Louisiana has flooded on a massive scale. Our state is now the "home" of over 40,000 HOMELESS households - a number reported by CNN - and growing.
We are finding dead bodies in cars and homes as some flood waters recede.
My home was threatened, so we evacuated. My childhood home is currently sandbagged and still under threat. The picture below shows my aunt's house, but it could have shown my cousin's house, local teachers' houses, or my friends' houses. This flood event had a 1 in a 1,000 chance of happening. Imagine that. 1 in a 1,000. People don't insure (and are not advised to insure) for a 1 in a 1,000 chance of something happening. Those with flooded houses lost everything.
Yesterday, I tried grocery shopping in the local stores. Of course, food and supplies are difficult to ship on the cracking, waterlogged interstate system, so I came home and wrote this on my private Facebook page.
I'm a perfectionist. I like to do the right thing all the time. I expect the very best from myself. I find making mistakes unacceptable to the extent that it keeps me up at night.
Once upon a time, I wrote some excellent advice about How to Manage Mondays. It was good advice, so I still follow that plan. But today's blog post is not about planning for Mondays. It's about surviving them.
A friend of mine recently visited the Mall of the Americas AMC Theater with her 9 year old son. She was told by an employee that he was too old to go into the ladies' restroom with her.
I recently participated in a blog review. Each of us got assigned several blogs to review honestly. Then, we received all the reviews of our own blog in an e-mail.
Welcome to my little blog, Giftie Etcetera. Back when I started (as a lifestyle/parenting blog) in 2007, I had posts that got as few as 3 views and averaged about 20 views for a couple of years. As you stumble around my blog today, you'll notice that I focus more on planners, organizing, and being productive. I also have a few more readers these days.
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I'm about to talk about a hypothetical person. (If you are reading this, this post is not about you. Just...um...so we are clear. Not you. Someone else. OBVIOUSLY.)
It's about people who make it IMPOSSIBLE to give them a decent gift. You know THOSE PEOPLE. The "do you have a gift receipt?" people. Eye roll. The "oh, how nice" people whose faces look like they are eating cow doo doo while they unwrap the gift. Bless their hearts.
The kid who says, "thank you. My mom says I have to say that even if I hate the gift." Sigh.
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My tiny blog makes me happy. I feel like I get to think out my processes and share good ideas with a community of planner folks, parents, organized ladies (and a couple of gentleman, but stats reveal there are only about two of you), and some Loyal Readers.
Due to circumstances mostly beyond our control, our household ended up with an Elf on the Shelf named John Henry. He doesn't watch the kids for evidence of naughty or nice behavior. He's just a fun game we play.
And, honestly, even though the *****ing Elf is a pain to move around, we've mostly enjoyed him. (The asterisks are totally nice words. Or naughty words. John Henry doesn't care either way!) I've compiled the best of John Henry's adventures, along with some of our more revealing Elf Facebook statuses from last year.
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How do you get your Loyal Readers to tune in to your blog on Thanksgiving Day?
Why, an event, of course!
For years, my Facebook friends have been urging me to write a book about the funny and cool things my kids say. In high school newspaper class, we kept all such sayings anonymous and called them "Overheards."
As a little girl, I would visit Grandma Julie every Sunday. At first, we would pick her up for Mass, walking her slowly up to the front pew, so she could take communion without leaving her seat. As she grew older and more feeble, we'd go to Mass alone, then visit at her old, raised wooden house about a quarter mile from the church, complete with a creaky front porch that oversaw the Mississippi River, while she watched Mass on television.
I was young, so I always tried to escape to that porch instead of sitting through a second Mass.
