Can't Take the Heat

First, last, and only time I'll support this redundancy.

Shame. The salsa is quite good. Very hot, but extremely tasty.
And familiar, somehow.

Ergo, the motto is redundant AND inaccurate.
Double shame, since the disclaimer is necessary.

In other news, it was ten degrees this morning and I have proof.

Life, LLC

The thing about living independently is that you're the only one who can do the brave things.

Solemnly, I told this to Mia.

Our eyes met as we realized that eventually, one (or likely both) of us would have to kill a bug or spider or both.

Handy Winter Advice

If you are an enthusiastic hand-washer, you may find yourself with painful, red, chapped hands in the winter.

But... if you are an enthusiastic hand-washer, you are probably an over-zealous summertime sunscreen-buyer, too.

Leftover "sport" sunscreens make great winter hand-lotions. The water-resistant element creates a barrier between your skin and the hand-washing/hand-drying process.

I've found that if I remember to put sunscreen on my hands in the morning, it will usually lock in the moisture for most of the day. (And I wash my hands a LOT.)

PS- Try to remember not to touch your face or mouth, or you'll be tasting it all day, too. If it keeps happening to you, change brands of sunscreen until you find one that doesn't taste terrible.
Banana Boat? Awful.
Aveeno? Not too bad.

The Epitome

"Mom, what's an epp-
epee-tum... eppi-toam?"
"Eh-pit-uh-mee," I told her, "means perfect example of something. As you can see," I gestured grandly, "your mother is the epitome of fashion and coolness for 2017."

In retrospect, I probably should've taken a picture of the look on her face instead.

God and Other Unmentionables

Ever since the Ark Incident of 2013, I've been a little mum's-the-word about Our Heavenly Father. However, our new livin'-on-a-prayer lifestyle will require a serious increase in our spirituality.

There was no casual, nonchalant way to broach the subject, so a few days ago, I chose to utilize the Out of the Blue Method that Mia herself is ever so fond of.

"So, um, hey... what do you know about God?" I asked her.
"Well... He lives... above us... and actually, there's several of Him..."

Holy Trinity, Batman! 
My child is a religious prodigy. I'm not a failure. We're not doomed!

"... Zeus, he's the main one... but there are lots more..." she said.

My time aboard cloud nine ended abruptly. She continued listing notable nobility from Greek mythology while I tried to regain my composure. It was hard not to picture both of our souls careening toward an afterlife in the hot place down under.

"Australia?"
"No, not Australia, although from what I've heard, it's debatable. Mia," I said, mustering all my chutzpah, "it's time for The Talk."

After about twenty uncomfortable minutes of me reciting as much as I could remember from the Bible, Mia said, "You know what all this reminds me of? Those Veggie Tales shows."

Hallelujah!
I was saved.

We've been watching several episodes each night ever since. We're also going to be finding a church. Possibly several churches. Enough to undo the damage from our recent discussion and alllllll the years of silence, but not so many that we become zealots, because as I recall mentioning several times during The Talk, 'God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.'

Light Housekeeping

"I'm an excellent housekeeper. Every time I get a divorce, I keep the house."

Oh, that Zsa Zsa Gabor. What a wise-acre. Always making light of even the most heavy-hearted of situations.

Keeping this house has been a bittersweet blessing. Moving would have meant separating Mia from two favorite things-- the playset in the yard and the newly-acquired piano. We're not especially materialistic, but the loss of a step-dad, siblings, and a beloved dog was the maximum a fourth-grader should have to cope with, I decided.

So, here we remain.

It's too big for two people, which became extra-evident after the departure of half the furnishings. That is not to say it is empty. Some artful rearranging proved that even with only half of what the house once held, we still have way more possessions than we need.

In true less-is-more form, voids have been filled with abundance. Less fighting has made way for more loving conversations. Less chaos has opened the door to more peace.

Housekeeping is a tremendous responsibility, but I am grateful for the chance to keep the bit of familiarity for my girl. Grateful and striving toward excellence.

Cheaper Than Therapy

It's the first day of 2017, and now more than ever, we need to believe that better things are on the way.

It's a beautiful time to return to writing.
Besides, it's cheaper than therapy.