Quick fun facts: I’m 45, have been married since I was 18, and have two boys over the age of 21. I’ve got a Bachelor’s in Business Administration, and I owned my own company for five years.
I’ve taught myself sewing, jewelry, bottle beading, cross-stitch, embroidery, making headdresses, and costumes. I designed my tiny house, learned landscaping, carpentry, painting, patio building, driveway repair, and building code. I navigated dealing with contractors, worked as a home stager, organizer, and decluttered a ton of junk. …
Dressing up in costume has been a passion for me since I learned to walk. I wore out multiple pairs of Wonder Woman Underoos until my mom declared that they didn’t sell my size anymore. Whenever Halloween came around, choosing my costumes became an exciting rite of passage that tested my family’s creativity.
In my grade school years, I wore a variety of costumes. I became the witchiest witch, a bearded pirate (using my long hair), a Native American dancer with my mom’s beaded moccasins, and a 50’s girl with my grandma’s red lipstick. …
They are gone in a flash.
’Tis the season to send cookies and other edibles to family members. I am no stranger to boxing up food for fun. So, when I asked my younger son what he needed, and he told me, “Oatmeal raisin cookies.”
I hopped into action.
I baked two kinds: oatmeal raisin with nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, and star anise, and oatmeal chocolate chip with nutmeg and cloves.
The cookies were warm, gooey, and delicious when I covered them with aluminum foil. I slid them into the package that contained leftover red card sleeves, a reused glass jar full of Thai chilies, three full packages of steel-cut oatmeal, the leftover remains of the fourth bag of oatmeal, and ONE TINY HAND. …
I am the queen of my domain.
Microsoft, we stand here at the brink of a precipice. Only one of us is coming out of this whole. I’ve had about enough of your constant pricking and poking for updates. Our relationship status has everything to do with the fact that I can’t get rid of you. And goodness knows, I’ve tried.
I know you’re sitting there thinking that back in the good old days, I took your DOS and liked it. Well, you were wrong. I was only humoring you. …
You know your needs better than HGTV.
In the twenty-six years that I owned a home, messages bombarded me about how I should decorate, live, and own my home. “Build for yourself and your lifestyle!” If you can’t build a house: “Reno your kitchen and bathroom(s) and basement!”
In the 00s, HGTV praised granite countertops, floating islands, shiplap, and farm sinks.
In the 90s, it was wood floors, oak cabinets, large tubs, ivy wallpaper, and wallpaper borders.
In the 80s, decorative flowers everywhere required enormous pieces of furniture coupled with dark trim and formal dining rooms.
Every year, marketers couple decorating with living space design. …
Animals you shouldn’t pick up in a bucket.
My mom has a soft heart for living creatures. Since her early childhood, she spent time raising goats and chickens. Years of living in the desert left her with a healthy knowledge of both flora and fauna. She’s no stranger to dangerous critter avoidance and safe walking practices at any time of day outside.
However, avoiding snakes in the desert is difficult. Once they move into an area, they act like entitled adults who want you to give them service even if you don’t work there, Lady. Yes, snakes do eat various pest-like creatures. …
Disclaimer: We are not responsible for chewed up personal items, impaired sleep, or food eaten while unattended. That’s all on you.
You’ve heard of life coaching, but have you ever had the one-on-one services of a furry best friend?
Look no further. At Dog’s Life Services, we help you structure your day so that you don’t forget to do anything.
Struggle to wake up and get going? Our canine employees are specially trained to wake you up each and every morning at the crack of dawn for breakfast, exercise, and bathroom use. You can’t get this special three-in-one treatment anywhere else. …
After homeschooling my sons, both went to public high school and community college. My older son went to a university near home and lived with us. My younger son chose to go to a school two-and-a-half hours away from us. He was a few weeks from his sixteenth birthday when he moved out of our house and into the dorms on campus.
At the time, we were woefully unprepared to find him a roommate off-campus. Also, he was so far from the age of majority that I was afraid to set him loose without a life raft. We plunked down the painful $7k to feed and board him. …
It’s a good thing we have so many ways to communicate.
I’m an 80s kid. I grew up with a rotary phone on a party line. For those of you who exist in the modern era, a party-line meant that you shared a phone line but not a phone number. At any point, you could pick up the phone and listen to other people’s conversations like a filthy creeper. The rotary dial spun circles out of numbers with a spiral cord that let you stand three feet away from the heavy rock that was our phone.
Local phone calls cost a base amount, and long-distance (any place without your three-digit phone code) tended to be dollars per hour to talk to your family. A lot of people invested in stamps and USPS rather than lose whole paychecks to interacting with far-flung relatives. And international calls cost obscene amounts of money that no one could afford. …
What do you see when you look outside?
Ever since S.S. and I downsized from a house in the suburbs to a sixth-floor apartment in a large city, we’ve noticed differences in our people watching.
Aside from the excitement of having our very own sniper (when we didn’t dare open our curtains), suburban window viewing sounded a lot like this:
“Looks like the neighbor got a new dog.”
“Huh, everyone’s out mowing today.”
Or after a hailstorm, “Looks like everyone contacted their insurance adjusters.”
City viewing involves twists and turns.
People walk their dogs and make a show of looking for bags on their person. The pantomime lasts a few minutes before they exaggeratedly throw up their hands like, “You saw me, I tried!” …