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My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:

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As Brian and I near the end of our carefree parenting days in a man-to-man defense and move into a zone defense, it seems fitting to publish the rest of our family/maternity photos. It’s difficult for me to imagine how different our lives will look and feel this time next week.

Family Photos

I had an OB appointment this past Tuesday, and I AM actually making some progress in the laboring department. So, it appears that you all should hear some baby news from us by the end of next week if not sooner, Lord willing!

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Feeling Lucky

Aaaahhhhhhhh, St. Patrick’s Day. The day I remember from childhood as an excuse for all the little girls with green scrunchies and embroidered, clover jumpers to run around pinching the crap out of those of us who forgot to wear green to school.

I’m pretty sure Saint Patrick is the patron saint of mean little girls.

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Love-Themed Consumerism

Does that title seem too negative? I sure hope not. It’s just that I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I believe it is nothing more than a day when the candy, flower, greeting card, and tacky stuffed animal industries all conspire together to hike up the price of their products 500% and tell us all that we are thoughtless should we choose to not purchase them. Because, my fellow Americans, there is no greater symbol of love and affection than a bag full of stale, heart-shaped antacids that has been on a display shelf at Target since the day after Christmas.

Actually, I believe comedian Jim Gaffigan said it best:

“I know I make you nauseous. Here’s a TUMS with ‘hug me’ written on it.”

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roadtrip

I bet if neurologists did even the most cursory study of my brain functionality—specifically my long- and short-term memory—they would find that I’m only slightly better off than Ozzy Osbourne.

Though, probably for different reasons.

I blame my dad’s genes for my awful memory. But I’m not so sure that Ozzy even remembers who or what he should blame for his.

Sadly, most of my childhood memories are lost to me now. They’re piled behind stupid movie quotes, annoying children’s songs and completely random facts that I never wanted to remember. Like the hierarchy of biological classification:  kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Y’all, I didn’t even have to Google that. It pushed it’s way right up to the front of my memory. In that prime real-estate where my grocery list and social security number should be.

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My Blog Ate It

People frequently ask me questions about the business side of blogging and how we justify the time and money we pour into it.

And by people, I mean the IRS.

Just kidding, y’all. We’ve never been audited.

[Until she was dumb enough to put that in writing.]

Seriously, though, I’ve had several friends and family members ask me questions about how we justify the time we spend on a business whose quarterly report resembles that of a neighborhood lemonade stand…in February.

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A Valentine's Vignette (3)

As I perused aisle after aisle of cheap, kitschy Valentine’s Day crap in Target yesterday, I had a flashback to what this holiday was like when I was a child. Those days when my happiness actually revolved around whether or not some cute boy’s mom went to the trouble of buying me heart-shaped erasers and Conversation Hearts. You know, the stuff that demonstrates real love.

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