Giles Family Goes Under the Sea — Halloween 2016
I know you’ve all be waiting to hear about our Halloween costumes this year. Are your F5 fingers tired from all the refreshing?
Life
My Imaginary Memoir Will Be Titled, “Well, It Could Have Been Worse….”
When something shitty happens, it is inevitable that someone is going to tell you to be grateful for whatever is less than shitty. I get it, I do. My imaginary memoir is titled, “Well, It Could Have Been Worse….” But sometimes I just want to wallow a little bit in the unfairness of things that are, well, unfuckingfair.
Floods, Plagues, and Other Signs of End Times.
There are times when the fact that my backyard is a giant downward slope is annoying. When I am offered a free motorized toddler car, but know it would never make it back up the hill. When I want to set up a kiddie pool on flat ground. When trying to build garden boxes. When the garage at the bottom of the yard floods.
Glitter is Upset by Your Herpes Comparisons
Lorelei has taken to dumping glitter on her head on a semi-regular basis. I don’t mean a cute little glitter shower, I mean a freaking glitter deluge. She had a friend over this weekend and they took turns filling a cap with glitter and pouring it on each other. Her mom used a lice comb to get some of it out of the friend’s hair. I… just left it. A beautiful gold layer of shine is coating my floors. By that night I looked like I had the glitterpox.
Feeling Mighty
When I started writing more publicly late last year, I could not have foreseen just how often I would write about obsessive-compulsive disorder. But at some point in my slight breakdown after Rowan’s premature birth IÂ completely ran out of fucks to give.
When Writing is Bigger on the Inside.
One of my promises to myself when I created this blog was to not fall into the trap of starting each post by apologizing for the infrequency of my words. It is the blogging equivalent of pointing out the flaws in your cooking to a table full of dinner guests.
Getting Back on the Wheels
You may remember the last time I went roller skating — it was disco night, and the place of jam-packed with drunk people skating while holding beer. It was no wonder I fell and busted my tailbone. My butt hurt for months.