missing/is lost” way.

It’s incredibly frustrating.

I’ve had it happen before. My mother stops by to borrow her jewelry whenever there’s a party in the great beyond. She brings it back eventually, and she usually puts it back in my jewelry box. It’s her jewelry, after all, so I suppose I should let her borrow it.


I’ve also had things disappear when I’m tired/distracted. I remember reading an article on object permanence a while back (the memory is fuzzed by time and oldtimer’s syndrome, so I may be misremembering). The writer’s theory was that, when we’re distracted to the point where we forget about an object, it ceases to exist. It doesn’t really explain why those objects turn up in odd places (i.e. the freezer, the pocket of a jacket I haven’t worn in decades or under the bed). Erin Pavlina says you can find lost items using psychic abilities. Unfortunately, I’m psycho not psychic.

The things that I’ve lost have been just that – things. Things can be replaced.

Unfortunately, this past weekend I lost my mind. Dan Quayle would be so disappointed.


I didn’t realize it until yesterday, when I found that I couldn’t understand simple instructions/had a hard time completing the Blogging Fundaments task for Day 5: Love Your Theme. I was unsuccessful in my attempt(s) to “try and customize three different themes.” The task proved so frustrating, that I threw a hissy fit and decided to take my ball and go home.

This morning I discovered that my brain had come home (which is a good thing, since it’s far too little to be on its own). I spent some time playing with different themes, only to realize that yes, this is the “my” theme.

Because I’m behind in my lessons (I just received instructions for Day 13), and because my brain is back where it belongs, I decided to complete the tasks for Day Six: Make an Irresistible “About Me” page and Day Seven: Start Personalizing Your Site as well. I updated my “About” page (I even managed to add an image!) and changed the background color, font and header for my blog.

Guess I’m not a loser after all.


*In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit to throwing a pity party when I couldn’t find my Peets gift card and a check.



Love It or Leave It?


image courtesy of

I took a little break from Learning the Fundamentals – partly because the weekend was full of Things That Needed Doing, partly because I’m lazy, and partly because grief knocked me for a loop.

The good news is that I came back and resumed where I’d left off, even though I was tempted to skip to the “current” lesson (day 12).

The bad news is that Day 5 is “learn to love your theme.” Today I was supposed to preview, try and customize at least 3 themes. I tried. I really did. I found some themes that looked promising, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

Too many ch ch changes going on in my life, I suppose. Or maybe it’s the weird grey almost rain. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ve already found the perfect theme and changing it would be a mistake? I don’t know why today’s lesson was so difficult, but I am proud of the fact at least I tried. As a perfectionist, trying anything new is..well, it’s virtually impossible.

But I did it.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll try jogging (I just made myself laugh so hard coffee came out my nose).


image courtesy of






On Love, Loss, and Laughter

Yesterday I found out that a long time friend is losing his battle with cancer. It has thrown me for a larger loop than one would expect. Yes, it’s heartbreaking, but it felt like more. this morning I realized that it brought back all the grief from when I lost my brother of heart. Nothing like a little PTSD on a rainy Monday morning.

Twisting Suburbia

images71V16YFPI know what you’re thinking – “Where the hell has Tracey been and what kind of writer doesn’t write?” (or, as my EIC would say, “If a writer isn’t writing, doesn’t that mean they’re not a writer?”)

In Hell. Literally (Ok, maybe not literally). A stuck writer. That’s what kind.

Grief has eaten my brain, and stolen my creativity.

I lost someone a month ago who was incredibly important to me. Well, I didn’t’ “lose” him. It’s not like he was a set of car keys, or a sock that disappeared from the dryer, or my mind.

Sorry for that. I have a habit of trying to compensate for emotional issues with sarcasm and lame attempts at humor. Let me try again.

My friend died a month ago.

Wow. There it is, in black and white. The phrase I’ve avoided. I know it’s hard to read, but trust me, it’s harder to write…

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