Day 30.

Day 30.

I know it’s the 1st. December 1st. It’s not even November anymore. I missed the last day of November writing month. Out of all the days, I missed Day 30.

Let’s go back in time, shall we? It’s November 30th.

1487 – Germany. A law is states beer should be brewed from only three ingredients: water, malt and hops. Albert IV, Duke of Bavaria, got shitfaced on this cold night. He threw a case of Summer Shandy out of his window, grabbed a pretzel, and declared, “that beer tasted like shit.”

1753 – United States. Benjamin Franklin received the Godfrey Copley medal for his “curious experiments” and “observations on electricity.” His thank you speech went a lil’ sumpin’ like this, “It’s all about the Benjamins, baby. Uh huh. Yeah. It’s all about the Benjamins, baby. Now, what y’all wanna do? Wanna be ballers, shot-callers, brawlers. Who be dipping’ in the Benz with spoilers. It’s all about the Benjamins baby. “

1782 – Britain. Britain signs agreement recognizing U.S. independence. The United States blasts fireworks, holds up the middle finger to the east while drinking Summer Shandys. “‘Merica!” can be heard across the pond.

1835 – United States. Author Samuel Langhorne Clemens is born in Missouri. Also known as Mark Twain. “You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.” I think we’re related.

1838 – Mexico. Mexico declares war on France; the “Pastry War” begins. A bunch of Mexicans ransacked a bakery near Mexico City, owned by French-born pastry chef, Remontel. France told Mexico, “uh, we’re Lady Marmalade and you’re Les Incompétents.” Mexico was like, “Screw your marmalade – we have tacos. BRING IT, BITCHACHOS.” And that’s how the Cake Wars started on the Food Network.

1864 – United States. Battle of Franklin, Tennessee. The dumbasses in the United States are fighting with each other in what is called the Civil War. The Battle of Franklin is one of the worst battles for the Confederate States army. There were approximately 7,700 American casualties killed by Americans.

1900 – Paris. Irish playwright and novelist Oscar Wilde dies. Original meme writer. “Be yourself. Everybody else is already taken.” 

1907 – United States. Pike Place dedicated in Seattle. No one cared until 64 years later when the first Starbucks opened and now we’re all sitting here with shaky hands.

1924 – London. First photo fax transmitted across the Atlantic by radio. The photo fax was sent from London to New York City. Ass cheeks. The first fax was ass cheeks on a fax machine. Those Brits are cheeky smart arses.

1929 – United States. Radio and TV personality Richard Wagstaff Clark born in New York. Also known as Dick Clark. Ball drop.

1954 – United States. First meteorite known to strike a person. Ann Hodges of Sylacauga, Alabama decided to take a nap on her couch. She woke up to a softball-size hunk of black rock busting through her ceiling, bouncing off her radio, and slamming into her thigh. She was left with a pineapple-shaped bruise from outer space. She survived, thus sealing her fate of never winning the lottery.

1993 – United States. “Schindler’s List”, an American historical drama film directed by Steven Spielberg and starring Liam Neeson, Ben Kingsley, and Ralph Fiennes, premieres in Washington, D.C. We still hate Hitler and the Nazis. We wonder what happened to the days of the Germans making beer laws.

2004 – United States. Longtime “Jeopardy!” champion Ken Jennings of Salt Lake City, Utah finally loses, leaving him with $3,196,300. He is television’s all-time biggest game show winner. The losing answer – “Most of this firm’s 70,000 seasonal white-collar employees work only four months a year.” WHAT IS KANSAS CITY’S H&R BLOCK, ALEX. BOOM! Julie Burton comin’ in hot! You’re done, Kenny.

2017 – United States. Julie Burton forgets to post on the 30th day of NaBloPoMo/Nano Poblano. She had a child with a fever. She was hostess of ladies night in her neighborhood that evening but before that she had to pick up dry cleaning and run by the store. She stopped by her neighbor’s house to chit chat for an hour. She probably posted a couple funny things on Facebook and Instagram. She picked up her second child from school and the second child was pissed that first child got to stay home all day. Her husband is out of town but hey, at least she didn’t get hit by a meteorite.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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I stood with Henry.

I sat up straight and smiled at the dermatologist walking in the room. She smiled back, sat down, and explained my diagnosis.

“Julie, you have a hair loss condition called Telogen Effluvium. Your body went into shock immediately after the loss of your nephew and almost losing your sister. Three months ago, those two events were enough to shut your body down momentarily. Your fingernails stopped growing too. Your body seems to have corrected the shock. I see where your fingernails grew again. Your hair will do the same but because hair grows in a cycle, it will take about a year or maybe longer for your hair to grow back. It’s a rare condition but a temporary one. I’m so sorry for the loss of your nephew.”

The divots in my fingernails are almost grown out now. My hair loss slowed down and I have new hairs sprouting around my scalp. I don’t cry when I wring my hair in the shower anymore. Yet, I still avoid brushing it or pulling it back in a ponytail because it is much thinner than it used to be.

I stood six feet from my nephew today.

I knew Henry wouldn’t hear my voice. He wouldn’t feel my feet above him. Or smell the lotion I put on this morning. I stood anyway. I stood six feet from my nephew for the first time since I held his sweet face 200 days ago.

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Just Henry and me, under a giant tree.

He slept and my chest felt heavy.

I looked around. I was surrounded by babies. Quiet, sleeping babies. I saw a bundle of yellow flowers against the fence, next to the giant tree with branches over my head. I walked over. I didn’t see any headstones. The flowers must have blown with the leaves and stopped at the fence. I picked up the flowers and placed them on Henry’s headstone.

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I whispered the only words in my head.

“There you go, Henry. Aunt Jules will hook you up.”

I got in my car. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wake the sleeping babies.

I started my car and drove towards the entrance. I got lost. I drove past Henry and his yellow flowers three times – and one time in reverse – before I figured out how to get out. And when I finally made the right turn out of the cemetery, the heaviness on my chest lifted. It shocked me. The weight on my chest was real.

My shoulders lifted too. I didn’t know my shoulders had bricks on them. The air filled my lungs. I didn’t know my lungs needed the air. My body lifted up.

My hair tingled.

I stood with Henry.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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36 things I learned in 36 years.

I’m 36 years old and one day. I am another year older, wiser, but still not any more mature.

36 things I learned in 36 years – in no particular order:

Make your serving size. Leftovers aren’t good. They just aren’t. There may be a few recipes or meals that hold an exception but I can’t think of anything worth mentioning. Eat the serving size in front of you. Seconds are better than leftovers.

Eat and exercise like you have heart disease and diabetes. Because you will if you don’t exercise. This one is not fun. I know. But it’s necessary and maybe, just maybe, it will become fun.

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People will think what they want to think. Let them.

If you’re bored, sleep. I think I heard on the radio that sleeping a lot has health benefits. I don’t really know the science behind it but it made me fist pump in the car because I’m good at naps.

Tell your partner “thank you” a lot. Whether they do an errand on their own or if you ask, always say thank you. I caught on to this from watching Scott’s cousins and their wives live with me for a week. I don’t think I say thank you enough. Thank you, Scott. And Scott’s cousins and wives.

Drink the whiskey. I mean, it was a good time. And if you want to know, one of Scott’s deer antlers took the picture on a timer at 4 a.m. because they lost their hooves in a hunting accident. Those cousins’ wives, I tell you.

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Use google. The smartest people I know google the answers to their questions before saying them out loud. Deer (plural) do, in fact, have hooves.

Drink the vodka. By this point, you’re probably thinking I’m an alcoholic. I am not. I couldn’t write every day if I was. We were “Russian” into a dry wedding. And I don’t know what to say, except it’s Christmas Thanksgiving and we’re all in misery, Clark.

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If someone shows up in a similar dress as you – let it go. Emily and I did not coordinate dress colors. No one believed us. But like I said before – let people think what they want to think.

Hug goodbye. Scott taught me this. I’m learning. It’s awkward. I like high-fives better.

Don’t be so hard on your body when you’re young. Your joints, your back, your muscles, your skin especially – they remember and they will fail you when you’re 36. Exactly that age – 36. Shit starts falling apart. This advice is probably useless to anyone reading this because too late.

Moisturize your face every night. I got a manicure a couple weekends ago and the lady doing my nails asked if I was married. I laughed because I knew where this was going. She asked if I had kids. She asked how old my kids are. She dropped her mouth and my hand when I said 11 and 8. And I was I like, hell yes. I moisturize. And honestly – I wish more men would moisturize. You wouldn’t look so damn old next to your wedding pictures.

You can cuss a little. Bitch, motherfucker, Goddammit – it’s ok. No one gives a shit.

Everyone has a story.

Read the book. You know. The book. Whatever Netflix show you’re binging on – there was a writer behind the words said out loud. I bet the words are much better in your head than out of someone’s mouth.

See your dentist every six months. I like nice teeth and I love getting my teeth professionally cleaned. I get cavities too. I’m not perfect. But the older you get, the more you will thank me for this piece of advice.

Have children when you’re in your 20s. Babies and toddlers will suck your soul. Get it over with while you’re still fertile.

Have children when you’re in your 30s. Babies and toddlers will suck your soul. Enjoy your own youth before you take over someone else’s. I don’t know the real answer this – other than babies and toddlers will suck your soul at any age.

Karma is real.

Go outside. Do something. Go on a walk. Go to a park. Explore your city. Your day will be much better.

You need to be brave to grow old. I heard my dad tell my Grandma that.

Ask for a friend. Sometimes all you have to do is ask for a friend and you’ll find one. My favorite extroverts always ask if I want to hang out. My favorite introverts never do and then I never do because I, too, am introverted. So ask. Ask if you need a friend.

A gravesite can be strangely comforting.

Give writers credit. If someone moved you, made you laugh, made you say me too – and you chose to share those words on social media, do not pass them off as your own words. That’s called plagiarism. Give the credit to the writer. Memes – I’m talking about memes, people. It’s hard making someone laugh in under twenty words. Go ahead. Try it. Hopefully no one steals it.

While I have you here – give photographers respect. Ask what their copyright policy is on those Christmas photos before you share them.

Talk to your daughters about periods, boobs, and shaving her legs. No, don’t sit down and have a heart-to-heart. That’s weird, Full House. Get out of here. It’s easier if you’re light-hearted about it. Wear a sports bra under that shirt, you don’t want your nips showing. I smile, she laughs.

Talk to your boys about wieners. I don’t have any advice on how to do this nor do I want to know but you should do it.

Dogs are a part of the family. I’m just sitting here, looking at these bitches on my white couch and I’m thinking, “I love those little shitheads.” 

Boiled peanuts are delicious. Have you tried them? You should. They’re only sold in the south and in my Kansas City crockpot.

Christmas music is not the devil. It’s lovely and it makes me feel warm. I’m busting out my ice skates and hot cocoa this weekend.

It’s OK to want to sleep in twin beds instead of a king if you’re married. I said sleep. I would love to sleep in my own bed instead of waking up to dragon fire breath’s dead arm on my throat. Scott thinks this is a terrible idea and he did not love the Flintstones as a kid.

People are not who they seem online. I want to say this is about FakeBook over there but no. This is about me and it’s something that bothers me a lot but I’ve realized there are others like this too. I don’t know how many people have told this to me – “you’re funny when you write because it’s not who you are in person.” I mean, I think that’s a compliment.

Know your worth. I’m not writing for free anymore. Becoming an author this year changed that for me because I’m not who I am in person.

Don’t say “please stop growing” to babies and kids. Because sometimes babies and kids do stop. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. Let them grow.

Don’t call people “bruh.” My kids say that and that’s just a ridiculous term to call someone. Oh God. My 36 is showing.

Always tell your mom “happy labor day” on your birthday. It’s her day too.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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This page is intentionally left blank.

I fell asleep writing a blog post yesterday.

Yesterday was my birthday. 36 years old.

It was a tame one, as I would expect any 36th birthday to be. I didn’t even get a cake or ice cream. But I did get to introvert. My houseguests left. The wedding party left. The Russians left. The leftovers went down my drain. The beer, wine, and liquor is put away. My house is quiet and it’s the four of us again.

Thanksgiving, a rehearsal dinner, and a wedding – done. I’m exhausted.

This page is intentionally left blank.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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And that’s how I met the mother of the bride.

Today is the day when two become one. Today, there will be a marriage between a man and a woman. It’s a blending of two families. The groom’s family hails from middle America. The bride’s family is Russian. The groom’s family wakes up to fireball shots on Thanksgiving/wedding weekend. The bride’s family are non-drinkers.

The groom is Scott’s cousin. I will be sitting on the groom’s side today.

The mother of the bride will be sitting on the bride’s side. She will be sitting as far as she can from me. Cousin Julie.

The rehearsal dinner was going well until the mother of the bride walked up to me with a cup.

Me: Hi! Are you the mother of the bride? I’m Julie. This is my neighborhood clubhouse. It’s so nice to meet you!

Mother of the bride: Hello. I need some vot-ka.

Me: Vodka?

Mother of the bride: Yes, Vot-ka.

Me: Welcome to the party!

There’s the Russian I’m judging you to be.

Mother of the bride: Mm. Yes.

I walked to the back of the bar. I pointed to the mother of the bride’s back and mouthed, “she wants vodka!” to Scott’s cousins’ wives.

I fist pumped.

Me: Well, we have wine here. And I made a champagne bar here. There’s beer outside.

Mother of the bride: No, no, no. Vot-ka!

Me: Oh! I was told no hard liquor but I can get you some vodka.

Mother of the bride: VOT-KA.

Me: You want the good stuff? I have some Tito’s back at my house. Do you wanna go back and grab some? Do you have a Russian vodka you really like?

The mother of the bride pointed to the sink.

Mother of the bride: VOT. KA.

I stared at her.

My mother-in-law, Kathy, walked up.

Me: I think she wants a vodka.

Mother of the bride: VOTKA.

Kathy: Water.

Me: Oh shit.

Kathy: Do you want some water?

Mother of the bride: Yes! VOTKA!

Kathy: Here is the water and meet my daughter-in-law, Julie.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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And that’s how the boy parents won the Internet.

My 6-year-old cousin: “My wiener hurts. It’s sticking straight up. It needs to point down. Not up!”

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO THIS.

There are some things you can’t ask Google, Siri, or Alexa. But you can ask Facebook and Twitter and get an immediate response. And that’s how the boy parents won the Internet.

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Welcome to my house. “Jeff, handle this” is my speech. – Morgan J.

“That’s normal, it will go back down soon” is my speech. – Joah G.

This conversation has happened many times in my house. Along with, “Hey, Mom! When I jump my privates bounce up and down!” – Christi S.

Driving over speed bumps – laughter and “those make my balls jump.” My standard answer is, “the wiener thief isn’t here, you don’t need to guard it” or “nobody’s gonna steal it, dude.” – Carmen C.

I remember my then-3-year-old told me his “penis was getting all crazy.” – Jessica Z.

I’ve said, “it’s just puffy, leave it be and it will be fine” while walking away pretty quickly and nonchalantly. Also, I don’t recall it ever being one of my boys I’ve said it to, always someone else’s kid who seems to think they need to tell me instead of their own mom. Talk about awkward. I’ve also said, “go talk to your mom and see what she says.” – Siouxxsie F.

Omg my 3-year-old does that! The other day he was like, “Heeelp! It’s up!”‘ Go find your dad, kid. I have no advice for you.” – Ashley A.

A guy I work with said his 3-year-old grandson told him that when he was happy it sticks up and when he was sad it didn’t.” – Chaz S.

Even worse when the doc says the little girls are going to like him. – Steve T.

“Ask your father.” – Anne B.

“Stop touching it and it will go down” or “you need to go pee” I use these phrases several hundred times per day. – Callen J.

Wait until he says, “Mom! Look! I can hang a towel on it!” – Tom W.

To this day (my boys are 12, 14 and 16) I tell them, “I know better, take it to your room. If you keep touching it around people, it’s gonna fall off.” It’s such a boy thing! We don’t walk around holding our junk! p.s. I started the whole “it’ll fall off” when they were like 4. I just had had enough of watching them with their hands down their pants! – Jenn S.

I tell him to put on clothes 50 times a day and he tells me no because he likes to let it wiggle when he walks. – Melissa S.

I’ve had to tell my four-year-old constantly lately, “Please stop talking about your penis.” – Shannon S.

My then-four-year-old told his preschool teacher, “When I grow up, I’m going to have big testicles like my dad!” – My Battle Call blog

“Tell him to go home.” – Twitter, @TaraWoodWriter

Especially a problem when he has to pee. – Twitter, @whyallthesekids

I say, “Trust me, kid, someday you’ll be praying it keeps sticking straight up and she will too.” – Twitter, @TheTerribleHook

Don’t worry unless it lasts for five hours. – Twitter @Butzengear

I scream the same way when mine is supposed to point up but stays down. – Twitter, @moooooog35

Tell him to “wait until you’re 60, you’ll be singing a different tune.” – Twitter, @MurrayClarke5

LOTS OF COLD WATER! – Twitter, @Mytquinn69

It’s tragic at that age. My grandson burst into tears when my wife scolded him for peeing all over the bathroom at night. “My penis gets all pointy and I can’t help it.” – Twitter, @frozenpypes

Pretend you’re asleep. – Twitter, @lenoraparkey

“It’s ok. It’s normal.” – Twitter, @Kerrirawson

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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The 12 Days of Thanksgiving.

On the first day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me a very dry Russian wedding.

On the second day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the third day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the fourth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the fifth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the sixth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the seventh day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me seven toilets needing plunging, six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the eighth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me eight force-fed pies, seven toilets needing plunging, six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the ninth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me nine Excedrin Extra Strength, eight force-fed pies, seven toilets needing plunging, six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the tenth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me ten corn hole boards, nine Excedrin Extra Strength, eight force-fed pies, seven toilets needing plunging, six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the eleventh day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me eleven fake smiles, ten corn hole boards, nine Excedrin Extra Strength, eight force-fed pies, seven toilets needing plunging, six side-eyes, FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS! Four fireball shots, three peeping boys, two rehearsal dinner invites, and a very dry Russian wedding.

On the twelfth day of Thanksgiving my true love gave to me (sing it with me now)

twelve kids under five with no naps

eleven fake smiles

ten corn hole boards

nine Excedrin Extra Strength

eight force-fed pies

seven toilets needing plunging

six side-eyes

FIVE GOLDEN FLASKS!

four fireball shots

three peeping boys

two rehearsal dinner invites

and a very dry Russian wedding.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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Thanksgiving steals my birthday thunder.

Jimi Hendrix. Caroline Kennedy. Bruce Lee.

…. Fine.

And Jaleel White – also known as Steve Urkel.

You know what they all have in common? November 27th. They all share a birthday with me.

I know we can’t control our birthdays but is it really necessary to have sex on Valentine’s Day? Is it really necessary?

I say no. There’s no need for that. It’s a Hallmark holiday. Wooing consists of a mass produced “I love you” card and a dozen overpriced flowers. Do not cave for this, ladies. Not in February. Have your way with men in, oh I don’t know – July. Show ’em some real fireworks.

But if you are a romantic and get some booty smackin’ by Cupid then you better double up on birth control –

You risk conceiving a child with a Thanksgiving birthday.

My mom and dad let Cupid take aim and fire.

Any child born between November 22nd and November 28th will eventually have a Thanksgiving birthday. If not on the day, the birthday will get gobbled up Thanksgiving week and forgotten.

Thanksgiving birthdays are decided for you. It doesn’t matter if you’re turning 36 or if you’re turning 60. Thanksgiving birthdays are always the same.

  • Turkey and mashed potatoes. That’s your birthday dinner. You don’t get a choice where to eat because every restaurant is closed.
  • You can’t celebrate how most people celebrate birthdays. Brunch, pedicures, and shopping? Closed. It’s all closed. Sure, you have Black Friday but you risk getting trampled to death at 5 am. And that would just suck to have a matching birth and death day on your headstone.
  • Birthday lunch with friends? Forget it. They’re with their own families.
  • A Facebook serenade of “happy birthday!” on your feed? Nope. It’s considered rude to look at your phone at the dinner table. Your long-lost high school science partner will never know it’s your birthday.
  • Everyone naps on Thanksgiving. Wake up. I said wake up, it’s my birthday! Ok, I’ll just close my eyes for a little bit too.
  • It’s a sexist holiday. The men watch football. Woman, get your ass back in the kitchen, birthday girl!
  • Families get together for Thanksgiving. I cannot deny that it is special to be able to see out-of-town relatives. “Happy Thanksgiving” and hugs are given all around. It’s awkward staring at each person, waiting to see if they have anything else to say. I mean, I’m right here.
  • Some years, Thanksgiving birthdays are not with your own family. Some years, you’re forced to spend your birthday with the in-laws. And your mother-in-law fattening you up like a butterball turkey. This is not an insult. I just don’t have any self-control.
  • Thanksgiving is included in “the holidays.” Oh, that’s your Christmas present too.
  • When the pies are brought out for dessert, you pray one of them does not have candles on it. There is no substitute for birthday cake.

I know. I do exist. I can’t complain about the day I was born so thank you for making me, mom and dad.

It’s just not my choice day to pop out of the womb.

This is all Cupid’s fault – AIM FOR THE TURKEY, YOU FLYING BABY!

Just say no to sex on Valentine’s Day.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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I started drinking then I remembered I have a blog post to write.

Greetings.

I hosted dinner for 20 people at my house last night.

I’m hosting 30 people tonight. I’m hosting a rehearsal dinner on Saturday. There’s a wedding on Sunday. And my birthday is on Monday.

Thanksgiving, a wedding, and a birthday.

And then all of the sudden a whiskey showed up in my hand. 

Open the Photo Booth!

Here’s your blog post. We’re a beautiful family.

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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And that’s how Emma and Kate skipped school today.

Day 21 of consecutive writing.

Are you sick of me yet?

Oh.

I am.

Do you know who’s not sick of me?

My damn kids. They want to be in the middle of the Thanksgiving action. They asked if they could skip school on Monday. I said no and shoved them out of the car door. They asked if they could skip school today. I said no.

Kate called my dad.

I don’t know her conversation with him but I can tell you my dad wasn’t being a dad. He was being Funny Papa. He was filling Kate’s head with ideas on how to skip school.

“Start coughing a bunch around your mom. Act like you’re throwing up in the bathroom. Say you have diarrhea. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Remember that. Papa can write you a note. Do you need a note? You’re not going to school tomorrow – you tell your mom her dad said so.”

I told Emma and Kate they could take a vote with the extended family in town. Surely there had to be a few adult-minds.

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I told the girls the only people that count on her list are Scott and me because we’re the parents. Kate instructed me to text my sisters. Next, she wanted me to message the rest of the family, coming in from out of town. She needed their vote. Every vote went Kate’s way.

I wrote an email to Kate’s teacher and I explained Kate’s school situation and attached the picture of her family poll.

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And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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