Definitely the parental sideline at any youth athletics event.
These are all places humans have gravitated toward boorish and ill-advised behavior. Today’s guest post is from my oldest, Madison, who, like her sisters, says she blocks out the noise from the familial upline, but what she wrote today demonstrates otherwise.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one. It’s kind of late for a school night. They’ve just lost a playoff soccer game. Thoughts turn from how to build an attack, to where can we load up on pizza. As a team, we just want a place to sit and eat and be together.
The internet says the place is open until 10.
It’s almost 9. Only, the person behind the counter asks the girls, are you going to order?We close at 9. The girls tell them the door says 10, and so does the internet. It’s wrong. So are you going to order?
I’ve been strict with water and sleep and even exercise.
In fact, lots of puzzle pieces of life are fitting together. As they should. Not the forced way we did as kids. One by one, the frame, the corners. Maybe something in the middle, like a hamster or eyeglasses or even Sandra Bullock.
A piece I haven’t put into place is writing and that is a shame not because of my words being bottlenecked, but the words of talented and feeling friends that sit idle in my folders, a place you could never appreciate them. I wish I’d posted this on Father’s Day.
Beatrice Pittoco has been here before, in a #GirlsRock piece. It was beautiful and moving and included her incredible photography. She’s back today, sharing a poignant piece about a place she’d love to build a tunnel to.
It’s how we get better, right? That, and eating vanilla wafers. (Science has yet to chime in on the wafers as of this publication date.) Today’s guest writer, Lauren Mayhew, writes a fantastic blog about writing.
She also managed to complete the A to Z Challenge and did this really cool theme about songs played on her iPod.
Today, she’s here to expand upon her recent 6-words answer to this prompt. (No, that post hasn’t published yet!) Lauren has an awesome imagination and invites us to chime in with our answers here, too.
And by a minute, I mean a month. Holy hell – how did April get outta here so fast? Everyone’s wrapped up their #AtoZChallenge, and I’m still stretching my hamstrings. Yes, I’m on the letter F. And there’s plenty to post about.
I have a guest post from Madison, even, that she sent me as a PDF and why do post-millennials do things so differently than we do?
I also have a guest post from Lauren Mayhew that you’re going to love. And the rest of my posts about looking for my next job. I got plenty of words: What I don’t have is plenty of space in the day to write such things.
I’ve tried to tie my weekly Go Ask Daddy posts to the Friday gratitude attitude going around the blogging world. The combination ranks higher than, say, those KFC-Taco Bell duos you find sometimes out and about.
It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to jot the good stuff in my notebook, though.
I’ve been thankful for, you know, a job that offers benefits and enough dough to get my kids off free lunch. This feels like the American dream to me. But I want to make this list not just about that because I’m almost kind of tired of writing about it.
I always told Hayden I thought she’d someday own a business.
I still believe in that. She just has that enterprising spirit, that quiet assuredness to get the job done. Today’s #GirlsRock spotlight falls on a woman who started her own business and gave it her name.
Meet Amber Lorine, the graphic designer behind Amber Lorine Design.
She also works for Rezenerate as a graphic designer. Today, D in the #AtoZChallenge is for designer. (I can be clever like that, and it’s a good way to get this interview in. We finished it a couple of months ago!)
I’m gasping for air a bit in all this #AtoZChallenge hubbub.
Hypothetically, of course. While the entire universe shares its tales of the letter E, I toil away, seeking bits of time to steal to write my C post. And it’s essentially written for me, thanks to today’s guest poster, Courtney, of Blog Me This.
Thanks for the lift, C.
So Courtney is along for the ride as my C-train ticket. She writes a wonderful blog, but even more crucially, she’s an unshakable blog friend who will shine through for you in your darkest or most blog-less and snack-less moments.
Note: This is part of an occasional series about my journey to find a job.
This is a story about a boy.
This boy has a story to tell. He hasn’t been allowed to tell it. Then, he thought better of telling it. Because it’s a story about losing a job and feeling lost and helpless. He usually tells stories of enchiladas and bad-ass soccer girls.
But he’s standing here now, wearing a hair net and smelling of bulk scallops, wondering who he is right now.
Only, that thought lasts less time than it takes to bag up a pound of scallops (or wrap a whole salmon without dipping your sleeves in salmon slime.) When an employer tells you you’re unfit to write any more, out of the blue, you can do one of two things:
Like, big-time. Like heartburn after 1 a.m. hot wings. Like your first gray eyebrow hair. Not that I know anything about that. One minute, I’m searching for Tums, and the next, I’m reading my friend Tamara’s Facebook post about her first post.
So, without officially signing up, and without a theme reveal post, and without, really, anything that even smells like a plan, I’m off. Two hours, 15 minutes from Day 2 of the challenge (it’s already tomorrow in Australia, so I’m way behind already.)