I’ve been trying to tell you I love you


I recently posted a photo. The title was, “Such a thin, small window separates us. Literally and Figuratively.” I watched the homeless man wander on the sidewalk as I sipped a latte. I looked for him later to give him a few dollars but he had already left by the time I stepped out to find him.


Guest Blogger: Corporate Woman’s Opinion on Working Moms


I wasn’t going to post this essay by my German Hostess. It’s not only an unpopular opinion, it goes against my own beliefs as a mother who strives daily to HAVE IT ALL. I have cake! I EAT IT TOO. Then I work off the cake in a wave of guilt and promise to not eat the cake again only to fail the following day.

Are we still talking about cake? I forgot.

Reality Check


I know in the large scheme of things, this will all seem like an over-dramatic reenactment of some time in our life we’ll totally forget. I know there are bigger worries. I’m reminded daily watching one of my dearest friends stay positive in a high risk pregnancy waiting for a blood clot three times the size of her baby to dissolve. I see my sister face a year without her husband as he gets deployed to Korea. I know my mom is going in for surgery on her shoulder and ultimately her neck where they take a piece of bone from her leg and use it to provide space between her vertebrate.

I get this and I’m thankful that this is not a loss of a person, but a house. As upset as my family is, we keep our perspective and we’re thankful.



I know we’re all busy and yet we somehow manage to maintain this space on the Interweb. We drive to it most nights grasping for some bit of ourselves. It’s our haven.

So know that when I say I’m drowning, I’m not asking for you to save me, but maybe just to toss in some floaties.

Come out come out wherever you are


It’s national (Inter-national?) delurking day. All official and stuff. Aimme forwarded the official email from rude cactus and it was signed in to law through congress. Or something.

So, hiya. I know I use my google reader as a crutch ENTIRELY too much. I’m sorry. It’s mostly in a vain attempt to pretend like I’m organized.

Healthy Pancakes



My son is a pancake freak. Periodically at night he’ll ask, “MORE PANCAKES.” And by periodically, I mean every so often at 2Am. It’s like he’s having a sloppy pancake dream.

You’re just going to have to take my word for this. I wouldn’t make this shit up.


We have a.. how do we say this? ... “tight” community. Or “compact” if you’re a car salesman. Or “bumfucking close” if you’re us.

Whatever, people are everywhere always up in other people’s grills here.