Saturday, July 18, 2015

Small Kindnesses

I stayed home sick from high school one day.  I hated high school, and regularly took advantage of my father's liberal policy toward "mental health days," but this time I was really, really sick.  Strep throat, if I remember right.  When my dad got home from work that afternoon, I was bundled up in an enormous sleeping bag, napping in the sun on the back porch (this was Northeastern Ohio, remember, so sun was a rarity worth soaking up).  I was miserable.  Groggy. Grumpy. And my dad kept trying to cajole me into a better mood--which, if you think about it, generally only makes the grumpy grumpier.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Anxiety is a Jerk

I'm having some anxiety lately.  I think I know why...

Here is a picture of my girls with my parents, taken four years ago almost to the day:

A lot has changed since that picture.  Four years could be a lifetime.  Those two girls--then a tween and a "big girl"--are now both solidly TEEN, how did that even happen?  I don't know.  But--as scary as having teenagers can be--that's not the source of my anxiety.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

How to DIY: The Toilet Edition, Part II

I know you're all dying to know how the Great Toilet Escapade ended.  Bated breath, tenterhooks, etc. As you may remember, we left off here:

Which basically just tells you three things:
a.) there is no longer a toilet in my bathroom
b.) I learned how to take selfies by watching my teenage daughter
c.) I have neither the time to be a good housekeeper nor the money to hire one.

But it doesn't tell you HOW I removed the toilet.  This post was going to be a step-by-step tutorial on that process, but...There are already plenty of those on the market.  Just Google "how to remove toilet. I'll wait.

What those tutorials lack, amidst all the chipper schematics and friendly voice-overs, is color commentary.  Maybe a dash of reality.  And that's where I come in.  Here are a few of the things I learned the hard way, not via internet, but by getting my nitrile gloves dirty, old school.  You're welcome.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

How to DIY: The Toilet Edition, Part I

Here are five no-fail steps to becoming handy around the house:

1.Marry someone who's already handy, thereby postponing the need to learn how to fix things for a decade or more.
2. Get divorced.
3. Find yourself at the intersection of broke and broken toilet, fueled by the determination to prove to yourself, your teenage children, and your ex-husband that you CAN TOO FIX THINGS.  (I live in a two-toilet house, so I am fortunate that this is a relative, rather than absolute, problem.)
4. Google "how to fix [insert name of broken thing here]".
5. Watch the YouTube videos that other, handy people have posted FOR FREE.

At least, that's been the most expedient route for me.  To bring you up to speed, I will share my DIY Toilet-Fixing tips with you:

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Dating, With Kids

The Boyfriend and I were having a tense conversation.  Nothing dire, just the kind of tense that happens when blissful twosomes butt up against the rest of the world.  We were at my house, and I knew we needed to have this conversation, so I asked Daughters Younger and Elder to excuse us for a few minutes while we adjourned to the (quasi) privacy of the patio.  Ah, Suburbia.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Top 6 Reasons Why She Didn't Leave

Every now and then I get a little reality check, a little comeuppance.  See, for me, one of the best parts of getting older is that it's given me increasing control over who I get to (or have to) spend time with.  And generally, I guess I spend time with people who have a certain level of empathy or at the very least understanding.  Plus, I never read the comments on online forums.  That helps immensely.

But after the video of the "minor physical altercation" (as described by his attorney) in which 212-pound NFL running back Ray Rice punched his fiance in the face so hard he then had to drag her unconscious body out of an elevator, I made the mistake of reading some comments.  One theme cropped up.  In the words of one particularly pithy idiot, "Staying is the same as asking for more."

Now, I assumed everyone knew this, but let me set the record straight for those of you who aren't familiar with how partner violence works:  Abusive relationships don't start with a KO in the elevator. 

Monday, September 1, 2014

The Shortest Distance Between Two Points

I write about a lot of shit.

I mean, forgive me for stating the obvious.  If you've been reading this blog, you know that already.

And sometimes people wonder why.