But a 7/8 full bottle of salad dressing marked “Do Not Discard” is thrown out in a week.
This morning will be spent dealing with a slew of nasty-grams the office troublemaker left in my mailbox. (She’s trying to throw blame for her own incompetence)
Go home May, you are completely wasted.
True story, bro
If you see The Mister at a divorce lawyer’s office tomorrow, this is the reason.
Thanks Apple podcast app update for making me me feel woefully inadequate
Ding! Ding! Ding! It’s cookie time
I am simultaneously happy and horrified that I had the foresight to bring cookies to combat 3:00 sugar deficiency today.
What does that mean?
Mother’s Day lunch. They’re already digging in.
Mom wanted to be a fashion designer. She was really good and still has sketches of the designs she created in high school. When she graduated she became a medical secretary at Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia because she needed to earn a living. Instead of fashion design she recorded notes on some of the earliest work in the human genome project. She dated a lot of doctors until she met my dad who is not a doctor.
We would spend Saturday afternoons shopping downtown. She threw down French words like “boucle” and “peau de soil” in conversation. She can identify designers’ pieces at first glance. She never really set out to teach me these things, I just picked them up along the way.
Among the many gifts my mom has given me, my love of fashion is my most treasured. This connection between us is closest to her heart, a place where I know I belong.
Mother’s Day breakfast in bed. Note handmade cards from kids including my favorite child, Trixie.
So far, Mother’s Day is all right with me.