Finding Nicole

I have been thinking about relationships a lot lately, the lessons I've learned and what the future may look like, and it came to me suddenly while eating a yogurt (like a normal person), that I should compile a list of reasons that I have broken up with someone in the past, so I don't accidentally do any repeatsies. Call it a quick reference guide... If he does any of the things on the list, we will save ourselves a lot of time, emotional investment, and money spent on cute new underwear, and move immediately to the 'sorry, that one's on the list, peace out' phase of dating. I could even provide potential candidates with a pocket sized laminated copy that he can refer to, as needed. Genius right? So, here we go. Top twenty. In no particular order: 1. Not funny (no exceptions). Funny is mandatory; 1A. Doesn't find me funny, or get my humor (I'm hilarious, just ask my kids); 2. Bad kisser ...

When I stopped writing The Colie Chronicles, I missed writing with every fiber of my being. But I felt I couldn't start another blog until I had something different to say, and a brand new way to say it. And nothing came. What I realized is that I don't have to be different. I may change and evolve and grow, but I won't ever lose the humor in my writing, because that is truly who I am. I have lots of other parts to me as well, but humor is at my core, especially when I write and tell a story. That is the authentic me. What I have done in starting over with Finding Nicole , and letting go of Colie, is to recognize that how I write (simply, honestly); what I write about (my life, and anything from death and divorce to relationships and just how much I love snacks); and who it's for (me, and anyone else who enjoys it), is perfectly okay. Self-acceptance. I'm working on that shit like Oprah works on counting her billions and Super Soul Sund...

I have PMS. Not right this minute. Don't panic. But in my life. Hard core PMS. I'm a crier by nature. And my kids are used to me crying over every single Meg Ryan movie that I've already watched 652 times. Don't even get me started on "You've Got Mail" when she says at the end "I wanted it to be you". Stop it. I'll cry RIGHT.NOW. Or when no one turns their chair on The Voice. I can't even. But my kids are used to me, and typically they just whisper to one another "Oh look, Mom is crying again" and move on. Nobigdeal. Please note that I am not usually a PMS crier. I'm more of an, everything is TOO LOUD, everyone is TOO ANNOYING, life is TOO HARD, groceries are TOO HEAVY, I am TOO TIRED FOR LIFE, people need to STOP CHEWING, kind of pms-er. But this past weekend, I full on cried for a good two days. So much so that my daughter asked me: "Mom. Be honest. Did someone die?" Nope. I'm just a hormonal hot mess, sw...

I'm divorced. The big D. Not even an indent remaining on my left ring finger anymore, although, I’m not legally divorced yet. The process has been long, emotionally draining, and stressful enough to make me want to punch sixteen lawyers, and stab my own eyes out with a rusty nail. So, technically, I am not divorced but I have been separated for over five years now and I’m well on the way to being divorced *she whispers like it’s the plague. I'm riding the divorce train and sadly, there are no stops to get off, and I could really use a gelato. I dislike that word: divorced. It's ugly. Like melanoma. I grew up a child of divorce. That sounds really dramatic, doesn't it? She's "a child of divorce". GASP. I picture all of us kids raised by one parent, or the other, or absent of both parents, wandering out of a field, eyes glazed over, arms wrapped around ourselves, not knowing which way to go...all creepy 'Children Of The ...

If talk of poop makes you panic. Skip this post. And read this book:  Everyone Poops . So I was on the toilet at Starbucks. Yep. I said it. I had to stop in between visiting clients the other day...cause when ya gotta go, ya gotta go...and *ahem* I may have eaten several mini donuts on a lunch date. I'm allergic to wheat and that basically rules out all things delicious (especially deep fried doughy donuts) but who can resist them? They're warm. And mini. And rolled in icing sugar. So yeah, not me man. And then bad things happened people. Bad. Things. So, you know when you have serious poop issues but you are attempting to do so in a ninja like fashion by not breathing or moving and doing the flush and poop at all the right times so no one knows you're in there near death...I have mastered the ninja poop. And then things took a surprising turn. You see where this is headed, right? Without warning, the bathroom lights went out. P...

I finally did it. I got my boobs flattened. And yes I know they're already flat, no need to be sassy. This time I got them completely squished. Professionally. Not like that time I got wedged between the wardrobe I was installing in my backroom and the door frame, but, on purpose. I had my first mammogram. In case you haven’t had the pleasure yet, I will walk you through it now so you are prepared: Where I live, they do them at the local hospital in the x-ray department. In general, I am not a huge fan of hospitals where there could be unexpected barfing and there are way too many germs but I MUST GET MY BOOBIES SQUISHED!! I’m basically hiding in a corner near a trolley full of Johnny shirts when I get called in. Nurse wastes no time. She asks me a few questions and then says, "Now take all your clothes off, except your pants, and come into the next room". And off she goes. Say what now? I am looking all around for a Johnny shirt to cover my girls up but there ...