Lifestyle
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Ring Out the Old, Ring in the New
Happy New Year, everyone! <toots horn, throws confetti> Personally, I’m not a big celebrator of New Year’s Eve – as my Dad always says, “New Year’s Eve is for amateurs”. I would agree, having personally nursed more than a few hangovers on New Year’s Day in years past. Not no more. Uh. Uh. Not because I can’t handle a hangover alone. It’s just that hangovers and children. Do. Not. Mix. I’m also not a big fan of resolutions. They are too easy to leave behind. Don’t believe me? Go to your local gym on February 28. I guarantee it will be nowhere near as crowded as it was on January…
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Flashback Post: Always with the quick comeback
I’m taking a well-earned break from blogging (read: the Hubs won’t let me near the computer on my holiday) so I’m posting a few of my favorite early posts. Enjoy! At nearly 5 years old, I don’t think Boo can yet be classified as a smart-ass. Not when he is so matter-of-fact in his responses. What he IS is a worry-wart. “Mommy, if I touch this, will the police come?” (No, Boo) “Mommy, if I touched my butt and then ate a cookie, will I die?” (Your pants were up? Then, no) “Mommy, if I don’t finish this, will I starve?” (Um, no, not in this house.) After 15 minutes…
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Flashback Post: He Got It From Me
I’m taking a well-earned break from blogging (read: the Hubs won’t let me near the computer on my holiday) so I’m posting a few of my favorite early posts. Enjoy! The other evening at dinner, Boo went on and on about something-or-the-other. I forget what it was, but rest assured, it was hilarious in that “didn’t come out like it should have” way. Just trust me on this… I looked at the Hubs, trying not to laugh, and then at him and asked “Where did you come from?” Boo matter-of-factly responded “From you, Mommy. I came from your belly!” Damn literal kid.
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Accents and such
Back from a walk through the fields with the pup, we paused to talk to one of our neighbors. As I said goodbye and turned to let the pup through the back gate, Boo looked at me impatiently and exclaimed (in the Welsh accent that he has developed over the past 14 months): “C’mon mom, would you stop putting on that American accent already!!!” Sheesh.
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Thanks for the compliment. Really.
Last week, a little old man told me my puppy looked like “a zebra gone wrong”. Last month, someone coming to my door asked me when I was expecting. (Trust me, I’m not.) When Boo was 3 months old, a checker at the local supermarket said he looked “just like a troll doll”. A friend of mine was recently told “You look much nicer with your hair blowdried.” (A backhanded compliment if I ever heard one.) What is it with people and thoughtless comments? Around my house, we refer to it as “not having a filter”. I mean, I’m a big believer in freedom of speech and all that, but…
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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday – Rag Doll Dance
Rag Doll Dance from Jenn Belden on Vimeo.
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Hello, scale
Yesterday, I rejoined Weight Watchers. Its been about a year and a half since I’ve been to a meeting – I couldn’t seem to find a meeting time here that I could actually make it to on a regular basis – and, well, I thought I could do it on my own. The reality: I’m not doing so well on my own here. When we first moved here, I met the lovely sausage roll, and it proved to be my undoing (of all the weight I had lost pre-move). When I saw the fat/calorie content (and nearly had a coronary), I was able to back away from the sausage rolls.…
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Monday Mishmash
Monday snuck up on me again like the school bully with a snowball…all of a sudden, its in my face, and I’m left wondering “where the hell did it come from?” Anywho. As I’m fighting a 3-day headache, I’m giving up on my attempts at a coherent post and just giving you a mishmash of stuff that’s going on here and in my head: I’m loving www.bluntcard.com. You’ve got to love any card that contains the phrase “Holy shit balls!” We FINALLY went out and bought a Christmas tree. This year’s is a little Charlie Brown-ish (we didn’t bother tying it to the top of my car, we just shoved…
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Rocket dog
There is one distinct benefit my puppy enjoys here that she would not enjoy back in the States: off-lead (that’s a leash to my US peeps) walking. Or, should I say – off-lead running. She loves to go for a walk through the fields, but all this recent snow? It makes her crazy. She loves it. She runs, snow flying, ears flapping, eyes googly, tongue hanging out. She bites at the snow, rolls in it, then flies across the fields again. I give her a yell, and she circles back to me. It helps that I generally have a pocket full of cheese or hot dogs. Her training is coming…
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Excruciating.
This morning, I found my daughter at the breakfast table, talking to her spoon. Her SPOON. Excruciating. This is the word that best describes trying to get my darling, lovely, imaginative daughter out the door in the morning. Don’t get me wrong. I love her imagination, her creativity, her penchant for singing to herself in her off-key voice. I would also LOVE to see her eat her breakfast in LESS than 45 minutes. She is a dreamer. She eats, she might chat a bit, she dallies. I leave the table to rinse my dishes so that she can focus on her cereal. I turn around, and she is lost in…