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Showing posts from May, 2012

Kleenex-y dreams

This is the season that older daughter will graduate from high school. This is my first child to do so, so I am walking in uncharted territory. I have no idea what to expect, except that a lot of Kleenex will be involved.
I remember little about my own high school graduation, but I do succinctly remember a picture I took with the six girls I counted as my closest friends during those years. I liked the picture well enough to have it framed, but I haven't seen it in years.
That day, as we cut up and smiled and laughed, we could never have nor would we have wanted to know what would happen in the years to follow. We learned what bad choices were, what infertility felt like, what spousal abuse was, and how to mourn a spouse gone too soon. But we also saw that the bonds that friendship had already formed over our high school years loved beyond bad choices, cried in unison on the tough days, and fiercely hung together to protect our friends.
The other night, at my daughter's grad…

Top 14 ways to eat a Butterfinger

I'm lying.  There are actually not 14 ways to eat a Butterfinger.  I mean, there may be, but I know of just a few.

My partner in crime at work, Lori, keeps a ridiculously large jar of "bite-size" chocolates near her desk.  This is right next to the leadership poster that makes seagull noises to provide a soundtrack for the eagle pictured on the poster.  (Seriously, with stuff like this, my blog writes itself..... :)) Anyhoo, as I ate a bite-size Butterfinger in two bites rather than the self-prescribed one bite, cohorts Lori AND Charlene filled me in on the correct way to eat a bite-size Butterfinger, which is apparently to let the chocolate melt off in your mouth and then to daintily use your bicuspids to shave off parts of the candy until it's gone. 

This is in direct violation of my candy manifesto, which clearly states than any candy worth having can be eaten immediately without any required preparatory action, i.e., letting the chocolate melt off.  But th…

I Was the Other Woman. Kind of.

Without sounding too Hester Prynne, I was the other woman. Kind of.
My friend Kenn (whose name has been changed to protect the innocent) has been playing his bagpipes (name of instrument changed to protect a beautiful instrument) and singing at several local live music venues. Because I am an awesome friend, I have been promising to come see him for about a year.  And had yet to go.  So when I had a free evening and I knew he was playing, I ambled my way over to this restaurant and proceeded to order some black bean flautas. Yum!
At the break between sets, he walked over to a table with two women and talked to them and then made his way over to my table .  Kenn invited me to join these other ladies, who were also there in support of him.  I am always up for making new friends, so me and my flautas picked up and moved. Kenn introduced me to his girlfriend Berry and her mom. (Note: previously, I had learned that although a nice person , Berry could become territorial and not-so-nice if…