12 Days of Gifty-Wifties

For the mutt owners in your life, I give you Wisdom Panel:

We did this for Roo on the recommendation from one of my coworkers. Whether the DNA test gets the breeds 100% right or not is up for debate, but regardless, it's fun to see what their makeup could be and draw your own conclusions.

For instance, our test said that our Roobabe is mostly Treeing Walker Coonhound and German Shepherd. If you know anything about those breeds and our Roo, you'll know that's probably not totally true. Those dogs start at 45 lbs and Roobabe is a healthy 35. Those breeds tend to be darker colored and our Roo is light yellow (as I call it "Yellooo") and white. Those breeds are scent-trackers for medium-sized mammals. Our Roo is a sight/sound tracker and a digger for small rodents (just ask my dad about his pock-marked backyard after this last weekend!).

Click any photo to enlarge.

Where I think the test got to the truth was the page on "other mixed breeds". They listed a terrier and the Basenji - both of which we've suspected before. She has the ears, body style, coloring and face of a Basenji. She has the tracking, digging, tenacity and broad shoulders of a terrier. 

I do consider the test's suggestion of German Shepherd in that she has dark skin around her eyes and mouth. she also has a shepherd-like gait when she stalks squirrels (she only moves her feet and keeps her body perfectly level, lifting her feet delicately). She's larger than a Basenji but smaller than a shepherd, so that cross makes sense. 

Bottom line: It's fun and you may learn something. 

It's also good fodder for dog park conversations. (It gives you something to talk about while your dog awkwardly sniffs another dog while it's relieving itself.) 

We purchased our Wisdom Panel on Amazon. I think it was fun and would do it again. 

Again, no compensation for this post. We just liked doing it and bought this brand on a whim/recommendation. 

12 Days of Gifty-Wifties

My Mr. says this stuff is the bee's knees. He said that other men said so too.

Again, not compensated for this post at all. Yet. Hey, Harry's! Send my Mr. a free set!

I'll keep you posted if that works :)

12 Days of Gifty-Wifties

This one's from Williams Sonoma, but you could make one too! Maybe with dried herbs so it wouldn't wilt? Or maybe wilting is part of the drying process?

Multitasking! Phone Dates

Last night I called my mom on the way home through the blue tooth in the car. I called my Grandmother through my earbuds on a walk with the dog (in the snow!). I called back a friend while I was in the bathtub.

Multitasking!

My friend and I took a brief hiatus on our phone call so that I could get out of the tub and so that she could check out at the store, but we then continued our call while she was driving home and I was cooking dinner.

Multi-freakin'-tasking!

It was so nice to catch up with family and friends while doing other things. Don't get me wrong, I love all of these people dearly, but I cannot stand being on the phone. It's my least favorite form of communication. I'd take in-person, texting, letter writing, etc. over the phone.

In fact, I hate the phone so much that I usually put off calling people until I am forced to. Or until I have a few minutes alone where I can't do anything else (yesterday's commute home, for example). This explains why I did all of my phone conversing at once. Getting two hours of phone chatting out of the way while driving, walking the dog, bathing and cooking was excellent.

Multitasking!

The Best Tips Are Better Than Money

tip 1 - visit your pa
tip 2 - look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself it is all good and I can handle the challenges of every day, one day at a time.
tip 3 - have neener make you chicken pot pie.
tip 4 - take roo for a walk, try to smell fresh air and have an enjoyable beverage.
tip 5 - go grocery shopping with neener, she suggests hitting the wine isle first, after you get a glass of your favorite to aid the shopping experience.
tip 6 - bring yourself to pa's ranch and run roo. Neener added this part but I agree.
tip 7 - hang out with your niece and nephew, in costume, you could be super [name redacted].
tip 8 - play like a duck and let it roll off.
tip 9 - watch downton abbey, parks and rec with neener and pa.
do you see a theme here?

Thanks for the comment, Dad. We're coming to you for Thanksgiving. I think we can run through the whole list at the end of this month!

Seattle = dog, Portland = cat*

Seattle, 2013.

Unexpected stop in Spokane due to thick fog in Seattle. Duh.

4 Days, 3 Nights, Airbnb studio apartment in Capital Hill.

Some seafood, some tea, lots of coffee, a bit of beer, tastes of wine.

Played Battleship and Heads-Up.

Walked up and down hills and hiked around parks and piers.

Arguably more homeless than Chicago. One drunkard was looking for a "man to love" him. (record scratch)

Slept about 9 hours/night. 

Saw fish tossed at the market. Took a ferry to Bainbridge Island. Rode the monorail. Took in some open-mic comedy. 

Fire roasted bagels. Russian sauerkraut pastries. Mussels and clams. Rumbles are like scrambles. Fish tacos. Homemade potato chips. Local vegetarian pot pie. 

Drove 2 hours to Ellensburg to meet my great aunt and uncle for the second time and my dad's cousin and her husband for the first time. 

Family is great!

Volunteer Park

Water supply

Chia cow outside of a shop that sells locally sourced prepared food in refundable containers

Remedy Teas

Seattle Coffee Works

Bedlam Coffee

Boat to Bainbridge

Stopped along the Pass to Ellensburg.

Seeing sun for the first time in days.

Meeting family for the first time.

*A review I read that compared the two cities said that Seattle is the "dog-person" city while Portland is the "cat-person" city. I'm so glad we chose the one we did! And we saw a lot of dogs! They are allowed in every shop, mall, public place you can imagine!

Roo-Bee and The Big Back Yard

The Mr. and I took a long weekend to go south for the pre-winter. We spend over 3 days with my parents and their big, fenced-in, bunny/mole/chipmunk-filled back yard. 'Twas dog-heaven!

My brother joined us for two days and some whiskey-ciders. 

I put a cinnamon apple garnish on his drink with an accidental middle-finger outline. 

He made an appropriate face.

We got to take Roo with us which was nerve-wracking for her inclination to car-puke and her somewhat tenacious play. He did fine on both and my family's dog, Dilly, was so patient. Here she is napping. In Roo's bed. With a pillow on her. 

Here they are both napping. Roo loved being part of a pack. She weaseled her way into a cuddle at any chance she got. Dilly was again patient, although she was not as thrilled for the head-to-head cuddles. So cute it needs to be the largest photo.

Here the Mr. is with a gun. 

Lord.

We did end up target shooting later that weekend. 

I smoked 'em!

These targets are hanging up in my office and I can't wait to show my highly conservative bosses my accuracy and versatility with a 1911 Sig Sauer, a revolver (Dad can comment with the make) and a bolt-action Browning. 

Right AND left handed. 

Boom. 

Thanks for the 

dog play,

black coffee, 

dutch apple pie (I ate more last night even thought I wasn't AT ALL hungry!), 

campfire meat, 

laughing at the stupidest things, 

shootin' the metaphorical breeze, 

deer sightings,

shooting the literal rifle range,

apple cider,

talks during football/baseball/movies,

later nights,

sleeping in,

muddy boots,

government shutdown distraction,

tennis ball, 

naps, 

and twin beds :)

A Wedded Thought Sandwich

I asked the Mr. last night on our Roo-walk what the favorite part of his day is.

"This. Walking with you and Roo every night. And nice weather."

The power of suggestion is strong with this one. I could say that I thought I had a stomach ache from dinner and within hours he'd have one too. Both of us having different meals. Maybe he's joining me in solidarity*!

He asked me the same question and I said, "This too. And watching the news with you. I like watching the news and having something to talk about during and afterwards. It keeps us from rehashing the same topics or complaining about work all the time."

The Mr. went on to say that he thinks having Roo has strengthened our relationship. I think so too, now that he said so.

The power of suggestion is strong with me too.

Roo has given us mandatory time outside. And we often do it together because we both want to spend time with her. And the nice weather. We team up for walks, some awkward games of fetch-slash-keep away in the front yard**, co-tackle teeth brushing and argue about the best way to train her not to chase the bunnies***.

She's something we can join together to be both for (in times of cuteness) and against (in times of chew-ness). We argue about her sometimes and she pisses us off, but she's taught us patience and defined "fambly"****.

Post inspired by this quote and article:

What's the secret to a happy marriage? 

National Public Radio! My husband and I spend a lot of time during the week driving in separate cars. We both listen to NPR. At the end of the day, when we are done talking about work, one of us will say, "Did you hear the piece about…?" It's nice to have so much to discuss.

*Is "solidarity" a popular word now? I see it everywhere and feel the need to use it frequently. Is it like literary twerking?

**Roo does NOT bring the ball back, so we tease her.

***Bottom line: impossible.

****The Mr. knows what I mean.

Swearing in Front of Mother Teresa and Pants-ing the Pope

What a RICH weekend. It was so full of wonderful things!

I've told you before that I grew up in a small town in Indiana and lost someone special to me as a teenager. My parents moved from my childhood home to Southern Indiana when I graduated college. My younger brother went with them. I had rarely returned to my hometown, but now my brother is back living there. This past weekend we returned just in time for a real, Midwestern fall.

My brother invited the Mr. and me to come to an outdoor party/concert/camp-out. We are choc-full-a activities from here until November, but this was the first invitation my brother extended so we didn't want to miss the opportunity. We first had lunch with my Grammy a few towns over, laughed at the stupidest things and then headed to Small Town, Indiana.

Does anyone else ever return to their hometown and it almost feels dreamlike? I feel that way. I recognize things and it seems real, but it's all totally different. Like I'm trying to remember my childhood after a head trauma.

My amnesia faded in and out as we drove through the heart of town. "The post office hasn't changed." "There used to be a coffee shop there." I'd remembered turns right as we were upon them. Thankfully, the Mr. had a good reaction time and was patient with my sporadic, "turn left NOW" commands.

We turned into my brother's drive knowing that the house he lives in was once inhabited by my high school boyfriend's parents. After the accident. My boyfriend never lived there, but I did stay the night there once to house sit and watch their dogs. It was surreal to walk back into the house with different furniture, different dogs.

My brother then took us to the shop where he works as a landscaper. I'd never seen where he works and the building was pretty new. It was so well put together and clean - especially for a group of guys who get dirty for a living! I'm so proud of him!

As we were leaving I noticed two crosses in the ditch and sputtered out half of a question before stopping myself. I hadn't recognized the intersection because the landscaping office was new to the corner. I also hadn't been back to the site of the accident in probably 8 years. One cross was original and the other was new and decorated with a pen and ever increasing signatures, but both to the same end.

We talked about the striking coincidence of it all without lumps in our throats. My brother is living and working where tough memories were stale and visceral, like fish fry garbage. He said he had unsettling dreams about it, but that they have stopped now. I hope he's been able to rewrite those areas with his own happy life. That the wood and paint in both places are just architecture.

The Mr. and I had so much fun this past weekend. It was our first time camping together in a tent. We listened to music by a high school friend. We had pulled pork around a campfire, breakfast links in a bay window, and pizza in a pub (Maddy, it was my first time at the Barbie hotel!). We hugged our host and hostess, thanking them for the 10th time. We hugged my brother a little tighter and longer than our welcome hug.

A while ago, the Mr. and I helped a coworker of my brother's who was given a raw deal. That coworker is doing a lot better now. We got to meet his whole family at this camp-out - in-laws, children, the works! They were all so kind and appreciative. Everyone was. Most of them are self-proclaimed red-necks who would swear in front of Mother Teresa and pants the Pope, but my brother has a good group of people around him and I'm thankful he's got "family" close.

Flip-It Friday: At What Age Did You Become Yourself?

THIS.

Every since I was a baby I wanted no one's help. 

STAHPIT was my first word. (As in, "Stop trying to help me" ... or maybe, "Stop touching me.")

Either way I was hopelessly I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T:

"She cook, she clean, never smell like onion rings"

(This video is hilarious and I don't know why. Maybe it's how censored it is.)

So one day I decided I didn't need help dressing myself. 

I got out everything red I had and put it all on at once. 

My debut elicited laughter and I went straight back into my room to pout.

Now I realize that that was my true self. 

Hopelessly independent and critically susceptible to public opinion. 

When did you realize your true self? 

I always imaged it was around the 4th or 5th grade, but maybe I'm just projecting my own experience on everyone. Something about being old enough to think for yourself but young enough to make bold statements. 

10 Ways to Tell You've "Developmentally Lept" Into Adulthood

A Developmental Leap is when a person reached a turning point between phases of life and makes a giant step towards growing up. It's exhibited in children by being cry-y, cranky or clingy. In adults* it's exhibited by being cry-y, cranky and get-the-f#ck-off-y.

I've noticed it as such:

1) You pass up worrying about preventing gray hairs and wrinkles for wondering how they show up so quickly and being generally in awe of the transformation. Like one of those pills that, when in water, becomes a towel or a foam dinosaur.

2) You start off conversations with coworkers with the phrase, "My financial planner says..." and you get worried about other people not having a retirement plan. For both their sake and yours. You don't want your tax dollars to compensate for their lack of planning!

3) You get hair cuts with the specific intent to not look like a mom**, not draw attention and not have to spend more than 10 minutes on it***. I got my hair cut last Tuesday and literally NO ONE has said a word about it. Except The Mr, but he's legally required to notice.

4) An invitation to attend an outdoor concert seems like a trick.

5) When you happen to get in a nap, you wake up in a state similar to the twilight between drunk and hung-over and you haven't had a sip of alcohol in days. And yet... it was a wonderful nap! Let's go for broke and call an 8:30 bedtime!

6) Shopping makes you nauseous for a combination of any of the following reasons: prices, sizes, tweens, the general public, florescent lighting, touching those credit card machine buttons with your bare hands or the ease of accessibility to drive-thrus.

7) You scold someone else's unattended children in public and feel no shame. ("Hey hey hey! Watch for cars!")

8) You recognize your own slow-creeping racism/sexism that is birthed from road rage.

9) You notice a hobo pooping in the alley behind your house and, while you are disgusted, you commend him for doing it in some newspapers and at least trying to throw it away. Never mind he placed it in the recycling bin.****

10) You keep a formula letter to the city and/or bookmark the 311 website so that you can easily report downed tree limbs, blacken street lights, graffiti or that damn noise from the neighbors having a party past 10 PM*****.


*Me
**My only real request
***Even for formal occasions
****Have you read "Everybody poops"? You've gotta hand it to him. Or don't. Ew.
*****The. Nerve.

First Star to the Right and Straight on 'til Morning

via

When there's a smile in your heart 
There's no better time to start
Think of all the joy you'll find 
When you leave the world behind 
And wave your cares goodbye
You can fly
You can fly
You can fly
You can fly

I was reciting lines from Peter Pan last night. The Mr. indicated that he'd never seen it before so, of course...

As a child I could recite the whole movie. Now, I can only remember some of the lines. Mostly I remember Wendy's because she had a lyrical quality to her voice that made is stick like a song. 

When we were looking up the movie, the Mr. asked me if it was the one made in the 50's. I was surprised to realize how old the film was. Naturally, its been restored for color and clarity, but the cartoon was still pretty impressive. 

The racism, sexism, politically-incorrectness was pretty impressive too. Taking it all in with nostalgia through a historical lens made it pretty wonderful though and we overlooked a lot. 

Not sure the Mr. found the magic as beguiling as I did, but I was singing and lilting alongside the Darling children, their parents, and the incredible creatures that leapt out of the minds of children and into the world of Neverland. 

As an adult, I was drawing connections between the movie, niche pop-culture, the strange fairy-obsessed crowd that can be manifests itself on Halloween and Michael Jackson. 

But with some wine in hand, a sleeping dog at my feet and a patient Mr. willing to participate in a skip down memory lane, I was only drawn out of the wonderment temporarily, jumping right back in in time to bob my head to the tick-tock of the crocodile clock.

Duh duh duh, du-du-duh-duh duh, dum dum dum duh du duh duh duh duh....

via

The Week The Blog Went Black

Native Born on race:

We acquit each other when we accept the idea that “race is not an issue.”
I want to tell you all, for your own good, stop saying that. If you think race isn’t an issue, then race is most definitely an issue for you. When you pretend something does not exist, you give it power. That’s why Harry said “Voldemort” instead of “He Who Must Not Be Named.” Be Harry. You cannot destroy that which you think does not exist. You cannot heal a sickness if you refuse to believe that you are sick. You deny a sickness, though, and it only grows.

Sophia Nelson:

For me as an attorney, I am deeply concerned about how this case was prosecuted from the very beginning. The fact is that George Zimmerman shot and killed an unarmed 17-year-old black boy, who was doing nothing but walking home with some candy and tea. The fact that George Zimmerman pursued this young teen, scuffled with him, and ultimately shot him, proclaiming self-defense, and was not even arrested the night of the murder by authorities should jolt all Americans as to the true racial subtext of this case. The fact that George Zimmerman’s brother Robert took to CNN’s Piers Morgan last night and called Trayvon Martin “angry,” “violent,” wanting to possess a “gun” and a user of “drugs” and as such ultimately responsible for his own death actually reduced many of us to tears. The case was riddled with race from the very beginning. To deny that is dishonest and simply not the truth.

Rage Against the Minivan:

The nation is paying attention to the burden and risk of being a black man. Let’s move to action. I was heartened to see the protests tonight, and to observe that the crowds were very diverse. I felt that the verdict yesterday sent a horrible message to black men, and I hope the protest sends a message that many people care. But we can’t leave it at a protest. We’ve got to tell young black men that we’ve got their back today, and every day. That is what community looks like. That’s how we will find justice. 

This is a race and socioeconomic issue, says Cornel West (link to video of transcript below):

Maher brought up how Zimmerman got involved in the neighborhood watch after a string of burglaries in his neighborhood. He asked, “Why in this country do young black people still have no better prospects than committing petty theft?” 

West declared, “The criminal justice system itself is criminal.” He said that Wall Street executives can get away with practically anything, but people are freaking out about marijuana in Martin’s system. On the question of whether blacks commit more crime, Mair agreed that it’s harder to go after white-collar crime and fraud. West added that young blacks and whites consume drugs equally, but blacks are jailed more.

We have to remember this was an unarmed, high schooler:

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Tavis Smiley: You can 'stand your ground' as long as you're not black:

 

International News | Entertainment | Politics

---
But it's not just the black community that's outraged. And it's not just the liberal community. It's young/old/white/Asian/Hispanic/Indian/educated/impoverished/upwardly mobile citizens for justice. It's anyone who's ever met a black man/loved a black man/talked to a black man/shook hands with a black man or respected a black man. It's parents/couples/singles and the childless. It's all of us who are citizens under a black president with blacks in our towns, our homes and at work.

The blog is black this week in honor of the memory of a child. 
And yeah, he was black.
It shouldn't matter, but it does.
And it carries significance so I won't overlook it.

10 years

Ten years ago today my hometown community and I lost someone significant.

Googling his name produces either dry articles from local papers about the specifics of the accident or sloppy-wet pleas from local pontificates about "healing" and "in a better place".

In honor of this milestone anniversary of his passing (and a week after his birthday - he would have been 26), I'd like to rewrite history and give him an online presence that is neither scientific nor somber. To show him we've thrived. And because he was funny and would have disliked such a monotone, sad legacy.

Here goes:

JP was a badass. He said yes to life while he had it. He didn't need authority or rules or grades - just ask his teachers! He died in an appropriately silly way: on what he called "scoot-ride", riding into the sun, and hearsay says, eating! He was one of few kids to have a full drum set in his room and probably the only one I know to have created a logo for himself and the set. He was handsome but would sacrifice a cool flick of his hair for a twisted-up face and goofy voice if it would get a laugh. He was cool but risked his popularity by working for a hot-dog joint. Alas! He made working the fryers cool! 

via

JP, we really had quite a thing going and I was devastated as anyone would have been to say goodbye. I'm sorry I lost touch with your family, but I somehow think that was for the best. But in good news, I got out of town. I graduated from a prestigious university. I moved to a big city and have had a few professional jobs. I am married, own a house, have a new car, a cute dog and a wonderful husband that I think you'd really like. He plays guitar, so I think you'd probably bond over a jam session.
Neither of you can sing though.
I'll handle that :)

---
Leave hate-mail comments if you like, but I think he'd applaud some irreverence.

No Maybe Here, Just Call Me Jane

It's not so happy that "Happy Endings" ended, but the final episode about these rag-tag group of Chicago friends was pretty perfect.

Watch the intro to see what I'm saying:

If you can't see it here or Season 3, Episode 23.

Still don't get it? I'm Jane.

See, throughout the rest of the series, Jane is seen as put-together and almost dominant. She has opinions and answers for everything. She is thoughtful and on-top-of-it. But the moment of impending older-sister-event turns her into a typical insecure middle child. 

Like in real life. 

Like in a family email chain when your sister is praised for responding with "great ideas" "so quickly" even though you responded first with less boisterous, self-serving ideas.  

Worried that my sister might see this and get mad? 

I'm not. 

She somehow has the time to write all-family emails and her. own. damn. blog., but has not visited mine in 2013. I know this as she says she doesn't "have time".

I wonder if drunk people ever try to "santa" down a chimney...?

This past weekend my Father in Law (FIL) asked my Mr., in front of me, if he ever got sick of my positive attitude. I piped up saying, "You and I are more alike than you know!"*

See, he doesn't read this blog. He doesn't know how much I complain on here. Just like you guys might not know how much I am really positive in real life.

So I decided to tell you what I DO like for once.

Twitter jokes. Brevity + Humor = Speaka-muh-language.
Flat shoes. Marrying a short man and living in a walkable city means that ditching the heals is a welcome necessity.
My job. This is the first job I've ever really liked.

My life overall right now.

The Mr. and I are keeping an eye on one of our neighbor's places while they're away getting married and said couple has roof access. They have a cool built-out deck area and gave us the OK to jump up there while they were gone.

Last night after getting home from a fast weekend away (thanks for coming out, Berta!), we got the neighbor's mail and decided to check out the roof while delivering it. A storm seemed to be approaching from all directions but the winds were low and the air still warm. We stayed outside until the drops were fat enough to make you blink, taking in a complete 360 view as the tallest building nearby with roof-access. A beautiful local church steeple, smoke stacks on renovated warehouses turned lofts, and The Sears Tower all seemed our peers. We felt a little Fiddler. A little Mary Poppins. Or maybe I was the only one who felt I could break out into song. But being up on the roof, being unparalleled reminded me of how wonderfully, simultaneously alone and together I can be in a city of millions.


---
*He's a glass-half-full kinda guy... but there's acid in his glass and he's being water boarded with it.

The Baby Bird That Springs From The Biological 'Coo-Coo' Clock

"Coo", get it? As in baby noises. Or as in crazy noises.

Yesterday I worked from home. Turned on the tube between laundry and Outlook exercises to watch the Katie Couric show. She was talking about infertility.

Blah blah blah stuff about babies and women wanting to be moms and stuff that is totally foreign to me. Cut to me sitting on the edge of the couch, clean pile of tees and unread emails forlorn, mouth agape and eyes glued.



Wha wha, hol' up. 28?!

Come with me on this head journey for a minute:

You're telling me that a 27 year old girl who doesn't want kids, but she doesn't know the future and what if this "biological clock" thing is true and what if hers rings at 45 and she's 3 years into early onset menopause and she's ruined and filled with regret for all eternity ... should optimally have her mind made up by NEXT YEAR?!

breathe into a bag. gasp. sigh. eye roll. 

Fug. Dat.*

The biological clock, alone, is not a good reason to have kids.

Just because you like someone's vacation photos of beaches, beers and boat ventures doesn't mean that traveling to Central America wasn't filled with sun burns, severe language barriers and slight dysentery. Everything looks great through a filter. Careful editing. Hindsight.

Parenthood is forever. It's not glamorous. It's not a status symbol. Or a badge of honor**. Or an identity***.

I'm not anti-parenting or anti-baby for anyone who wants that AND will put in a modest effort.

I'm anti-everyone-must-parent-because-uterus-that's-why.

My heart goes out to everyone who wants to be a parent but can't. As much as it does anyone who wants to  eat food every day but can't. Or who wants to go to school but can't. Or who wants to walk but can't.

I'm just so over the equation of family = kids. What about the deliberately childless? What about us?

And for those who think that living your whole life without children is selfish, what about living your whole life in pursuit of a mini-me? ****

Mic drop.

---
* And if I somehow want kids next year, please feel free to verbally flog me.
** Look at Honey Boo Boo's mom. Want to claim a lifeboat with her? (Not a fat joke, honest.)
*** It can be a big part of who you are, but it shouldn't be everything. Take it from the Queen, H. Clinton.
**** I may need to join a support group.

Also, another cool video about reproductive health, families and babies.

Go Home, The Nest, You're Drunk

via Pinterest

The sophomore follow up to the bridal magazine and site "The Knot" is called "The Nest". Then comes baby in a baby carriage with "The Bump". The assailant du jour is "The Knot". My commentary is in red. 

Exhibit A:

9* Signs You Shouldn't Have Kids

1. You’re an awful aunt.
You know the names of every band member in The Killers and can recite the Vogue masthead in your sleep. However, your niece is 7 and her name is Emily—and you insist on calling her Emma—and sincerely think that’s her name. She decided to just go along with it. Red flag.

If you knew that you were calling her the wrong name, wouldn't you stop? How does one have the self awareness to know when they "sincerely" call their niece the wrong name?

2. You’re completely broke.
You and your husband are 7K in credit card debt (thanks to your shoe addiction and his “necessary” 60-inch flat screen for the coveted man cave). Not to mention, you just borrowed some 911 money from your dad to make this month’s mortgage payment. Baby equals diapers, daycare and basically a good $250,000 in expenses by the time your kid turns 18 and you send him off to college. Check yourself, before you wreck yourself.
I've heard that if you wait until you have enough money to have children, you'll never had them. BUT if you have $7k of shoe-debt you need to stop even thinking about having a family and cut up your credit cards. And sell those shoes. And seek counseling. 

3. You’re a jet-setter.
Your friends call you a bird because you and your man love to fly away on a whim and have the means to do it! I’ll let you in on a little secret: A spontaneous trip to Miami for a long-weekend is out of the question once your baby arrives. It’s more like a spontaneous trip to the 24-hour drug store because you ran out of diapers and nipple cream. Again.

Are you broke (see item 2) AND a jet-setter?

4. You flush fish…a lot.
You can’t remember to feed your Beta fish a measly flake every other day. You’re on your seventh Beta Fish. Enough said.

Betas ≠ Babies.

5. You’re super-squeamish.
Remember that recent GNO when your “fun, single friend” drank a little too much and puked and you started gagging and abandoned your hair-holding duties? Babies spit-up a lot. In fact, there are a lot of bodily fluids involved in raising a child. Might wanna try potty-training a puppy first.

6. You’re the worst babysitter. Ever.
Your girlfriend asked you to baby-sit her charming preschooler. You came home with Play-Doh in your hair, glitter down your bra and a first-degree burn when you went to drain the noodles for the “easy” mac ‘n cheese. You called in to work the next day to recoup.
Sticky hair, glitter on your chest, slight burns. My first reaction is "that sounds normal". My second reaction is  "doesn't sound like babysitting".

7. You love to sleep.
Nothing pleases you more than cuddling up with your husband on a Friday night and watching a movie after a long workweek. You’re both asleep before midnight and rise around 10 a.m. to make espresso and lounge around. Newborns wake up every two-hours. And take it from me: five-year-olds think starting the day at 5:30 AM is normal … on a Sunday.
Same can be achieved with a dog. 

8. Your relationship is a mess.
Newborns put even the strongest marriages to the test—imagine what a colicky baby could do to your shaky relationship? From the sleep deprivation to the stress of major responsibility 24-7, trust me, parenthood is not a fix for your troubled marriage.
This is truth.

9. You’re a workaholic.
From a sudden bout of the stomach flu (he got it and now so do you) to the Mother’s Day breakfast at school, there will be times when work has to take a backseat to parenthood. Make sure that you’re ready to do that juggling act before you have no choice.
Also truth.

One they didn't mention? #10: You just don't want them.

*You think that starting a sentence with a numeral is OK? Maybe The Knot shouldn't have spawned The Nest. 

Flip-It Friday: Blogging is like singing with headphones in... in prison.

A friend was picking my brain (ew!) about blogging lately and said I could re-purpose the whole shebang for a blog post. Lucky me, luck you.

What is your view of personal blogging in general? 
I like posts that share personal stories, teach us something and/or have a good plot to them. I don't like blogs that are:
- all about someone's outfit of the day/hair products/well-designed inspiring quote from an author they've never read.
- not well edited. Good writers are only made so by good editing. Brevity is an art form in itself!
- have no tension or conflict (Your mom* may be the only one who wants to hear about the errands you ran today or what you ate for lunch.)
- have conflicting viewpoints (One cannot post about budget finds from a store supplied by sweatshops alongside lipstick that stops human trafficking.)

Though, I don't have to have anything in common with the writer (Orange County mom of 4) to love how they write and what they write about.

Why do you do it? 
Because I'm a middle child and I have the deep-seeded need to be heard... and social media makes it so easy to feel like a star! Seriously, though, I do it because writing and thinking are synonymous to me. It's how I process life. And its probably why I've retracted some things (hello, Kony 2012) as I learn and evolve. I have such a habit of thinking in a writing format (i.e. full sentences, editing as I go, picking words that sound good to me) and I now write blog posts in my head while walking the dog, brushing my teeth, sitting in traffic. Not all on-the-go thinking gets written down, but I do get the satisfaction of knowing that the thought has been thought. Ya know?

How do you disconnect from readers and just write what you want? Or do you struggle with that? This has been a process. It's trial and error. I often think,"My dad is going to read this" and that keeps me from going overboard. Although, I do write about politics, religion and women's health so much that it's a wonder he still reads. I think he comes for the pictures of Roo. Which is also a good point - throw in some cute dog pics and people will forgive you!

You mentioned in one post you "don't feel safe in your own blog" since family members got the address, how real is that concern? Does it effect what you write? 
How I felt in that scenario is how one feels when they've been caught dancing and singing while wearing headphones. And I believe that some family has stopped reading because of that. Oh well. Again, its the "processing" thing I mentioned above. I had not shared my URL with many people when the Mr. thought he was doing me a PR favor by handing it out. I felt violated. Like someone had been reading my middle school diary. I can't write about some things because the situations are too specific for me to generalize with fake names and locations. Unfortunately some of my best/worst thoughts cannot be expressed because of the people involved. It is restrictive, but I keep going and honestly think that it's better this way. Everything written online is out there forever so it's better that I censor myself. Plus, I've been able to use my blog to leverage freelance opportunities now.

What is your view of writing things that offend people? (like you said you did sometimes) Does that make you nervous or do you just not care? 
Blogging is like prison. Beat someone up right away and no one will mess with you. (J/K... I think). I'm as bold online as I am in real life. I'm not afraid of tough conversations or confrontations. I've gotten into it with another blogger before. Not badly, but we did exchange snarky comments. I realized then that I need to speak my piece on MY blog. Instead of leaving inciting comments on someone else's blog, I can use those points to launch into a counter-post on my site. I get to control the content and they get to ignore my criticism. Win, win.

How much time do you spend on it (mental head space as well as executing posts)? 
Some posts are 15 minutes, some are an hour. If there are a lot of pictures or if the post is on a sensitive topic, I like to spend more time on them. If I spend more than an hour I know I haven't perfected the idea and I save the post in drafts. I stick by my idea of brevity.

Do you have any goals, like to get more readers? Comments? 
I used to watch the pageviews more. I had goals to get more comments too. But I don't have sponsors and I don't make any money on my site. If I did, I think I'd be worried about the numbers more - but I also wouldn't be able to write about whatever I want. The difference between a hobby and a job-by is the paycheck, right? I think I'll forgo monetary strings to be able to rant for now.

So why do/would YOU blog? 

Or have I just scared you?

This doesn't scare me (maybe it does?). And it has nothing to do with this post. I just hope in my heart of hearts that this is how they dress at home.

---
*Your mom!

Happy Retirement!

Two of my most favorite people retire today.

Love you Mom and Dad!

You'll be officially celebrated when we get together in June!