Ziggy-Zaggy for Missoni


September 13, 2011

I went.

I witnessed.

I bought.

I actually had a dream about it the night before. I dreamt that I was going store to store trying to scoop as much Missoni as I possibly could, and my dream was a reality when I got to Target this morning. Missoni for Target debuted today and the store opened at 8:00, and since I had to drop Berlyn off at school first, Hudson and I arrived a little before 9:00.


One hour people!

Already the racks were bare, the shelves picked over, and there were gems hidden in strange places. Like in the maternity section, I found a pair of flats in my size. They were on the ground under a rack of stretchy pants. What I was doing in the maternity-stretchy pants section of Target, I do not know, but I’m glad I was there. There were a group of Italian women with entire carts full of anything Missoni. I was jittery and a little sweaty as I grabbed as much as I could. I felt like I was on that game show “Super-Market Sweep” where women repeatedly toss 20 pound turkeys into their carts. I was tossing things in, and elbowing other moms out of my way.

And thank you Grandma June for my fast burning metabolism, because I could fit in the little girls’ clothes where I scored a dress and two sweaters.

I really wanted some pillows and houseware things, but those were long gone.

But here’s all the good stuff I did get:



A total of three sweaters and a scarf.

And then SHOES!!

Here’s the thing. About two years ago I bought a pair of Missoni flats. They probably cost me one million dollars. Wait, that’s not true, but they were expensive.


And today, I bought a pair of Missoni flats for $29.99.



Plus I got a suede chunky heel, and a mini-version of the flats for Berlyn.


I don’t think Berlyn really cares about adorable Missoni flats, so I might  just sell them on eBay. Last I checked flats were being auchioned for 129.00!!


Love the chunky heels!

by Julie on September 13, 2011

No one in Iowa knows about any of this. I saw full racks of all of this, at my Target, over my lunch hour.

As Mea would say, “For seriously.”

by Kelly on September 13, 2011

Love love love the flats!

by Debbi on September 13, 2011

love love love the chunky heels!!!

by allie on September 13, 2011

I am ubber jealous!!! YOU SCORED!!!

by Willie on September 13, 2011

I heard about this on NPR today. I had no idea who they were talking about. I’m such a square. *sigh*

by Vapid Vixen on September 13, 2011

SO jealous you found the flats in your size!! It was INSANITY. 🙂

by HipMamaB on September 13, 2011

The heels…chunky, suede, Missoni…AND you actually live in the same country as Target.

I’m really happy for you.

But I’m going to need more scones with cream and jam.

by Erin Huckaby on September 14, 2011

I work at a Target in Massachusetts and it was insane. There was a line outside when we opened, and 90% of it was gone in a half hour. I was carrying some to put back that I found scattered around and people ambushed me and rid me of the items before I had gone 20 feet. Today we got a couple pieces of the luggage on a truck and they were gone within ten minutes of me setting it up. Missoni madnesssss.

by Shauna on September 14, 2011

I thought about taking the day off work, but I just couldn’t. I’m hoping some of the new purchases will show up on ebay. That’s what happened when Amy Coe unleashed her baby insanity all over Target!


I’m jealous!

by Lora on September 16, 2011

I was shocked at how people reacted to this line. I went to Target today and there was a lone min caplet in the kids department. It looked so lonley.

by Libby on September 16, 2011

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Juice Fast


August 24, 2011

I was all set to do a juice fast.


Got my veggies

Got my juicer.

Got my Super Big Gulp cup and straw.

It was go time.

7 days was my goal. 7 glorious juicy days.

–I made it 12 hours–

I broke down. I practically ripped the refrigerator handle off, slathered it in ranch dressing and ate it up.

It’s no surprise that I didn’t last very long.

I have a hard time with commitments:

We’ve moved 4 times in 6 years.

My hair color has always changed from dark brown to blond and then somewhere in the middle.

I’ve started 8 books since the beginning of the year, and haven’t finished any of them.

Oh, and then there’s the fact that I don’t fully commit to social gatherings:

Why yes, I’d love to come to your birthday party.

Nope, nevermind, a marathon of “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” is on TLC. And I need to spend the next 3.5 hours hissing and booing at the TV. That’s not gas, you idiot, those are labor pains!!!

My favorite are the dramatizations; black and white shaky camera in a nasty public bathroom somewhere in middle America. And then homegirl realizes that she’s not about to bear down for a blow-out dump, but instead for a baby!

Then the girl says, “Oh gee-whiz, I thought I just had indigestion. Haa haa, turns out it was a baby. That’s weird.”

I donno, I guess I like that show because I kind of like the idea of being swindled into pregnancy.

That’s really the only way it’s going to happen for me from here on out.

You’d have to trick me. Feed me massive amounts of burritos, convince me I’m having gas all the time, and then say, “No, you’re not gaining any weight, you look stunning.” And in nine months later, POOF, a baby.

Pretty rad, huh?

None of that pesky pregnancy stuff to be bothered by. You don’t have to join the others in their endless complaints on Facebook about morning sickness and swollen ankles.

Also, you wouldn’t be overly preoccupied with silly things like not riding roller coasters, eating sushi, or drinking vodka.



The juicing was fun for the first 20 minutes. I walked around the house all arrogant, I thought I was better than everybody else. I gave the dog dirty looks and told her she was dumb for eating food. But then I got my revenge when I got a pounding headache, then I became crabby, irritable, crabby, and then irritable again, and really really bitchy.

Crabby, irritable, and bitchy are all kind of the same thing, huh?

Turns out I like eating stuff.

After 8:00 pm, I decided I needed food, but instead of breaking my fast gently with a warm bowl of vegetable broth, or a small serving of rice, I made a mad dash straight towards the hidden box of  movie-sized Junior Mints, then I moved on to left over lasagna, no less than 4 pieces of sour dough toast, a glass of almond milk, and  then, just for spite, I had a handful of Reese’s Pieces.

I was a machine.

A machine built for eating food.

I’ll be fine with my one juice a day and regular food from here on out, thankyouverymuch.

I’m think I’m done with juice fasts, or any fasts for that matter.

Have any of you tried juice fasts? How long did you go? Am I a complete wimp and failure for not even going a full day?

Wait, don’t answer that, I already know the answer.


Good for you for even trying! If you’re doing it for a cleanse I would try just doing it for lunch for 4 days and then try to go into doing it for 2 meals and so on. I’ve done a bunch of juice and other kinds of fasts and cleanses but it’s not always fun and it can be way more mental then physical. I think something that I’ve done and still try to do that is most helpful in helping me eating more healthfully is having a “raw” meal a day. Usually I do it for lunch. A “daniel” fast might be good for you because you can eat (very limited foods ) but chewing is involved and that is nice.

by mariah on August 24, 2011

OMG… You are hilarious! And yes, I love me some IDKIWP! How did they not know, I knew and I let everyone in my path know how uncomfortable I was! Lol

by tenille on August 24, 2011

I knew one of these women. She had a kid, then must have gotten pregnant again immediately. She kept saying, “I just can’t lose this baby weight.” We were all, “You are pregnant, you dumbass.” She would say, “I wonder why my ankles are swelling?” We were all, “You are pregnant, you dumbass.”

She finally wen to the doctor for the swelling ankles, and had a baby a week later. Seriously.

She was an idiot. I kind of think most of these woman would have to be.

by Kelly on August 25, 2011

I wouldn’t have made it 12 minutes.

by Libby on August 25, 2011

I could not — under any circumstances — successfully last even 12 hours. I’d give myself two before combustion and/or homicide.

by Yellaphant on August 26, 2011

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When your washing machine breaks, every day is laundry day


August 18, 2011

In my house the words bras and underwear have become synonymous with the words luxurious and unnecessary.

My washing machine broke. It was a beautiful day sunny day. I was softly humming a tune from “The Sound of Music” while I was ironing, and my children were quietly working on their arithmetic at the kitchen table.

Just kidding.

What really happened was Hudson just pooed the biggest poo of his life (And yes, I know. Because I chart these things, complete with close-up photographs and venn diagrams. Nope, that’s not true. That’s gross, and now I just puked a little in my mouth), I rinsed the cloth diaper off, and threw it into the washing machine with the other poo soaked atrocities.

Because the picture I’m painting does not seem very stressful, I’d like to add that the dog was also barking, Berlyn was painting on her walls with my lipstick, Hudson was shaking the box of borax all over the carpet, and I just started my period.


That sounds stressful.

No? You don’t think so?

What about this:

The dog was having a bout of irritable bowel syndrome on my bed, Berlyn was about to bungee jump off the second story landing, Hudson was having the time of his life playing in the dog’s aforementioned irritable bowel situation, and a neighbor was knocking at my door to tell me my car was ON FIRE!!

Okay fine, the car fire is a bit of a stretch.

CLUNK! About 14 minutes into the washing machine cycle, right when the warm water hit all the poop and urine, and it started to really smell like death, was when my washing machine decided to break.


I peeked into the laundry room and noticed the machine stopped, so I did what any red-blooded American would do, I pressed START again.

That should do it.

14 minutes later. CLUNK.

This time, I thought I’d outsmart the washing machine, and unplug that sassy minx. You wanna play hardball, huh? Well, bahhahhhaa, I’ll just unplug you!

I plugged it back in and pressed START.

14 minutes later. CLUNK.

Washing machine: 1

Me: 0


I called a repair man, and he determined it was broken.

Washing machine time of death 1:23 pm. No known causes.

Moment of silence, please.

Because the time between calling a repair man, and getting the repair man to my house spanned several days, I was without my washing machine for over a week. I was forced into creativity.

First piece of business was to deal with the nasty cloth diapers that were stewing in my broken machine. Which meant, “Come on kids! We’re going to Mimi’s house!!”

My mom was so enamored with my children, she didn’t even notice me sneaking into her laundry room with my pail of stink, and hijacking her washing machine. WINNING.

Now as far as our clothing was concerned, I did nothing. I just let the dirty ones pile up. I know I could have washed my clothes in my bathtub, or taken them to a laundry mat. But doing nothing was way more exciting.

An adventure even.

Everyday I was faced with the daunting task of figuring out what to wear. Humm…should I wear the men’s XL hoodie and cut off sweatpants combo or “kiss the cook” apron?

This slutty-nurse Halloween costume or my bathrobe?

Bathing suit or a bridesmaid dress?

I felt like I suddenly had so many more clothing options! WOW, I never thought of wearing these cut-off maternity overalls with my vintage fur coat, but this look is totally working for me.

Getting my daughter on board with what I like to call, “creative problem solving” proved to be a little more difficult.

MOM!!! Where are all my underwear!!

Berlyn, we don’t have any more clean ones, why don’t you pick up the ones you wore yesterday and flip them inside out??


Or just go commando, like me!


It’s when you don’t wear any underwear.


Alright fine, here’s a bathing suit and some pajama bottoms. I’ll wear a hockey jersey, and these mesh underwear I got from the hospital when you were born, and I’ll belt it with this metallic belt, then we’ll go to the mall to do some shopping.




I honestly don’t even know what to say other than thank God for the c-section mesh panties! Like you, I too knew that taking the entire stash from the maternity ward would come in handy someday. Bravo!

by Heather on August 18, 2011

Taking your children and scads of dirty laundry to the laundry mat is pure hell, it’s been years since I had to do that, but I remember only too well taking Mack to go do laundry. Good for you for getting creative, and thank God for washing machine repair men.

by Kelly on August 19, 2011

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C is for Camping


August 15, 2011

The tone was set by an email entitled “C is for Camping.”

It was a challenge that I accepted.

At first I was nervous, then excited, then scared, and lastly accepting. It was going to happen: I was about to go camping.

People do it all the time.  Skewers. Insect repellent. Body odor.

Embrace it. It’s normal. Americana. I can do this.

But I was worried about the endless amount of junk that I feel tethered to everyday that I would be without: hand soap, soft lighting, air conditioning, my electronic toothbrush, and 4 insulated walls.

I was about to be thrown out into the wilderness with no such luxuries. Only a thin piece of nylon was separating me from a possible encounter with a bear or a rattlesnake.

I have zero survival skills, well, that is if  you don’t count screaming like a 8-year-old girl.

But bags were packed.

Lists were made.

“Pare down,” my friend Melinda kept reminding me. “You don’t need as much as you think, and it’s camping!” She’d say optimistically. “If you forget it, we’ll do without it.”

But two things I didn’t forget were my dog…

and tequila.

As the camping trip went underway, I found myself transforming into Laura Ingalls Wilder, I was a pioneer; comfortable with things like peeing behind a tree and capturing my own dinner. Capturing my own dinner was not required, but I was hitting my stride, and earning some extra credit seemed like the logical thing to do.

And Pat had become a mountain man, complete with hipster beard and axe.


We couldn’t be bothered with everyday nuisances such as taking a shower or brushing our hair. We were camping, and we earned that smell, there was no way we were washing it off!

We frolicked in the ocean and enjoyed each other’s company. Eye contact was made, comradery was created, and memories were burned into our minds, and most importantly no one died or got gangrene.

Camping was a sucess.


Yeah, we don’t have oceans to camp by here. Just lakes. Stinky, stinky lakes. I hate camping.

by Libby on August 15, 2011

No way?! I was camping two weekends ago! Beach camping, too! I was smelling it up at Carlsbad (the fitting name is half of why I go there). What about you two lovely ladies?

by Kelly K on August 16, 2011

So jealous! Looks amazingly awesome.

by Dena Lucas on August 16, 2011

That last photo is my fav. Having a conversation with someone with a headlamp is so awkward. I remember trying to “illuminate” your face. It makes me laugh!

by melinda on August 16, 2011

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