Tag Archive | humor

Growing Up Italian

Growing Up Italian

 

  • The word calm is not in the Italian dictionary.

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  • Thanksgiving dinner included; antipasto platter, lasagna, meatballs. Turkey was a side.
  • I don’t want to be that girl, but roasted peppers, Nutella, pesto, deep fried zucchini was a staple for us way before it was trendy.
  • You learned how to make pasta before entering Kindergarten, and you didn’t practice with play dough.
  • When your friends came to your place to play, they were asked no fewer than five times if they were hungry.

 

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  •  We had gardens—not flower gardens. Huge gardens with rows and rows of tomatoes, along with peppers, basil, squash and zucchini.
  • We knew that the word “Latte” is an Italian’s way of saying, “You paid way too much for that coffee.”
  • It is drilled into your mind at a very young age how to make pizza, but if you have absolutely no choice then you know how to order pizza properly, asking for 75% less cheese than your non-Italian friends would order.

 

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  • You have multiple family members named Maria, Angela, Joe, Tony and at least two Uncle Mario’s.
  • You know how to properly pronounce “gnocchi,” “bruschetta,” and “tagliatelle,” which means you’re the spokesperson when out to dinner with your non-Italian friends and family.
  • Salad was always eaten AFTER the main course. (I still do this.)

 

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  • Chamomile tea cures everything.
  • Every Sunday afternoon lunch time with extended family started at 1:00 and ended at 6:00, and there was enough food for everyone to have a second helping and take food home for their week’s lunches.
  • Your Saints day is even more celebrated than your birthday. (Except for me, I don’t have a Saint’s day, but then again I was born in Canada, and that seems to be a loophole according to my siblings, which brings me to the next point).
  • If you were the first generation Canadian, your siblings convinced you that you were adopted.
  • Shocked when you heard someone’s last name did not end in a vowel.
  • Surprised to discover that wine was sold in stores. Wasn’t everyone’s basement a winery?
  • NO VOLUME CONTROL WHEN THE FAMILY GETS TOGETHER.
  • You know a lot of people who came from the same village as your parents or grandparents, they’re not blood related, but call them Aunt, Uncle anyway.

 

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  • Thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and had money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives.
  • You couldn’t date a boy without getting approval from your mother, father, brothers, sister, a nanna and nonno if they are in the picture, and a few uncles and aunts, by that time, you didn’t have to worry about dating. Ever again.
  • You have at least one irrational fear or phobia that can be attributed to your mother, which of course you pass on to your own children when the time is right.
  • You know that it doesn’t matter what happens; loss of job, divorce, headache, flu, clumsiness….it’s all because you did not eat properly that day and of course, you didn’t listen to your parents.
  • No matter what city you are in, you need to go and visit their Little Italy.
  •  You did the dishes for Nonna or a Zia (Aunt) and got $50.00.

 

All this and more, but you love every minute of it, and look forward to sharing these traditions with the next generation. 

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“Warning! Asses directly in front of you may be closer than they appear.”

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After a long absence—and by long, I mean over two years—from any type of Yoga, I’ve re-entered the twist and sometimes shout world of attempting to perfect the tripod headstand with Lotus legs (hey, one can dream).

My bestie and partner in many crimes (and may I add, great writer and Podcast personality. Jasmine Aziz) and I have partnered up as Bendy Accountable Buddies, re-entering the Yoga world of hurt together (this program is called Yoga Burn, and baby, does it burn).

 

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With that in mind, I am re-blogging the following post of the time I first entered the Zen world (although, with me, finding my Zen meant figuring out how to wake up my left foot after it fell asleep).

I hope you enjoy this re-posted blog.

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A few months ago, I decided to try anti-gravity yoga. Great fun until you injure your shoulder and are told to take up a less strenuous yoga class.

I did love being upside down and pretending I was part of the Cirque de Soleil troop. However, I had to give up that class and at the anti-gravity yogini’s suggestion, I now attend a Hatha Yoga class.

Hatha Yoga is all about breathing exercises, meditating and gentle poses.

Okay, I can do that. Easy stuff. Right?

I was off to Yoga class armed with a fierce determination to stay focused during the whole class. I was raring to go, equipped with the mandatory (and may I add, cool) yoga kit:

A sticky pink yoga mat—sticky as in sticks to the wooden floor. Not sticky as in—when a person smuggles in a smoothie instead of water inside their water bottle and said smoothie is accidentally knocked over. (It only happened to me once)

Two blocks—used to lean on, not to build a little bridge for any tiny ants that may have slipped into the room.

A bandage—don’t ask, it’s rather complicated.

A chiropractor on speed dial—–you can ask, but you won’t believe it.

My mind was in focus mode. My gear was all organized and I sat and waited for the Yogini to start the class.

 What the hell is a third eye?

 

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I noticed Yogini got new tattoos on her arms. She now had what they called sleeves on each arm.

That must have hurt like a mother…wait, don’t let mind wander…stay focused.

I looked out the window in front of me, instead of trying to figure out what Yogini’s new tattoos symbolized.

As everyone was getting themselves organized, Yogini looked around and commented that there were many new faces.

Yogini has great powers of observation, because I hadn’t noticed any new members, but then again, I keep to myself in these classes…being an introvert and all.

Yogini asked if anyone had any questions before we started.

As you probably have all experienced, there’s always someone in any class that takes this question literally. Their expression usually looks like a question mark at all times.

Sure enough, the lady on my left raised her hand.

Cripes, lady, we’re not in school, just ask already. I have meditating and focusing to get into.

Yogini nodded to her and Ms. Question Mark started off by gushing on how much she loved Yogini’s methods and how this was the best class and…that’s when I. Checked. Out.

I thought about what I wanted to accomplish today, mentally making a check list.

That done, I focused on Yogini’s arms and her new tattoo’s, trying to figure out what they were.

There were stars (I think), a dinosaur (I think) and an upside down cross (I think).

One thing I did know for sure was that they were all the same color in different shades.

Blue.

The thing that looked like a dinosaur was a neon blue…okay, not neon, but I’d never seen a tattoo that bright.

The color reminded me of the Smurfs.

I know what you’re thinking; how do dinosaurs and Smurfs compute?

The Yoga studio is across the street from the movie complex and through one window I could see the huge posters advertising movies.

The Smurf Movie.

This got me thinking.

Should the Smurfs be a kid’s movie?

Think about it.

There’s a village filled with boy Smurfs, baby Smurf and Papa Smurf. Then you have Smurfette.

This is where it gets dicey…who is Baby Smurf’s baby daddy?

Hollywood needs to reevaluate what is deemed appropriate for children.

Ms. Question Mark interrupted my deep thoughts, when she said, “Thanks for the explanation.”

“As I said,” Yogini answered. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s common and in time, it will pass.”

Huh? What’s common? What will pass?

Now, I’m curious.

“I sure hope so,” the woman with the matching Lululemon yoga outfit, mat and water bottle said. “We were talking about this before class, because it also happens to me.”

Ms. Lululemon smiled at Ms. Question Mark (BFF’s for sure), proud they talked about this. Whatever the hell this was.

“It was a good question,” Yogini said, and glanced around the room. “Anyone else find this a problem?”

I looked around and it seemed everyone was nodding.

Should I nod as well? Shit, what should I do? I’ll stand out if I don’t nod. I’ll be the only one who doesn’t find whatever the hell this is a problem if I don’t nod.

Dammit, why didn’t I pay attention? Damn Smurfs, it’s all their fault.

I don’t go in for sheep mentality, but I didn’t want Yogini to think I wasn’t paying attention. Again.

No, not only did I nod, I enthusiastically said, “Yes. It’s a real pain in the ass when that happens, isn’t it?” And smiled at Ms. Question Mark to let her know I understood her problem. (Which of course I had no frickin’ clue).

Ms. Question Mark shot me such a filthy look, that if looks could kill, I’d be crossing over toward the white light.

The Yogini said, “Oh, it’s the first time I ever heard that it caused pain.”

I kid you not; I heard a collective gasp and then more than a few people laugh.

Oh, shit, what the hell did I admit to?

Yogini then looked concerned. “We can discuss this in private after class.”

Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I’m running the hell out of here after class.

Some people were still chuckling and it was beginning to piss me off.

Well, actually, I was super pissed at myself for not having more patience to listen to Ms. Question Mark’s query.

Yogini asked us all to settle down and then started the class. “Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Inhale deeply. Hold your breath in for 60 seconds and focus your energy at the third eye and mentally chant ‘Ohmmmm.’”

What the hell is a third eye? Maybe that’s what they were asking about? How the hell do I chant Ohmmm, when I’m holding my breath for sixty seconds?

I know I live in the State of Confusion when attending these classes, but today I was residing in The Universe of Confusion.

I closed my eyes and chanted, “Ohmmmm…”

“Not out loud,” Ms. Question Mark said. “She said mentally chant.”

Then she clicked her tongue as if I was annoying her.

“Chant this.” (Did I say that out loud?)

“Take in your breaths from your core,” Yogini said. “Then slowly exhale.”

The BBF’S were really into this.

Ms. Lululemon sounded like she was starring in a porn flick.

Ms. Question Mark was going at it so loud that I was sure she’d be needing a cigarette after class (or chocolate covered jelly beans—because you know not everyone smokes after a good…..O….Ohhhmmm).

The lady next to Ms. Lululemon, kept turning around, staring at me, looking like she had a hard time keeping a straight face.

Why? I have no clue. I swear I did not express the above mentioned thoughts about the BFF’s out loud.

Yogini then instructed us to slowly stand for downward dog pose.

Cripes, one of these women in the room obviously didn’t read the sign that says: No scent makes good sense? I think I’m going to puke.

Wait, did I just say that out loud? Shit. Okay, I can cover this up. I’ll smile and pretend it wasn’t me.

I’m downward dogging at this point.

They really should have a sign in this room that says, “Warning! Asses directly in front of you may be closer than they appear.”

I’m such a bitch.

Yogini then instructs us to slowly stand straight and to turn to the left.

As I experience head rush, standing straight, Ms. Question Mark turned to me and whispered, “I was asking a serious question about flatulence. You didn’t have to be sarcastic with your pain in the ass remark.”

F-L-A-T-U-L-A-N-C-E????

That’s what she was asking about?

Okay, let me stop here for a minute.

Those of you who know me, know that I can not, will not ever; say, type or even want to read THAT four-letter “F” (no, not Fuck, I can say, type that all day long) it’s “F” word used for flatulence (it’s one of my quirks), much less participate in a discussion about it.

O.M.G. I said it was a pain in the ass!

I did not respond to Ms. Question Mark, except to indicate that she should turn to face the wall.

We were instructed to bend over slowly and walk our hands in front and be mindful of the person in front of us.

While doing this, I remembered the tail end of the conversation and Yogini’s answer of, “This too shall pass.”

I burst out laughing. Well, not the loud burst of laughter. The quiet laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Mrs. Question Mark said.

Obviously, I failed at the quiet laugh, since she heard me.

“It happens to many of us here,” Ms. Question Mark said. “Before class we were discussing it and we wanted to know when it would stop.”

“Doesn’t happen to me,” I said. (It really doesn’t!)

“Aren’t you special?”

Cripes, lady, how the hell do you pass anything with that stick up there, anyway? Lighten up.

“I apologize,” I said. “I was pretending to know what you were all talking about, because I wasn’t paying attention. I had no clue what the question was.”

“Right,” she said.

Now I’m wondering why didn’t Yogini tell her to shush it, like she does to me when I accidentally hum along with the irritating, supposedly soothing music?

Just so you know, I think I jazz up that annoying music so people don’t fall asleep.

“Will you stop giggling,” Ms. Question Mark said.

“I’m facing your behind for this pose and you don’t find any of this funny?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t.”

“Okay, I’ll stop,” I said. “And I really am sorry. Can I buy you a smoothie after class to make up for it?”

“No thanks, just stop laughing. It isn’t funny.”

Seriously? She doesn’t find this funny?

We continued with the poses, and I really did pay attention and managed not to fall over.

We were standing, doing the eagle pose, when the air in the room changed…as in…someone needs to open a window.

And fast.

The elderly woman in front of Ms. Question Mark turned and gave us both a wide smile and said, “See, when you get to be my age, you don’t question it or give a damn. Now that I’ve cleared out your sinuses, do some yoga and stop your yammering.”

Her friend (elderly woman number two) beside her nodded in agreement.

Elderly Woman Number Two obviously didn’t give a damn either.

It was like being plunked in the middle of that scene from Blazing Saddles.

Elderly Woman Number two cranked up a smile and said, “Breathe in ladies.”

NAMASTE.

 

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LIFE HACKS

 

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1. If your significant other is mad, put a cape on them and tell them they are now “super mad.” If they laugh, they’re a keeper.

2. To keep cake real moist, eat it all in one sitting.

3. Laughter and a nap will cure anything.

4. Master the art of self-deprecating humor–it leads to appreciating all humor.

5. Every time we make stupid people famous, a unicorn dies. Don’t do it.

6. For cheap entertainment, go to a shopping mall, stop, and stare at the ceiling, and check out how many other people will stop and stare.

7. Don’t throw away your old electric toothbrush head, it makes an amazing jewelry cleaner.

8. Revive limp celery by standing it up in an ice-cold glass of water. This ONLY works for celery. 😉

9.  Parents can always make their children behave in public, simply threaten to sing loudly.

 

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Humor saves the day.

Please join me in welcoming, the talented and multi-published Rosanna Leo to my blog as she talks about injecting a bit of humor in her writing and in life.

Rosanna’s book, VICE is up for nomination at The Romance Reviews. If you have read Kate and Liam’s story and enjoyed it, please drop by and nominate her book.

Rosanna also has a new release PREDATOR’S RESCUE and is sharing the blurb and an excerpt.

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 “A Little Humor Saves the Day”
by
Rosanna Leo

Thanks so much to Selena for hosting me on my blog tour for Predator’s Rescue, book 7 of my Gemini Island Shifters series. I’m thrilled to be here.

1Selena writes humor so well and I love to use it in my books as well.

Fans of my paranormal romance series will know the series has taken a darker turn with the last couple of books but one thing has remained the same. No matter what sorts of obstacles the characters encounter, there will also be an element of humor to lighten the load.

Why employ humor in a series that features shape-shifters and murder and a nefarious villain or two? Because at some point, we need to laugh.

No one’s life is completely light or dark. We all live in the grey areas from time to time. Sometimes the best way to endure life’s hardships is to crack a joke. No matter how desperate situations become for my characters, it’s important to me to give the reader a breather. A release. We can’t live on the edge all the time.

Throw in a bit of humor here and there and the characters will feel more real. When the dark times come, we will root for the characters even more. And when the evitable resolution comes around, we will rejoice.

Remember when Mary Tyler Moore broke into laughter at the funeral for Chuckles the Clown? That’s exactly what I’m getting at.

Have a laugh today.

 

I hope you enjoy PREDATOR’S RESCUE.

1Tiger shifter Jani Fodor should have washed his hands of Fleur Bissette long ago. However, when she disappears from the shape-shifter sanctuary on Gemini Island, he can’t forget her, and launches a fraught two-week search to find her. He thinks she’ll be grateful but the petulant she-wolf resents his intrusion in her life.

Jani recently liberated Fleur from a vicious cult of shape shifters, where she was brainwashed by the sadistic August Crane. The wolf shifter terrorized their friends at the Ursa Fishing Lodge and Resort on Gemini Island. Labeled a “bad girl” all her life, Fleur knows she’ll never fit in with the good guys at the Ursa, no matter how much Jani tries to convince her of their regard. Besides, she can’t stay with Jani. Although he’s the closest thing she’s ever had to a friend, their chemistry is explosive in the worst way.

When a new menace arises, in the form of a vicious drug dealer with a grudge, Jani is adamant Fleur accept his help to rehabilitate her addict mother and remove her from the influence of her dealer. Fleur accepts Jani’s assistance but as they work together, friendship erupts into passion. Neither can deny their lust-struck spirit animals and before long, they realize their connection runs deeper than they ever expected.

Despite the threats posed by the drug dealer, the worst danger of all dwells inside Fleur. Haunted by the spirit of August Crane, Fleur is inundated by visions that torment her. She is consumed by guilt and plagued by old hostilities. Can this bad girl make good? And is Jani’s love enough to save her from her demons?

Enjoy an excerpt from PREDATOR’S RESCUE:

Once again, Jani’s temper flared but he swallowed his simmering rage. He stood and raised his voice so he could be heard over Loretta Lynn’s tinny warbling as it emanated from the jukebox. “Now I’m going to ask everyone in this shithole one more time. I’m looking for Fleur Bissette. Where is she?”

There was a crash and a feminine cry from behind one of the closed doors. Jani didn’t hesitate. He launched himself off his stool and toward the door, already on the verge of shifting. His tiger hairs danced in anticipation under his skin, ready to burst through his pores.

The two men who’d approached him grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him back.

“Hey, asshole,” the grizzly man shouted. “You’re not allowed back there. Private parties only.”

Jani glanced at the hand on his shoulder and then at the man. “One warning. Take your hands

Jani glanced at the hand on his shoulder and then at the man. “One warning. Take your hands off me.”

The idiot snorted and looked at his pal. “Why waste your time lookin’ for Fleur anyway? That girl’s nothing but trouble. Trouble loves her. In fact, she’s probably spreading her legs to trouble right now.”

Jani reached for the man’s arms and spun him around. “What did you say?”

“It’s all the bitch knows how to do. That’s all women like her are good for anyway.”

Jani reared back and let his fist fly, cracking it against the man’s face. The grizzly shifter flew across the room, hitting the back wall, collapsing to the floor. The grim satisfaction of seeing the man crumple overrode any pain in his knuckles. In fact, it felt so good to hit the jackass he had to hold his hand behind his back so he wouldn’t hit him again.

No one, no one, insulted Fleur. The man was lucky Jani didn’t kill him for the slight. Fleur had been called too many names in her time, and he’d made it his mission to see she was never belittled again.

Jani nodded toward the other men. “Don’t even think of stopping me.”

He tried the closed door, relieved to find it unlocked. He flung the door open and his tiger senses homed in on her immediately.

Fleur had clearly been serving drinks to the small group of shifter bikers inside, but one of them had gotten a little too close to the new waitress. Her tray of drinks lay on the floor, smashed, and one of the men had her over his lap. His large hand caressed her ass as she squirmed in his grip.

As time seemed to freeze for Jani, Fleur turned to glance at him. She mouthed his name.

The silent plea made his heart twist in his chest. Had she actually spoken aloud? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear her voice. His ears were ringing too much as his tiger roared her name.

Her dark eyes seemed to grow darker, black with emotion, but he didn’t take time to analyze the sentiment flitting behind her irises.

With a noise that must have sounded more animal than man, Jani raced toward her and pulled her off the man’s lap. He moved her toward the door, so she wouldn’t be hurt in the melee. He then turned to the shithead who’d grabbed her, a growl emanating from his furious core.

The biker, startled and likely drunk, didn’t react quickly enough to shift. Jani hauled him off his chair and thrust him toward the wall.

“Jani,” Fleur called, her voice loud and clear now. “Don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“His hand was on your ass. I know enough.”

One of the other men was foolhardy enough to try to stop him. He tried to yank Jani away but Jani snapped his arm back, using his elbow to hammer the man in the face. Cradling his bloody nose, the man retreated.

Jani turned his attention back to the shifter who’d groped Fleur. “That was the last time you ever touch her.” Bracing himself, he head-butted him. A sickening crack sounded in the room. The man moaned, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the floor.

Ignoring the pain exploding through his forehead, Jani marched toward Fleur, picked her up, and hauled her over his shoulder.

“Hey. Put me down! You have no right.”

No right. He might have laughed if he wasn’t concerned about getting her out of there in one piece.

Holding out his free arm to warn off any others who might consider having a go at him, Jani carried the writhing Fleur out of the room and out of the bar. His heart thumped against his chest just from holding her. Granted, he hadn’t quite envisioned holding her like this, her ass high in the air near his face, but it pleased him more than he cared to admit out loud. Something about the scenario made his inner caveman very happy.

Purchase Predator’s Rescue:

Liquid Silver Books
Amazon
Google Play
iTunes
Kobo

Coming soon to ARE and Barnes & Noble.

Add Predator’s Rescue to Goodreads.

About Rosanna Leo

1Rosanna Leo is a multi-published, erotic romance author. Several of her books about Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters have been named Top Picks at Night Owl Romance and The Romance Reviews.

From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.

A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance.

Stay in touch with Rosanna:

Blog
Amazon Author Page
Goodreads
Tsu
Pinterest
Facebook
Twitter

 

Life Tips

1. Relationship Tip: Ask your significant other at 6:00 a.m. how they visualize porcupines making love. This will lead to an interesting conversation.

2. Mental health Tip: DON’T read a ton of news media links. DON’T read a lot of social media posts (I know, the irony). DO read a lot of fiction. I recommend romance, but it’s all good.

3. Anti-Wrinkle Tip: Sunscreen. That’s all you need.

4. Lip Tip: Coconut oil. Tastes good and makes that pucker so smooth.

5. When life hands you lemons Tip: Add another 11 to make a dozen. For water. For salads. For inexpensive hair rinse. They smell good. They clean windows and glass better than chemical cleaners. Also good with ice, Tequila, Vodka…any happy juice.

6. Social Media Tip: Let’s turn the phrase “haters gonna hate” (seriously overdone) to “bakers gonna bake.”

7. Baking Tips: Put a heat-proof bowl of water on the bottom of your oven when baking a cake, muffins, or bread, keeps the air inside moist.

8. Weekend Tip: Hang out with your loved ones, guaranteed they’ll make you forget to look at your phone.

9. Reduce Stress Tip: Have at least one day with no technology around you. No TV. No news. Laze around with music, books, your pet….whatever recharges your batteries.

10. WIN the Lottery Tip: People who have left a review of my books have won the lottery. Seriously. Try it. What have you got to lose? 😉

 

 

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Life Tips According to the Tao of Selena

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have read a string of tweets with the hashtag #TaoOfSelena also known as deep, philosophical thoughts (deep and philosophical is open to interpretation of course).

For those not familiar with my Twitter habits, I am pleased to share them with you here.

I hope The Tao of Selena changes your life—I know, that’s a bit dramatic, but as an Italian chick drama is a right of passage.

If my thoughts don’t change your life, my wish is that this blog post will grant you a smile or a chuckle. It’s why I love writing so much, in hopes that my musings will provide a few minutes of entertainment.

The Tao of Selena

Nothing brings a couple closer than having separate bathrooms.

Nothing in the world is impossible. Wait, flying on your own—that’s impossible. So do it with something that has wings like an; airplane, hand glider or a parachute.

A happy relationship is the union of two strong debaters.

When in doubt. Google.

Still in doubt? Check Snopes.

Treat me nice, I’ll treat you better. Treat my family, friends or me like crap—I know people.

Don’t ever argue with someone who has four siblings. They can go back and forth all day long. They’ve had experience.

Never get tired of teasing & making fun of each other. That’s what good relationships are made of.

Chocolate, music and cuddling are all cheaper than therapy and you don’t have to sit in a waiting room.

The grass is greener on the other side because it was watered, weeded & dog poop was picked up—all accomplished without complaint.

Winter really does have snow

Every woman needs that friend(s) who is the she in her nanigans.

Every man (even a bonified “Maverick”) needs a “Goose” wingman in their corner.

We’re not here for a long time. We’re here for an awesome time. So go awesomize the world.

When starting something new, and the challenges seem overwhelming, don’t place your faith in the “what-ifs”, pour all your faith in the “why not’s?” Remember all the challenges you’ve already conquered, and go forth and do it. Whatever “it” is for you.

 

 

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