"The farmer dude is awesome!" or, "Girls' Commentary on Emma, by Jane Austen"

My daughter had her birthday sleepover last night. We went swimming, out to eat, painted nails and watched a movie. The movie was the main event, anticipated greatly by at least one of us. Me. You see, this was the first time I allowed my daughter to experience Jane Austen. I have protected Jane  from the offense of being read by to young-a-girl, of being blown off, misunderstood, or haphazardly...

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I'm not afraid anymore

I've just realized it. Just now. I've been sitting here at my computer, attempting to design a stunning website for a client, listening to my two little girls (ages 4 and 6) playing in the living room next to me. They were playing 'Getting Married'. This entails pretending to put make up on, going dancing and finding a husband. They ask the imaginary men if they think they're pretty. They decide...

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Frayed.

As I write this, the man who relieved my husband of his job almost exactly a year ago just walked past me in Starbucks. The man who, because of his actions, caused my husband to find a new job which he spends 3 hours a day driving to and from. I am resentful of this man. I resent his shiny shoes and expensive suit. Of his well groomed head of hair swept back so handsomely. I resent that he tries to make eye contact and I avoid, because this time, I think I really might punch him. I resent the fact...

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