Good Grief

Maya (my 8 year old):  I'm sorry you're so angry all the time.

Me:  I'm not angry all the time. Why would you think that?

Maya:  Because you go to a therapist.

Me:  I go because I am sad and confused and want to learn how to be a good mom because you  are sad and confused too.

Maya: Well that's stupid. Then why do they call it a "thera pissed?"

Baby Mine

Dear Julia,

Sometime yesterday, after your sister said she hated you, and then you called her an asshole, and then I yelled at everyone, and then you slammed the door and drove off, I began missing you.

I don't know why I feel so broken right now. I've been crying since you left. There is still one week to go until you drive off for good, leaving the nest, my arms and our little family, to head off across the world, to San Marcos, Texas. 

I do know that I am proud of you because when I was your age I didn't have much self esteem, I didn't make good choices, I didn't help my parents with anything, I didn't like grown ups because I was nowhere near being a grown up, I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't like to work hard. I was nothing like you. But still, the feeling that I made too many mistakes is killing me, because I am out of time to teach you, and you are out of patience to listen. The fact that we now have a close relationship seems short of a miracle.

It was during the divorce that I lost you. You blamed me at first until you were old enough to figure it out on your own. The beginning of the end, though, was when you were around 12 and we had that brief cancer scare when your semi-neurotic mother noticed those lumps on you, which were quickly diagnosed as growing boobs. The side effects of growing boobs, oddly, caused extreme moodiness. Although I'm sure there were more, my last memory of laughter with you back then was when you taught me the Soulja Boy dance in 6th grade. After that, you pulled away. Everything was kept a secret from me like the undetectable internet you downloaded onto my computer, the boys you didn't want me to know about, the clothes you snuck out of the house to change into at school, and the out of town trips you took in your car without permission. I want you to know, as you enter the big world as an adult, you now have my permission to have a MySpace account, date boys, dress like a hoochie, and drive wherever you want without having "The Club" steering wheel lock ground your car.  

I feel like I made mistakes with you where I was too strict in some areas and too lenient in others, especially after the divorce and fallout that followed. I was too overwhelmed to do a great job and I am out of chances to do better. I am afraid that the reason you are so tough is because your life was too hard. I am afraid you are so sensitive because your feelings were hurt too much. I am afraid that the reason you date mean boys is because I didn't divorce soon enough. I am afraid that you fight with your sisters because I didn't have enough time to give you the attention you wanted. I am afraid you listen to that horrible music because you have some hearing problem I never followed up on.

I am afraid you will move away and not need me anymore.  That last one is the worst fear of all, because in the last few years you became my best friend again. I cannot bear losing you twice.

So, lose you I will not as I have decided that in lieu of sending you money when you leave, I will make you earn it by coming to visit at a rate of $20 per hour of quality time. Not a joke.  Make arrangements in advance.

I learned everything there is to know about love the day you were born. I hope you are grateful that I didn't include a single quote from Dr. Seuss' "Oh, The Places You'll Go" this time. I will instead leave you with a unique yet poignant quote from one of your favorite rappers, Wiz Khalifa:

"Damn I need yo love like a weed stick. Bein' wit out you is like Kathy no Regis."

But still, I'll say goodbye...

Love, 

Mom 

The Aliens

I know many people don't believe that beings from other planets have visited Earth, but I do. I wrote an argumentative paper about it once, but lacked substantial proof.  I have that now.

An alien has taken over the brain of my sweet young teenager.  I am still collecting data, but all I know for sure is that this creature is a dick. 

Update- study halted as creature appears to have vacated the premises.  My sweet child is safe!

Update- it is back again. This time with more ammunition. The language barrier apparently frustrates it as it keeps repeating "You don't understand! Go away!" I will patiently attempt to continue communication. I believe this creature phones home often as it becomes agitated if I move near cell phone. My timeline shows correlation to a certain period of the lunar calendar. I believe it has aging powers as my hair is beginning to grey. This creature will stop at nothing to prove that its intelligence supersedes mine. Chocolate, cash and my absence seems to appease it temporarily. 

Parents, please keep your daughters safe.  I will cautiously continue my research. 

Fine Dining

While I was dining at an adorable new restaurant the other day, the darling little girl who owned the restaurant came and sat with me when my food arrived. She told me about her life - how she was a famous singer and decided to take a break from it all to open a restaurant. I learned so much from talking to her.  How the simple life of owning a restaurant was more enjoyable than being perpetually on the road; that when fans recognize her she finds it annoying but knows that she wouldn't have been famous without her fans; that the reason all of the food she serves is blue is because she couldn't find the other containers of play-doh; and that I ruin everything when I accidentally call her Maya. She told me that her husband was famous too and that his name was Justin Timberlane. She shared with me that it was very sad to be away from him so much as he was always away on tour. I asked her if it was also hard on their marriage, with him being away and with girls flirting with him. She said, "No way! We have a STRONG marriage!" I asked my wise 8 year old what the secret was to a strong marriage, and she said, "That's easy. When you ask each other for something, always say "Okay." I was a bit disappointed at the answer.  Not only because if true, that would be impossible for someone like me, but also because I had hoped I hadn't raised my kid to be mousy. So I asked, "Well, what if you have big plans and he asks you to clean the house, sweep the chimney and scrub the floors????" "I would say 'OKAY' of course." she laughed and said "Then I would call a maid!" While I sat at my table feeling relief and a little bit of concern for Mr. Timberlane, she charged $7,489.25 to my credit card and told me to have a nice day. 

Black or White 2.0

Totally unrelated to my previous entry...

I bought a new charger for my iPhone. Apparently, the black iPhone chargers are three times longer than the white ones. True story. 

Black or White

Well, hello there! I haven't been writing much.  My book is on hold.  My blog's getting old.  I have been, instead, focusing my energy on other meaningful activities that truly make me a better person: contemplating world peace, followed by shopping and Netflix. 

The perfect combination of Season 8 of How I Met Your Mother, Season 3 of Scandal, coupled with active efforts to eliminate human malignancy then a trip to the mall propels me to the platform necessary for me to combat bigotry, hatred, and mean people in general in a single bound.  This is me, in bed, armed with a laptop and credit card debt, sending out a plea to all of you to be kind to one another.  

I have been exposed to many hateful and toxic people in my life. Men who feel superior, and women who feel inferior - acting out by trying to make others feel small, spraying the people around them like crazed tomcats so they feel big, and to avoid confronting their own inner conflict and emotions. Hate spreads like a virus from person to person.  Be aware of your words.  Be aware of how your choices affect others. Be harmless. Be careful what you put out in the world. Hate is contagious, and in groups, often deadly.

My middle child claims she only hates three things:  the emu, Stitch from "Lilo and Stitch" and dragonflies.  She is not sure why she hates emus, but when she was four, Stitch, at the Disney parade, pretended to pick his nose and flick a booger at her. It's time for her to get past that, but the dragonflies - they are everywhere and according to her, "They climb on top of each other, fly around attached, then land on me. They stare straight at me Mom, and I'm not stupid,  I know what they're doing!"  Fair enough.

Despite all of my efforts, however, to teach my kids to love all people equally, and to judge them by who they are in their hearts, I was not able to get through to my oldest child. She judges people by the color of their skin. And will only date black boys. Technically she's a racist if she never goes back, right? 

My youngest child emits a ton of pure love and joy into the world.  At our recent trip to Disney, she twirled around in her Elsa dress and exclaimed, "Look at me! I'm a damsel in this dress!" She declared constantly that, "ALL MY DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE!" The only thing she hates, really, are zombies.  Last night she dreamt that zombies had broken into our house and were trying to eat us.  I held her in my arms, stroked her hair gently, and reminded her that ALL HER DREAMS COME TRUE! That last sentence never happened.  I think it's time to stop writing.

As I move on to Orange is the New Black dear reader, I leave you with a suggestion to take the time to understand yourself, understand your aggression, and work through it until you are able to practice empathy.  If you cannot, talk to someone who can help you. Only then will you be able to understand those around you. You may be surprised to find that everything isn't black or white.  

Life is a Fractured Fairy Tale

The thing they never tell you is that people break like bones. Sometimes wholly. Sometimes only when the weather changes. But sometimes your life, your essence, your reality has a limp that stays with you for keeps. The people around you may notice, often slightly, but occasionally undeniably, that you are defective. Many will have words, gods, potions or platitudes to mute the wound so that no one has to hear any more about it.  And others, they just stay away. All believe they have the answers, that is, until they break too, unlike you, but just the same. 

Beautiful, Hopeful and Dark is Life, Frankly

Lonely morning sunshine 

Glides along the unhappy window.

Fresh, pure freedom within.

Missing happiness and nature.

Strong belief exists in sleep.

God's depth climbed up to the heavens.

Someone's lovely wishes blow outside. 

Written By: Samantha Abelow, age 13

Using only words found in Anne Frank's diary

The Test

"I don't understand why we still have to go to math and English the rest of the year. The STAAR test is over!" said my exhausted daughter on the way to school this morning. 

Despite having intelligent, caring and creative educators to teach my child what she needs to know, the message of why she needs to know remains safely tucked away deep in the heart of Texas.

The fact that there are people who believe that passing this test was my child's crowning moment truly upsets me. Everyone knows she came out of the box a long time ago.

Used Car

There is no analogy for dealing with car salesman that doesn't entail half of the word analogy. 

Oh, Miley

Dear Concerned Parents,

You are too freaked out about the dangers of your teen attending the Miley Cyrus concert!     

When I was younger, I went to an AC/DC concert and didn't take the Highway to Hell. I went to a Van Halen concert and David Lee Roth's backless pants didn't make me promiscuous. Ronnie James Dio did not turn me into a War Pig. Ozzy Osborne did not propel me to urinate on the Alamo. The Red Hot Chili Peppers concert did not make me rock with a sock on my cock. And the Erasure concert didn't make me a Victim of Love. Or super gay. Madonna did, however, make me wear a fake mole on my face and a bunch of bracelets for about a year. And the Cheap Trick concert taught me to Surrender without giving myself away. And even though Triumph told me that I've got the Magic Power of the music in me, I believed Rush, and always chose Free Will. Tommy Tutone apparently had the greatest influence over my brain as I still, on occasion, feel compelled to call Jenny's number.  But I am still Jewish after Depeche Mode begged me to get my own personal Jesus. And also, sadly to date, after attending two Aerosmith concerts I have yet to experience Love In An Elevator.  And I turned out okay. 

You have worked hard and have done a wonderful job with your kids, parents.  Let them enjoy the music of their generation! Even if you don't understand it. 

Sincerely, 

Jessie's Girl 

Ronnie James Dio circa 1980s

Spring Break

My 18 year old is off to South Padre Island for Spring Break. As this is her first big road trip that she has actually told me about, I wanted to give her parenting advice that she would listen to, without getting upset with me.

Now, pay attention parents:

Incorporating stupid little emojis in a text message will miraculously transform your annoying and condescending message into an adorable fun-filled message.  She read my entire message:

To which she replied (emoji included):

Mission accomplished!

Learn to speak the language of this new strange generation. And they will listen. 

And that being said, listening and doing are sadly two different things. When I was 18, I was on the road to California. Because I thought I was Jack Karouak.  FML. 

I am now left with nothing more than my "Karma is a Bitch" emoji. 

And perhaps this one too. 

Wishing you and your kids a fun and safe spring break, and don't forget to talk to your children, not at them. They just may listen.  

The Munchkin Games

I think it is very important to teach your children survival skills. Mine can create meals from what little is in the pantry before payday, coerce their teachers into extra credit when they are failing, and steal each other's clothes without detection. 

As a single mom with three daughters, my children have also learned a skill that I call "Survival of the Sweetest," which sport is also know as "The Munchkin Games." 

Most recently, after growing bored of being my center of attention during graduation, Eldest Child, when asked to clean her room, committed a technical foul which got her ass ejected from the game, and sent straight to her room.

Youngest Child quickly went to work at the free throw line and created the following, once again reclaiming her position as MVP: 

She has learned to use cuteness as a weapon, and armed with only 1,10023 exquamashon marx in her love letter, she found herself victorious. A slam dunk was made by combining true love and a drawing of me with thin arms, while skillfully omitting the thighs altogether. 

Unfortunately, Middle Child, in a flawless stealth-like rebound, slept all day after a late night sleepover and took the lead by proving to be The Quiet Child, earning herself a three point trip to the mall without her sisters. The old "Seen and Not Heard" move is a timeless Munchkin Games classic, which is always appreciated, especially when mom has a headache.

In an effort to get back in the game in the fourth quarter, Eldest Child agreed to clean her room, but let the team down by taking a nap instead. Even though she is my Allstar, she will be benched the next two games, and, if she continues to play poorly, could possibly become a free agent or traded for a hamster.

It's a well known fact that reading, writing and arithmetic can only get you so far in this kid eat kid world. If you want to survive, respect your grown ups! 

Let the Munchkin Games begin! May the odds be ever in your favor! And don't forget: A brown nose will get you a gold star every time.

Throwback Thursday

It was not easy for me being a mom of three. When my third was born, I was lost, confused, somewhat abused, overwhelmed and underappreciated.

Luckily, I learned the secret to true happiness:  A SENSE OF HUMOR!

Please forgive me Maya. But in all fairness, you did keep me up all night and change my bra size.

   

The King

A couple years ago, Maya came home from Kindergarten excited to tell me that "Today I learned about our King!"

I explained to her that we live in the United States where we are ruled by democracy, rather than monarchy, and elect our leaders by voting. "You must have learned about the president, not the king." I said.

"No! You are not listening! I learned about our king!" she yelled as I obviously overspoke the 15 word limit my children allow me.

"Um... Prince Charles?" I tried.

"Did you not ever go to school?  I said THE KING! He was very famous."

"Oh Elvis!!!!  Hunka hunka burnin' love!" I sang, dancing around and feeling pretty proud of myself.

She ran into kitchen, frustrated and madder than a wet cat. "Forget it! You never listen! Just leave me alone!"

How do I always manage to aggravate my kids? Is it the sound of my voice? My lack of hipness?

As I knew better than to press any further, I quietly walked into the foyer and searched through her backpack where I found HIM. Our King!!!!

His picture still hangs on our wall to remind me to always choose love over hate, that we are all created equal, and that no matter what I say or do, I am bound to piss off my kids. 

.

Oh Deer

I killed my first deer this week. I understand this to be a beloved tradition this time of year. Most Texans have done this by the age of 12. My boss uses a bow and arrow. I used my car. 

The insurance adjuster wasn't very empathic about the deer dying. It was traumatic for my kids though. They had many questions about death and something called "deductible" that made mommy cry. Sometimes the only way to quiet a child is with Steve Jobs Duct Tape. I handed them an iPad and drove home in silence. 

"I was disgusted at how many people asked me if I kept that poor deer to eat. I would never purposely kill an animal and eat it!" I said that night at dinner as I took a bite out of my hamburger that came from meat the way God intended. With a side order of fries out of a Whataburger bag. 

The Circle

My daughter's baby announcement read "Our world is now complete..."

As I sit here 18 years later, writing her graduation announcement, all I have typed is "My world is now broken."

Have you ever cried in a way that was so important that you didn't want to wipe the tears away?  Have you ever worn your tears because the anguish was so deep that if you wiped them away, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself?  

I am aware of the fact that when I have mascara all over my face, I don't look heartbroken, I look like Ozzy Osborne. And I'm aware of the fact that when I explain the depth of my love and emotion to my 18 year old, I don't sound devoted. I sound annoying. And I'm aware of the fact that, although I feel like the postergirl for motherhood, I am the postergirl for birth control. But I'm simply not aware of any easy way at all to let my baby go.  I didn't get enough time.  I am not done. 

I have some ideas:

1) Slash the tires on her car so she can't leave me.

2) Drink Vodka.

That's all I've got.  Shit. 

The circle of life sucks. But I guess it's the only circle given.  So I write..

When she was little, she was my baby, 

I was her world. She held my hand.

When she got older, I was her harbor, 

She raised her sail for her world to expand.

I watch with wonder and sadness and pain 

Excitement and pride she won't understand

Till she has a baby that makes her the world. 

Then she'll watch with wonder. She'll hold her hand. 

And life will go on - ready or not,

For better or worse, the way that God planned. 

Rachelle Abelow,

Writer/Annoying Mother 

The Reflection

As I reflect on the past year, I would like to share some things I have discovered:

1) Many people are suffering from anguish, heartbreak, grief, fear, dejection or pain. Some more than others. 

2) It is these people that tend to be the most empathetic.

3) This must mean that anguish, heartbreak grief, fear, dejection and pain make us better and kinder people.
4) Keep living.
5) It gets better.

6) Everyone says "Next year will be better!" This makes no sense because years are only increments of time that don't change.  

7) For things to change in your life, you MUST do things that are uncomfortable. Look closely at yourself and your own faults. Adjust yourself, your choices and your life accordingly. The time to act is yours. How you make it is how you got it.  

8) Unfortunately, sometimes it doesn't matter how you make it. Shit happens.

9) In the midst of a shit storm, it is best to turn up the music and do your best shit dance in your most comfortable shit shoes. There is a bubble bath waiting when it subsides.

10) On New Year's Eve, my kids asked me to resolve to spend more time with them. 

11) Last night they told me to get out of their rooms when I tried to spend time with them.

12) Sometimes resolutions don't last long because we are not ready.

13) My kids have named the baby in my tummy "Billy." They insist that it cannot be short for William or anything fancy. Just "Billy."

14) I am not pregnant. My kids are not funny. My New Year's Resolution is now to lose weight... when I am ready.
15) My favorite exercise is skipping! It is impossible to skip without smiling. Try it. I dare you. 
16) Every time I try something new, my life changes. You CAN teach old dogs new tricks!

17) At my age, I wear only comfortable shoes.  I don't care if they are ugly.
18) If you have personality and a padded bra, nobody will notice your ugly shoes. 

I wish you all a new year filled with home-cooked meals, someone to cuddle (furry or not), the feeling of possibility or adventure on the horizon, music to accompany you, the smell of cookies fresh out of the oven, and the ability to look at the sky with wonder.  This is your year.  It is time....

Imagination Is The New Black

My daughter walked into her room the other night and screamed so loud that we all came running. Apparently, while we were away, someone had ripped her window screen, broken into her second floor room and removed toys from her toy box.   

That "somebody" was Jessie, our elf that has visited our house every year for about a decade. In a "That 70s Show" style circle, Jessie was found, to my child's delight, in her freezing cold room partying on her bed. Our elf looked noticibly tired, probably from walking all the way to the kitchen to make popcorn for her new friends, who must have also come to life briefly to attend the festivities.

And none of this seemed strange to anyone in my home. I am not sure which is worse, the fact that this creepy shit delights my kids, or the fact that we spent more time this week orchestrating a fantasy world, than we did doing real world things. The jury is still out as to whether this will cause my kids to become crazy, clever, castigated or confused. Or even worse... just like me. 


I used to dream that one day I would have a unicorn. Now that I am older, wiser and more responsible, I know that is impossible. Because I am far too busy for another pet. 

Children are born believing anything is possible. That's why they smile so much. Try it sometime! Especially during the holidays. It may be your only escape. 

Wishing you all fantasies, daydreams and childish holiday amusement,

Rachelle

The Carol

My roses are red, my politics - reddish blue.

My children - all girls, my religion is Jew.

You’ll find me still kicking after all I’ve been through.

Please try not to judge me if I’m not like you.

I have lots of friends, but trust just a few.

We don’t all think the same. I have my own view.

I am pretty smart, and I think you are too.

We’re all stuck here together because friendship is glue. 

'Tis the season of peace and the festival of light.
Let's put down our egos and hold each other tight.
It's okay to back down even when you are right.
Or just shut the fuck up if you still want to fight.

In the end, it won’t matter. I promise, it’s true,

If you’re black or white, yellow, green, red or blue,

Or who won the spelling bee or first chair in kazoo,

Who had the strongest religion or political view. 

All that will matter, I promise, it’s true,

Is the love you emit and permit back to you. 

We have only one life, so let's get this right. 

Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night!

SH*T MY KIDS SAY

Maya (My seven year old): (Calling me at work) Mommy, I'm scared! I just stepped on glass. Come home.

Me:  Are you okay? Do you need stitches? Does it hurt?

Maya:  No.

Me: Then why do I have to come home?

Maya: I got blood on the floor and walls. This place looks haunted.

***************************

Maya: (Calling me at work and crying hysterically) 

Me:  Are you okay?

Maya:  No! I tried to put the milk away and it spilled everywhere!

Me: Haven't you ever heard the saying that there is no use crying over spilled milk? 

Maya: But it's everywhere! That's why I'm crying!

Me: But there's a saying that everyone says: There's no use crying over spilled milk. Because it's no big deal. Just clean it up.

Maya: Nobody EVER says that. I'm in second grade and I've never heard anyone say that. When the milk is all over the floor like this, people cry.  (Click)

***************************

Maya:  John bullies me. He makes fun of me on the bus. He is mean and says that there is no Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. Is that true, Mommy? 

Me: Well, I'll tell you this... from what I have seen, the kids that do believe get rewarded with money from the Tooth Fairy, candy from the Easter Bunny and toys from Santa Claus. Poor John is missing out on all of the fun. That's probably why he's such an asshole.

Maya: Okay! I believe! Thanks, Mommy! And you know that's going on your Language Chart, right?

Me:  Yep.

The Dark Passenger

Dear Hormones,

I understand that you are simply doing your job, however, there are a few things we need to get straight:

1) This morning, like a godless hussy, I woke up with my child's Halloween candy in my arms, and chocolate stains on my sheets. Stop!

2) Patch up your twisted relationship with my metabolism. Fat jeans are not supposed to be tight.  Sir Mix A Lot was wrong. 

3) Make the force be with me, my liege. My super bitch powers are no match for my teenagers' super bitch powers. The force is strong with those ones. 

4) My children should be afraid of me when you encourage me to raise my voice, not entertained. Make me loud AND scary. Cute and spunky gets me nowhere. Do your job or clean my house. 

5) Involuntary narcissistic rage is not a bad thing if I'm right. Right? 

6) Thanks so much for the hot flashes. My running around outside in shorts and a tank top in 37 degree weather has distracted the neighbors from all the other reasons they could suspect I'm crazy. 

7) There is no reason for me to cry. It was just a commercial. Back the fuck off. 

8) I am positively profoundly pissed off at everyone in the entire world this week. It is time for a safe word. 

Your hostile hostage, 

Rachelle

The Innocent

How to read 50 Shades in public...

The Nature

THINGS I LEARNED WHILE CAMPING WITH MY KIDS:

1)  While you are waiting to get your campsite, and 50 people are in line in front of you, listening to your teenager whisper inappropriate jokes is not a good way to make the time pass quicker. Your seven year old may overhear and yell out "What's a dildo?" actually making the time pass much slower.

2)  The wooden marshmallow roasting sticks you bought for $2 does not make you a smart shopper. They are made of wood.  This makes you a stupid moron.  

3)   Melted marshmallow does not come off of a Juicy tracksuit. The fact that you wore your Juicy tracksuit camping, again, makes you a stupid moron.  

4)  Chasing a bunny rabbit in the dark can be a bad thing. Especially when you realize it is not actually a bunny rabbit, it is actually a skunk. You should stick to star gazing on night hikes.

5)  You should stick to ground gazing on day hikes as we also learned centipedes can be as large as a human foot.  

6)  The person that makes fun of your Mickey Mouse footie pajamas will beg to wear them after the first cold night. Don't hate on the onesies. They are hip AND warm. 

  

7)  The campsite two weeks ago may not have had the breathtaking view of the mountains and the stunning change of the season’s colors like this campsite, but it was free of sticker burrs on the ground to allow for frisbee baseball, had no ants or bees, had larger trees to climb and hide behind to go to the restroom, and a little neighbor girl to ride bikes with Maya. Prettier is not better. It is simply prettier.

8)  When teaching your children about nature, if they roughly throw the cup of tadpoles back in the water because they want to keep them as pets but you've insisted they belong in their own natural and peaceful environment, then you have not yet properly taught you children about nature. Calling them "Dexter" under your breath is funny, only until you think about it, and realize you are far from civilization.  

9)  There is a pure calmness that engulfs my mind and body when I am far from civilization. If this is true for everyone, civilization is not as civilized as we believe.

10)  In the woods, kids cannot escape to their rooms to use iCrap or Skype or sleep or sulk. In the woods, you make your own fun.  And you do it together.  

11) There is nothing funnier in the world than drawing eyes and a nose on someone's chin while they are lying down, and watching them talk. Don’t judge.  Just do it.

12) Seven year olds believe, wholeheartedly, that the Tooth Fairy knows where you are, even when you are in a tent deep in the woods, and especially when you only have twenties and hundreds in your purse. 

13)  When you pee in the woods, and you hear a stranger laughing, it is safe to assume you have not gone deep enough into the woods. 

14)  On day three, it is time to go home! I am exhausted, my back feels crooked as a question mark, and I desperately need a bubble bath. I f@*&%ing dare anyone to tell me Oreos for breakfast and Dairy Queen for lunch are not nutritional.  

15)  There is only one thing better than sleeping in a tent under the stars! JW Marriott.  Definitely JW Marriott.

The Style

Dear Vogue Magazine,

My doctor insists that I start wearing glasses, as I am now over 20 years old. Just a little bit. I have found that the eyewear that is considered stylish is a smaller, petite type of glasses, that does not allow for progressive lenses. Quite frankly, it also irritates the crap out of me when I can see the stupid frames in my line of vision.  I wanted YOU to be the first to know that I have started a new trend, and I am hopeful that it will catch on like a wildfire: Large Glasses! We can call them: Glasses Couture.  I have purchased some and I look absolutely amazing in them.  See my picture below:

Please print this on your next cover.  Big glasses are IN!

Also,  my doctor insists that I stop carrying heavy purses because of my new shoulder problems, as I am now over 20 years old. Just a little bit.  I can't think of any better accessory that delivers comfort and accentuates the one thing that all of our fine young gangstas are rapping about. I have now brought back an old trend: Fanny Packs!  We can call it:  Asses Couture.  See my design below:

Please print this on your next cover.  Fanny packs are IN!

Just trying to keep the "hot" in hot flashes, the "hip" in hip replacement, and the "men" around for menopause. 

Sincerely,

Rachelle