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Grandma Pink

My grandmother was a firecracker until the day she died. Her nails were always painted fuschia, even in her seventies. And her skin, soft and thin between each wrinkle, smelled like baby lotion and Freedent Gum. She always had a wild cherry Luden’s tucked beneath a crumpled tissue in the pocket of her pastel pink sweater,…
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Why Target Moms Are My Tribe

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Buyer and Seller Beware!

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One Little Birdie

It was an ordinary spring day; full of sunshine, puffy clouds, and a light breeze that smelled faintly of flowers. My window was down and my short, dark hair was snapping back and forth, lightly stinging my freckled cheeks. Tortoise colored sunglasses covered half my face and kept the sun’s rays from reaching my blue…
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The Day I Snapped.

I can remember the day like it was only just yesterday. I was sitting on my white couch, dirtied with muddy paw prints, baby spit-up and something neon pink, which I couldn’t quite decipher. My head was clouded from lack of sleep and I hadn’t showered in what seemed like days. My oldest daughter wanted…
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Thrift Store Finds #1
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Fabric of the Past

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