Hiya! I’m In The Powder Room today sharing the six REALLY BIG reasons why my ten-year-old daughter doesn’t have an Instagram account. It’s a PSA with humor and heart. My gift to you.
Listen, y’all, I lurve Instagram. It’s one of my favorite ways to connect with friends. If you are on Instagram, let’s hang! I post pictures of everything from my prized Hosta collection to the sparkling inside rim of my freshly scrubbed toilet seats. Yes, I’m THAT fascinating.
But I’ve been using this app long enough to have found some pretty skeevy things about it that all parents really should consider before allowing their children to Amaro their American Girl Dolls or Hefe their hopscotch games. Which is exactly what kids this age should be doing instead of gazing at naked men or horrifyingly violent comments.
Trust me, you don’t want to miss this one.
With care and concern, and a big vat of eye bleach,
I’m talking about business cards over In The Powder Room today.
It’s a good read, and I share some links for free and discounted business cards of your own, so check it out!
If you do decide to design and order your business cards through Moo.com, where I get mine, you can help me earn some free goodies by going there through my refer-a-friend link. Thank you kindly! But no big whoop. This is not a sponsored post. I just really like their products and wanted to share.
And yes, that really is how I organize and store the hundreds of business cards I’ve amassed over the years as a blogger—one ring per conference. It works. Don’t ask me where my kids’ immunization records are right now, but when it comes to the insignificant minutia of my life, I’m an organizational ninja. Sad but true.
Okay, go read. Or at least ogle my custom-made business card holder.
Here’s how I spent a big chunk of my time this week: nursing a sick iMac back to health.
Hey, computer shit happens. It’s unavoidable. But this problem, I fully believe I brought upon myself by tempting fate and pissing off the Techno Gods with my devil-may-care-attitude, scrambled priorities, and unmanaged adult ADD. There’s a valuable lesson to be learned though. And Lord knows I loves me some life-lessons from the School of Hard Knocks, where I am a visiting professor with tenure and a key to the good teachers’ bathroom.
But there is a silver lining…
More details about that story In The Powder Room today. Read it. Learn from me. Don’t tempt the Techno Gods.
With peace, love, a pinch of unoriginal humor, and endless gigs of safe data storage,
It’s the last day of school for my kids, and I’m already crying.
No, no…not just because I’m completely unprepared for summer.
Mini-Me getting loved on by her 4th grade teacher yesterday…while Mrs. J. strategically avoids eye contact with me, per the terms of her restraining order.
I’m crying because my two elementary school-aged kids are sad to say goodbye to their beloved teachers and friends today, and when they are sad, I am sad.
Seems like just yesterday my little Bucket Head was getting on the school bus for the first time.
And it didn’t take long for Mini-Me’s teacher to figure out that I was not operating on all six cylinders. Ah, memories.
Where does the time go?!
Aaaaand, there I go. Getting all sad and nostalgic again. Oy. Hormones. When in doubt, always blame the hormones. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Hey, it’s also my anniversary today, which is a sweet way to end the school year. Sixteen years. Yowza. Feels like sooooo much longer. (Just kidding, Honey…kinda.) We’re going to simultaneously celebrate our marriage and our last day of school-year-freedom by having lunch at our favorite Italian restaurant. Then we’re going to fill up a bunch of water balloons so we can ambush the kids when they get off the school bus and help them forget how sad they are to end the school year. Wish me luck on that one…hopefully it doesn’t backfire and make them even more sad that their parents are such insensitive dicks. (Tune in on Instagram later for an update!)
But in the meantime, I’ve been brainstorming about some of the things we can do this summer to maintain a modicum of sanity and have a little fun. Spoiler alert: bathroom humor and manual labor! It’s over In The Powder Room today. Join me, won’t you?
Here’s to a great summer!
Have I ever told you the story of the time a musky male yoga teacher who was twice my age tried to massage all seven of my chakras with his pulsating kundalini?
Oh sure, we can laugh now, but at the time I probably should have filed a police report, or at least demanded dinner first.
Anyhooo, I’m sharing that gem over In The Powder Room today and I’d love for you to read it. Bring a mat, a yoga block, and some pepper spray.