Fixing Mrs. Flinger Feb 20, 2015
I'm currently working on this website. I want to add back the links to blogs I love, some ways to find content easier, and put in archive, at last, some of the ancient articles. Come back to see updates.
Here comes the sun LALALALA May 24, 2010
#Life#The Flinger Family
A short, quick, super-fast update on the weekend because WE ALL HAVE SHIT TO DO.
Yes, including you.
A great friend of mine and her son travelled to Wenatchee with us to find the sunshine and an over-night road trip. There’s a mystical place in Washington State where the sun shines most of the year and it’s called EASTERN WASHINGTON.
There are also a lot of Rednecks there. And Apples.
So the three children piled in the back of our Xterra and we headed over to find swimming, playing outside in short sleeves, and good food.
Here is a snort synopsis of the trip.
And then we all passed out at 7pm.
*But it was seriously SO FUN. Minus the throwing fits and stuff. The kids’ fits, I mean. Michelle and I were pretty well behaved considering.
**Next I get to...
Purple Cafe’s Bucheron Goat Cheese May 21, 2010
My neighbor and workout partner introduced me to the love of Goat Cheese at Purple Cafe recently. It’s the kind of dish I set aside all kinds of weight watchers points to enjoy. It’s the kind of dish I beg my husband to take me out to dinner for. It’s the kind of dish I write home to friends and family about.
I swear this dish could stop wars. WHY WAR? EAT BUCHERON GOAT CHEESE.
Today I found the Purple Cafe blog. To my delighted surprise, I found the beloved goat cheese recipe.
And now there may never be disease or war or famine. LET US ALL FIX GOAT CHEESE AT HOME.
Orgasms may occur. Use at your own risk.
Three Years PostPartum May 20, 2010
#Life#The Flinger Family#Baby O
To my son, my only son, my second born.
First, please know I don’t love you less than your sister, I love you later. Just because I realized yesterday, that I hadn’t invited anyone to your birthday party for tomorrow, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It means I’m entirely over taxed and very, very tired which I only blame you for 40% of.
It’s pretty tough to believe it’s been three years. That’s the same amount of time the “The Indian Remote Sensing Satellite” or, IRS-1D orbited the earth taking pictures. (yea, I know things) In dog years, you’d be entering your teen-age angst.
Sometimes I think you live in Dog Years.
*Nothing says love like a choke-hold
You are really coming in to your own, Buddy. You are striving...
Good night, Sleep tight, Don’t let the bed bugs bite May 17, 2010
Riddle me this: Full size bed, two adults. One person gets eaten alive nightly while the other blissfully sleeps through everything including children screaming, bitten-adult turning on lights and cussing, and possibly a small earthquake.
Y’all, I’m getting eaten.alive.in.my.bed.
It’s been going on for a week now. I thought we had a spider so I changed the sheets and washed the bedding. It came back. My legs are all chewed up, my hips have red bumps on them and the bites are migrating north to my neck. I swear to god I have a teeny-tiny Edward Cullen sucking his way through all my veins. No, actually, I enjoy that image too much. Maybe it’s more like a very tiny family of spiders, or a bunch of bed bugs?
Which, while I’m at it, DO NOT GOOGLE BED...
I guess the real question is, would you have to look for me in the fetish section, too? May 16, 2010
#Fitness#Weght Loss and Body Image
A few weeks ago, I attended an amazing panel about our girls being “sexy too soon” by Parent Map. I was asked to tweet about the event during the discussion and received a ton of great feedback via twitter regarding the content of the session. It was well done and truly full of wonderful ideas to reach out to our girls.
As I grabbed the courage to stand and ask a question, an Asian lady stood up before me to ask hers. “It’s taken us two hours and we haven’t talked about race,” she said. The room fell silent. The all white panel stammered. “Um, yea…” The question-asker went on, “You know where my husband has to go find porn that looks like me? The FETISH section. That’s because we over-romanticize and sexualize our...
Mother’s Day 2010: Epic Awesomesauce May 10, 2010
Mother’s Day started early. Saturday night my friend Ashley picked me up in her awesome mobile to head to our favorite local restaurant.
We met Trix there and she totally smelled my hair.
It was great girl-time in which we talked about wine and sex and being a mom. Not in that order. Or maybe in that order. I forget because the wine was first.
The next morning I woke up to flowers, cards, and the Sunday Paper. I love the Sunday Paper. I love that I look studious while perusing the Target Ad.
We went for a hike near our home. The kids ran ahead because they aren’t old enough to realize you still have to actually walk BACK to the car.
Silly kids. They never learn.
This is shortly before the Two Year Old lost his mind because his feet stopped working.
I make a terrible fairy-tale princess, a crappy mormon, a shitty buddhist and a worse country wife May 07, 2010
We have mice. When I tell this to people they laugh. “Welcome to the country,” they say. They tell me to get a cat. They tell me this is part of being surrounded by all this land.
Last night we saw a mouse. Instead of being the calm, rational person “they” expect me to be, I jumped on a chair while yelling, “KILL THE FUCKER” and simultaneously pouring a glass of wine. It was not my proudest moment.
My daughter has lived with invisible mice for nearly three years. It started one night after introducing her to Cinderella. I asked her doctor about it when one cute “invisible mouse” turned in to two years, a million mice, and actual conversations between them. My daughter often draws all of her mice in her pictures, a group of small circles...
Moms, Business, Family and Pepperidge Farm May 06, 2010
I don’t always believe in Fate. I want to keep my life organized in such a way it does not possibly involve anything other than my own strength. But sometimes I have to confess that there are strong coincidences that can not, nor should be, over-looked. I had no idea this post would be one of them.
When Blog Nosh Magazine came to me with an offer to read about and reflect on the founder of Pepperidge Farm, I said yes without truly understanding the impact this would have. I did not know I would lose my job this week, nor could I have known how much I would identify with Margaret Rudkin. Truly, I did not appreciate the exact timing of such an offer.
I do now.
Sitting in my “Mommy Time Out”, reading over the tale of how Pepperidge Farm began, I found myself...
Mommy Time Out May 05, 2010
I’m sitting in mommy time out. The children are on their beds reading. Supposedly. Since my last post wherein I promise to be funny at least two more times, a lot has changed. The last few months have cumulated to this one night wherein I totally lose my shit on the children during bath time.
And now I sit in time out.
I can point to a variety of excuses, reasons, I’m feeling so… Off. So.. Depressed. So… Tired. I acknowledge my depression, my monster-in-the-closet that is mostly kept at bay 99% of the year. I recognize this huge success that only 1% of the time I find myself wanting to stay in bed, drink too much wine, sit and ignore the world. I’m living that 1% right now and I hate it.
I can blame the tumultuous housing market, our condo that is for sale...
How to not write like a douche Apr 28, 2010
#Life#Mother F.U.C.K.E.R.#Rants and Raves
Listen up, Blogosphere. This is part 1 of a 3 part series.
That’s right. What I have to say is so important, I am going to do it in three installments. This? Is number one.
Here is a short post on how to not write like a douche.
Its is possessive. The book is torn and its page is wrinkled.
It’s is a contraction of it and is. It’s about to rain.
You’re vs Your
Editors note: This one makes my tongue curl to the back of my throat and sputter strange noises only gophers understand, so listen up.
You’re is a contraction of YOU and ARE. You’re going to DIE when I tell you this!
Your is possessive. Your husband is getting you beer.
(Maybe you’re still confused? Go here.)
Their, There, They’re
Their is possessive. Their dog...