Twelve years ago I ventured forth to England to study abroad at Durham University. I landed at Heathrow Airport only to discover my luggage was missing. As I skulked toward the student bus with a teacher trying to get me to see the positive because SHOPPING (and I tried to explain a student budget with personal space issues including not wanting to borrow anotherâ€™s undies), my name boomed across the PA.
Has anyone ever looked at you and said, â€œJust smile. If you smile, youâ€™ll be happy. You canâ€™t be sad with a smile.â€ This, of course, is bullshit. However, itâ€™s always fun to find something that will genuinely make you smile.
Hallmark demands you rush out and buy and ugly tie. Perhaps experiment with fingerpaint to stamp the hands and feet of your mini-me on a rectangular-ish pillow. Because what says I honor your male parenting abilities and celebrate fatherhood more than a cartoon character on a card vaguely insinuating sexual acts. (Although really, that is how you got into this situation in the first place. Just sayinâ€™. And also, I found this rather unsettling as I searched for a card to send my own father â€“ not my husband.)
Not a bad motto. Iâ€™d even venture to say all of us have experienced a burst of energy dedicated to doing just that at some point in time. A Twitter conversation later clarified that the motto should actually be, â€œDo Epic Shit. With More Coffee.â€
I was perusing the Twitter to collect winecones, when I came across photo of a wild iris. (Accurately captioned that Wild Iris would be a great name for a band.)
My favorite flower is the iris. Always has been. Its vibrant contrast of purple/blue and yellow emanates happiness, and I like that it symbolizes good news and luck â€“ two items of which I am always in need. Of course, back in the day, the French monarchy decided the flowerâ€™s trademark three petals represented faith, valor and wisdom. And then branded criminals with the fleur-de-lis â€“ which is really neither good news nor lucky for the cattle-prodded party.
So really, it was like a royal winecone. This makes the iris even cooler. Continue reading →
Itâ€™s Holy Week. Or, if you donâ€™t subscribe to that particular theme of afterlife happenings, itâ€™s just about time for CHOCOLATE BUNNIES!
Just about a decade ago (good grief did time go by quickly), my grandmother and I decided to tackle Lent together. We gave up chocolate. The night before Easter, I stayed up until midnight â€“ watching the seconds tick by until the moment I could maim my milk chocolate rabbit and devour his ears.
Iâ€™m looking forward to those ears. Thatâ€™s right â€“ Iâ€™m staring you down golden-foiled Seeâ€™s bunny. Continue reading →
Iâ€™m traveling this week. Iâ€™m in Orlando â€“ home of Walt Disney World and Harry Potter Land. And. I. Will. Not. See. Either. (Work travel â€“ a whole winecone unto itself.)
Itâ€™s a work trip. So I have actual work to do here. I tried to convince a colleague to play hooky and experience the magic with me. He said no. I know â€“ I was just as shocked as you are. So with a whip of my wand to conjure mouse-eared winecones at my so-close yet so-far situation â€“ letâ€™s get to it. Continue reading →
You may have heard about this weekâ€™s controversy â€“ a certain political shock jock thought it would be a good idea to resort to grade school name-calling, presumably to bolster ratings. Continue reading →
Because it takes the Earth a little longer than a year to travel around the sun (365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 46 seconds, to be exact) an extra day was added to the calendar to make up for lost time. (Ha. Ha. Get it?)
“I mark the hours every one nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value unto you are gauged by what you have to do.”