I told Lizzie this morning that I was writing a very boring blog post and she said, “Are you writing about me?” When I said no, she said, “Write about me and it won’t be boring. People like it when you write about me.” Which, okay, she’s got a point. I haven’t written about any conversations with my kids in quite awhile, but when I used to do that, you guys enjoyed them (or were polite enough to say you did, anyway). So I shelved the boring blog post about the flowers and birds on my porch and started on this one. (Thank God. I mean, really, Jen… flowers and birds?)Continue reading
First, there was a wasp in my office and, with Paul giving annoying wasp-killing advice from the safety of the first floor, I managed to whack the creature and give it a watery burial in the toilet. This was two days ago. Then yesterday, there was another wasp in my office, which doesn’t seem fair. Still, I gamely smacked it with a magazine — and it flew directly into the closet, which I swear was open no more than half an inch.Continue reading
I’m sitting in the family room, my head against the back of the couch, my legs stretched out under the coffee table, staring at the ceiling. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. My golden doodle, Huckleberry, barks, bringing me out of my trance. Continue reading
Have you noticed how positive social media has been about the whole self-quarantine, shelter-in-place, social-distancing thing? Everyone’s all:Continue reading
As written in the headline, my resolution for the coming year is to find… wait. Dammit! I did it again.
The babies aren’t dead. To be clear, they’re not exactly alive, either, and never were. But they’re certainly not dead. They’re just naked. I don’t know why I always refer to them as dead babies rather than naked babies. Continue reading
My 1500-miles-away daughter said to me recently: “You should write a post about me. And about how school is hard. And about how adulting is hard.” And my first thought was, “Oh, sweets, it gets so much harder.”
This is a weird time. It’s sad and scary. It’s colorful and creative. It’s overwhelming and enlightening and stimulating and freeing. And exhausting – mustn’t forget exhausting.
My daughter left for college last month. She is a couple thousand miles away, and let me tell you, it’s just weird. It’s a big deal, but not necessarily in the way I thought it was going to be.
Being the cooking superstar that I most definitely am not, I was as surprised as anyone when I recently discovered the joy of making my own croutons for salads. Unfortunately (like always, when it comes to cooking), I’ve stumbled upon some major obstacles.
How hard can it be to make a salad, you ask? Here, I offer two exhibits from the Nastu household Crouton Conflict.
Exhibit A. “You Should Have…”
I go to the store and buy a delicious-looking loaf of French bread, crusty on the outside, soft on the inside. I’m planning to let it get stale so I can make croutons the next day. Continue reading
I had nothing to say today. So I was trying to write about how I had nothing to write about when – ta da! – my brain did what it does best. That is, it got distracted and wandered off without supervision and got into trouble. So now I have something to write about after all, which is great even though dinner is ruined.
I’ve never been the kind of mom who has a plate of warm cookies waiting on the counter for my kids when they come home from school. Certainly I’ve made plenty (okay, a few) batches of cookies in the past 18 years, but mostly any sweets we have in the house come straight from Safeway’s cookie aisle. My own mom was the same: she made a pretty good chocolate chip cookie from time to time, but usually it was Oreos or Nilla Wafers after school, and I never felt neglected. Continue reading