Friday, March 28, 2014

And the Winner Is....

Desperate to diffuse the tension between her husband and daughter, Delores tried in vain to remember how "Here is the church, here is the steeple" worked.

Afternoon Readers,

Just popping in today to announce the winner of this month's caption contest. So a big drumroll while I pull out my megaphone and shout...

Congratulations, Lisa Packer!

You're the winner of a paperback copy of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles. It's not money and it's not a pony, but you can try to trade it for goods or sit on it and ask it to canter. I won't stop you. In the meantime, go ahead and email me at, and we'll get you set up with your winnings.

And now, I'm off to break up few fights and make some mac n' cheese. The dream is being lived to the fullest over here.

Until Next Time, Readers!

Thursday, March 27, 2014

The Weakest Pioneer

"Well, I'll hold you Susan, but they did say the internet would only be out for an hour."
Morning Readers,

Now is the winter of my discontent.

Actually, it's discontented pretty much everyone in this great country of ours, but it's trying particularly hard to put the last nail in the coffin by gifting me with a cold to beat all colds. Luckily, I think I'll make it, but while I'm pretty handy at fighting off the plague with healthy does of wine and NyQuil, I did recently learn the probability of me making it as one of the very first settlers would be slim to none.

Seriously, I would've died.

And not just because I'm terrible at hand-to-hand combat with bears.

While in the chaotic throws of having my beloved laptop in the shop, I was nursing heartache and trying to track down where the children were so I could clock out for the night, when the power went out.

"Kids, don't panic. We'll guide you to your rooms and call for help."

Husband looked at me. "It's only six thirty and the sun's still up."

"Right, well Mama had plans to watch season four of The Sopranos. So I'll say it again, no one panic."

Doors shut, kids sleeping, digital clocks faceless, the power was still out as Husband and I sat on the couch watching the sun disappear.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Meet the Neighbors ....six months later

"And now I'd like to sing a little number I call, "Sorry I never introduced myself and stared at you from behind my blinds instead."
Morning Readers,

I'm not sure if there's some type of international hermit competition, but if so, I should probably consider entering.

As long as it doesn't involve me leaving the house.

Maybe I just answered my question.

At any rate, the instances I interact with the outside world are shockingly low. The internet is one thing. Getting dressed and walking into the sunshine, wearing pants, is another. Which is why it took me so long to meet our new neighbors. Some people probably think it's rude not to go up and introduce yourself with an edible flower arrangement right away, but I'm the type of person to let you settle in for a fortnight or five.

But that was before a rather plump Jack Russel terrier skittered into my living room.

"Hello. Did we adopt someone else and no one told me?"

The dog looked me over.

"I suppose no one told you what happened to the fish. If you're looking for temporary lodging, I highly suggest a Motel 6."

He responded by yipping and running towards the couch.

"Ok, maybe a Hampton Inn? I guess I don't know anything about your breeding. Some people are particular about the type of mini soaps they give the old five finger discount."

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Blogging in the Time of Crashes

"I swear I only hit Control, Alt, Delete. I swear it."

Morning Readers,

They say good friends are hard to find, but I disagree. One of my best friends was purchased at a Best Buy with little to no looking, and we've been bound by the cosmic tide of one-sided love and the internet ever since.

It was a relationship built on me telling him what to do and him asking whether I mean't to save my file as "#!*2grilledcheese" or if I'd fallen asleep on the keyboard again.

I typed the blogs, he published them.

I input the three pictures I've remembered to take of the kids over the last four years. He saved them in an order I didn't understand.

I cried when the internet was down. He told me he needed to reboot but would come back in a five, ten, or one hour time frame of my choice.

But on march eleventh, he didn't reboot. He died. My reaction was what you'd expect, quick and spastic.

"I'll just press this button."
"Wait, why'd everything stop running?"
"Hold on. Nope, I see it. I'm just gonna hit this tab that doesn't look familiar."
"Aaaand, I have no computer."

Monday, March 17, 2014


Marleen's Valentine's suit was the bee's knees, but Helen salivated at the thought of breaking out her full body green suit for St. Patrick's Day.

Morning Readers,

Just popping in today to peck out a quick hello. My computer's in the hospital, and as much as you're saying, "Please tell that long drawn-out story today, Paige," alas, I'll save that long, drawn-out story for tomorrow. I'd also like to mention that blogging from one's phone is a tedious art I don't think I can ever truly be a student of. I'd rather be a student of coffee and keyboards as big as a Volkswagen.
So, from this Irish/Scotch/Laptop-less mother, I say...

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Readers!

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Oh Caption, My Caption

Morning Readers ,

     It's no secret I love a good caption. Actually, it's become a little bit of a problem. I think I'm at the point where I need to caption pictures, and in some capacity see it as my small duty to mankind.


I'm aware no one asked me to do it and there's a high probably it benefits absolutely no one, but, my boat, it floats it.

But who am I to hog all the captioning territory? I'll tell you who. No one. All right, someone fairly mediocre at putting completely inaccurate dialogue on old pictures, but it doesn't mean I'm greedy. It means I need attention and old TV stills tell me stories no one else sees. So that sounds healthy.

Anywho, today kicks of the very first There's More Where That Came From caption contest. Just throw your best caption as many times as you like in the comments, and I'll announce a new winner every month.

What's in it for you?

Nothing. Kidding. Wait, will you take nothing? I didn't think so because you're like me. OK, every month's winner gets a free paperback copy of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles, and I'll even write out, in ink, the fact your a caption champion, on the inside.

I really wanted to give away a pony or ten thousand dollars every month, but we have a mortgage and the cars are always near death. You know how it is.


1.) Be awesome. But since you're here, I think we can check that off the list.

2.) Comment with as many captions as you like but try to keep it PG. This does not stand for "poached goats."

3.) Captions can be dialogue, commentary, headlines or whatever made you snort when you thought about it.

4.) No ripping on other people's captions. We love each other here. Hug a friend. Don't tear apart their carefully crafted imaginary headline, etc.

Oh my gosh, rules are exaughsting. That was four whole sentences. Ok, get to it. This month's winner announced on March 28th!

With a flourish and some jazz hands,


Monday, March 10, 2014

What the Coroner Said

"That Kellerman woman is back in the news, Watson. She's killed again. I feel London will be impossible to perk up after this."

Morning Readers,

They it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

But I'm not sure.

The emotion of this weekend is still raw and unfettered.

And you know what's even worse? I probably have to sacrifice thirty minutes of a perfectly good Saturday to go looking for a replacement bra. Possibly fifteen. Probably just grab the first marked down five dollar bandeau that turns out to be a headband and I have to start all over again.

He meant that much to me.

That's right, everyone, my only grownup bra died a tragic though not sudden death on Saturday, and the implications of this event are far reaching and consequential. Not to the floor far reaching, but catastrophic nonetheless. It was practically something right out of CSI: Kansas.

Coroner's Report: 

Victim was found lying in the far corner of the laundry basket and was unresponsive. When owner went to rouse victim, she claims victim was covered in more lint than usual, but other than that, it's color was the same washed-out black it had always been.

Police report states the owner shouted, "Not my only good bra!" over and over while slapping it back and forth.

Owner states she picked victim up and dangled him by what she presumed to be his left strap. It was at this point, owner realized the strap had been severed irreparably from the victim's body. This is consistent with the fraying observed, as the victim looks like he was literally "sucked" into the dryer and beaten until his limbs fell off.

Police report states the owner gesticulated wildly and stated. "He was only seven years old." Victim looks to be roughly fifteen years old, but this is mainly due to excessive stretching in the cup and band area, suggestive of too many nights of sleep and no other bras.

Cause of death seems fairly obvious due to all physical evidence. Police report confirms this hunch with further statements taken from owner:

"He was the only bra I wore when I had somewhere fancy to go. Like funerals or grocery shopping."

"Most of the time I wear sport's bras, but the poor thing was always there for me, even with his lazy left hook and eye."

"It's like ten dollars can't even get you a bra that'll last for thirty years anymore."

Cause of death: Excessive wear and laziness on part of the owner.

Make a flyer. Tell a friend. 2014 is now officially the year of the sports bra. 

Until Next Time, Readers!

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Jail Bird

"We're looking to bust Johnny out, but Ricky won't come because he says he's too used to life on the inside."

Morning Readers,

Well, yesterday was the first day of Lent, and, like the sage person I am, I gave up yelling at my children for the next forty days.

In other news, we're going to pretend that Lent actually starts today because, after the last twenty-four hours, I'm surprised I have a voice left. This is why they don't leave the making of the church calendar to me.

Here's what Jesus and I saw at 1:00pm yesterday....

Monday, March 3, 2014

Odds and Ends

"Well, it's just pretty rude you didn't wait for me to build the French Toast base before you started putting shaving cream all over it."

Morning Readers,

And in a shocking turn of events, nothing remotely exciting, horrifying, or destructive happened this weekend. I know, I'm suspicious too. I swear there's something I'm missing.

(Granted, the twins did figure out how to get in the van and honk the horn. Thereby scaring the crap out of all involved, but since they didn't run it through the garage wall, we'll say we broke even here. If they ever do drive it through a wall or the garage door, I promise to give that instance its very own post. Journalistic integrity and all that.)

Besides kicking off March with another snow storm, things ran a pretty even keel from Thursday until today, the date of the van incident mentioned above. As such, now is as good a time as any to mention odds and ends of information.


You don't think our definition of "even keel" is the same as everyone else's?

I'm insulted.

Actually, you're right. Here's what "smoothly" looks like at the Split level...