THE NEW FORTY My Sunday offering...
I think there are likely different levels of Hell - if you are on the upper floors you likely did bad things, but the lower floors and the basement are reserved for the truly heinous offenders. A Hote... Posted on 2/19/12 at 1:15 PM
I’ve always been behind the technological curve.
My family didn’t own a VCR until 1991. I listened to cassette tapes into the mid ’90s. I didn’t have cable TV or a DVD player till college, or my own computer until 2004.
One of the first Money-Savin’ Mama columns I wrote was about finding “free” money: Matching grants for college savings, incentive cash for opening a bank account, half-price gift cards for businesses you patronize anyway.
For Christmas, my 4-year-old daughter picked out a new wallet for my gift.
It’s exactly the kind of wallet a 4-year-old girl would choose: bright pink and covered in swirly hearts. A silver heart pendant hangs from the front clasp.
I joked on Facebook that my husband and I had decided to capitalize on our toddler son’s destructive capabilities. We’d market him as a weapon of mass destruction. Enemy forces would never see him coming.
It seems anytime I specially buy ingredients for a new recipe, I forget to take stock of the pantry staples I assume I have on hand.
Then, there I am with a bubbling pot or full mixing bowl and an empty container in hand.
Throughout our 14-plus years together, my husband has given me a dozen roses, dozens of times. Some were sent by florists, others delivered in person. I still remember his first gift of flowers: Two red roses and one pink, to represent the two and a half months we’d been dating.
I applied for my first credit card, a MasterCard, shortly before starting my freshman year of college. My limit was $200. The first time I used it was that spring break, to buy a shirt. I still have the card in my wallet, nearly 15 years later.
My husband and I tend to favor a low-key New Year’s Eve, especially since having kids. One of our favorite things to do is make an appetizer spread that we graze on while watching movies or playing board games and drink some bubbly.
My house is on the verge of a language explosion. Little Owen, now 16 months, babbles from morning to night, forming every consonant sound along the way. But he has yet to meld these syllables into many words beyond “mama” and “dada.”
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