Category Archives: Ramblings

Paging Patti Stanger


I’ve only reread the first two chapters of Patti Stanger’s book “BecomeYour Own Matchmaker” and I really need her to come to Iowa and give me some direction. I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!

I’ve never actually had a “real” boyfriend. I’ve had boys I would call when I needed physical attention or an ego boost, boys who would take me to dinner when I was hungry and always knew my favorite DVDs. Hell, I have a baby daddy. But no ex-boyfriend. Does that put me ahead or behind all the other 25 year old girls?

Can you create a panel of men to tell me what I should do to improve my look? I can guarantee that all the males I know would mock me and probably encourage me to buy something ridiculous.

How much can I talk about my pets before it get weird?

Where do I find hobbies? Can I bake for him, or does that need to wait until after so many dates?

Should I send out a SurveyMonkey link to all the boys it didn’t work out with?

Does my cocktail of social anxiety and daddy issues make me superadorable or just whacko?

Should I keep living in my moms basement? Or should I focus on getting a big girl job and an apartment and moving somewhere else, before I work on falling in love?


What Was The Point Again?

This past week I was trying to figure out what exactly I was aiming for with this blog. Who am I trying to reach? What point am I trying to get across?
I realized that one thing I want to do is prove that Iowa girls can wear fun, fashionable outfits. That a girl doesn’t need access to a Whole Foods and Gold’s Gym to look banging, that there’s good wine made outside of Napa. I need inspiration to actually get out of my house, and maybe even my town on occasion, and DO SOMETHING.
I currently don’t have internet access at my house. Whatever. I’m pretty sure that there are millions of young women my age who don’t have 24/7 access to the Web and they’re getting by. Why not try to write three to four reallyfuckinggood posts a week, instead of seven soso ones?
Eventually, I would love if I could make money from this. Or get an adventure funded. Or maybe just prove to people that I’m not as crazy as they’ve been led to believe.
So here we go, round two. Let’s do this bitches.
Love you, mean it.

Best Friends and Goodbyes



Around twelve years ago, my younger brother Isaac got his fantasy Christmas gift; a one year old Golden Retriever.  Our previous dog had had to be put down due to her trying to eat Isaac’s face off and a family in our homeschool group had come to realize that a giant, energetic ball of fur was too much for their small children to handle.  So our parents took in Biscuit, named after a series of childrens books, about a Golden Retriever puppy named Biscuit.

Biscuit was a fun and occasionally naughty dog.  He was obsessed with tennis balls and could play for hours.  He wasn’t big on being petted, but would run around with my brothers and I and would often accompany us on walks down to the river, where he would swim and swim and shake his drenched fur all over us.

When I went to college, I would ask how Biscuit was, playing with him when I would come home, hoping he and our adopted dog Bingo were doing fine.  When Bingo died, we tried to keep Biscuit even more company, teaching him how to correctly wander the house and let us know when he needed to go outside. 

When I moved home after finding out I was pregnant, Biscuit became my best friend.  There were days where he was the only creature I would speak out loud too.  I trained my ancient dog to sleep in my room, we would go on walks every day that got shorter and shorter as my belly grew and his legs got weaker.  During our intense times together, he finally allowed me to start petting him, a giant step of trust that I cherished.

When I received Scotti in 2011, Biscuit seemed so mad, but eventually learned to just ignore the puppy and go about his business.  I think he was happy about the new routine of giant treats and special presents. 

Since January, Biscuit’s sight disappeared, his eyes going completely blue, his mind slowly going.  A friend prepared a hole, just in case he died in the winter.  Biscuit needed help getting up and the walks shortened to just a trip around the block.  Every visit to the boarders had me writing out a note saying if necessary, to put him down and not inform me until I came home.

In August, after Isaac went back to school, it was decided that it was time.  Biscuit had been one of the best dogs ever, but he was in far too much pain to bear.  One Wednesday at lunchtime, he, my mom and I took one final walk to the vets office after a farewell bowl of Peanut Butter Panic ice cream.  The Doctor and her assistant allowed my mom to sob as they put my best friend into his final sleep.

Do I miss Biscuit?  Of course.  I’m not joking in the slightest when I say he was my best friend.  There truly was three weeks where I only left the house to walk him and didn’t speak out loud to humans.  He would lay beside me while I cried and was always happy to eat my leftovers.  He didn’t warn me when I was about to walk in on a kid who broke into our house, but demanded I comfort him when the cops arrived.

Now Biscuit sits in a pretty little tin, on a shelf by my father.  I’m pretty sure he’s being super demanding about a tennis ball in heaven.

Period Party vs. Whole30

Two days ago I got the greatest monthly surprise ever…my period. I know it shouldn’t come with a “Thank you Baby Jesus” scream in the bathroom, but I totally slipped up on my no boys/sex rule and well, long story short, I’m a total unsafe idiot slut.

Now, usually on my period I like to find the greatest way to mix salt, peanut butter and caramel and chocolate. Last month I made a Rolo and Reese’s cheesecake with a pretzel crust, the month before that a batch of peanut butter cookies with pretzel M&Ms mixed right on in. Totally delicious and totally not allowed on Whole30. So now I’m dealing with a wave of emotions that I usually greet with a snack and a nap. My Pinterest app isn’t working on my phone, so I can’t hunt down anything that might pass the Whole30 list of appropriate period noshes, I’m feeling extra bloated and my skin is breaking out. This is absolutely no fun. Maybe every time I crave a Reese’s ‘ll just do ten pushups. I bet that would change my mind real quick.

Only two more days though, right?


I’d tell you that I love you, but right now I just want to cuddle a (stuffed) bunny and then drop kick it.

And if you have any ideas for Whole30, ladytime snacks then please share. Two days now seems like an eternity.

Quote of the Week

You can’t expect to make no effort. You still have to make the effort and be kind and understanding. Zooey Deschanel.

I’ve been trying to find more ways to inspire myself lately. Sometimes I need a kick to get out of bed, put on pants or just drink some water.

All the ads for the newest season of New Girl are haunting my brain. I’m so excited for it to start (Sept. 25!) along with all my other favorite TV shows.

This weekends Whole 30 went swell and although I admit to having a few mindless bites, it’s all good. This week I’ll keep going strong and force myself to get in a good routine which will require workouts. Eish. Who knew it took so much work to get hot? Besides supermodels that is.

Love you, mean it.

what in the world…

So far all the posts I’ve done have been a fabulous intro into the silly, lack of focus that is my life. Just writing it out and putting it on the Internet has forced me to realize that maybe I am a little bit of a weirdo. Like, maybe I can see why I’ve managed to scare a few boys off, but hey, whatever. Now that I’ve introduced a few people into the not so deep thoughts that roll through my brain, it’s time to get things started.
Here’s a quick update; Tuesday thru Thursday I flew to North Carolina. In January I’m coleading a January term trip to Cuba for Guilford College, and this was where the head leader (my mom) and I passed out flyers and got emails of interested kids. Of course we got some very excited kids, and now I’m anxious for January.
The part that sucks? I totally fell of the Whole30 wagon. 1. I must learn to pack snacks. 2. I need to grow the balls to say no. I know dairy and gluten make me break out and feel yucky; why in the world did I eat them? Starting tomorrow I’ll be back on track and going full throttle. Granted, it helps that I have zero plans from now until October, so I can focus. Holla for me.
Today’s menu?
Berry smoothie and scrambled eggs. I know Whole30 is all like, eat your food, don’t drink it. Whatevs. I threw back my smoothie before work and the eggs after.
Lunch was tuna mixed with avocado instead of mayo, tomato and cukes all on a giant plate of spinach. Yum.
Powering through dinner tonight will be difficult. I’m making one of my favorite dishes for 125 people. They’ll be nomming on chicken noodles with mashed potatos; I’ll be chowing down on a chopped chicken salad and sweet potatoes. Totally worth it…

babblings, part 1

The problem with whirlwind trips; especially ones where 75% is already booked with boring expos, required sleep and dinner with your mom’s friends, is that a girl has zero time to explore, window shop, people watch and eyefuck sexy strangers.

This superquick trip to North Carolina has reminded me that I need to take more adventures. Granted, I need the money to pay for them, so maybe this will be my inspiration to get a job too.

So, I don’t know. It’s a solid fact that all I’ve posted on her so far is random, socially psycho babble. Does a girl need to hash things out before she can truly start her reinvention/self-betterment? Is it creepy that I’m doing it on the Internet instead of with a therapist? Or is it totally normal given our society’s ability to overshare?

Love you, mean it.