How can we know where we are going if we do not know where we have been?   ~proverb


A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  ~confucius


Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.  ~confucius


It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop. ~confucius


Do or do not. there is no try.  ~yoda


Two Tips for the Day Which You May or May Not Find Useful But which are Completely Fascinating to Me Because I Have No Life

Tip One

Ear Wax Removal

The Tiny Tyrant produces enough ear wax for us to go into business. No lie. If there were a market for earwax (I know. ew.) we’d be set up for life.

But since there ISN”T or not that we have found so far, we’ve had a lot of success with the following concoction that the TT’s doctor recommended to us (I know. I doctor that actually gives useful advice. I hope you have picked yourself up off the floor by now.)

Cure for the Common Earwax

2 oz warm water
1/2 tsp baking soda

Add baking soda to water and stir till mixed. Apply 1-2 drops per ear with an eyedropper once per day for one week. Re-apply once every 4 months afterwards.

I know it sounds too good to be true but it actually really works.  And it’s cheap. The only hard part is getting a toddler to be still while putting drops in his ears. Which is why we apply them when he is either nursing and almost alseep (the preferred way) or fully asleep (it tends to wake him up again).


Tip Two

Taking the Stink out of Stinky Diaper Syndrome

I do a load of diapers twice a week.  Because they sit for awhile, they tend to get rather odiferous, to put it mildly, and it hasn’t been coming out in the wash despite using vinegar, hot water, store-bought laundry detergent, etc, etc.

This weekend as I was making up more laundry soap, I noticed that the washing soda box recommended adding a 1/2 cup of washing soda to the regular load of laundry at the beginning to neutralize odors. So I tried it on the load of diapers I was doing and…it worked.  PLUS, I had had to use less laundry soap than normal because I was practically out but it still cut the odors.  PLUS PLUS it’s cheap and environmentally-friendly.

So there you have it.  My words of wisdom for the day.







The Best Thing I Have Ever Heard in My Whole Entire Life Ever Including “You Don’t Look Fat” and “Have Some More Ice Cream”

I wuv oo.


the best thing. ever.

Today’s Program Brought to You by the Letter Smell

…of damp public bathrooms

…of cat litter

…of a washer full of diapers

….of sun-warmed Russian Salvia

…of sweaty toddler head

…of sesame ginger marinated chicken in the crockpot

…of hot humid August air

…of tomatoes fresh off the vine

…of popcorn

….of a crushed leaf of lemon balm

…of an ovenful of toasted granola

And Now for Something Completely different

Sorry for the previous gloomy post.  I would now invite you to worship and adore my beautiful son:


Children's Museum

Children's Museum


Tired out

Tired out

Beginning of the End

My folks have been divorced for nearly 2 decades. That is a long time, long enough, presumably, that it would be over and done with, ancient history, something long past that is seen from a great distance and with little clarity.

That presumption would be wrong.

Today was the day that my dad decided he would rather go live with the Other One than continue his life and relationship with his wife and children.

I remember that night with perfect Technocolor clarity.

Since that time, I have read little bit about what being a child of divorce looks like.  One thing that I have read is that children often view their lives in two seperate worlds: pre-divorce and post-divorce. I would say that is true for me.

I was a teenager when my folks divorced, in my last few years of high school.  Old enough to call a spade a spade. Old enough to not have any of the false guilt they talk about, how kids blame themselves for the destruction of their family, but also old enough to know what was going on.

Not that my parents’ marriage was perfect.  My folks were two very, very different people from two very, very different backgrounds. My dad also had a wicked temper and a long-running memory of old slights and grudges.  There was not any physical violence but whoever said that sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me was on crack and I know my mom took the verbal heat for us kids quite often. 

But that’s neither here nor there.

Pre-divorce / post-divorce.

In some cases, divorce is completely justified…and yet still there is an impact on the kids.  in the extreme cases, it is a positive impact but in your ordinary, run-of-the-mill dysfunction, i would say it was negative.

Everything changes. The things, the physical things, that we grew up surrounded by our whole entire lives, books, furniture, some little knick-knack or other, pets, even, suddenly it is borne in upon us that those are no longer “family” items, as they are parceled up, divided into “his” and “hers”, which they may have been all along, but not in our world.

There’s a lot of crying, a lot of anger, a lot of confusion, no matter why it is happening.

And blame. Why couldn’t he keep his shit together?  How can he dick with MY life like this, how can he just up and decide to completely fracture MY life?  After 19 years, you would think that this would be a non-issue but still, at times, it is.  No one can completely understand what it feels like to be child of divorce unless they have actually been a child of divorce.

It’s a thing that for me has taken a long time to process and that I am still processing. Probably for some people, it’s not like that.  I’m not saying this to invoke a pity party nor am I bidding for sympathy or pointing fingers. It is what it is.  The basics don’t change: my world completely fractured then and while that often happens under other life circumstances, this is the one that it happened for me in and there is still that teenage girl inside me who at times still wrestles with trying to make sense of it, remote as it is now in my adult life.

 (P.S. Love you, mom.  Your strength is one of my rocks.)

The Queen of Awkward is Me or, Why I Wish I Pretty Much Had My Own Personal Blackhole to Swallow Me at Will

I’m not a funny person. At least not ha-ha funny. If I had to tell a joke to save my life…no, wait, if I had to tell an mildly interesting story to save my life, I would beg for a quick end in order to save myself a) the humiliation and b) the pain I would inflict on everyone concerned in the process.

No, I’m not funny haha funny. I AM funny as in “what is she wearing/doing/saying now?” funny.  As in, when people see me they wonder, what ward has she escaped from and do they know she is missing? 

Funnily enough, I am fairly normal when around people with whom I do not feel a need to have any barriers to or with whom I feel have any expectations, people like family, who wouldn’t really care if I were awkward around them and so therefore I am not. (I guess)  And I am also one of those Very Nice People when it comes to strangers; I always thank the bag boy at the grocery store, I give random compliments to the person behind the counter, etc, etc.

It’s with the people who aren’t strangers but who I don’t quite know very well or haven’t known for very long that the insanity begins.  The aquaintances. The people who really DO think you are awkward because they really haven’t been given any evidence to the contrary.

In general, my best offense is defense: as in, I try to say as little as politely possible.  That way people think you are smart, see?  You aren’t smart you are just smart enough to not broadcast that fact.

But there are times when my brain momentarily implodes politeness demands some kind of remark and it is those times that I step into my Queen of Awkward panties.

Quite QUITE frequently I find my mouth opening to tell a story that has no meaning or that is completely UNrelated or only tenuously related to the topic at hand or saying things that in my HEAD make sense but are completely out of context when they go out of my mouth and into the real world, the real world that doesn’t live in my head, like poor bastard children set adrift on a foreign and hostile sea, and as my brain registers this shocking event, I am immediately appalled even mid-sentence or mid-word and it is at that point that I really wish I could carry around some kind of blackhole in my pocket that I could just surreptitiously whip out and step into and relieve EVERYONE of the absolute nuttiness that I have spewed forth and covered everyone but mostly myself with.

And these are people that I like and that I would like to have like me and I would like to seem with-it and relatively knowledgeable and oh please Lord just the TEENIEST bit thoughtful and interesting. Ok, not interesting, I won’t push it that far.

But alas, the Queen of Awkward…or maybe she is the Stinking Black and Evil Fairy of Awkward… is just far too powerful to be overcome when I am channeling her.

And so I live from awkwardness to awkwardness and after each episode, lacking my own personal blackhole as I do, moan and groan in embarrassment and wonder how I EVER managed to say something quite so idiotic and not spontaneously combust from the dreadful horror and burning heat of shame.

Ok, maybe not quite that bad.

OK, maybe sometimes yes that bad.

Wow. It’s just great to be me.

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