Originally posted on Not a Day Over 45:
Kate of my dreaming Unruly spirals of strawberry silk Eyes as blue as his Your chubby hand touches my face and I am awake. I don’t think a March 13 will ever begin with anything but tears for me. As I was lying in bed this night before,…
I grew up with quite a patchwork of church experience. My grandpa was a “preacher” (I always want to add “man” on to the end of that, just so I can say my dad was a son of a preacher man…) who spoke in tongues and led us to many “tent revivals”. The best way … More The First Church of Don’t Be A**hole
Shopping in your forties is the exact opposite of shopping in your twenties. In 1990, I found all sorts of awesome clothes (read: peg legged Hammer pants, acrylic jacquard sweaters, little black dresses) that fit my rockin’ pre-baby, pre-Martha-Stewart-Living, pre-peri-menopausal body; I could afford to buy exactly none of them. Now, I have the means … More Mirror, Mirror; Or…Why I Bought A Dress I Thought I Shouldn’t Wear
Not a Day Over 45 