O Mighty Crisis Stories

And People Say Kids Don’t Pick Up After Themselves 22

And People Say Kids Don’t Pick Up After Themselves

  With the friendliest of intentions, one of our neighbors handed us a stack of magazines the other week. They were very good magazines, but the realities of life mean it would be three years before we would ever actually read them. Clearly, while some of them could be donated...

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Still At It 12

Still At It

Since I have stacks of papers this week–both revisions and new essays–I’m going to continue to milk the anniversary in this post. Here are a couple of videos wherein I babble about our weekend. The first video has ice and gives you a spin of the kitchen. This next video...

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Bestill 36

Bestill

  My dad was the person who taught me to be comfortable with silence. We could get in the car and drive for twenty minutes without a word being spoken. While his and my mother’s relationship ultimately cracked under the weight of that silence, for me, the daughter, his quiet...

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Just Jam It All into the Inbox and Yell ‘F*** It’ A Lot 19

Just Jam It All into the Inbox and Yell ‘F*** It’ A Lot

There is a National Association of Professional Organizers. In the Denver area, a professional organizer makes $75/hour. My sister, overwhelmed and anxious in the face of her stacks of belongings, uses a professional organizer. In fact, she’s committed to drawing upon the inheritance from our dad’s and grandmother’s estates to...

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Hello, PetCo? I’d Like to Cancel My Line of Credit 25

Hello, PetCo? I’d Like to Cancel My Line of Credit

  When I met him, my husband was a naturalist. Raise your hand if your first thought, after reading that sentence, went a little something like “Jocelyn’s husband was a nudist????” Now put your hand down, Tinkerbell. You’re all alone in front of your computer, after all, which means it’s...

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A Guest Post from My Pal Jim Who Grew Up in Wisconsin, Spent Many Years in Minnesota, and Now Lives in Palm Springs 9

A Guest Post from My Pal Jim Who Grew Up in Wisconsin, Spent Many Years in Minnesota, and Now Lives in Palm Springs

So, yes, the post below is the latest pinch hitting by my friend, Jim; in past times, he’s also written about performing in GREASE and seeing Elizabeth Taylor. In this latest, he considers his move to California a couple of years back. Enjoy his musings, as I jet off to...

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You Want to Come to Their Potluck 24

You Want to Come to Their Potluck

I noted in my last post that my body is descended from a long line of human couches. I like to think our cushions are covered in the softest of plush upholsteries and that those allowed to fluff our throw pillows are both deserving and grateful. Below is a literal...

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Skeletal Superiority 23

Skeletal Superiority

I married up, genetically. Whereas I had lost three grandparents by the age of eight, my husband is nearly thirty-nine and still has three. My last-surviving grandparent died when I was thirty-one; his first-to-pass grandparent died when he was thirty-seven. What’s more, I come from a long line of smooshy,...

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So Here 26

So Here

  I’m not much of a joiner, nor do I really like playing tag. Also, rules chafe. Thus, I’m not a particularly good candidate for the “meme” challenges and thoughtful awards that litter the blogscape. That noted, when kind fellow bloggers throw an award or a challenge my way, I...

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Goodbye, Fifteen 20

Goodbye, Fifteen

Thanks to Frank and Moon Unit Zappa and their “Valley Girl” hit of the ‘80s, I was equipped with adequate attitude and language, at age 15, to convey my scorn for the aged yee-haws who surrounded me: “Oh my God, I am, like, so sure I will ever be 40....

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