Parenting, Wifing, Living

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#WGSPhilly – A SITS Girls Event

Posted on Sep 10, 2014 | 2 comments

This past weekend I had the pleasure of speaking at the SITS Girls Women Get Social #WGSPhilly boot camp in Philadelphia.

If you’ve never been think of it as BlogHer PRO’s little sister with an east coast feel.  This was an intimate gathering of bloggers, writers and influencers who are serious about this whole business thing.

Bigger is not always better.  We all participated in the same sessions so instead of running from room to room figuring out which breakout is best for me I got to grab a cup of coffee, enjoy some networking, and come back to my table.  Amazing!

My session – Steak, Potatoes, & Managing your Blog Income - was a blast; I love speaking to bloggers ’cause they’re usually a fun bunch.  This crowd did not disappoint – Hokey Pokey and all (you heard me!  If you’re going to talk taxes you have to keep them awake – specially after lunch.  EVERYONE does the Hokey Pokey when I speak).

I met some fantastic people and forged relationships that will likely outlast your cell phone contract.  The sponsors – LG and Mirasou Wines – where fantastic and shared some great new products with us.

If the SITS Girls are coming to a town near you I strongly suggest you sign up – it will be worth every penny!

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Pedicure Hack – Simplify Your Life

Posted on Sep 3, 2014 | 1 comment

Barefoot.

That’s how I like to be.  I’m in flip flops from March to November and if I can swing it sock-less as much as possible throughout the winter.

My feet sweat.  A lot.  Have you tried finding cotton socks these days?  Unless I want to spend $20 / pair – which I won’t because hubby steals my black socks; something about them being thinner and softer than men’s socks –   I have to shop the Walmart / Target express.

Yeah.  You’re funny.  The most ‘cotton feeling’ pair they had was 72% Polyester, 24% Nylon, and 4% RUBBER.

That’s right folks!  Socks are now made of plastic, stretchy plastic, and FUCKING TIRES!!!!

So.  No socks for me. 

As you can imagine (or, try not too – the visual is quite disturbing) my feet look like shit.  I can’t afford weekly pedicures so I’ve tried the DIY approach and bought those nifty scaly-feet-scary-razors like they have in salons.

My feet looked like they were attacked by Edward ScissorHands, there was blood everywhere, and needless to say the end result was NOT sexy. 

Fear not, friend,fear not.  *I* have experimented for you, and here’s the absolute best pedicure hack I can come up with.  And no one needs to know ;)

pedicure-hack

 Take a plain old razor – preferably with a new blade – and shave off those corns and calluses as you would your wooky-like legs.  I like the one pictured above but any razor will do.  Bonus, if your husband is pissing you off this week, use his! 

Follow up with some lotion and voila!  Instant soft feet that didn’t cost you your firstborn. You’re welcome.

soft-feet-before-&-after

Do you have any DIY pedicure horror stories?  Let’s here’em.

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Monkeying Around

Posted on Aug 27, 2014 | 60 comments

There’s a moment in one’s life where one come to the distinct realization that their family might just be a little more different than most.

I was inducted into the Hall of Weird at age 7.  Except I thought it was the Hall of Cool.  Like, Samantha-is-wearing-leggings-and-pointy-shoes-and-a-neon-shirt-that-falls-off-the-shoulder-and-OMG-did-you-know-she-wears-a-bra cool.

Not unlike finding out from the latest teeny-bopper magazine that your chest is a AAA – which clearly beats out your friend’s AAAA cup - and being oblivious to the wry smiles of everyone each time you brag about your bounty, sometimes we’re the last to know that HoC is really HoW.

I was so oblivious it never occurred to me that carrying around my induction trophy, membership card, and certificate of authenticity (of the Hall of Weird, not my cup size) was maybe not such a great idea after all.

Incorporating spaz-tastic, mads the shits yo, What-Ever, talk to the hand, ‘and a half’, fubared, dis, wicked, totally, burn, and many others into my vocabulary in sad attempts to coolify myself would have been a better idea.

But I digress, I’m a little spazzy tonight.

Cue Star Wars opening credit song

“We’re getting a monkey!”

and…… play!

It’s illegal to import monkeys, but it’s not illegal to own them.  And this guy at a local pet shop had this adorable – and wild - young long-tailed chap.  And he was coming home with us!

Though my parents and sister visited him many times those 2 weeks he was at the shop all I had were images from my vivid imagination.  I was beyond excited and practically ran home from school the day my new ‘brother’ Charlie was adopted.

Charliethe small, gorgeous, capuchin monkeywas my new best friend.  He was still wild when he came home but he quickly adopted us and began to think of himself as human It’s true!  He would scream at you if you uttered ‘monkey’ in his presence;  if you served guests coffee and didn’t offer him a beverage, he’d poop in his hands and throw it at said guests He was one of us, and insisted we never forget.  (The time the poop landed in the coffee mug though – that was priceless.)

With peanuts, and juice, and fruits, and tiny little sweat-tarts ‘pills’ we taught him to be gentle We would put a candy in our mouth and he would then climb up to take it with his teeth.  We hid peanuts in our pockets and let him search usMom started walking us to school with Charlie on his leash when it was nice out. 

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Charlie loved kids, and loved people.  During hot summer days he’d hang out front in the shaded outdoor cage and the neighborhood kids (and adults alike!) would come chat with him.  He was a real charmereven shaking hands before going all klepto on some poor old lady’s purse or unsuspecting mom’s cleavage.

When Mom and her then fiancée split up we had to leave Charlie with him - we would be moving into a tiny apartment with no balcony and it was no place for a monkey.   For years he’d summer with us like the Kardashians summer in the Hamptons.  We would stop by after school and go spend time with him.

The last time I saw him, we both criedThe following month I found out my mom’s ex had given him to the Papanack Zoo, where he became a local celebrity.

I never saw him again – I couldn’t make myself go see him I wanted to.  I wanted to call them up, talk to his handler, have alone time with him – not through a cage.  But I couldn’t.  He would cry.  I would cry.  Would he understand why I was leaving without him?  I couldn’t make myself break his little heart like that. 

He passed away in 2005, his handler at his side.  I like to believe she loved him almost as much as we did.  J-F was showing the kids videos of funny animals on YouTube and there were several like Charlie - same sounds, same little faces…. and he’s been on my mind. 

So yeah, I’m the weird girl with the monkey.  And that’s a trophy I will forever proudly carry on my back.   Cause he was one special little dude.  

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