There are eleventy billion articles about why Disneyworld is awesome. Here’s one about the ways in which it blows.
Know Yourself
Do I Have a Drinking Problem?
We’re visiting my Mormon brother and sister-in-law in Salt Lake City. I’m an agnostic heathen. We have five kids between us. Here’s a typical day… 10 a.m.Wheeler Farm: Kids feed ducks. I step in pig poo. 12:30 p.m. Dinosaur Museum: Kids brush sand off dinosaur fossils. I forget protective goggles and get a sandcastle in my eyes….
The Life Cycle of a Construction Worker’s Wolf Whistle
The passage of time in a woman’s life can obviously be depicted in many ways. Her figure, her face, her hair and her demeanor all change, mostly to her detriment unless she has money a-plenty for surgical enhancements. Her attitude towards life obviously changes too; this is noticeable in her attitude to the wolf whistle…
My Personal Tale of Good Enough: My Makeshift Security System
I’m a little nutso about home security – as in completely insane. I always need the doors locked and on hot nights, I leave the bedroom windows open just a crack in case an enterprising stabber rock climbs our sheer walls to gain access to my body. I also must have our home alarm activated…
Why Am I Here?
Recently, I wrote about my secret dirty love affair with the suburbs. I love the perfect parks with their gorgeously uniform rose bushes. I love the top-rated elementary schools. I love the happy, pretty people. I love my square footage. I know that something is missing: it’s that crazy, joyful buzz and diversity of the city….
Pill-Popping Mommy
Drugs. I’m on them. Cymbalta 60 mgs. Elavil 40 mgs. Ambien 2 mgs. There. I said it. I’ve noticed it’s a trend for moms to confess about their drug habits. How many they take and how insane they are when they don’t take them. We’re a scary lot, we mommies on drugs. So what gives?…
Coloring Outside the Lines
A bit of back story: I do calligraphy. In fact, in a fit of crazed pre-bride psychosis, I decided to hand-letter my wedding invitations. ‘Cause nothing makes a working mother of three about to marry for the second time more sane and even-tempered than choosing to be permanently covered in blue-black ink right before she…
Death of a Dream
I’ve always dreamt of having a butler. Always. And no, it has nothing to do with watching Mr. Belvedere as a child. On mornings when I have no desire to get up I think, If I had a butler, he could bring me coffee in bed and my slippers would be waiting for for me…
