Archive for February, 2007


Thought for the day

February 28, 2007

Our Deepest Fear

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

~ Marianne Williamson from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles


February 27, 2007

Andrew makes me happy

For your Monday, here’s this little fella singing his heart out to Liz Phair. Watching him sing the chorus and how he makes sure to cover the background vocals are the best! (Although listening to him sing about cheating is a little disconcerting, but hey, what the hell.) Happy Monday!

p.s. While most of the youtube videos I post are mine, this one is not. Can’t take credit for it. Nope. I just can’t.


Look mom and dad. Kittens!

February 24, 2007


More on Vegas to come. In the meantime, rejoice that children aren’t bringing these “kittens” home to your house. Aren’t they sweet?



February 19, 2007

While googling for work yesterday, I stumbled across a page that was helping me figure out how to put together a contract I am needing.

When I got to the end of the page, though, I nearly snorted my coffee out my nose I laughed so hard — and was completely caught by surprise because I wasn’t expecting it. It’s truly amazing to me how the Internet has changed the way we talk to each other, especially when it comes to our business vernacular.


For the entire page, click here to read the sample contract (especially helpful if you’re planning on doing some freelance work).


Just keep reading for the funny end-of-page disclaimer:


If you need advice, see an attorney in your area; I’m not your lawyer; you’d have to be a complete idiot to think this writeup establishes an attorney-client relationship between you and me; but my malpractice insurer nonethless wants to see disclaimers in everything legal I publish, so here it is (fuckers).

Made my day, I’m tellin’ ya.

I’m off to Vegas, kids. Be good while I’m gone. xoxoxoxo


Money may not buy happiness, but . . .

February 16, 2007

. . . it will prolong the need to tell your children that Santa doesn’t exist.

AKA The Continuing Saga of Butterscotch – The Horse that Needs a New Home


Santa’s dead, folks. He died. And now children everywhere are going to have to live with it. And it’s all your fault, Big Meanie.

This photo of the boy crying at the tombstone was the image I saw in my head as Jon and I drove to Target the Thursday night before Christmas to load up our Butterscotch Pony for Babs.

I remember thinking to myself, “I’ll be damned if I have to explain to her this year that Santa doesn’t exist” (or at least doesn’t really bring you what you want).

$275 and a month and a half later, I’m still glad I did it, even if the thing is just sitting and collecting dust at the moment. (Smokey had a good chew on the carrot Butterscotch likes to robotically munch on and Babs quickly yanked on, and broke, the nifty red halter that came with it, ruining Butterscotch’s value on ebay but giving both of them the joy of destroying perfectly good items. I’m not so old that I don’t remember how much fun that was.)

The look on her face when she ripped that box open really was worth it, though, dust or no dust. In hindsight, I wish I would have videotaped it. It was definitely one of those days when I felt like I’d done something good.

Not one to miss the chance to allow my life to serve as a warning to others (and because deep down I’m an attention whore — whoo-hoo, look at my hits jump in the google rankings!) I foolishly, according to Jon, allowed myself to be interviewed by some man claiming to be a New York reporter who found out that I was one of those parents who was willing to hand over my credit card for a toy that costs more than toys should cost — proof that if you blog about something they’re interested in, they will find you.

The story was picked up by a couple of papers, allowing Babs and me our 2007 five-seconds of fame, but this version is my favorite, mostly because it kept the last sentence (which was dropped by others) that allowed me to share my money-doesn’t-buy-happiness philosophy, even though you’d never know it by how much I dropped on that silly pony.

I’m kind of like that, though. I’ll go to McDonalds for lunch and order two things from the dollar menu to save money and then turn around and drive Jon to the airport on his birthday when he thinks he’s going a couple hours down the road and fly him across country instead because he keeps talking about how he wishes he could show me his old stomping grounds. I guess that while money can’t buy happiness, it can still buy some pretty terrific experiences.

If you’re in need of a pick-me-up, though, one that does not require the use of your credit card, I would highly suggest buying your own bag of balloons, finding some two-year-olds and going for it.

Another favorite of mine is to have them jump on beds while you all recite “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. Momma called the doctor and the doctor said, ‘NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!'” And then have them fall down, on the bed of course.

It’s pure therapy, I tell ya. Just try to remove all objects that they might actually crack their heads on before you start doing this. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure!


Lightening it up

February 16, 2007



A gentle reminder

February 14, 2007

Click here

Music Video:UNWRITTEN (by Natasha Bedingfield)

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten