A Thank You to the Barenaked Ladies

Are you going through a recession recovery? Maybe times are still very hard for you and every day feels like a struggle? (If that is the case I wish you the best in surviving through your hard times.)

Hubby and I are in recession recovery mode and it feels amazing. I have learned that – sometimes –  yes, money can buy happiness.

But there were so many times when that just wasn’t an option.

As I reminisce of twelve years ago today, when hubby and I first met, I think of the best present I ever gave him. It was for our tenth wedding anniversary, which was just about two years ago in January (if this math seems weird, yes, we got married after knowing each other for only two months). It was right after hubby had landed a job (yay!) after years of working for companies that shut down, and after a few scary stints in the ICU because of a freakish genetic heart condition. We were in major financial recovery mode, super happy to no longer have to accept charity from family members to do things like buy groceries, and didn’t yet have anything extra stashed up for things like presents.

So, What was this best present ever?

Well, it took me four months to prepare.

I practiced for hours and hours on my commute to and from work.

It didn’t cost a thing. (Oh, wait. At some point, it did cost 99 cents on iTunes.)

I learned every single word to the Barenaked Ladies song, “One Week.” You know the one? The super duper fast words one?

One night, I simply turned on the song and busted out the lyrics for hubby while he cooked dinner.

He was shocked, happy, and full of laughter. It was the most fun I ever had giving someone a present.

So, thank you, Barenaked Ladies, for creating such an awesome opportunity for me to hold a precious and loving memory for the rest of my life!

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Poop

You Can Still Be Happy

Growing up in public schools in the 80s and 90s, I heard a lot of this (maybe from hippie teachers? Maybe pop culture TV shows? Not positive which adults said these things, I just know they were programmed into my head):

‘Dream.’

‘Work hard and you will achieve your goals.’

‘You can do anything you set your mind to.’

Hogwash. But not in a bad way.

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The Kind of Love That Would Save You in the Fire Swamp. And, Dudes With Cool Blogs.

There are a lot of awesome dudes out there in the blogosphere. (Whatever, red squiggly line. Wikipedia recognizes ‘blogosphere’ as a word. The red squiggly line software should be updated! Like, if I type, ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,’ you should know what that is, and not suggest that I change it to, ‘superciliousness.’ Not even close to the same thing. Actually, that is a lie. I don’t really even know what the definition of ‘superciliousness’ is. Sorry, rant over.)

Anyway, back to the dudes. I once took a writing class in which I wrote a piece — in which I based a male character on my husband. The feedback? That character is not believable as a man. You need to dude him up. ‘Dude him up’ is my phrase, but that is the gist of what they were saying.

I struggled and struggled. What to do? I didn’t want to make him into someone he was not, but I also needed readers to believe he could exist.

Then, I realized something. I was in a class of all women. Every last genitalia on the chairs of that classroom were vaginae.

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