Reddit, that arbiter of all things Internet has a sub called, "Shower Thoughts." As a bath girl my first reaction was, "Who knew?" Not that I've never had profound hit me in the face in the shower, I've just never thought to collect them. And most of the time, they involve published books so there's… Continue reading Thoughts From The Shower…
Tag: Scottsdale
Who Does The Heavy Lifting?…
Some days it's about the heavy lifting. Guys and chicks are not the same. Argue all you like but girls rarely belch the alphabet and guys generally don't wear thongs, regardless of worries over panty lines. Hauling the Christmas tree from the garage and a new license plate bring it home. I jostle and lift… Continue reading Who Does The Heavy Lifting?…
Chrismukkah It is…
We hear it started in The OC. In our abode it's happening because Middle Chicken married Lawyer Boy, who's half Jewish and Baby Chicken's Southern Boy is much more Jewish. In our Catholic household, we couldn't care less what you are as long as there's wine. Fortunately, both Christmas and Hannukah involve fermented grapes. Although… Continue reading Chrismukkah It is…
Becoming A Dude…
I'm becoming a dude. I have a cold. I may be dying. It really is just sniffles, sore throat and aches. Standard cold stuff. My brain signals death is eminent. And then it hits me. In my old age, I'm becoming a dude. You might be too. Think about it. Ten, not to mention twenty,… Continue reading Becoming A Dude…
My Little Cub…
"What song do you want to dance to?" asks Oldest Chicken. He's referring to the mother-son tradition. His wedding is little more than a week away. We spend hours on the hunt. Feeling quite Goldilocks-ish. This one is too hard. This one is too soft. Seems finding the one that's "just right" should strike me… Continue reading My Little Cub…
Five Year Plan…
In a job interview. "Where do you see yourself in five years?" What flashes through my head: On the beach in St. Barths, thin enough to be wearing a bathing suit with the wispiest of coverups, Pina Colada at the ready, flanked by a blue-eyed semi-stranger. What comes out my mouth: A spiel about love… Continue reading Five Year Plan…
She Just Keeps On Giving…
"Basically, my radiation ate your thyroid." It's the radiation oncologist. "Actually, it usually happens before now." Cancer...she just keeps on giving. Do I cheer mine lasted longer under the radiative onslaught that devours female thyroids? Can we get a hip-hip? Actually, I'm happy with the news. As all the cancer girls know, when something is… Continue reading She Just Keeps On Giving…
Eat Pizza and Annoy Men…
For some reason this little tidbit, circulating for a while, only just hit my desk. Biological chickens of the female variety have a private Instagram called, "Gals," in which we exchange interesting fare we find searching about when we're supposed to be working. Calm down bosses, it's brain food. Yesterday, Middle Chicken sends a photo… Continue reading Eat Pizza and Annoy Men…
What’s On Your Anti-Bucket?…
Oldest Chicken does something out of bounds each year on or near the anniversary of The Norwegian's death. Perhaps he thinks if he drives himself to the brink he'll be closer to his beloved father--who knows. What I do know is we have an agreement--tell me after. I've heard about being at the top of… Continue reading What’s On Your Anti-Bucket?…
Calling All Murderinos…
In eighth grade, my mother told my father I was obsessed with death. Perched in my spying spot just outside the kitchen, I was stung. But I shrugged. Smug with overinflated beliefs in my own brainpower, I knew where her concern lay. It was with the sonnet, Death Be Not Proud, the famous ditty by… Continue reading Calling All Murderinos…
The Duchess Diaries 