Good luck to my friend, the GOP Big Wig, who goes back to work today after 10 weeks of maternity leave. Remember my friend, the capitol will run without you, but your baby won't. You can always trade in the commute to be a SAHM.
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There's nothing like the anticipation of knowing you're getting a package. I can't wait to have my meeting with the Man in Brown, who will be delivering my delicate deals.
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I am simultaneously struggling with feelings of throwing in the towel in regards to the opposite sex, and the increasing ballsy-ness that has me approaching unfamiliar men with their drinks of choice, only to slink back onto the dance floor (yes, he came and sought me out. I got the digits, no I'm probably not going to call him).
I think arranged marriages are highly underrated. Too bad the Catholic faith did away with the concept a few years ago.
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I am sick of paying for a chi-chi gym I never go to. I even have a damn locker with my name engraved in brass on it. I resolve to contemplate my motivation and promise to think about a solution that would find my ass on an elliptical trainer more frequently. Boy, that was a vague positioning statement.
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I am finally seeing the fruits of my labor. The fruits being little tomato buds and my labor being the schlepping from my kitchen sink to my front porch to water the damn plants. I think I've got about six little 'maters going, hopefully I'll be up to my elbows in fresh salsa by August. I'm trying to help along a mint sprig transplant I brought from the family homestead in CT. So far, lots of wilty/dry leaves, but consistent watering appears to be an improvement from the initial neglect the poor plant suffered after said transplanting. We'll see about this one, I'm not quite boiling the simple syrup yet.
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Honorary Big Sis, I see you, and I know you're out there. Our orbits have totally spun in different directions, I miss you! Let me know when you land in the big Nati and we'll have to make a date of some sort.
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Getting ready for a day long canoe trip. Don't know how strenuous the water is, but it's only six miles (I'm used to 12). At least I can rest easy knowing the top half of me is very buoyant.
2 comments:
Arranged marriages are the way to go. Skip the years of fruitless pursuits AND elevate your family's status (politic, business, economic, social, etc.). Sounds like a good deal to me. Unless I get paired up with a total dog.
Would you take a rich dog or a poor beauty queen? There's no way I could marry for money. Dated a few rich guys in my time and they were total bores. I want someone I can talk to in a rocking chair when I'm 65. Intelligent, funny, and wiseass.
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