When Bananas Attack

Because I can’t think of anything to write am very busy I’m compiling some of my FB and Twitter statuses for your weekend enjoyment purposes.

Set my cell phone to “airplane mode” and threw it in the air. Worst. Transformer. Ever.

either Facebook is lagging or I just had a stroke.

Okay…is it bad when the Space Center messages you back to console you?

Filling out apps: Last name, first name, preferred name…had to fight the urge to put “Your Highness”.

Wishing I had enough money for a lesbian haircut and a tattoo.

This vase makes me happy. 🙂

Okay, I’m never going to figure this damn thing out. Apologies to the four people who read my blog.

With regard to customer service. I like the name of wordpress.com’s “Happiness Engineers.”

Customer service everywhere SUCKS…I think it’s a law.

How can I possibly think when I keep getting email? Perhaps the answer lies in having an email service that doesn’t yell, “YAY!” when a new message hits the inbox. :/

I’m thinking sprinkling sauteed onions with onion powder may be overkill. **won’t get kissed tonight**

Just saw the headline “How to give the perfect wedding toast” and I’m thinking, “Toast? Who has toast at their wedding??” oy vey

So I’m sitting here minding my own business and Abby has her arm tangled in my bra strap. The hell–??

You know you need to get out more when you catch yourself singing Hannah Montana songs. ON PURPOSE.

Opened freezer looking for dinner. Attacked by falling bananas and frozen bacon. Send ice cream and a microwave.

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Happy Birthday, Abigail Aurora

T minus 20 minutes and counting!

about two weeks old

Two years ago, very insanely early in the morning, Matthew and I walked (yes, walked) to the hospital carrying what we needed for our expected c-section and short stay afterward. I was a nervous wreck. I’d never had a c-section and I knew from previous surgery that I didn’t do so well with anesthesia. Despite an intense desire to meet the little girl that had been doing roundhouse kicks and tai chi in my belly, I wasn’t at all eager to get the show on the road. Continue reading

On Father’s Day

For me the word “fatherhood” conjures many images, feelings, and thoughts. Not all of them good. My father was the one who spent time with me when I was little. He taught me to fly a kite, play baseball, bowl, and play pool. He told me, “That’s not swimming” when I tried to pass off floating while walking along the bottom of the pond on my hands. He bought ribbon candy every Christmas and attempted to console me whenever I got hurt.

Continue reading