I’ve begun writing. Its technically for school, but its the first fiction I’ve written since my mom passed almost 14 years ago. No, wait, its the second fiction, but the other one was for a smut contest and I only got about a paragraph into it before I got bored. So, I’m writing again, and like every other writer-wanna-be on the planet, I’m proclaiming that whatever it ends up will be the greatest piece of literature to ever hit the shelves… or my advisor’s inbox,...
Image courtesy of www.george-jacob.net/ FunkyBlueLovin’ imagines me and you, and you and me… no, wait, she’s just manifesting her perfect life. Got Tribal? Nefertitties does, and now has a piece of paper to prove it. She also just turned 31, and desperately needs a party… with spankings! Speaking of birthday parties, Scarlet Mae goes from peaceful beach retreat to preschool party central, in a matter of hours… with pepsi. Signs, signs, everywhere are signs. Melia, are...
Happy Monday, faithful reader! You know who you are, sitting there with your coffee, refreshing my blog for my latest bit of wisdom. Which banner is your favorite, by the way, and can you please re-theme this bitch, because the pink is really starting to get to me and I don’t have time to do anything about it. April is only two months away. In two months, my life will cease to spin out of control and I may have a moment to breathe. This is when I generally blog about my fabulous, or not-so-fabulous...
On Saturday, I woke up very, very sore, like I had somehow done aerobics (because that happens in my world) or a couple of hours of ATS drills. My legs hurt in ways that are totally not explainable by random acts of belly dance, yoga or anything else that is usually the culprit in my world. I was sore in a way that was almost concerning, but then I fell back on the bed in a puddle of giggles because I remembered what I’d done: I danced in public. For hours. Flashback about 15 years ago, when...
I’m all alone with 700 children and 835 animals. The Husband is off on a business trip this week, then he’ll be gone again next week. Muahahahahaha. I feel like rolling around on the carpet, naked, but then I realize that not a whole lot has changed, except that now I don’t have friendly reminders for all the stuff I forget. All hail sticky notes, especially those plastered all over my house. My craft fair was rained out on Saturday, so I’m contemplating ways to display a...
