Call it a Face-cation or a Face-break… whatever you want to call it, I’m taking it. And unlike a lot of the dramatic Debbie’s out there, I’m not making a grand announcement via a status update on my personal account. No “I’m deleting my Facebook account”. Nothing. I’m just stepping back and shutting the doors. This post is the biggest…
Running the shuttle yesterday, Mackenzie and I drove thru one of the older neighborhoods in our area. You know the ones – with the big, old, huge estates that the people who built the towns used to live in. The houses that are enviable even to those who know the secrets that often live behind the doors. Right on cue, she…
The Rooster and the kids always try to stock my shelves with lotion and shower gel at Christmas time. And either my skin is really dry and Steve’s trying to tell me something or he forgot to do inventory before he left, because this year they gave me 6 lotions and no shower gel. So my options were to either exchange some…
I thought 30 seconds about writing this post. There are a lot of people angry with Paula Deen right now and for the most part, they have a right to be. But before you fry the woman in butter, let’s talk about this. Paula Deen is in a LOT of hot water right now. In case you live under a…
I heard an interesting statistic this morning. Couples who have daughters have a higher percentage of divorce rates than those with sons. I have three daughters which, according to this statistic, makes me 10% more likely to get divorced. This is on top of the already high 50% divorce rate. Whilst I’m not looking to learn about a divorce lawyer……
Thanks to Gilligan’s Island, women have been classified as being either a “Ginger” or a “MaryAnn” for years. Neither one is bad… they’re just different. M came home a couple of months ago and I could tell something was bothering her. In case you aren’t there already, it takes a lot longer to pry the answer to “what’s wrong” out…
I returned from a conference yesterday and was reminded of the moment back in May where I (apparently) lost my senses and agreed to let my 11 year old attend Cotillion classes.