Be Sociable, Share!
Be Sociable, Share!
Be Sociable, Share!
Be Sociable, Share!

The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


The Blemish and Foul Wind

Oooookay, I think we’ve all seen enough of that.

Now, how about some more stories about ME to make you feel better about yourself? Yes? Could this blog be any bigger a display of self deprecation and humiliation? Or is it that I need attention? Because being 95 feet tall with freaky blond hair and a butt the size of Canada isn’t really doing it for me anymore, obviously.


This morning, I had to take my older kids to school. I decided to just get dressed and go. I looked like, well, like I just woke up and threw on some clothes. Even better I had just popped two zits on my chin. Have you seen me after I pop a zit? It looks like a giant tumor has erupted on my skin, red and pulsing to my heart beat, it’s hideous. No big deal, I thought, drop the kids off and scoot home, I’ll be invisible.

You know what’s about to happen, don’t you?

The most beautiful woman on the face of the planet saw me at school and made a bee line for my van waving at me to get my attention so she could talk to me.

Oh, Lord. Here she comes. No! Dear God, NO! Should I just gun the engine and peel out of the parking lot? Would it be bad if I ran over her? Maybe if I pretend I don’t see her. Nope, I’m waving, that pretty much says come here and talk to me. Lord, WHY?!

I rolled down my window so my zits could say hello.


A couple days ago I took all my kids to the longest evening of basketball in the history of basketball. I had to watch three games and part of another one. We were the visiting team and crowded together in a little lunch room area that had accordion style doors that opened to the gym. My two little boys and I were sitting in chairs very close to all the other parents.

What better time for my boys to start ripping the foulest smelling farts ever?

What did they eat? Sulfur? Rotten eggs? Dog poop?

Like any good parent I immediately started placing the blame. “Oh! Honey. Phew! Do you need to go to the bathroom? Wow. YOU are really stinking up the place.”

If that wasn’t bad enough, my baby decided to sit on my lap and let go of a mighty, butt- flapping wind that could only come from a rear the size of Canada.


I knew that if I started to blame him for that incredible auditory display it would look like I was the guilty party. In silence, I sat in my chair holding my son staring straight ahead pretending like I didn’t hear or smell a thing. And we all know what that means, right?



What lessons have you learned from this ridiculous post?

1. Never leave the house.
2. Basketball stinks.

Be Sociable, Share!