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    I’m Genuinely Concerned for My Cat

    We live in a delicate balance in our home, the dance between life and death ever turning. This fear is a constant companion for our days and nights, ever in the back of our minds like an unwanted house guest who has come to dwell within the medulla oblongata. It will catch us unawares if we drowse, vibrating through our spines at lightning speed as we spring into action to prevent a cataclysm. See, we have both a cat and a dog, living together under one roof. They are not friends. Did I mention the dog is a bloodthirsty pit bull? I mean, hey, sweetest dog alive, really – but…

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    The Hypothetical Lottery

    Last year during a Mega Millions drawing, I bought my first (and probably last) lottery ticket ever. I’m not much of a gambler, for what I believe are good reasons: Any money I have I like to keep in my pocket I have terrible luck. Yes I believe in luck, I’m genetically programmed that way (partial-Irish heritage). You can tell by my day job and indifferent way of dressing I did not win the Mega Millions that year. I haven’t played since then, and I don’t really intend to play in the future. However, my husband and I occasionally ask each other what we would do if either of us…

  • Family Dynamics,  General Lunacy,  Uncategorized

    This is My Thanksgiving Post

    I am über happy right now because I’ve been baking pie all afternoon. Now, I like baking pie for two reasons: Yum Baking is a mellowing activity I love but in which I infrequently get to indulge I am good at it Oops, that was three. Oh well. Anyway, the pies themselves look and smell delicious, like what I imagine heaven’s living room smells like. However scrumptious these pies look, now I have to go make another, and then clean up this: So happy Thanksgiving, readers. I hope your holiday is filled with only the most mouth-watering turkey and the butteriest mashed potatoes and the most perfect pies (plural), because…

  • General Lunacy,  Uncategorized

    The One and Only Time* I Will Post about Weight Gain, Weight Loss, and the Joys of Being Female in 21st Century America (*Maybe. If I Feel Like It)

    A few weeks back my husband pointed to a spot on one of my thighs and said, “Wow, look at that fat pocket there.” And then I turned into a fire-breathing dragon and destroyed him. I mean, true, I’d put on fifteen pounds in the year we’ve been married, but he didn’t need to point it out to me. My non-fitting collection of unwearable jeans sitting in the closet did that everyday. Like any American girl growing up during the transition of the twentieth/twenty-first century, I have weight issues. Right around the time I hit puberty, Kate Moss hit the scene and heroin-chic became the look du jour, which was incredibly damaging…

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    Happy Birthday, Juanita: Enter The Teenage Years

    Has anyone noticed this blog is all, “me, me, me” lately? I know that’s what a blog technically is, which makes it the perfect medium for me, really. But today I’m tired of me. Blech. Let’s focus outside of the Chosen One’s sphere for a minute. Let’s celebrate Juanita, seeing as her thirteenth birthday is rapidly approaching. Who is Juanita? She’s fierce. She has attitude. She’s old as hell in car years. Juanita is the name of my little green Honda. I named her after a Kathleen Turner character in an old movie, because, well, that’s just something I would do. She is alternately known as the Green Beetle, even though she…

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    I Have Discovered Truth Serum, and It’s An Ugly Bastard

    Okay, I promise I am not going to be forever writing about my tattoo experience, but one observation about the undertaking demands sharing, especially if you’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. You should be forewarned, just in case you don’t want to be as embarrassed as I would have been had I any shred of modesty or boundaries. Getting a tattoo is like ingesting truth serum. Reflecting back on me sitting in the chair, I told the tattoo artist things I don’t normally tell random strangers. Or people. My deepest, darkest secrets were laid bare as I sat helplessly while she etched a needle and ink drawing into my skin, with…

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    A Fun-Filled Photographic Catalogue of Addiction

    I haven’t written much about my alcoholism on here, partly because sometimes it’s just not a focal point in my day-to-day life, but partly because this is my happy place. Alcoholism by its very nature requires one be filled with bad memories, shame, guilt, and other nasties that cause pain, for both the alcoholic and their loved ones. Who wants to relive any of that? Certainly not I, and anyway, that’s what AA is for: reliving your shame so you won’t be tempted to repeat it. Or something. But having alcoholism has played an enormous part in who I’ve become and how I live my life, and it sometimes the…

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    A Trip to Podiatry Hell

    Today I finally went to the podiatrist for my broken pinkie toe. Nothing in life prepared me for what a gigantic waste of time and money that trip would turn out to be. But I guess I need to back up in order to make this a proper story with any semblance of coherence… I kicked the wall last month. No, I was not aiming for Mike. It’s funny how many people asked that question. I took the corner in our hallway too sharply and the little guy, just hanging off the edge, caught it and bent in ways toes aren’t meant to bend. Oddly enough, this was on the…

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    I Regress: In Honor of the Blue Moon, Which Has Really Ruined My Week†

    Has anyone here experienced the total wrong-ness of growing up backwards? No? Really? I guess I’m the only one. Again. In a complete paradox, I seem to get younger as I age. Not in a sci-fi way. Or a Benjamin Button way. Also no, that does not mean I don’t experience newly-forming wrinkles or stray gray hairs. What I mean is that my internal life, or spiritual self, is youthanizing. Er, when I made up that word in my head it sounded so much better. Youngerating? Anyway, I know exactly to what I should attribute this phenomenon, too. It’s most likely because I’m a Capricorn.* [*Hmm, another example of things sounding…

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    I just worked twelve hours and my brain is mush

    Sorry, dear readers, I worked twelve hours today. On spreadsheets. No, really, ON FRICKIN’ SPREADSHEETS. I haven’t eaten, I haven’t kissed my husband hello. It’s already been a tough week. But I needed to be here, briefly, because this is a light spot in my life, and you need to grab hold of all of the light spots you can in this world. So no real post tonight. But I appreciate the five of you who read this. See you tomorrow. To tide you over, here’s a list of thing’s I’ve learned at work: Instead of a coffin, you can buy a cardboard box for your remains.  Awesome-sauce. There can…

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