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Dear 2017, Dearer 2018.

Dear 2017,

You're were a real asshole and I'm glad you're dead. You chewed me up and spit me out, but incredibly, I came out on top. You tried to break me but I stood up to you. I know you saw the days I cried harder than I have ever cried in my life. You were there for the gossip, rumors, and whispers. You were there when I didn't sleep for weeks. I felt you kick me when I was down...over and over again. But its ok because I know you. You're sneaky and arrogant and insecure and dishonest and two-faced. I recognize you, 2017.

What you don't know is that I am a fucking warrior.

Not only did I walk out of the fire, but I am also carrying buckets of water for my friends who are enduring the brutal realities of divorce. They are also warriors. Yes, I am glad you're gone, 2017, but I must also thank you. For every time I felt hatred and anger and disgust, I am smart enough to know where to turn when its time to fight back. Maybe you missed the day that my incred…
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Lady Bossery

It is a subject that 99.9% of women (that is my “scientific” guess) talk about, think about, and wrestle with every day from the time we are about 12 years old. If you become a mom, it grows like that weird talking plant in Little Shop of Horrors. If you don’t become a mom, it buzzes in your ear like a rabid mosquito. If you work, it nags at you. If you don’t work it is a little voice in your head chattering away at you. And I would be willing to bet it is a topic of conversation when you are with your girlfriends. It causes tears and anxiety, frustration and insecurity, and the worst part is, it really only plagues women. I have yet to heard a group of guys stressing over being “good enough” (I shall eat my words when this happens).
We are never enough. Let me rephrase that…we never FEEL like we are enough. 
The other day I was juggling my three boys (thank you Fall Break…I mean, didn’t we just start school?) and work and breakfast and all of my usual adult duties. I sent out the SO…

THINGS make me happy. (stay with me)

There are a million books and theories and thoughts these days about how THINGS just clutter up your life and make you crazy. Well, I'm here to disagree. Tonight I organized (sort of) and decorated my office and I was reminded of how much I love my stuff. Someone asked me what the style of my new house is and I said, "cluttery eclectic." YES! Its cluttery because I love walking into a house that is full of interesting things to look at. If you have ever been to my aunt Sheri's house, you know what I mean.

There is a huge difference between walking into a cluttered house and walking into a house that tells a story. If you come to my house, I can probably tell you a story about almost everything I own. For example, let me take you on a tour of my office. To my right is a collage that I made one afternoon with my sister-in-law Julie and my niece Ellie...two humans who I love beyond words. To my left is a collage my mom made me. There is a photo of me as a baby with my d…

The Age of I LOVE YOU.

I read recently that there is about to be a cosmic shift in the emotional health of our planet. To be perfectly honest, I don't remember the details of why, or how it will be measured, but I remember thinking I liked the sound of it. There are powerful movements brewing that are demanding equality, which in my simple little head means that people are marching and speaking up so that everyone is treated well. And when people are treated well, they are happy. And more happy people will make for a happier planet. I realize this is almost insultingly simple when there is horrific tragedy happening all over the world. Please know that I am aware of the heartbreak and I don't meant to take anything away from the work that still needs to be done. But for now, I want to talk to you about something really simple. I love you.

I am lucky to come from a long line of lovers. My family loves big and they aren't afraid to say it. It is rare to leave a family gathering - and there are lot…

New Beginnings

First, Happy Easter to all of you who celebrate Easter.

It is that Sunday and, as predicted, the egg and basket hunt took all of ten minutes and now we clean this grubby family up and head to church. For the record, my kids are wearing athletic apparel because Jesus doesn't care what they wear to church and I got no fight in me today. I grew up in a great church where the attendees probably qualify as family and everyone had an unofficial assigned seat. Ours was about six rows from the front, left side, every Sunday. I was raised to church.

As I logged more years, I struggled to believe what I was taught and what everyone around me seemed to believe so hard. Let's be honest, the Bible stories are a little far fetched and yet bazillions of people are all in, on fire for Jesus. I had so many questions and I fought the mainstream hard on it. I even fought it at the Lutheran college I attended. I fought it when I had a professor who was a Doctor of Religion and a Doctor of Psychol…

You ARE 40 now.

What am I doing? No. Like, what am I DOING?? For sure laundry. Yes, definitely laundry but only washing and drying it and definitely only folding it when every member of my family has expressed their utter disgust with my lack of laundry folding. Then maybe.

Pinterest. DEFINITELY Pinterest. Constantly searching for "Artspiration." Did I tell you I am an artist now? Well, I am and if you ask me, from now on I am going to call myself an artist. I tried it out at Lowes today and it made me feel super cool.

Guy at Lowes: So what do you do with all this wood? (laughs because that's kind of inappropriate and he's like 19)

Me: I am an artist. [exits lumber aisle feeling like Beyonce].

Why can I call myself an artist? Because I'm 40 and if I don't start calling myself an artist now, its not going to happen. I'm probably past the days of becoming a super model (although I did have a nice run with Shopko and Fleet Farm for a're welcome).

Probably …

Benefit of the Doubt. Always.

Every single day I encounter some situation that could have gone better. Some could have gone A LOT better. I say or do the wrong thing, someone is less than kind to me, I am impatient with my kids or my husband, someone takes out their frustration on me. In any case, feelings are evoked that make us flare up, fly off, or bring us down. I am here to tell you that I think its time we all gave each other the benefit of the doubt. Every time. All the time.

Have you seen all of the articles lately listing out the "Ten Things Never to Say to...?" I've seen the one about what never to say to the parent of an adopted child. Or how about what not to say to someone who has lost their father? Don't say XYZ to breastfeeding/working/stay-at-home/organic/non-organic moms. Ten things never to say to white, single, gay men who prefer carbohydrates for breakfast on Tuesdays at 10 am. Stop. Just stop. I understand that these articles are meant to be a guideline for people attempting …