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I hate poo
I can’t even tell you how many times, before having kids of my own, I would gag at the mere thought of changing a diaper. Parents would say, “Aw, you get used to it! It’s your own kid!” And puke? Let’s just say that many a university night out at a bar ended up in
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Flavour-Infused Sugars (by Story)
> With the best intentions, every year before Christmas I plan to make something fun for people, and then the time flies by and I’m left with only purchased gifts. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I really, truly love making things to share.) This year, I wanted to get on the ball
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Tough choices
>So pretend you started a company to occupy yourself in a creative and challenging way, not necessarily because you needed to bring money into your home. (Though, hey, the extra money is always great, right?) Let’s say you’ve worked extremely hard to build this company into something that provides other people with an income, and
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>NaNoWriMo
>Bring.It.On.
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>"If—"
> I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about my place in the world, and what kind of footprints I want to leave here. And I don’t mean the ecological ones, as important as those are. I have a soft spot for the butterfly effect; I believe everything we do affects at least some
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How can I find it if I don’t even understand what it is?
It’s like a game I play with my daughter, where she draws something and I’m supposed to guess what it is. But she’s 5, and has a wild imagination far beyond the calibre of her artistic skills, so let’s be honest here: I’m not likely to get what that squiggle-dot-dot-circle-stick legs thing really is, am
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Unfriending, Unfollowing & Blocking, Oh My!
>It takes a lot to truly get under my skin: I’m patient, give people the benefit of the doubt, and I’m generous. But once the line has been crossed, it’s final with me and though I’ve mastered the art of letting things go, I’ve yet to see the real benefit in forgetting. Forgetting means leaving
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>What I Should be Doing Right Now
>What I should be doing at the moment is not blogging. Not that I’m wasting time blogging, I had a very productive day thus far, you see. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, dressed the kids, tended to a recovering-from-illness daughter, broke up a few sibling scraps, tidied the dining room table, tidied the kitchen,
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Who takes care of Mommy?
I’m a preparation junkie – I’ve got day trips (and road trips, for that matter) down to a science. I know just what to pack to ensure everyone is happy. Safe snacks for the allergy-riddled 18-month-old, fun activities for the 4.5-year-old, sunblock, towels, bandaids, whatever. You name it, I think of it. They’re always taken
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>On Guilt
>”You never call.”“You made me cry.”“Can’t you just stay and snuggle me instead of working?” These are all things I’ve heard in the last week. There isn’t an area of my life that doesn’t cause me some sort of stress, and generally the stress comes from guilty feelings. I feel guilty that I don’t bring
