Monthly Archives: August 2010

A Magic Place

It’s not what you think. (Dirty mind much?) It’s called Big Lots.

Wha? I know. It’s out there. It’s crazy. It’s amazing. This chain of stores is so down-market that they don’t even have automatic doors (you have to push the little button if you are handicapped or pushing a stroller). Their plastic bags break. (Bring green bags!) The toys, home goods and furniture are all made in China and are shoddy, transient, landfill fodder. Don’t buy that stuff.

Buy the food.

Nobody knows this. I can’t believe I’m telling you. They have really discounted prices on gourmet, organic and natural, and international imported food.

Now, I’ve heard it depends on location, so check yours out. I don’t even buy cereal, coffee beans, juice, iced tea, mayonnaise, olive oil, spices, oatmeal, chips, snacks, baking supplies, dog treats, or cosmetics at my normal supermarket anymore. I can’t spend $5 on an organic cereal box when I can get it for $1 or $2 at Big Lots.

The downsides are: you can’t do all your grocery shopping at once, because they don’t have perishables; they won’t necessarily have everything you need, it’s a see what they have type of deal; they don’t take coupons (but they have a 20% off day) and the shopping experience isn’t exactly luxurious, but who cares?

Check out some of my latest bounty. Please don’t even for a second imagine they are paying me to write this review. I kind of also trashed the store’s niceness, so that’d be a weird endorsement.


The Nature’s Path is typically $4 at the regular supermarket. The Cheerios would be $4.

$1.50 > $3.50

That’s an ITO Teas Tea. Yum. 50 cents each.


They jacked the price on coffee beans lately. Still cheaper than Stop & Shop.

Imported pastas are another good bargain here. De Cecco packages are around $1 instead of $3 or $4.

Anyone else discover the ‘ Lots? None of my friends or acquaintances have ever stepped foot in one so they know not what they are missing. I think my sister first turned me onto this place, and she is the bargain queen of the worldverse. She is growing to grow up to be one of those housewives you see on the evening news who uses coupons so wisely, they pay her when she leaves the store.

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Catalogs and Farmer’s Market Food, Part II

I hate paper and packaging waste. To combat the deluge of catalogs I get daily I use CatalogChoice.org. Every company doesn’t participate, however, so that takes care of only a small fraction. When I get a catalog I don’t want, which is almost all of them (I can look for products online, free of charge, free of trees) I put it aside in a certain spot for when I have a moment to call and ask them to stop sending me the catalog. Invariably, I have to wait a long time on hold, and listen to several automatic menus, all while Anna cries and whines for the phone. She particularly likes to talk to robots.

I’d like to know how I got onto a list of people who can afford Restoration Hardware and even better, this place: Frontgate.com. What the hell luxury item did I buy that caused anyone to think I could afford, say, a $250 dog bed?

The moral of this story is: use CatalogChoice.org and don’t buy anything luxurious.

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The other day I bought kale at the farmer’s market this week. What do you do with kale?

I decided to make something up that was vaguely reminiscent of a classic Italian escarole and white bean dish. This was spur of the moment so I used what I had in the kitchen already.

Do you know how hard it is to take food porn shots with a cell phone camera? Canon Powershot, good luck at the repair shop, xoxoxo.

I didn’t have any chicken stock in the house. Not even a measly bouillon cube. So I used the only can of soup on hand, a very desolate Amy’s Minestrone that had been hiding in a cabinet for a long time. It was vegetarian so it wasn’t going to give me that chicken flavor I wanted, but the spicing helped.

I started by softening a lot of minced garlic in olive oil. I added the Amy’s soup, a can of cannellini or Italian white beans, and a few cups of water. I seasoned with salt, black pepper, and oregano. Cannellini beans are absolutely delicious and they don’t need too much finessing to be awesome. I added a lot of salt because I remembered that Amy’s soups are way under-salted for my taste. They probably have a healthy amount of salt, and I’m used to over-salted flavors. Oh well.

I brought this to a boil, then added in a package of pasta mista. I am a weird snob about pasta, and I only like imported from Italy brands. I love De Cecco. Pasta mista is just mixed little pieces of pasta that is perfect for a minestrone or wet type of dish. Mmm, wet.

I also added the kale a minute or so later on top, then covered the pot so the kale would wilt. Then I mixed it together, lowered the heat and let it simmer for ten minutes or so.

Serve with a boatload of Parmesan cheese. It came out really, really good, especially considering it was thrown together. It was hearty and warm, more of a cold weather dish, but hey, I ran 4 miles and it’s almost fall.

Oh, I should tell you how to prepare the kale. Similar to Swiss chard and other greens, if it’s from the farmer’s market, you need to soak the leaves in many changes of water to get grit and sand out. You also have to basically devein the leaves. You have to cut (I just pull) the pink and white heavy stems out of the leaves because they aren’t really edible. Then the leaves go in wet to the dish. You don’t need to drain or spin them.

Now that we’ve all seen food porn for so long, will we ever be able to crave something shown in bad lighting and messy? Like a porn addict dude who can never appreciate a real woman?

What do you do with your kale?

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Fitness Goals and Grade School

Today at the gym I decided to challenge myself and get a baseline measurement of two fitness indicators so I can try to improve them.

  • fastest mile I can run without dying

My mile today was 8:33.

I think I can do a lot better with a better night’s sleep. Also, I didn’t push myself as much as I could have. My heart was still pounding hard, though, at the end. I was never a fast runner and when I run for distance, I go verrrrrrrryyy slowly, like 10+  minute miles for a 4-6 mile run. If I’m on the treadmill the shame of seeing my pace pushes me to run around 9 and half minute miles. Outside I probably slow down to an 11 or 12 minute pace at times if I’m doing a long run. It’s kind of sad: turtles pass me, old ladies lap me. I do try to add in sprints during the runs when I can.

I don’t have a set goal for a mile run, so I will just try to improve my time. In the fifth grade my incredibly desperate attempts to fit in with the cool girls garnered me a 7:50 mile run, during our Presidential Fitness Test. I was so proud of myself. I called my father at work to tell him (as a non-sports playing child in a relatively sporty household, this was plum) and when the track coach (they had a track coach for 5th graders? weird, but they did) popped his head into our classroom to ask who the fastest girls were, someone mentioned me as finishing 4th in the grade.

I think this was the greatest sports accomplishment of my life because I am sitting here telling you this in 2010. Love me. Please.

Imagine I could beat the best mile of my life at age 30? That would be awesome. Is it hard to shave 40 seconds off your mile? I don’t know if I could have done better when I say, entered puberty, because by then during the gym class mile I smoked and wore black clothes around the track. I actively, vigorously wore black clothes. I never ran another mile until I was in college and trying to become fit. So I missed my glory years, everyone! I was too busy drawing, in my room, in black clothes. I could have been a track star! Okay, maybe not.

My second goal, to do a pull-up or chin-up, also has a sordid past involving that JFK instituted public school gym class test. I had to do the hanging arm thing. Remember? For the girls who couldn’t do the chin-ups and the few sad, sad weakling boys? We had to hang on the bar for as long as we could, shaking with embarrasment and shame. Wait, why do my memories of public school in suburban New York in the late 1980′s and 1990′s rival James Joyce’s descriptions of cold, corporal, harsh, Lord of the Flies, turn of the century Old World Catholic schools? Was it really that bad or was I particularly self-conscious and nerdy? In high school, my girlfriend and I still talked about our memories of the dreaded arm hang. We both admitted to dropping off the bar prematurely, harming our Presidential Fitness score because we were so embarrassed.

Most of the girls were like 50 pounds, and I was one of the smaller ones, yet a lot of them could do one, two, three pull-ups! I guess it was all that Kidnastics that my mom never enrolled me in (neglect! horror!). Now that I lift weights and I am, I think, decently strong for a girl woman person, I can do like 30 good push-ups in a row without stopping. Is that good? Why can’t I do one chin-up then?

I’ve starting doing negative weight chin-ups on the Gravitron. Today I did 1 chin-up at -10 pounds. That’s my best ever. That means I lifted 105 pounds of me, only 10 left to go. I think there is something about the way I’m built that makes my center of gravity harder to lift: my waist and hips have never shopped in the same store, let alone wore the same size. Pre-baby and pre-post-baby-paunch-that-won’t-go-away, I had a waist to hip ratio of like .68. It was sick. I got pregnant by entering a nunnery. My hips and butt were way bigger than my shoulders and upper body.

I will keep posting my progress.

What are your fitness goals? What’s their sad back story?

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The Working Document of My Future

I checked out a slew of books from the library on career guidance. I started some of the exercises. The books are still on my shelf. They are overdue. I have always carried around a lingering and insistent inkling that I will never find the right career for me. Maybe I have to make one. Odds and ends.

This is my working document. This is very embarrassing to share. Maybe I can snag one of those snazzy “Mommy blog deals”* and a very sympathetic, very talented career counselor could help me. I think I need a team of career counselors.

*Just kidding

careers

Interests:

Environment, especially locally

Science

Writing

Language

Local history

Art

foreign countries/geography/travel

Skills/Attributes:

Analytical

Smart

Good writer

Organized, good communicator

Good multi-tasker

Innovative, creative, able to find new ways to do things better

Independently motivated

Good work ethic/ hold work to high standard

Fluent Spanish, conversational Italian

Wide knowledge base

Background in marketing, advertising, PR, writing and communications could be helpful

Experience in higher education, experience teaching

Work Style:

Independent

Not political

Job/career/company/etc. that values competence and not JUST personality, etc

Good work rewarded

Able to work at own pace, ie working better, faster, smarter is encouraged and rewarded

Work with small groups and on own, little public speaking

Travel okay

Work with intelligent people who have interest in the world around them

Not an unethical position or company – at least some sense that  my work is doing good in the world

Not routine, not the same thing every day…variety

Able to innovate and find new ways to do things

Some creativity involved

some flexibility for life-work balance

moderate stress okay but not insane hours

Ideas:

Short term:

freelance writing gigs – do profile and bid jobs on freelance site

freelance grant writing with Walt

start a blog

blog ideas

disappearing Long Island- like Forgotten New York

shopping locally for 1 year (or article/book idea)

east end environmental issues

country wide college lectures

suburban exploration

website ideas-

idea clearinghouse

grandparent exchange

article ideas- INTP conference, to an Atlantic Monthly/New Yorker type

cross Island walk

book idea- houses of north fork either photographs or paintings  sell locally

sell baby paintings online – etsy, website

tutoring -put up ad on craigslist

jeopardy try outs – any game shows in nyc?

art lessons – Plein Air – work at Art League? sell regular paintings -BVAC show…register – need more inventory

make etsy profile – scan artwork, test out print zazzle and cafe press

sell paintings at local Arts Council League show – June 2010 show – call about info, check out

partner w former ad adgency designers to bring freelance websites/design work and do strategy/writing for the clients -

non profit -offer to do freelance work for …Pine Barrens, others?

Long term:

PBS  – WLIW and Thirteen

science writing

MA Linguistics TESOL -  teach, or continue education, or research or programming/writing

Start own business

Is anyone else out there clueless about what they want to do for a living at the age of 30?

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A Full Life

One year ago, I was getting ready for my baby shower, nesting, ironing my curtains, resting my aching sciatica, walking my dog every night as if that would somehow bring the baby sooner, convinced that sooner is better, for everything, always.

I always wanted to be three steps ahead. When I was in high school I frantically wished for college, thinking all my problems would be solved with some freedom (turned out I was right about that one). In college I pretended I was in graduate school, shunning the gaucheness of the undergraduates and their social scene, hanging out with the PhD students who lived off campus. When I was 10 I ached to be 14,16,17 and have my first boyfriend and first kiss. When I was 23 and single, living in Manhattan, I stayed up all night, laying on my Ikea slat bed, with my laptop overheating on the mattress, reading strange granola stories about women who went to cabins in the mountains and gave birth to their babies alone under the moonlight, cutting umbilical cords with rocks. I wanted a baby – I felt it physically – even though I had just ended my first serious relationship and was going out every night, dating for fun.

When I was 5 I read the newspaper with my father, instead of my board books. When I was 9 I crept into the Young Adult Section of the library and then read every single book they had, over those long summers that only existed when you were a kid, laying in air-conditioning on a blue carpet, in our high ranch. Sprawled on a towel at the public pool. Chlorine, yearning. All I wanted was for time to pass, rushing me into that next place. Feeling like I was meant to be somewhere else, already, fast. I quit smoking cigarettes when my friends were just swinging into their pack a day habits. I was 21 and I threw my almost full pack of Parliaments onto the highway, the only time in my life I’ve littered from a car. I taught college courses at 24, the boys snickering as I walked in the first day, exchanging glances that I knew meant they would never listen to me, no matter what I did or how thick the rims on my black eyeglasses were. I’m almost 30 and I’ve had more jobs than most people have in a lifetime, two abandoned almost-careers. I don’t know what I want to to do or be besides a mother to my daughter. The rest will come, or it won’t come, because I still have a lot of time left.

When my daughter was one month old, I wished she were 4, 5, 6 months, thinking that she would sleep, I would sleep, life would be a dream; when she was 6 months, I couldn’t wait for her to walk. Now I’m ready for potty-training, preschool, family vacations where we talk and play games in the car, conversations. She’s not a year yet.

I think I’m ready to stop time, at least for myself.

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Teen Mom Episode 5: The $8,000 Used Dodge Neon of Reality TV

Well then. These Teen Moms just don’t stop, do they? I feel like I just finished recapping the last episode. Disclaimer: no toddlers were harmed in the making of this recap. I don’t know if MTV can say the same about this episode.

I’m going to go in order of least to most exciting. So of course that brings us to:

Catelynn and Tyler. Tyler tries to have his big gesture, but then he can barely rip up the phone records. That’s the perfect symbol for these two and their poignant yet so absurdly immature and sad lives.

Tyler, you don’t need the phone records. Here, I will tell you what they say:

Received 7:42 pm: I M Dpressed

7:44 pm: YYY? LOL?

7:50 pm: my stepdad is sooo annoying he only lets me sleep on a futon and i gave up my daughter carly 4 adoption

8:01 pm: I M SRY! lets have sex

8:03: ok ttyl

Poor Catelynn. At least she has some pets. Seriously, this girl has almost nothing in life. “My mom is in a bad mood” = “my mom is out of meth.”

I think some of her mom’s weirdness is that she is very uncomfortable with The Hills-esque staged conversations and so she repeats the expository stuff in a disinterested monotone.

Meth dealer or meth buddy?

I hate their adoption agency. They are predatory. Their counselor always comes across as fake and smarmy to me. Ew. I have a feeling Tyler is going to leave Catelynn if he goes away to school. He’s going to realize there is more out there than their sad codependency.

Maci. In Maci’s accent dialect, “bye-bye” sounds the same as “ba-ba” which knocks off about half of what a one year old needs to learn how to say. Nice! Producers must have insisted she bring the baby to the dorm. I don’t believe that her in-laws wouldn’t have watched him for the night. I’ve never lived in a dorm, but that dorm looked particularly prison-like. I guess that’s how we house the party school contingent since they are pretty inmate like in their behavior.

I don’t like Kyle. Or Kahhhl. He looks like a character actor you can’t place who plays rednecks and farm boys in random TV shows and movies.

Bentley didn’t like getting his soft spots rearranged on the go-karts? But he was conceived on an ATV!

Farrah. PUT THE DAMN BABY ON THE FLOOR. Floors were invented for kids. To play on. And fall around on. Also? Does Sophia ever get a chance to learn to walk and pull-up if she’s always either in an infant carrier (at fifteen months old, what the hell?) or on a precarious elevated surface? You have wall to wall carpet. That’s where the baby goes. Balconies don’t count.

It must be time for Farrah Flashcards, VOLUME 1:

BABY / FLOOR

MONEY TRANSFERS / PAYPAL

More footage of Debra’s community service please! Debra, get your elbows involved in that scrubbing; you look half-assed. Is the fake friend Kristina a spy from some Brooklyn blogging community or what?

Financial stress is emotional stress. A financial stressor causes stress which is emotional. Farrah, your brain is as feathered and flighty and light as your name. You scare me.

Let’s extract the salient points from the Craigslist scam warning:

* NEVER WIRE FUNDS VIA WESTERN UNION, MONEYGRAM or any other wire service – anyone who asks you to do so is a scammer.

* FAKE CASHIER CHECKS & MONEY ORDERS ARE COMMON, and BANKS WILL CASH THEM AND THEN HOLD YOU RESPONSIBLE when the fake is discovered weeks later.

* AVOID DEALS INVOLVING SHIPPING OR ESCROW SERVICES and know that ONLY A SCAMMER WILL “GUARANTEE” YOUR TRANSACTION.

Public service announcement. Too bad she didn’t actually buy another car before she realized. That’d be even funnier. I mean more unfortunate.

All the stores in the area were out of diapers. Nebraska had an embargo. When Amber gets her own domestic diva show, Farrah will have regular appearances on thrifty living and what to do when the supermarket shelves go empty (hint: it involves black market money advances and not getting anything in return).

Farrah didn’t even need to give her banker her number to call back? He has her programmed into his phone? That’s weird. Maybe they dated. She gave the money transfer place clerk an attitude? That shows she’s pretty clueless about the world. Of all culpability here, that lady gets about a 0% share.

The falling off the bed thing. Yeah, it happens to everyone, but Farrah didn’t seem to learn from the almost fall five minutes before.

Amber. Amber can be called many things (and legitimately held up as an example of all that is wrong with America) but you cannot honestly call her uninteresting.

Leaving a bathtub full of water while you go on vacation? Surely there are Suzy Homemaker Martha Stewart reasons for this? A natural humidifier for their dry apartment? A semi-humane pest and varmint killer? Now you see why Gary wants to propose to Amber. Seven times. She’s a domestic diva/martial arts mastermind. She just needs a few healthy rounds of counseling electroshock therapy.

Has Amber heard of automatic online bill paying? Trees don’t need to die so that Amber can get her fifth notice from the electric company. Also, is she a hoarder? There should be an irresponsibility index: how much does your TV cost relative to your total household assets and income, and then the higher the number, the trashier you are. Economists help me out here!

Gary Bunny? Very John Wayne Gacy/Bad Santa.

They might have met at The Cracker Barrel, popular with people of all ages. And generations.

Ummmm…Gary’s stepdad? How much do you want to bet he and Gary are living out the Will Ferrell movie Step Brothers? I’m not surprised Amber flipped here. I think a lot of her violence and self-defense mechanisms that make her the misguided “fighter” she thinks she is come from her family. How many times do we think Amber will use the threat of not getting married for some reason or another from now until that lucky day, if it ever comes? I think she will clock in at around 4.7 times per hour.

I love Gary’s mom lament that they can enjoy Easter later. Yeah, like in your next life later? Poor Leah, you little cutie. I love her.

Wave bye-bye, Leah!

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Catalog Fantasy Living

So by now we’ve all seen the hilarious Catalog Living. I used to browse through Pottery Barn catalogs longingly, wishing my veranda overlooked Sonoma Valley and my reclaimed barn flooring shined as brightly.

But now my catalog fantasy porn is different. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a lifestyle that involves freedom, free time, nature, relaxation, and youth. It’s called Athleta and I have no idea where the hell it came from or why.

The Athleta catalog just started showing up a few months ago. Not sure what I bought or what list sold me to another list, but here it was. And I decided I wanted to live in it.

I think all mothers have escapist daydreams. Whether you watch Intervention and ogle the beachside rehabs the sad sacks are shipped off to, or as Finslippy blogger Alice Bradley wrote about a while back, you wish for appendicitis just for some uninterrupted sleep and soup on a tray.

I just want to live in the Athleta catalog.

First, I will wake up at 8 or so and do some refreshing yoga on the beach.

Then, how about an invigorating stroll to the beach?  Where I will read as long as I like, uninterrupted. Nobody will strew goldfish across my eco blanket. No one will pull my hair with sticky fingers and climb into my lap with sandy sunblock limbs. I will even look cute.

There will be bicycle riding. And surfing. (I’ll learn)

The afternoons will mostly be travel and exploration. Lunches will have wine.

Finally, tanned and fully worked out, I will share a coconut margarita in a coconut with a buddy.

Goodnight! I hiked up to my mountain view cabin.

Tomorrow? Jogging in Florence.

Is it too much to ask?

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And then she grew up


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Teen Mom Time, Me Time, Gary Time

Warning: I had 4 hours of sleep last night, spent hours in a car driving to and fro a wedding, and have a summer cold flu death. I’m a little cranky-mean.

Maci. I love Tennessee accents. “With fake boooobs.” Maci just continues to astound with her maturity, not even minding Ryan dating, as long as the girl might be a positive influence on him and encourage him to see his son. Also, Ryan? You can have him is right. Someone send him on a dangerous mission in Iraq. One that doesn’t need skill or talent. Just the ability to rock guyliner if needed.

I can’t believe she is trying to wean her son off the pacifier without throwing them away first. She needs to make it harder to cave! Also, from what we saw of Ryan last season, how does Maci just let him have total responsibility over the baby without any worry? Does Ryan’s mom help? Did Ryan get better at fatherhood once he wasn’t pouting over their relationship problems? Nevermind, I just saw Grandma come over and take over the real baby-watching after Bentley’s spill. What a dumb question!

Ryan, why didn’t you introduce them? What’s that you say? Uh duh-no? Oh, right. Hard to talk with that paci in your mouth.


Amber. Let’s just put it out there. Unfortunately, Baby Leah has a genetic mountain to climb. She will need to adopt fruitarianism and/or become a marathon runner to make a dent in that DNA. Leah is also what is known in the industry as a “runner” – she runs when you try to change her diaper. Moms of runners have more stress, fact. Look it up. She is very cute, though.

What happened to Gary’s radiation tech or whatever it was job? Some of these detailed have eluded me. Get a job, Gary! I do like you, though, for some reason. I guess Amber’s career in the beauty field has not taken off quite as planned? Salon job from last season is now a tanning salon counter job? Downgrade.

Okay, now I have a baby who gets into everything, too, and that’s why every waking minute of my life involves me following her. On her heels. On her baby butt tail. She doesn’t have time to throw French chocolatier chocolate truffles on the ground, even though she’d love to. I’m calling Producer Foul. They told Amber and Gary to let Leah loose to illustrate what would happen. And then Leah stumbled behind the counter for the shop workers to tend to? That’s funny. Maybe Amber’s on to something. The next time Anna wanders away in a store, I will rely on the Village to raise her. Awesome! Thanks, Amber.

Amber’s First Axiom of Baby Physics: The price of Lunchables should always factor into one’s travel plans.

I thought Gary hated Amber’s dad? Corollary to Amber’s First Axiom: It’s always a good idea to put two in-laws who hate each other plus an active young toddler in a car for 16 hours. No one will cry or anything.

Hey, Amber, toss the girl a toy if you don’t want to let her out of the car to run around every 9 hours or so. Then after you keep the baby caged in the carseat for a day and half, be sure to take her immediately to a restaurant. Just for added smart planning.

Why does Uncle care so much if they are married or not? I’m calling religious fundamentalism, because what other ism thinks any, no matter how ill-advised, marriage is better than out of wedlock child-rearing? There is also something in his creepy monotone yet slightly off calm demeanor that screams mega-church to me. According to this guy, not only do rings not matter, sanity and a lack of spousal abuse don’t matter either. “She’s going to be difficult,” indeed. Just for the record, I didn’t start haranguing my husband until after we were married.

Leah hates the sand but Gary hates dancing, in the sand, in sneakers. Apple doesn’t fall far!

Farrah. Now I’m not saying I want my mom to wield knives or anything. But if she could wave a butter knife, and I can get a free babysitter…? Nevermind.

Superly suck. Poor Farrah. Her mom controlled her life so tightly she is woefully unprepared for life on her own. And not an easy life, at that. I don’t see Farrah lasting very long in this arrangement. Mommy Dearest will begin to look increasingly attractive as bills mount and hardships worsen.

I wonder if Farrah could get a better-paying job in a restaurant rather than a pizza joint. She was studying to be a chef, right? I know she lives in the Midwest and I don’t know if restaurant servers and chefs make as much money there as in major cities where it can be a viable occupation that you can live on.

Farrah’s mom’s house is like an Edgar Allen Poe horror house. I think it shows her tormented psyche through its bizarre decor and many rooms of secret pasts. What does Michael think of what happened in the altercation? His eyes suspiciously cast downward as Debra claimed she acted in self-defense. I wonder if he has his doubts?

Baby book = manipulation!

That’s a lot of excitement over a non-alcoholic pineapple drink. Did she say acceptive? I’m very acceptive to the possibility I misheard her and she meant to say receptive. Or accepting. On a serious note, it makes a lot of sense that her earlier acting out after Sophia was born was a denial thing, and now she is grieving. I like her more since her personality is fleshed out now that Debra isn’t censoring her every word and thought.

Catelynn and Tyler. They continue to show themselves to be the most awkward combination of young children and accidental adults (parents). Tyler is sometimes painfully babyish, and they do things like have birthday parties at roller rinks. I like C +T but when they dress up and go out to dinner and he proposes to her? It reminds me of when I went on dates at the age of 13 and the boy’s parents drove us to Olive Garden and we split salad and bread sticks because that’s all he could afford on his lawn mowing salary. It’s kind of cute but sad because they have a baby. And crappy parents. And braces. Relationship counseling before Tyler has reached adult height and Catelynn’s teeth have settled into their permanent position?

If I did nothing to my hair after I washed it, and then waited 4 days, my hair would be identical to Catelynn’s mother’s hair. Maybe I can be her for Halloween.

I wasn’t too impressed with the counselor. I think even though C + T are ostensibly there to talk about their couple problems, a good counselor might be a healthy adult who can guide them just in general.

THE END

Everyone lived happily ever after. Until next time, my teen mommies, have fun, and remember, it’s not “do you want to?” – it’s “will you?”

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Get Rich Quick

Anybody want to make $300 an hour? But you don’t practice medicine and law simultaneously? Don’t worry.

Sing at toddler birthday parties.

You’re welcome.

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