Jumping on the bandwagon that I fell off last year, I am officially committing to NaBloPoMo… again. I’d love to commit to NaNoWriMo, but, well, my life isn’t fabulous enough to allow me that amount of time. Yet. Its coming. IT HAS TO BE COMING! UGH! Ahem. November has come to symbolize a lot for me this year, which is probably a good thing, because I realized through some demented thoughts that I may actually be at my breaking point. My bootstraps, heart and soul are pretty much...
Dave Grohl. Daaaaave Grohl. Dave. Grohl. It sneaked up on me slowly, starting with an article I wrote about Taylor Hawkins, the Foo’s absolutely incredible drummer. I’ve always admired the Foo, and Dave, back in the Nirvana days when he was drumming away for Kurt Cobain. But, the more I become a music (groupie) blogger (my job is amazing right now, did I mention that?), the more I get that “two-minutes-away-from-stalker” status. Just needed to put that out there. Dave....
…because upon waking and surveying the Melia kingdom of websites, I saw that I was called a bleeding-heart female… …for not allowing members of a site to call for the deaths of Muslims… …because it infringed on these members’ right to Freedom of Speech. I love politics. I love debating. I love being a part, even a small part, of creating and supporting change. I DO NOT LIKE BIGOTS AND ASSHOLES. Especially on Monday mornings. For the record, I fully support Freedom...
I am leaving! I’m dragging the three younglings and Freedom on my now-infamous summer tour. No more home Internet issues, no more DC blast furnace (I’m trading that for the Arkansas blast furnace) and I get to see people and get the fuck out of Stepford. In theory, I’ll be back. Its tempting to just stay on the road forever, but I’m pretty sure I cannot accomplish homeschooling in a mini-van. Its not that I don’t like Northern Virginia. I love the diversity, and that...
Mother’s Day has never been my favorite holiday, for various reasons. Its just been a blah day, especially since my mom passed and I’ve had a series of “partners” who just don’t get my need for something to make those days slightly special. I don’t mean gifts. I can buy my own cack. I’m really good at that, in fact. My Mother’s Day was spent with my kids and Freedom, with my brother and his girlfriend, down on “their” farm. I’ve not...
