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Beverly Weidner and I met in the hallowed halls of Hobbs High School. (ALLITERATION!)

I don’t have a photo of the Bev in HS, but I can tell you that when I see a pair of plaid Doc Martens her image instantly pops in my head.

Beverly is effervescent. I remember her as someone you just felt happy to talk to. She was always encouraging, always present, light and joyous – bright eyed. The girl we all wanted to be in high school.


But no, she is. She has a Disney princess voice. She was a lead character in HHS Glee, and went on to sing in grunge bands. I say grunge because I’ve only seen pics of she and her now hubs in lots of flannel. They could’ve been singing hymnals for all I know – but I do know she can belt out a tune.
Bev went on to leave a 9-5 and boldly go where no one from Hobbs has gone before – the world of foodie blogs. In true Bev form, she knocked it out tha pahk. (I can say it that way as I’m in Massachusetts now). SHE, however, is in Missourah. When I talk about how people from my Senior class are talented and successful, I point wildly in the direction of Mizz Weidner. This blog….THIS BLOG…. if you aren’t following it daily then I just don’t know what you are doing with your lives except eating PBJs all day and being sad. CHECK IT….
Within the blog she lets you peek in on her amazing décor, amazing dishes, and amazing family – which is why I can say she has the cutest twinsies I’ve ever seen. (Don’t tell my Jim – he’s a twin) So really, just subscribe to that lil blog down there and she writes her story for me.

Bev you are an inspiration to me!

❤ Thanks for being my friend with flair.   🙂 #‎TheFacebookProject‬

Bev-getting her famous on:


Mrs. Walthall’s 4th Grade Class – a Soccer Love Story.

This is the story of one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met. It’s also the story of my best friend in high school (along with Shannon and Candace of course).Jodi Silva and I knew each other from Junior High on. We were almost always in the same classes – on the same “track” with the smarties. AP, college prep. All that. And we were band besties, which actually means besties for life, it’s a contract…we all sign it when we get fitted for uniforms. Jodi was absolutely brilliant and funny and politically charged and argumentative and wore the BEST nineties stuff (I think she owned the first Ankh choker…seriously) and made my life infinitely better every single year that we had lunch together. We all go through some stuff when we are younger, but Jodi had an illness that made some of that stuff I think a little harder than others…she had asthma. She has asthma. Despite the pumps and hospital stays and inhalers and vapo-suction-predno-pilla-lung functioning things she had to endure, she ALWAYS got right back up and rode the shit out of the horse we call education. I mean, every time… Jodi had some tough stuff…and got up and did it all again with a joke and a smile and an A on her work. (she comes by it honestly…once her grandmother fought a stray chimp that found her garage and won. YOU CANNOT MAKE UP RICHARDS FAMILY STORIES YOU GUYS) She really amazed me then, and she really amazes me now. She called me and told me she met a wonderful guy…a deputy…they were in love and getting married. I had two options that year (eleven years ago now!)…HHS reunion or Jodi’s wedding. Jodi’s wedding ALL DAY YOU GUYS. We had a great time, and it was AWESOME to see her again. Then there was the phone call that she was prego! She is now the mom of two incredible and precocious boys that could not be luckier to have her as a mom!
Jodi and I made each other cry-laugh every day, and we made it, with most of our sanity, through our teen years. She knew ALL my boy-crush secrets. I knew ALL hers. And I know she won’t tell because she can’t remember shit and I’ll blab it on here anyway. 😉 hahaha.
Jodi I love you to pieces! I love that you are happy, you rock your work, you rock your momming, you ROCK. I promised you no embarrassing high school photos.

❤ Thank you for being my friend.#TheFacebookProject


I haven’t posted a blog in ages…the toddler/lawfirm/school thing was enough to take up my time.  Today, I just wanted to explain how I feel about the “community” of  Boston, and why any of us feel so compelled to talk about this past week and the bombings of the Boston Marathon.  I think I just need to give a little homage to my beautiful City.

My first foray into education began with stepping onto a bus from my stoop in Brockton, Massachusetts.   All the way through the 3rd grade at Whitman Elementary (God rest its concrete bones) I spent my childhood.  We moved that summer before fourth grade to New Mexico.  It was a long way from friends; it was a moonscape town; streets changed from “Oak” to “Cibola”, from “Main” to “Dal Paso”.     My heart never left Massachusetts.  I moved back here, to Quincy (That is QUIN-ZEE to those of you not from here), and started a new adventure.  I took the “T” into work in Newton (a subsection of Boston) every day.  Red Line to Green Line to Bus.  I rode the dreaded 57 bus from Kenmore to Newton Corner every single morning and night – squished in my seat along a road marathoner’s run, to a ballpark where dreams live.  I spent St. Patrick’s Day in Southie, Fourth on the Charles, and two years in a row I took Patriot’s Day/Marathon Monday to stand and cheer people on as they ran the last stretch of Boylston.  I met wonderful people of all nationalities and ilks and felt the City’s pulse beat with mine.  I had my baby at St. Elizabeth’s in Brighton.  I spent summer afternoons letting my son breathe the fresh air at the Commons.  Jim and I moved to the Cape this past November, and every day we talk about moving back to the city.  We need the city, and all the beautiful homes and rocky beaches won’t change that in us.  Too many white people!  Too many retired people!  There aren’t any pot holes!  Why is a lobster roll so overpriced?  Why is everything so overpriced?  Who shuts down a CVS at 9pm?  – We say about the Cape.

Two bombs were detonated at the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15, 2013.

Sometimes it is easy to get swept up in the sensationalism of it all, especially with social media in all its twitterverse fervor.  My best friend in New Mexico mentioned that she didn’t feel it was necessary to post about the incident, and she is right.  When you don’t live here it is different.  I realized that while this is a national incident, it isn’t going to feel the same to people that aren’t in Massachusetts, other than worrying about your loved ones being okay.  The thing is, when you ARE in Massachusetts, and you’ve spent even one day in Boston, your loved ones wind up being the people of Boston.  I think it was Menino (Boston’s long time Mayor) who said “Everyone knows everyone in Boston”.    It is true.  Literally, it is a close knit city, but there is also a “knowing” when you have spent time here.  Possibly unlike any other city.  It is “the city of neighborhoods”.  You don’t have to know someone’s name, but you know they probably like a good Dunkin Iced, they like the Red Sox, they say “How ah you?” with an accent, whether they have an accent or not.  I only moved here in 2010, but my Brockton classmates never forgot me – we’re even planning a reunion – I never forgot them.  You don’t forget Boston.  The Revolutionary War started here.  People here remember, they know history, they pull fiercely together to protect their own.  When first responders have a funeral, they televise it.  People line the streets to thank those that help us here. They support the IDEA of brotherhood of man.  It truly is a living, breathing City, and it becomes part of all those feet that pass the cobblestone and cross the Freedom Trail.  The city embraces you; The people of Boston make you one of their own.

I am one of their own, and all those injured and killed in this incident are my own.

I am Boston Strong.

So… I have been noticing a lot of political talk lately, and started thinking…..there must be an election or something around the corner.  hahaha.


In all this nonsense, AND OH LORD DO I HAVE MY OPINIONS, but…in all this nonsense we sometimes forget WHO we are talking about when we make these big sweeping generalizations of “people on food stamps” or “rich people” or “poor people”.  People are more than percentages.  So whether you are the 99%, or the 47%, or whatever, you must remember we are all 100% human.  Humans are kind of cool, when you get to know them.   SOME of those humans happen to be waiters and waitresses, pizza delivery guys and gals, and bar tenders.  I was a very proud, and not so rich, bar tender for years.  TIPS.  “These people” make their living off of tips.  “These people”  get a tax return because they don’t make enough in the year to meet the requirements for living wage.  The recent video of Romney discussing “these people” appears to be coming from a server table, where I’m pretty sure someone pouring his iced tea set it all up.  So with the recent comments made by Mitt Romney, regarding 47% of Americans that he doesn’t have to worry about, I give you 47% Saturday.

Just this Saturday, September 22nd, and OH GOODY the first day of fall…. wear your kicky boots out, stomp through some crunchy leaves, head to a bar/sub shop/pizza place/wherever , and thank the person that is waiting on you.  They are WAITING on you…which if you’ve ever done that job…it kind of sucks…but there are people out there who do it with a smile, and let you leave with a smile.  Maybe Romney doesn’t have to worry about those people, but I sure as hell do.  YOU NEVER PISS OFF SOMEONE WITH CONTROL OVER YOUR FOOD, DUDE.         So let’s join together in comraderie…not even really in a political sense, but in a human sense.  Regardless of party…    We’ve all been in the trenches working hard to get to something better.   Oh..well, I mean most of us have.  And there doesn’t need to be a percentage put on humanity.  Tip your server 47% this Saturday.


It’s just a really nice thing to do.   And Happy Fall, all.

you can join the tip jar revolution here:

I just had a brief discussion regarding disliking the B52s.   I always said I liked them, of course.  I mean…I entered the hallowed halls of Hobbs High School in 1991.  I graduated in 1994.  I started a Bachelor’s degree and completed college in 1999.  I am a child of the nineties.  The decade is deeply woven into my flannel heart,  the spirit gum on my Doc Marten soul.

Can you not adore a decade that brought us Clinton, the Internet, alt rock, gangsta rap, Must See TV Thursdays, body piercings?  CAN YOU NOT?!   No.   The nineties are an absolute perfect decade in my nostalgic and Zima dripped brain, and I will forever revere them.

IN THAT VEIN…  I was remembering when I went back to college for a second bachelors degree.  I had been out of school for over a decade, and it was a bit of a comedy of errors heading into classrooms where everyone opens their Macbook Pro and I ripped open my velcro Trapper Keeper.  I had a lot to learn.  We didn’t have cell phones when I was a Freshman in 1994.  We didn’t have “the interwebs”,  the computer lab was for serious geeks and people learning to send messages via dante.  There WAS a computer lab for Christ’s sake.

So newly returning me found a bit of a boost when I went along with our class van on a lab trip.  I was working on a degree in Entomology (the study of insects) and we were driving out to look at and catch critters in a chile field.  My professor was probably about 38 years old.  I was 33.  As we were headed along a dirt road he mentioned that he grew up in Athens, GA.


right???  So I say that to him, and we both excitedly discuss REM and the B52s.    This kid sitting next to me, who I happen to know is 18, because everyone in my class was 18, with the exception of one lovely young lady who was 17 and couldn’t sign a release form on her own without her parent’s permission, takes out one Ipod earbud to say “Who is REM?”

WHO.  IS.   R.E.M.           he says.

But here is the thing.  And I am saying this now, because my discussion of the B52s today cemented this for me.  Who IS REM?  At the time, I was so taken aback with …   horror… I was horrified that this kid didn’t know it was the end of the world as we know it… I was horrified that he didn’t KNOW.  The nineties.  He didn’t KNOW what MUSIC WAS.  REALLLLL GRITTY RAW HARD MUSIC THAT TAPS AT YOUR INSIDES AND DRAGS THINGS AROUND IN YOU UNTIL YOU BECOME ENLIGHTENED AND A BETTER HUMAN BEING.  LYRICS!!!!


Lyrics like   “everybody hurts….sometimes.”  “Think about direction. Wonder why you haven’t before.”  or  “Shiny happy people holding hands.”  or Dee Lite’s magical “I couldn’t ask for another…aye aye aye aye aye I couldn’t ask for another”.  “Hop in my Chrysler it’s as big as a whale and it’s about to set sail.”  “Rock lobster…ewwwahhh.”  “LEONARD BERNSTEIN!”  THIS SHIT GETS DEEP.     I mean….”Light up the stage and wax a chump like a candle…dance”

DANCE!  You can see where these are going right?   “Never trust a big butt and a smile”….(well alright, that one really is important). Don’t even get me started on my reverential love for the Lemonheads that I truly cannot explain.

So it occurred to me in no small way that the music of my generation has some really bad lyrics…and is often times super amazo awesome strictly because of the nostalgia of it.  Where the music transports you to in time is often what makes that music cool, and no way in hell was that 18 year old kid going to understand why we were so excited about Athens, GA.  I learned my lesson.  I will not try and push the incredibly poignant depth and one on one connection with Mother Earth decade that was the nineties on anyone anymore.  I will keep it as my own little magical unicorn starburst dolphin glitter decade that I feel it is.

That poor 18 year old.  He was listening to something on his Ipod and for the life of me I cannot remember what angsty male band it was, but I guarantee you he will remember, and have a hard time selling them in 18 more years.    Then maybe he’ll know who REM was.

Rock on 18 year old.   Rock on.

That is the link to the GOP party platform.  In discussions with my conservative friends today, I decided I should look at what they officially stand for.  All I’ve heard in this election has been “NO.  Not Obama.  No no no.”  And the “Party of NO” hasn’t shown that they have a solid unified alternate solution.       So I looked at this page and tried to decipher, just from the pictures and a little history on Republicans, what it is they plan on standing for in 2012.    Here it goes!


Jobs and Economic Growth Plan!

Inflation and Unemployment are key to lining our big corporate friend’s pockets! From 1980 on….we have encouraged this!


Foreign Policy, National Security, and Defense

We’re okay with black guys in the military now!


Energy, Environment, and Agriculture

Alternate forms of energy?!  Pfffff.    See that there?  That is oil.  Gasoline.  Texas Tea.   The smell of money, honey!


Healthcare, Education, and Labor

See these young people? They are already in debt from school, and should be in debt from private only K-12 if we have anything to do with it.  Those that can’t afford, can learn the important value of hard work. Impoverished kids should be laborers!  The sick one’s we can weed out without proper healthcare coverage.


Government Reform

‘MERICA!!!    We just want to run the government so we can give it back to the people…we swear!


Family Values and Faith Based Issues

YES!   Look at that happy hispanic family!  We are okay with this, as long as they can provide papers while driving to get groceries, and that little boy isn’t gay.   Mexican Americans are important to our party!!!  We are diverse!



So, I don’t know about you guys, but, that is what I got.

Hope you have a wonderful weekend.  No matter what your political ilk, please vote when you can, locally and statewide, and nationally!  It matters.  Know your values and opinions, and match them to a party that you feel fits your heart and mind.




This was a nice little smile added to my evening. Figured I can share with you. Funny, I actually was told quite a few of these things.


Stuff no one told me..

Everyday’s life advices in the shape of witty and humorous cartoons.
Awesome blog, please check them out!
Stuff no one told me

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Bugler’s Dream

Que Tympanis!

What time is it?  That’s right.  It is the 2012 Olympics!  I can’t even stand how excited I am for it all.  I love the Olympics.   It is a test of country against country in athletic prowess, and yet it somehow ties the world together for 16 days.  Maybe because it is the one chance we get to view one another under the same set of rules.  In the mix of it all, we swell with unashamed national pride.  We root for underdogs and other countries and our own.  We remember what the human body is “supposed” to look like, if we ate right and exercised, and we are awe inspired by it.    We get to see what we COULD have been if we started swimming at age two, or riding horses when we were four, or if our mother’s drove us twenty miles to gymnastics camp every morning at 5am.  We sit on our couches and drink a beer and eat a grinder and say, WOW, that little girl is fourteen and has done SO MUCH…I’m thirty six….shit.   AH WELL,  GO USA!  chomp glug glug.

I love it.

Here is my list of things brought to light under the glow of the 2012 Summer Olympic torch.

1.  We are Geography Morons.

During the opening ceremonies we get an alphabetical reminder that there are lots of countries on our planet that we don’t know exist.   Admit it.  You said “There is a Micronesia?”….and then admit that you say that every four years.

2.  We are stereotypical.

The flag bearer for Zimbabwe was a blonde haired blue eyed Kirsty Coventry.  She happens to be their seven time Olympic medal swimming ace.   And not one part of me associated her look with an African nation.  Call it the Charleze Theron syndrome…”She’s from …where?”   In our assumption that everyone in the world wants to immigrate to our little melting pot, we forget that the world already is a little melting pot.   But it is still fun to say, HEY WAIT A SECOND, if a red haired freckled lad is carrying the flag for Japan.  I mean, c’mon…

3.  We love the Royals.

The wedding of Wills and Kate already solidified our national dork drool factor over the Royal Family.  But now, The Queen in her sixtieth year of reign just pumped us up with a skydive from a helicopter with James Bond in tow.  I loved it.  I loved that the old girl went along with the joke and made such a memorable stunt doubled entrance into the games.  It made her even more lovable to me.   We fought so very hard to rid ourselves of the Monarchy all those years ago,  but oh  to be a Queen….oh to dress like Princess Kate…..OH to have high tea.    George Washington rolls in his grave every time we gush over the redcoats.   You know that, right?

4.  We become armchair high divers.

I have never dove into a pool.  Is it dove?  Is it diven?  Dived?   That’s how many times I’ve done it, I don’t even know what to call it.  I mean, sure I’ve belly flopped and cannon-balled, but a true beautiful flip bam boom swoosh into the water from  10 meters up…no.  No, I have not done that.   You can bet your bippy, however, that I am going to watch various divers over the course of the next two weeks, and critique them.  I’m going to critique Olympians at something I do not know how to do.   “Oh, that was too much splash.”  “Ugh, I cannot believe she missed the second twist before the water.”  I’ll do it to all the athletes.   “He could’ve shaved some time off that butterfly with a little more push on the start.”   “You gotta PACE yourself in the 5000 meters!”  (suddenly Americans know the metric system…btw)

Hey…those who can, DO.  Those who can’t, stare at the TV and say “nope.  Nope she didn’t stick the landing.”

5.  We get bored easily.

Just gonna start the day with a little swimming and some women’s basketba…  ….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..

Ok.  So we can’t be excited about the damn games 24/7.  And not all the sports are going to pull in the big audiences.  But we’ll watch the evening highlights, and the controversy that always comes up, and learn some weird new rivalry, like OH YOU SHOULD SEE  India v Mexico in the shot put…it get’s SERIOUS.  Thank God for Bob Costas and all the commentator/experts in each field…they really do make it fun, and can occasionally make a ‘three part jump into a big sand box’ something of wonder for the average Joe.

So that’s my take.    Let’s hunker down and watch the world, and watch the nutty Brits do it right.  They wear their skinny jeans a little bit tighter.  They still have Knights, for God’s sake.  And one of em is a Beatle that rocked the house last night with “Hey Jude”.  (I just KNEW Paul was gonna do Hey Jude.  I knew it.)  …the Fascinator.  I MEAN WHAT IS THAT?!   And Londoners say “boot” and “Bob’s your uncle”.    I LOVE the games being in London.  The British – our quirky fun aunt that takes us to a pub when we aren’t quite old enough to go.

I’m in for a pint or three.