Today is my mom’s birthday. Let’s see, that makes her 55 + 22 carry the two = getting up there. Mom was an innovator—her punishments fit the crime. I once ate a booger and she washed my mouth out with soap. This was a bar of Ivory that had been sitting on the bathroom sink for weeks and used by everyone in my family after wiping their butts. I never ate a booger again. Continue reading
Tag Archives: birthday
When irony bites you in the butt
My husband is one of the worst gift receivers that I know. He’ll open a present, look at it appraisingly, then tell you why it’s not good enough. He got his NASCAR tickets yesterday, but they were just E tickets printed off the computer. “Gee, they’re not slick and glossy and commemorative.” What? Did he want to frame them? Continue reading
Birthday blues
My blogs are generally about life from the vantage point of a 50-something, neurotic, hormonally challenged woman. That would be me. This week my oldest daughter is turning 30. I think that under the circumstances, the only reasonable response is, “What the hell?!” Continue reading
Forget the pony
In a few weeks I’ll turn 54, and my birthday wish list bears no resemblance to the lists of my youth:
- Laser skin tag removal to get rid of those two new bumps on my lip. They draw attention to the mustache; Continue reading