mercurial scribe

Have you heard of this woman, Jenny Masche? She recently ran a marathon just a year after giving birth to sextuplets!

Check it out.

I like to call her my inspiration and my hero!

Once upon a time I was a fan of your movies, Kevin Smith. Mallrats made me laugh and Chasing Amy was great flick. In fact, I even loved your sappier side in Jersey Girl, especially the Broadway homage with the Sweeney Todd bit. And even though I wasn’t as fond of Dogma, disliked the Jay & Silent Bob movies and thought Clerks 2 sucked, I still liked you. But now you have been black-balled, my friend. I throw down the gauntlet.

Why? WHY? Because you are making THIS MOVIE!

You have ruined the beautiful name I have bestowed my daughter. She will now be associated with this stupid title which is why I refuse to see it. I curse the day you thought of this title, I curse it!

This is for the fathers who participate;
Who show to ballet recitals and football games,
hockey practice and piano practice;
Who change dirty diapers and makes bath-time fun;
Who help with homework,
Who rough-house,
For he who teaches his children how to tie a shoe and a tie.
This is for the fathers who discipline;
who talk, hug, kiss, and say “I love you.”
This is for the fathers who love their children’s mother,
teaching his children to respect themselves and the opposite gender.
This is for the fathers who give horseback rides;
who makes pig-tails and ponytails and tall tales;
who teaches a boy how to be a man and a girl to chose a man wisely.
This is for the fathers who truly father their children,
who choose to sacrifice their own playtime
to love, protect, discipline and teach.

Happy Father’s Day!

Justin, my Love, my Husband - Miriam and I love and appreciate you so very much. Happy first Daddy’s Day! xoxo

Yeah, baby. Nothing like brilliant insight to stump useful thought.

Awhile ago, the Husband and I were noshing on some yumminess at the local mall when I saw a teenie-bopper, not 13 or 14 years old, dancing about in line with her friends to get a drink while singing a familiar Green Day diddy. But as I heard her a second time, I turned and glared in disbelief.

“I want to be an American idiot!” she sang, rocking out.

I turned to Justin. “Did I just hear that right?”

“Yep, you heard her right.”

“She really thinks those are the lyrics, doesn’t she?”

With chagrin for her, he agreed only to hear her sing it again.

“Looks like you’re there, hun,” I muttered, sipping my lemonade.

(So this is how my parents felt when I messed up the words to a Zeppelin song - I’m sorry!)

In other news, how do you like the new digs? Fancy, huh?