Spam Spam Spam Spam…

spam-spam-spamI don’t get a lot of comments on this blog – well, that’s not exactly true. Right now I have more than 1,100 comments awaiting my approval. While I don’t get the discussion I’d like, I do gets tons of fake comments – some impossibly generic, some grammatically hilarious and others completely off-topic. I thought I’d share them with you.

All of these spammers have one thing in common – two things, really. One, they all want to get my readers to visit their website, which is undoubtedly rife with malware, and two, they are all written in ridiculous English. When I read my comments, I always picture some obsessive spammer in a far away land, eyes wide, hyped up on coffee, punching words into an online translator. read more


Okay, it seems that ever since I said I’d post Mondays, I’ve wound up posting Tuesdays. I’m flexible, let’s just say I’ll post Mondays or Tuesdays. Please keep reading!



This week off

I’m taking this week off. Not by choice, but I’ve go no wifi. I’m unplugged. (I know what you’re saying — then how did she post this?) I’ve got very temporary wifi right now. I’ll be back next Monday. Enjoy your week!

Something About Mary

heart of gold

I apologize for the late post. I went to New York for a funeral. Pleas read on. 

The first time I met Mary, she was moving into the house next door to mine. She was tall, Italian and had short black hair, curled and coiffed so it never moved.  Her seven-year-old daughter, Beth, asked me if I wanted to have a picnic on the front lawn. I was nine and wary of hanging out with younger kids, but she was so nice and she was right next door, so I said yes. Beth and I laid a blanket out on the tall grass that grew above the septic tank. We could hear her mom and dad, but mostly her mom, directing the movers as they emptied their truck. Mary was  multitasking, taking care of Beth’s baby sister while she got the house in order.

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Crazy from the Heat

SunGod was punishing us for taking the kids to a winery. We lost our son for the longest seven minutes of our lives (See “Seven Minutes”); and, as if that wasn’t enough, we narrowly avoided a trip to the hospital.

After a two-hour ride in the minivan, we got to the vineyard’s Key West festival, where we were meeting some friends. The way the festival worked, we were supposed to do a wine tasting and buy a bottle to drink. The kids had been great in the car, but they needed to move around, so I said I’d take them and my husband and our friend Annie went to do a tasting.

I took the kids down to a field by the entrance. Some other kids were playing and I told them to race to the end and back. They ran and my six-year-old daughter easily won, but I was happy that they burned some energy. It was hot that day — but not sweltering — and we sat in the shade for a while. When they got restless, we browsed the vendors. There was a sand art vendor and the kids had fun making a multicolored baseball and a clamshell.  Sand art in hand, we headed back to our spot by the band. My husband had set up the chairs and I got some wine and went to chat a little, but just then my three-year-old son kicked off a hardy cry fest. read more