For The Record

Hi. It’s been a while. Since we last talked, I broke my leg, switched jobs and wrote a history of downtown Oklahoma City for a magazine that was worthy of a masters degree. Yet I still have no masters degree and now I can’t even run the marathon. I’m not sure what feat of superhuman proportion I can now work toward. Without that masters degree the Nobel Prize is still probably not an option. And I really just don’t have it in me to go back to school. I like to learn. I hate school. So until I can figure out how to defy humanity next, I’ll just tell you what my last superhuman endeavor was.

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Oh Sister: The Outtakes

One of the funniest parts about the whole needing someone to go to breastfeeding class in case my sister is too overwhelmed to remember anything the day of delivery (besides that) was my Mom. Apparently Erin did not know that she was a formula baby. We all were. My Mom cut her baby feeding teeth


Oh Sister

I’m supposed to leave my sister’s breasts out of this. So I’ll be a good sister and obey. But when you send an e-mail asking if I’d be available to accompany you to a breastfeeding class as your Breast Feeding Support Partner (BFSP), you might as well have said a priest and a rabbi walk


The Centipede: Not Just A Fun Dance

You can’t have a good day everyday. If you did then you wouldn’t notice that they were good because you’d have nothing to compare them to. Bad days exist for the sole purpose of giving you context for the good ones. I’ve had gotten a lot of context in the last several days. Context that


An Ode to Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are like the newt of the vegetable world. You know those things your mom used to cover in butter or cheese whiz to try to make appealing to the prepubescent pallet and make you try just one bite before you were released from the dinner table? Brussels sprouts not newts. If your mom


Endurance Sports Cause Brain Damage

I went on my first long run of marathon 2012 training yesterday. I hadn’t thought there would be a marathon 2012 but then I realized that if the Mayans are right, I’d like to go out with a better marathon time than what I was able to accomplish in my last attempt. Last May 1


New Year Resolutions … for everyone else

I’m pretty satisfied in the amount of butt I kicked last year. So much so that I don’t feel the need to resolve to do anything this year. Yeah. I’m bragging. But I did do good last year. I ran a marathon. I visited New Orleans twice. I picked up some freelance writing gigs. I


If the Mayans Are Right: December 22, 2011

I have to start this off by saying that I’ve made if-the-Mayans-are-right jokes for a long time. I think it is hilarious. For example, I’ve lived in Oklahoma for like 6 years now, but I won’t go get my license because my Colorado one doesn’t expire until 2014 and I’m not spending any time in


This One’s For Renee

So the other day I made mention of Jay commenting sarcastically that it was hard for him to be at home while he was studying because he had to watch me put the girls to bed, do dishes and fold laundry (he forgot to mention what gets accomplished in the 3 post-work, pre-bedtime hours). My


Dear Cox Communications

Dear Cox Communications, You may not know this cause really you don’t know me all that well, so let me fill you in on a wee secret. Chances are at 8:42 p.m. I’m dragging my raggedy ass to the couch with every ounce of being I have left in me, which isn’t much at that