babble
Well hello, weekend, if that is your real name. It feels like it's been such a long time since we've had an earnest little chat. That's probably my fault. I've been too busy trying to keep with all the crazy shit the
death
Cut in on our hapless heroine. Curled up in bed furiously typing with her thumbs on the illuminated screen of her phone. The room is dark but from the glow at the edge of the black curtains we can see morning light penetrating her dim purgatory. Her bedroom acts as
babble
You know that foggy fuzzy state your brain can succumb to when you've been on the go for weeks on end. Traveling, working, family issues, cat hairballs. These things can make the most collected person tired. I would go so far as to say zombie-like. This was just
k
While one cat curls up sound asleep at the foot of my daughter's bed enjoying the warmth of the heater and the quiet sound of her breath the other is running the length of the house and back in the blink of an eye. He weighs all of
mommified
As parent who works full time from home my workday shouldn't be greatly disrupted by my tween being home sick from school, none the less I catch myself saying some of the darndest things while trying to focus on work while she's around... * Please put David
babble
Those of you who know me know I am not a runner. Hell, those of you who don't know me probably know I'm not a runner. Like many, I have often been known to say that I wouldn't run unless there was a bear
babble
There are some things that I just find rude. Honking, out of context, is one of them. That car horn is there for when you're on the road and you need to audibly notify drivers or pedestrians of something in your surrounding area. It can signal something like
dream
I glanced down at the screen on my iPhone and noticed someone had changed my lock screen. Instead of an adorable picture of my kid and our cat or a sappy kissy-face picture of my boyfriend and me there was a mogwai with an animated caption reading "gremlin elevator&
death
I don't mourn well. I don't know what to do with my hands. If I should say something or remain silent. If it's okay to laugh at a joke. I don't know what to do with myself amidst a heavy cloud of
parenting
Sunday night at 5:00pm and I sit on my sofa travel weary from the shortest trip - but bursting with information, processing the experience that was my weekend. Not a typical weekend for me, for sure, but one that will be more common in the coming months. The weekend
family
I've grown up. A bit. I don't know that I will ever achieve the status of "Grown-up" as it sat in my mind as a child. I don't know that as a little girl I could conceive of who I would become.
babble
Late this morning as I was walking to my favorite local coffee shop for a workish meeting and a ridiculously good iced mocha a guy driving down the street in a landscaping truck sneezed loudly three times. I turned away from my phone (on which I was chatting while I