I don’t think we should be proud when we work a lot of hours. Not that a good work ethic isn’t a point of pride, but I think we should be grateful for our opportunities, and take them as blessings from God.

Oh, but now I do so love to complain. And I have, often, about the hamster wheel work-a-day schedule my husband has maintained for the last couple of years while I was finishing grad school. I found myself rattling off his m.o. like a radio announcer, “Three jobs! 70 hours! Often overnight! With crazy people!” I was always proud of him and the way he never complained, working so many hours with such a difficult population. But it was always clear to me how tempting it was to become self-satisfied with this life. As if there was some award at the end of the year for Most Nights a Therapist Has Been Paged In a Row. Oooh, I hope it’s a cookie. That would make it all worth it.

This school year, I’m no longer a student, and Lovey Loverpants will no longer be working an insane number of hours with the insane (excluding the hours he has to coexist with me). He’ll take a day off each week to spend with Baby Girl while I am prepping my lesson plans and grading papers. Once again, it’s so easy to become prideful of this, to congratulate Loverpants for making such a sacrifice, for being such an honorable dad. But you know what? Daddy and Madi Day is a blessing. It’s given to us in grace. I’m so thrilled for my family, so excited for more daddy/daughter facetime, and taking it all as a gift and not a given.


They’re together so much, they’ve started to dress alike.


Cooking Class



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I am about to make a huge sacrifice for beauty…
I am laying down the sacrificial lamb of my pride to advertise this…
which should tell you how passionately I feel about this matter.

It is a matter of import, one of tremendous gravity.

It is, of course, the issue of non-shadowy-eye-shadow.

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An oxymoron, you insist?

I thought the same for so long, dear friends. As a lover of my spectacles, I thought I might be destined to a life of LIVING IN MY OWN SHADOW! So shadowy were my eyes hid behind the imposing framewear.

But lo! Into my life came Mary Kay Eyesicles creme eyeshadow. And yes, though I am an independent beauty consultant with Mary Kay who will profit from your purchase of this product, I will not, however, benefit from having the following picture on the interwebz with my pointy little freckled nose and my oral hygiene practices made manifest for all the world wide web to see.

Photo 24

I do so love this product.  And yours, for ten moneys, and shipping’s on me!
You’re welcome.

Photo 18

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A couple of weeks ago, I was in the bathroom having an intervention appointment with Mary Kay who was working her magic on me with a little thing called showing free radicals who’s boss microdermabrasion, and busy though I was with the pink lady products [which you can purchase and have shipped to you for free through my website linked above under the “mary kay” tab, not that I am plugging shamelessly or anything, not that I want a Pink Cadillac today or anything], I suddenly heard a loud THUD and I was sure Baby Girl was taking her first Danger Mouse geronomooooo out of her crib. But I came out of the bathroom to near no crying, to see Lovey sitting on the exerball just casually thinking maybe the sound came from the stairwell that leads to the other units in our building. But further inspection suggested that perhaps it came from outside. Still, we had no leads.

When I was gone to the funeral last week, Lovey called me and said, “Hey, remember that loud THUD the other night? Well, I found scraps of a coconut in the wreath on the front door.”

I will not even begin to explore who purposefully carried a coconut in the mid-February freeze to play darts at my stoop.

So a word from the ‘hood. Beware of coconut cannonballs aiming for the target of the festive wreath on your front door. We just can’t be too careful about the hazards of tropical fruit.

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