Tech time.

My daughter just ripped the lid off her styrofoam (yeah, restaurants here still use it) take out container in the car and asked if she could pretend it was her kindle. I’m feeling slightly bad about her limited screen time, but only a little.

Happy 4th

Its 7:30am in this picture. In case you didnt know, we get up early in small town America for the big event. We set up our chairs and tents, then drive off to return a few hours later. It doesnt even cross our minds (except for mine) that someone could move our chairs to make room, or you know, just take’em. It just isn’t done.If you’ve never been to a small town event in midwestern America, ya gotta go. It reminds me of the goodness of our people. How you call out to a family who has no shade with little kids, “come on over! Do you want some water? Oh and we have snacks, sunscreen?” Also, your chairs will be right where you left them. This is what is so sweet about this day. It reminds us how to be thankful for sacrifice, to be a part of something bigger than ourselves and be better.This is it. Leave other people’s stuff be, and share with those without when you have extra. It’s just that simple. God Bless THIS America.Also, let the little kids have some candy at the parade. They’re slow.

Babbling Brook

When I was little they had Indian Princesses at the YMCA. Totally politically incorrect, however a great opportunity to learn about a new culture and a bonding experience with my dad. Your tribe got to pick your name, and my dad suggested “babbling brook” for me. Everyone laughed and talked about how perfectly it fit. I was gobsmacked. I considered myself a quiet child who said maybe 10% of what I was thinking out loud. It’s kind of funny how we view ourselves so differently from how others perceive who we are.

Flash forward 30 years, I totally get it. I have also cloned a little version of myself who is currently more of a “rushing river” of noise. She’s currently repeating the word “bubbles” over and over…interspersing it with meows.

Mom, dad….I’m so sorry….

Till death do us part.

My daughter was just playing out different scenarios of what kind of kissing was okay. Like, on the cheek, or on the lips. Boys, girls. This led into: “when daddy dies will you marry again?”

Not if, when.

This went on for awhile. The if, thens. She then concluded, “you and daddy will die at the same time”

Moving on, now we’re talking about the age of driving and what is on the test. I cant keep up. I’m so tired. Anyone else tired this Tuesday?

So that just happened.

Awkward!  I had a whole host of interrupted genius saved as drafts.  I meant to go back.  I swear I did.  So I put a date a year or maybe 6 months into the future.  Apparently they were all at the same date….Happy Surprise of unfinished work.  Ever had that happen?  Share your best/worst experience.  Bonus points if you have a photo.

As an update, I’ve decided I’m going to set aside a little time each week to write.  I’ve gotten so much feedback from people that I should, “Write a book”.  I laugh, but then find it intriguing.  Like how would you even begin to actually finish something like that?  Perhaps the way you eat an elephant?  So I figure.  Let’s just start.  I appreciate your feedback and some of the things I’ve considered:

  1. How will my kiddos feel about their shenanigans being featured when they are teenagers…and do I really care?  This is my life I’m writing about, and my feelings.  Should I be super millennial-y and have a lot of perspective & tolerance, or do what I want like a baby boomer?  (Sorry to play on your stereotypes, but this is what I’m wrestling with…)
  2. Writing from personal experience (however embellished) makes me feel super vulnerable.  I do not like being vulnerable.  I like having thick skin like the alligator with the knife stuck in his head currently swimming around in Texas.  Can I hack it?
  3. Will anyone read it, and once again- do I care?  Because then 1 & 2 wouldn’t matter.  HMMMMMMM.

What are your deep thoughts on the matter?

How do you identify?

I always see bios of women Start with mom, wife, lover of blah blah, blah. I never identified as a mom or wife first, even after these last 6 years…until this morning.

Mira made her way to our bed around 1:30am and promptly scooted so her diapered bum was on my head. Legs on my neck. Fall back asleep. Wake to the strain and terrifying sound of a long wet poop fart. I’m now identifying as a mom first, always.

Not crafty.

So last night I went to the Fab-o-lous Pulp&Pine DIY Studio and Handmade Market for a fundraiser. I totally support local business, and needed a break after trying to capture our rooster for transport (more on that later).

We had some projects to pick from, & let me tell you, some craft professionals showed UP. I quickly discovered I am not among that class….. everyone’s project was so uber professional & design worthy. Mine? Well, just put on your sunglasses to check out this yellow truck.

I love color, and the more I painted, the more I enjoyed myself…so I just kept painting and painting. So I dont have a craft room, but man, it makes you want one. It’s so incredibly therapuetic. If you can find a studio like this, or a craft club, I bet you can find someone with the supplies who can show you what’s up.

The best part? Watching everyone else’s ideas come to life, & recognizing greatness in others where you lack your own skills.

Now I’m off to try and catch that tricky rooster, again.

#notacrafter #crafting #indianamakers

#makersgonnamake #chickencatcher


My daughter shared with me that she is “very sorry for creating the hurricane situation” and hope no one dies because it would be her fault.

Apparently, she and her best friend created a weather machine to control the weather. They could not agree upon the type of weather to have, and thus….the hurricane.