• The Complexities of Life

    Christmas Arrived Early…and it’s K-Mart’s Fault

    While watching the first Thursday Night Football game of the season,  I saw a K-Mart commercial. Usually, this is no big deal. K-Mart commercials, specifically Ship Your Pants, are hilarious. However, this one threw me for such a loop I just had to share it with you.

    My issue with this commercial is that it’s another example of retailers accelerating the holidays. Grocery stores are selling Halloween candy next to back to school supplies. Kids haven’t finished the first week of school.

    People become so consumed buying gifts and supplies for holidays that they can’t really enjoy them. It’s the second week of September and Halloween costumes/decorations are popping up on shelves. Pretty soon, stores will have sales on baking supplies and Christmas lights.

    Good grief.


    Updated October 31, 2016


  • Story Time

    #XD30-Chapter 16-$50,000 Sigh of Relief

    It’s crazy how fast the past three months have flown by. Susan is currently 20 weeks along and last week we found out we are having a girl. She finally decided to slow down with work and relax. I’m fighting the urge to fill this condo with all baby everything.

    “I would soooooo love a foot massage right now,” Susan asks, wiggling her toes on the sofa.

    “Coming!” I respond, grabbing the bowl of fruit salad.

    As I rub her feet, I see that my notification light on the phone is blinking. I glance at Susan. Head turned to the side, she’s dozing off. Definitely doesn’t take much these days. I stop massaging and check my phone. It’s an email from Nick.

    Paperwork has been signed.

    I breathe a sigh of relief. Guess it was loud because Susan starts to stir. I put the phone down.

    “Just because I’m sleeping doesn’t mean you stop rubbing,” she mumbles.

    I laugh. She never skips a beat.

    “Are you hungry? I made a fruit salad with mint and balsamic vinegar.”

    Susan’s eyes light up.

    “We’re always hungry, however, I need to pee first,” she announces, sitting up.

    I watch her walk down the hall out of sight before I sneak a few bites of salad. Not too bad for someone who can’t boil water.  I hear the door open and quickly put the bowl back on the coffee table. Susan shuffles back into the living room. She’s rubbing her temples.

    “These sonofabitch headaches suck! I hate them more than dizziness, leg cramps, and heartburn combined.”

    “I’ll grab a lavender eye pillow from the bathroom.”

    “Ahhhh love, thank you! I wouldn’t want to be having a baby with anyone else,” she exclaims, kissing me on the cheek. The faint smell of coconut tickles my nose.

    I grab my phone and continue reading.

    Being $50,000 richer feels mighty good. Thanks.

  • The Complexities of Life

    Like Linus: The Pillow Edition

    When I was a wee one, my mother made me this pale yellow patchwork pillow. Rectangular in shape with a white border, each patch had a different pattern. That pillow was my everything. I treated that pillow like it held a million gummy worms and I was gatekeeper the the sugary goodness.

    I was Linus and I had no shame about it whatsoever.

    The awesomeness known as Linus.

    Over the years, the fabric thinned. Holes developed and the filling matted. Mommy (yes, Mommy) would give the pillow new life. She would add more fabric to cover the worn areas and added replaced the filling.

    I would be in love all over again.

    With kindergarten fast approaching, Mommy was on a one-woman campaign to break up my love affair. She would lovingly tell me that I was a big girl and big girls didn’t carry pillows around.

    A whole day without my beloved pillow? Blasphemy!!!

    I was hellbent on going to school with that comforting softness.  One time, I snuck  the pillow into my backpack so I could sleep with it at nap time. Slept like a baby with my red/blue mat, pillow, and blanket.

    Alas, all good things must come to an end.

    I eventually outgrew the pillow. I like to think that the comfort that the pillow provided would be the blueprint for all things comfort-related in my life. That sense of calm is beauty in a sea of chaos.

    The end.

%d bloggers like this: