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Tag Archives: growing up

A Bedding Problem

Ya’ll took it there, didn’t you?

It’s not that kind of problem.

Remember my leather problem?  Turns out I have a bedding problem, too.  A big one.  I can’t stop looking for new bedding because I want our new apartment (moving in September) to look like grownups live there…

What do you think?  What color scheme should I go with?  I can’t paint the walls, but if I spend enough on this comforter, it will come to my first house with me.  It’s overload!

Here’s my Pinterest Bedding page.  Any suggestions on where to get a decent deal or what colors I should go with?  Why is this so hard?!

 

 

 
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Posted by on July 31, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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Welp, I’m 27.

Yesterday was my 27th birthday.  It is what it is, I suppose.

I hung out with friends on Friday night.  I went to my parents’ house on Saturday and drank wine with Mike and my brother.  We drove around Port Clinton for awhile, grabbed a surprise for my good friends Scott and Michelle down in North Carolina, and lay low.

On Sunday, my parents took us out to eat and then we were back in Brunswick.  On Monday, I got hibachi and sushi at Shinto with my coworkers. 🙂

The highlight:  Mike bought me a tent…which I promptly set up in my living room! I can officially go tent camping!

Thanks to everyone for making it a great birthday. 🙂

 
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Posted by on April 23, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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HOW TERRIFYING (read: Stupid Alarmists)

Hello to all the Alarmist Helicopter parents out there.  How are you?  Oh, you’re stressed out?  What happened?  Let me guess–your kid got some mud under her fingernails…or she played on a playground without something soft for her to land on should she take a tumble.

I feel like Sue Sylvester would have a lot to say about this.

KIDS ARE KIDS!  Not porcelain.  Unless you’re “Kurt” from Glee, and let’s be honest–he’s pretty amazingly tough.  Kids are tough, and they’re bouncy and bendable and they do not need to be coddled 100% of the time.

I came across this article today containing photos of kids doing what kids should be doing.  Games that are considered–by today’s standards–dangerous and terrifying!  All photos are property of Getty Images as published on the Daily Mail’s website.  

Helicopter Mom: "Basketball on roller skates? You'll crack your head open!"

Only two on the teeter-totter at once? What fun is that?

This looks like a fark of a lot of fun.

I don't know what this thing is...but I feel like I would have had a lot of fun on it.

Fighting is a part of life. Builds character, and makes you much less of a wimp.

What if she falls? She'll laugh, get up, and do it again.

I don't know what this is...but I'm buying my kids one.

Cool parents actually get on and ride along.

I recall the jungle gym/monkey bars. My favorite part of recess.

Remember, parents.  Kids are bendy.  They’re not going to break.  And if they do, God forbid they get to wear a super cool cast on their right forearm for a few months and have all their little friends sign it and be the envy of the entire school.

 
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Posted by on April 19, 2012 in Raising My Youngins

 

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Desperate Attempt to Return to My Adolescence

I am ashamed to admit this…  But apparently not ashamed enough to tell you.

Last night, in a desperate attempt to return to my adolescence, I got on the internet and searched “Backstreet Boys Fanfiction”.  You see, in junior high, I was the textbook example of a teenybopper.  There was no “Team Edward” “Team Jacob” bullshit.  You were either a Backstreet Boys fan, or an N*Sync fan.

I was full-on BSB.  My friend Caitlin and I ate, drank, and slept BSB.  We went to concerts, recorded TV appearances, watched TRL on the phone together.  We stole a banner (I need to find that in my parents’ basement) and even went so far as to chase their tour bus on foot…  I’m not proud of that.

But we had a notebook that we passed back and forth in the hallways of our junior high.  This notebook was filled with (obviously) fictional stories about Nick Carter, Brian Littrell, and Caitlin and me.  They were all fairly innocent, consistently ending on a yacht in Florida during my marriage to Nick and Caitie’s marriage to Brian.

Then I started turning to the interwebs to see what else people were writing about the Backstreet Boys–and my mind was blown.  People wrote DIRTY stories about the BSB.  And on top of that (haha) people wrote slash fanfiction about them (slash = guy on guy in the fanfic world)!  I was appalled.  That’s not to say that I didn’t read some of the dirty BSB stories.  I credit much of my sexual education to online fanfiction.

Obviously, the BSB fell off the map, and I grew up and just started buying Harlequin romance novels.  But last night, I wanted to read about the good ole Backstreet Boys.  And to my HUGE disappointment…there is hardly any fanfiction left about them!

It’s probably been about 12 years since I last searched it.  Crazy how the internet changes.  And crazy how things you never thought would disappear…do.

PS, you can laugh at me.  I did.

 
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Posted by on April 11, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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TOLD YOU SO: DIRT is Good For You!

Thanks to my friends over at The Social Silo for bringing this to my attention:  playing in the dirt is actually good for you!  

According to a study by Oregon State University, “Little girls growing up in western society are expected to be neat and tidy – “all ribbon and curls” – and one researcher who studies science and gender differences thinks that emphasis may contribute to higher rates of certain diseases in adult women.”

Photo Property of The Social Silo

It’s a pretty entertaining read.  Plus, if I remember correctly, I told you to let your kids play in the dirt long ago.

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2012 in Raising My Youngins

 

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On Aging: From 6 to 7…

In 12 days, I turn 27.

I tend to have an issue going from ages that end in 6 to ages that end in 7.  It seems like such a huge change.

I mean, from age 6 to age 7, you go from kindergarten to first grade.  Huge.

From 16 to 17, you go from carefree and fun-loving to starting to worry about college, and where you’ll go, and what you want to do with your life. HUGER.

And now, I’ll go from 26 to 27.  26.  My “mid-twenties”.  I’ll go into my waning late-twenties.  27.  Three years from 30.  27.

7 even looks like a more mature number than 6.  6 is like a little chubby kid, round and lopped over and standing steady on a wide base.  7 is like the cooler older sister that 6 tries to be–tall, slim, standing high in stilettos.

But with that tall, slim figure and heightened view come bigger responsibilities:  being a grown-up, fighting with your own insurance company (highlight of my day, lemme tell ya), picking your battles, battling your biological clock, money.  And that, my friends, is the HUGEST.

Mike told me last night that people are happiest at the age of 33.  I believe it.  You’re far away from 6’s and 7’s, you’ve probably got some routine to your life, people that you’re happy with, maybe even some nuggets.

But for now, I’m fighting 7–enjoying my last 12 days as a chubby kid who hasn’t yet had the realization that there’s no going back to childhood at this point–that each year now is just another year closer to more responsibility…and I hope some pleasant surprises.

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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Greener Grass from the Window of a One-Bedroom Apartment?

Last night, I went out to Panini’s in Brunswick to celebrate my friend Greg‘s birthday.  As we were sitting around the fire pit on the patio, I got into a conversation about how I wanted out of my apartment and into…and how some of the guys around me wanted out of their houses and back into apartments.

Let’s get the facts down first:  I hate living in apartments.  I hate the people around me.  I hate the noise.  I hate shared walls. I hate having to unlock two doors to get to my place (even though that makes me feel safe).  My first apartment in Brunswick was pretty much underground…full of spiders…dark…damp.  I felt like a mushroom.

My second apartment is bigger–still on the first floor–but nonetheless, it is still an apartment.  It’s a two-bedroom, but I can honestly count the times I’ve opened the door to that second bedroom on one hand.

Now back to the bar conversation–the guys have houses-nice big houses-that I would kill for.  They have driveways and garages and yards.  They have a home–a reason to decorate and actually make it feel like a home.

Now me–I don’t have a yard.  I can’t even hang a bird-feeder for the cardinals.  I don’t have a balcony (1st floor), and I can’t open my windows because the fucking (white trash) smokers at the front door (who have awesome grammar and language skills, by the way) stand there and bitch and blow smoke into my windows.  I don’t normally judge–but seriously.  I am alone in my apartment.  I have all the time and space to myself.  And I hate it.

Now, the guys I was talking to–the ones with their nice houses and their yards–sometimes long to be back in the one-bedroom apartment stage of their lives.  WHY?!

Simplicity–yes, I understand that.  And that’s pretty much it.  I mean, I don’t get it.

But maybe it’s a gender roles thing.  Maybe men want to go back to that primitive way, and women want to move forward?  Maybe…  Or maybe it’s because I am alone and long for Mike to be with me in my living arrangement, and once you’re older and have been with someone for awhile, you want to go back to solitude.  I don’t know. I don’t get it.

All I know is that I can’t be bothered to decorate my apartment to make it feel like home because it isn’t home.  It’s a temporary place that will hold me until I can find a place with Mike to call home.

Maybe the grass is just never greener out of your current window.

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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No More Christmas Surprises

It blows Mike’s mind that I don’t care about knowing what all of my Christmas presents are.  And it drives my mother nuts that she never has anything to surprise me on Christmas morning anymore.  But the truth is that I just don’t care about surprises anymore.

I’d much rather know that I’m getting things I like, and that I won’t have to run around in the days after Christmas returning and exchanging things.  It really doesn’t bother me to know everything that is under the tree.  Plus it helps my momma out because I can run around and go shopping with her and not have to have her worry about sneaking presents.  It’s really a service that I do, ya know?  I’m just doing daughterly duties.  😉

On another Christmasy note, and to conveniently help me be more womanly, I have been invited to a Christmas

Cookie Party.  Every person will bring a different type of Christmas cookie, a dozen for each of the attendees, and everyone will walk away with tons of cookies!  It’s a really cool idea and I’m pretty excited about it.  So this weekend, I’ll be seeing about some cookies, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to make these cookies to the right.

Oh the Christmas season is in full swing!

 

 
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Posted by on December 6, 2011 in Daily Happenings

 

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Gene’s Drive-Thru Carry-Out

Growing up we spent every weekend and many weekdays at my grandparents’ house in Clyde.  The big white farmhouse stood with a sort of authority, the same authority that rang through the air when Grandma called us for dinner.  And across the drive from the farmhouse stood Gene’s Drive-Thru Carry-Out.

In between Clyde and Green Creek Township, people drove out of their way to go to Gene’s.  Some say he had the coldest beer around, others came to sit at the counter on tattered stools and scratch lottery tickets and talk about the Cleveland Indians.  Some came because Gene and his kids remembered their orders and had them waiting as soon as they pulled in.

After hours of playing in the yard and being turned away from the cookie jar at Grandma’s house, us kids would run barefoot across the scorching asphalt and open the metal door to the back of “the store.”  Stepping in and cooling our feet on the smooth concrete floor, we sneaked through cardboard boxes and overstock Pepsi and Miller Lite cartons to the doorway that led to Grandpa.  He always stood behind the counter with either my mother, my Aunt Karen or Aunt MaryLynn or Uncle Mike.

As soon as we appeared, all of the customers would ask which of Gene’s kids we belonged to, and what we were up to.  We answered them, reaching into the cooler for a cold pop and then walking out from behind the counter to the wall of candy on the side wall.  We took what we wanted, sometimes daring to go to the freezer for a frozen Snickers bar, and we left.

It’s a wonder we aren’t all kleptomaniacs.  It is NOT a wonder that I was pretty chunky throughout my childhood.

I did a lot of growing up in that store.  I learned to play the clarinet with my cousin Heather.  I got locked in the cooler with a dead pig and my cousin Meghan.  “Momma Cat” had a batch of kittens in a garbage bag back by the bathroom and then left them for dead.  I scanned lottery tickets to my heart’s content.

I was heartbroken when Grandpa sold the store.  He retired and began working at Wilson’s Clothing part time instead.  They sold the store to a local couple, and during a chain of drive-thru robberies, Denise was shot:

“Less than 30 minutes after Hovis reported The Gables robbery to police, the body of 42-year-old Denise Clink was found at Gene’s Drive-Thru, just outside the city limits of Clyde, a small town in Sandusky County best known as the home of a Whirlpool factory. Robinson, police concluded, had shot Clink during a robbery of the drive-through that she and her husband owned.”  -Brad Dicken, The Chronicle-Telegram

It was terrifying.  Grandpa’s store became a place where a murder happened.  It was a friend who was killed…and worse, it could have been our grandpa.

Gene’s Drive-Thru is still standing, although vacant.  It’s mostly just memories now, memories that I hope someday we can revive.  I don’t know how to run a business, but it’s always an option.  It took Grandpa a lot of years to build up that clientele, and he was as loyal to them as they were to him.

I do miss that carry-out though.

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2011 in When I Was Young

 

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Grandpa’s 81!

Grandpa Gene is 81!  Whoa.  And if you’re not from Clyde or Fremont, Ohio, you don’t know this, but Grandpa’s birthday is almost a national holiday (ask him, go ahead).  For weeks, he readies himself for this big occasion.  It’s a celebration all around town, at the Drug Mart and the Speedway, at McDonald’s and the Circle K, the VFW and all the places where Grandpa makes his rounds each day.

One of the things I love most about my Grandpa is that he loves Loves LOVES lottery tickets (probably more than he loves his own birthday).  Scratchers.  All the time.  🙂  In fact, when he owned Gene’s Drive-Thru Carry-Out in Clyde (I think I have my post for tomorrow), the slogan on his t-shirts (and for the store in general) was “Play the Lotto with Slotto!”

Didn't believe me, didja?

Grant in his t-shirt.

So Grandpa had an awesome birthday.  And he got a lot of lottery tickets.

Grant, Grandma, Grandpa

Every time Grandpa opened a gift at his birthday party, Grant would say, “More lottery tickets?!”  He did get quite a few lottery tickets.  I can see how a kid would be disappointed with repeat presents.

The other thing I love about Grandpa is his love for all Cleveland teams.  See the Wahoo shirt?  That’s one of hundreds, I’m sure.  And Grandma (isn’t she frickin’ adorable?) is the same way.  She loves watching the Cleveland Indians.

And we all came to celebrate at my parents’ house in Fremont.  Even baby Jax!  Now where are we going to find a tiny Gene’s Drive-Thru shirt for him?

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2011 in Daily Happenings

 

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