Hope Floats With a Good Boob Grab
When Shale died I remember sitting in the passenger seat of our vehicle, traveling towards the funeral home to make arrangements to bury our son and marveling at all the cars we passed on the highway. The people in those vehicles carried on like nothing had happened, like no one had died. Their lives were unaffected by the tragedy my family suddenly found itself mired in, and I couldn’t wrap my head around that. Surely the world should stop and take notice of my pain, I thought through the onslaught of tears that poured down my face. My world did take notice, and I’m forever grateful to the community that held me up and kept me strong through my darkness.

Itchy Trigger Finger
This weekend, after watching a some lame arse television program (note to self: destroy all televisions within our home) my son asked me what the “little blue pill” was for. After staring at him with my mouth gaping wide open (a look that gets his father all hot and bothered) I tried telling him it was just a Flinstones vitamin. Apparently I’m either not as good at parental misdirection as I once was or my children are growing smarter than I am since he just looked at me, blinked and reminded me that children’s vitamins don’t come in blue, they come in PURPLE. He should know since he once polished off an entire bottle in a week thinking they we

Laminated
Like many happily married long time couples, my husband and I have found ourselves in bed, not having sex with each other yet happily discussing other people we’d like to have sex with if we were good looking, rich and or famous. That’s right. Why get hot and sweaty with each other when we can dream about our Laminated List. You know, the ones we’d give each other a free pass to see us naked if they didn’t call the police on us first. My husband has no problem with this game. In fact, his laminated list tends to grow in direct proportion to the increasing size of my arse. Fickle bastard. My List is pretty static. The

Dreaming Big Dreams
As I sit here on my couch typing this, one child of mine is watching Japanese animation videos on a lap top in the kitchen, one child is pretending to do homework in her bedroom but is actually reading a novel on Cleopatra she nicked from my book case after I told her it wasn’t appropriate reading for her age and another child is beating the crap out of my front load washer as it spins it way to cleaning skid-stained underwear. In other words, life is fairly normal round these parts on a national holiday. I’m a lucky woman, if by lucky one overlooks the fact her one of her children dropped dead suddenly in her arms four years ago. Like everyone else, life

Dominatrix, Blow and Spinning. Google Pervs Delight
Ever feel the winds of change howl around you and shudder while you try and wrap yourself up with a cloak of denial? No? It’s just me? Damn it. I have never been one to embrace change with open arms. I’m more of a drag-me-kicking-and-screaming into a new situation type of gal. I am innately stubborn when it comes to accepting new things. This trickles into all aspects of my life. I go to the same restaurants, order the same foods, read the same blogs, buy the same clothes (just in multiple colours) and enjoy the same routine daily. I am a stalker’s delight, really. Yet, here I am, knowing that the house of cards I’m buildi