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Showing posts from December, 2015

Year in Review: 2015

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It's that time of year! You know--the end of it.

Naturally, what I'm supposed to do is recap how my year was.
Here you go: COOL.
Have a nice 2016!

. . . . . . . .
Okay fiiiinnnneeee. I'll write a little something else. 
In order from start of the year to the end (clever way I've come up with to organize this list of events, don't you think? Start to finish? Man, I'm good at blogging), here are a few highlights of my Boring, Fun 2015:
Celebrated 3rd wedding anniversary Celebrated Sutton's 1st birthday with a Button Bash Easter Consistently exercised and started to get abs Got knocked up again and lost abs Sutton's first trip to the beach (SO MUCH SUNSCREEN) Dad went through radiation for prostate cancer (treatment successful) Mom had "nose job" to remove skin cancer (treatment successful) Ate all the food Patrick had appendix removed Did not get the gestational diabetes Ate more of the food Christmas This blog post
Sure, sure, I could probably have mentioned a few of thes…

A big (partial) breakup.

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Dearest, dearest Food,

It's not you, it's me. 

That's not true, because actually it's you, too. It's both of us.

Let me explain.

I need you, you see. Like, literally. Without you, I'll die. No! Seriously! I'm not being dramatic. I'd literally die without you.

But there's a catch. As we all are, you're nuanced. You come in many shades, flavors, and moods. And levels of nutrition.

You're the crisp spinach salad, loaded with veggies and olives and feta, dressed in olive oil and lemon juice.

You're the warm, fragrant, home-made yeast roll, served to me by my mother on Christmas day.

You're the slice of Lane Cake, a delightful confection that teases the palate with hints of bourbon and nostalgia.

You're the roasted vegetables. The ham. The sweet potato casserole.

You're the PIZZA ALL THE PIZZA.

You're a perfect clementine.

You're a chewy, sugary concoction of high fructose corn syrup and red #5.

You're the tasty baked chicken and t…

No more lies. This is the G.D. truth.

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You may (or not, whatever) recall that roughly (almost exactly) two years ago I found out I had the ol' G.D. Gestational DI-UH-BEETUS.




I spun a tale about how much fun I had getting not one, but two glucose tolerance tests and how I was sosososoSO very excited to get gestational diabetes.

If I may, and, excuse me, but I do sincerely hope you'll forgive me, and, please, please don't hold a grudge, but you probably didn't pick up onall the sarcasm in that post way back then.  

You may have really thought I was, like, so stoked to get all in some finger-prickin', carb-countin' shenanigans.

Well, I wasn't. It was a major pain in my over-pricked fingertips. So I essentially lied to you.

And you probably shouldn't read any of my highly popular, critically acclaimed stuff anymore, because it's 90% sarcasm, 9% failed attempts at sarcasm, and 1% me being an actual, normal person.

But enough about you (were we talking about you?). Back to me:

This time around, I had…