Have you ever gotten to a point in your life where you realize you are too connected?  Too connected to work, social media, everything.  It’s so all-consuming that you feel like you are drowning?  Which is not a good feeling for a non-swimmer, trust me.  Why do we need to be completely connected at all times?  Why do we need to tell everyone that we just purchased gluten free organic squirrel’s balls at Whole Foods (stole that line from my husband)?   We take pictures of everything we eat, tell everyone where we are and who we are with because we all know it didn’t actually happen unless it was documented on Facebook, and then become obsessed with seeing how many likes or comments we have.  It’s insane to think that I too have become one of these connected, obsessed people.  The stress of it is actually affecting my health. So today, it’s shut off and I’m going to breathe and try not to announce it to the world on social media.  Except for this blog but my only other alternative would be to use a pen and paper and I may get a hand cramp.

Remember the days, oh so long ago, where you would work from 9 to 5 and then go home.  No pagers, beepers, cell phones, iPads, laptops, etc.  You would leave work, go home and talk to your family and relax.  If someone needed something from you it could wait, hardly anything was that important that you were called on your wall phone at home.  You could actually focus on the important things in life.  De-stress, walk away from things and breathe.  Play games with your children without checking your phone every time you hear the ding of a message.  Eat dinner without arranging the food on your plate in the perfect way with your wine in the background so it looks good for Instagram.  Simpler times.  Healthier times.

I sell antiques for a living, not exactly on the same level of importance as a heart surgeon.  People won’t die or lose a limb if they don’t have their vintage milk glass salt and pepper shakers by 5 o’clock.  However, I am checking my on-line sites and email every 5 minutes from the time I open my eyes until I close them at night.  It’s such an addiction.  Just a few years ago we would check email when we had a chance on a computer.  Now if we don’t respond to whether or not you can bring brownies to a bake sale within 3.5 minutes from receipt of email you are a slacker.

Technology is a wonderful thing and it does help us in many ways, however I believe it really harms us too.  Sometimes you really just need to walk away so you can focus on the important things in life. So today I say screw you technology, everything can wait and I am going to take some time to breathe.

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This week marks the 20^th anniversary of my first date with my husband. 20 years since we held on to each other as we slid on ice through the North End. 20 years since I met my soulmate, my best friend, my husband and the father of my children. 20 years since my shallow 24 year old self actually took a second to question whether or not I could date a man that was balding. I was lucky he wanted to date me with that hideous permed hair. 20 years since I met the man that is almost as funny as I am, almost. 20 years since I truly found out what happiness is.

It’s amazing to think that our paths literally crossed from elementary school through college without them joining. It’s funny how life works. How a co-worker asking me to cover a shift for her so that she can go to lunch with a family friend, would lead to us meeting. That one event led me to finding the man that would do anything for me without blinking an eye. The man that thinks of me and my well-being before anything else. The most selfless man I know. A man that can affectionately call me a dumbass 15 times in an hour and make me giggle at every one. A man that still thinks I am beautiful no matter what my size.

We’ve been through a lot in the last 20 years. Houses, cars, children, stretch marks, cancer, surgeries, bad decisions, family problems, tears, ups and downs, but most importantly laughter. Every day there is laughter. When you find a person that makes you laugh every day, you are very lucky. Our marriage may not be perfect, but it is perfect for us.

Thank you to the man that makes me think of an A.A. Milne quote when I look at him, “If you live to be a hundred, I want to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you”.

I’m pretty sure I have some sort of a medical condition that has yet to be diagnosed. There are always tears coming out of my eyes either for crying or laughing. I will not be describing these symptoms to anyone with a degree in Psychiatry because I am almost positive I will find myself with McLean Hospital as my new address. I find the funny in just about everything but I am also a complete softy that gets emotional over anything remotely sad. One of the darkest times in my life was when New England Telephone was airing the commercials for Jill to call home. Remember those? I was a mess.

If they were to create a doll in my likeness it would be a laughing, crying doll most likely named Crazy Pants or something along those lines. Actually, Sexy Crazy Pants has a nicer ring to it. The coolest part of the doll is that it would have a switch on the back that was hidden under a tattoo or a scar. With the flip of a switch crying, laughing doll gets all Boston attitude crazy. Since the switch is concealed, no one sees it coming. Very life like. Of course, the doll would come with a closet full of accessories and shoes for every mood.

I think the worst crying emotional moment I can remember other than Jill calling home, was when I was either in my late teens or early twenties. I was home watching television and a commercial came on for saving children in another country, Sally Struthers was the spokesperson. I watched and cried as these starving children pleaded to the camera for my help. Once I was done crying I actually called and signed up to help a child, forgetting that I was in college and had no money. I got a picture in the mail of Nadaya Ba, I remember the little girl so well because I couldn’t actually pay to feed her as I had promised. Nice huh? The thought of her having food in her little hand and then having it yanked away definitely attributed to more crying. I refuse to watch any commercials that will make me emotional these days.

The good thing is that the majority of my tears are happy tears, which is usually the case with anyone bat shit crazy. I laugh at everything. I mean everything. Not only things currently happening either. I laugh at things that happened a week ago. Finding the humor in just about anything really does make life a little easier sometimes which is a great quality to have. Sadly, most of the things I laugh at aren’t even meant to be funny. You know those people that can hear or read anything and turn it into something dirty? Teacher, over here, pick me, pick me. Yup, I’m that person. Hands down, no question, mind in the gutter type of girl.

I’ve noticed that restaurants seem to be pushing the envelope with their food names. This has been attributing to my childish giggling as of late. It has to be on purpose, Porkalicious and Carpet Burger couldn’t have been written innocently. I can’t possibly be the only one that noticed that either, right? These people must have sat around drinking and coming up with ridiculous names for food items as a joke. I need to find out where I can apply to be a dirty menu writer because I am their girl.

I have always been the type of person that questioned everything. I imagine I was a pretty big pain in the ass as a child, especially considering I am a pretty big pain in the ass as an adult. I was raised by a very mathematical/scientific mother who needs something to bite her on the butt before she will actually believe in it. Everything needed to have proof or make perfect sense for it to be valid. However, for a person that was so quizzical in nature and fairly well educated, there are some things that even without proof, I believe in. Things that have made my parents wonder where they went wrong in my upbringing and have made my husband look into divorce attorneys. Those things are ghosts, paranormal activity and superstition. I have never seen or experienced any truth behind these, but wow, does the thought freak me out.

I am that person that is always throwing salt over my shoulder. This can sometimes be frowned upon when you are in a restaurant and happen to throw the salt onto the person behind you. Seriously though, get over it, you’re lucky it wasn’t a chair. I have driven out of the way or turned around completely to not have a black cat cross my path. My neighbors actually own one, talk about the stress I have every time I go outside. I don’t understand how they don’t have perpetual bad luck. Never will I walk under a ladder and don’t even get me going about the number 13. On Friday the 13^th I wrap myself in bubble wrap and hide under the bed with a salt shaker at the ready (not really but I hate that day). Every game of Solitaire I ever played, which was a lot being an only child, if the first card thrown was an Ace of Spades, I started over. Recently, I actually broke a mirror and I have pretty much given up on everything for the next seven years. I even Googled a “fix” for that but my laziness prevented me from burying the pieces during a full moon or whatever was entailed.

My poor children’s knuckles are practically raw from how many times I have them knocking on wood. It’s quite frequent in my house because my husband doesn’t believe in “jinxing” and finds it amusing that I do. You know those kids that were punks and always teasing other kids? Apparently I married one and they don’t grow out of it. I try to convince myself that the faux wood in my car counts as wood to knock on when he tries to get me going while we are in transit.

A house could be the nicest one I have ever seen but this girl is not going to live at 1313 Main St. Every time my husband and I have purchased a home I have asked if there have been any “sightings” in the house. I actually feel bad for how embarrassed my husband gets and the look on his face screams how could he have been so desperate to marry such a wackjob. Bad luck possibly? Look who is crazy now. One house we looked at the owner told me she never saw anything but felt good vibes from the house, like good spirits. I don’t give a crap if they are good or bad spirits, I don’t want them anywhere near me. Good spirits? Are you kidding me? They’re freaking ghosts. The living dead. Scary shit. One of the houses we owned actually came with a Ouija board in the attic. I would not let anyone touch it and we left it there when we sold the house. Good luck to them, here’s some salt.

The house we currently live in was a flip and I wasn’t able to ask the owner this question. This was a serious concern for me and drove my husband to the point that he informed me that he owned a shovel. On a side note, if I ever end up missing, check the backyard. When we moved in I watched our dog carefully to see if she was detecting anything and even though she didn’t, I still couldn’t sleep for a month. Every hourly chime of the church bell would get me that much closer to the safety of daylight. Thank goodness my husband was so compassionate and comforted me throughout the night. Yeah, that happened. You know Jason in the movie Halloween, how he is always standing perfectly still? That’s what he does to me. Maybe I should buy my own shovel. Knock on wood I don’t get caught.

As I sit home sick for the 467^th day this year, I started thinking about the plans I had to cancel this week alone and why crap like this always happens. I am always amazed at the end of a week when I see how many items have been crossed off of my calendar because something has gone wrong. Big meeting scheduled, child starts to vomit. Night out planned with friends, you start coughing up a lung. I can’t even believe how many times the dog having diarrhea has actually messed up my plans. It always happens. I find that I hardly ever say I will definitely be anywhere anymore, I always say “most likely” or “that should work” in case things change. At least some of the unforeseen events make for a good story because you just can’t make some of this stuff up.

Today as I cancelled another of my plans, I thought, oh it’s Murphy’s Law. Murphy’s Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. He felt that one should always assume worst case scenarios. If I didn’t know better, I would swear Murphy was a long lost relative. I am queen of the “what if’s” and always have to be prepared for everything. If he was still alive I would volunteer to be his poster child for his theory.   Every time I have something planned, something goes wrong.  This made me curious as to who the hell Murphy is and why did this asshole curse everything we try to do in our lives. Murphy, God rest his soul, is no longer with us so I don’t have to come up with a non-traceable plan to coerce him to change his law.

My own theory about Murphy is as follows. I am assuming based on the name Murphy that he was Irish. Ireland is the home of many brands of alcohol. People often turn to alcohol when confronted with stress. The more stress in people’s lives would contribute to increased alcohol sales, right? Stay with me. The higher the sales of alcohol, the richer the Irish become. Therefore, Murphy cursed us all to increase alcohol sales in his home country.

Makes sense doesn’t it? Think about it, you have a night out planned, you shaved your legs and squeezed your fat ass into your Spanx, you’re all psyched and the toilet starts overflowing. What is the first thing you think after the swearing subsides? I need a drink. See??? Murphy….Irish bastard. Well played my friend, well played.

I have the utmost respect and admiration for those that are able to take an idea and transform it into a product. I never even have ideas so this is way beyond my level of thinking. I even have difficulty using products that come with instructions not to mention creating something that doesn’t even exist. One thing I really can’t comprehend is why when we now have an easier or better way to do something would some people choose to go backwards and continue suffering as you will.

One thing I will never understand is camping unless you are running from the police or something along those lines. There was a time when sleeping and living outdoors was all that was available but then shelters were invented. If that wasn’t great enough, indoor plumbing was invented and eventually became available in all homes. So why then would anyone in their right mind want to sleep on the ground with bugs and bears? Not to mention shit in the woods. Oh, I forgot to mention the invention of toilet paper. So yeah, let’s not only get bug bites on our back side while we squat like an animal but let’s clean up shop with a leaf while we’re at it. People choose to do this for fun and yet some think I’m the one that’s nuts?

While we are on the topic of bathing in a puddle of animal urine while outdoors, another little invention that really changed lives are razors. I personally prefer a clean shaved man but neat facial hair is nice as well. We all know shaving is a pain but who wants to look at Grizzly Adams with gnats and old food crumbs stuck in a beard. Hey, are you going to eat that? Yuck. Also, is there anyone that wants to see hairy legs and armpits on a woman? Not this girl. I understand some wanting to be “natural” but there are other ways to accomplish that goal. Don’t wear makeup. Don’t paint your toenails in the summer. Go nuts. If you really don’t like shaving that’s fine but please don’t show me the nest under your arms. There is a case where I wish something hadn’t been invented, the tank top.

Childbirth is definitely a gift and I am more than thankful every second of everyday that I have been able to experience this. I am in no way, shape or form downplaying how fortunate I am to have my children. I would take any pain given to me for them and would give birth 100 times over if I had to. But, I will say that childbirth is the most unnatural thing I have ever experienced in my life. Anyone who says it’s natural, is lying. The actual making of a baby is an amazing miracle. The baby coming out, is not. That is just insane and defies physics. We all know how large a baby is and how small the tunnel is. I remember people saying how the body opens up and the baby practically falls out and all is beautiful. Bullshit. You scream, you tear and it looks like a Sigourney Weaver Alien film.

I once dated a man that told me I had birthing hips. Needless to say we broke up right after that comment and unfortunately I found out years later that he was wrong. I don’t have a very high tolerance for pain anyway, I do admit this. I’m pretty sure I asked for an epidural on my wedding day in anticipation of having a child someday. On the day I was induced to have my daughter, the second a contraction hit I was begging for pain meds. I wasn’t even dilated enough to warrant an epidural but I think the look of hatred in my eyes frightened the nurse enough to bend those rules. She knew that she would forever be looking over her shoulder if she didn’t. Smart woman.

One thing I really never anticipated in this day of modern medicine was to be told that there is nothing they can do for your pain. Are you shitting me? This was told to me after I informed them that I was pretty sure someone had just stuck a baseball bat covered in nails up my ass. Fortunate for them I was rolling on an exercise ball bare assed at the time and couldn’t swing at them. Do you think that rolling on a ball thing really helps? Or do you think maybe it’s just a little something the doctors and nurses do to entertain themselves.   Yeah, put your huge pregnant belly on a ball that we’ve put on a table and roll around with your johnny flapping in the wind. Of course it works, why else would we tell you to do it?

The best part was all the random people that walked in my room to take a peak.   I swear pizza delivery guys, Boy Scout troops, Asian tourists with cameras, just about everyone was taking a peak at my bits. Come on in, obviously I have nothing to hide. The baby isn’t coming out so you are just looking at my crotch, why??? How about you show me yours so we’re even.

After three hours of pushing the doctor strolled in to tell me that there was no way a baby was going to fit out of there. Really? Huh. That’s funny, I could have told you that and I only have my degree in sarcasm. Leave it to a man, bastard. Despite all the tearing, swearing and stitches my beautiful baby did manage to sneak out and all was well. I have never had a C-section but if it were an option, I say go for that and if you are unable to get that option, do not and I repeat, do not opt for a mirror to watch all of this because it ain’t beautiful.

Sarcasm definition: the use of words that mean the opposite of what you really want to say especially in order to insult someone, to show irritation, or to be funny.

A friend, a very sarcastic friend whom I love, told me that sarcasm is considered the lowest form of humor by some. Oscar Wilde once said that “sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but the highest form of intelligence.” I truly believe this and feel that if there was an IQ test for sarcasm it would prove this hypothesis. Think of how incredibly intelligent one must be to effectively use this God given skill. The hidden gem with sarcasm is that highly intelligent “book smart” people may otherwise think you are unintelligent. Little do they know that you are spanking them on the ass without them having a clue. That makes me giggle.

What a gift sarcasm is. You are born with it, only the chosen few are trusted with such a powerful trait. A holy grail of sorts is handed to you as an infant (Insert image of light shining down onto infant as grail is handed to them). No matter how hard someone tries to learn it, it can’t be taught. No degree at Harvard will give you the ability to flat out insult someone with a smile on your face and have that person think you are serious. How fun is that? The recipients of our sarcasm are typically people who have rectal cranial inversion. It’s not our fault that they never pull their head out of their ass long enough to catch our sarcasm. They also believe they are being complimented so there is really no harm done.

Sarcasm is a wonderful coping mechanism that allows us to deal with all the crap in the world in a whole new light without offending people. Our mothers always told us to be nice to people and never to say anything mean. It’s much nicer to say “Wow, interesting idea, you should run with that” other than “The village called, they want their idiot back”.   When someone asks how they look, saying “That’s a really unique look you have today” is much less offensive than “You look like you got hit by a bag of nails doing 50 miles an hour”. Do you see where I’m going with this? I can’t give away too many sarcastic remarks because we don’t want those on the receiving end to start to catch on.

If you didn’t have the ability to utter that snide remark that sounds like a compliment while the corner of your mouth twitched up slightly where would we be? We would be forced to either insult people and tell them how we really feel or even worse, we might have to keep our feelings inside which would lead to us being ticking time bombs until we couldn’t take it anymore. At some point the inevitable would happen and we would start smacking the living snot out of people on a daily basis.  I can’t speak for anyone else but I just can’t be bothered messing up my clothes and God forbid my shoes with the snot or other fluids of these morons.

So yes, sarcasm is definitely a service that I offer.

As I woke up this morning I started thinking about life, my life in particular.  I always think of how fortunate I am to wake up, which makes me smile. Despite my current horrendous cold that has made my lungs almost useless, I still found myself smiling.  It’s what I do.  I smile.  Not that insane kind of smile like after having a lobotomy, just your plain old smile.  Appreciating life type of smile, and always trying to find the best in everything.

This of course led me to thinking about all those people that don’t smile.  Why is that?  You never know what someone is going through at that very moment but I am referring to the perpetual non-smilers.  Some people are shy, I get that but are the others physically incapable of smiling?  Maybe they were born with facial muscles that are just too tight to smile.  It’s possible, but I think they are basically just a-holes.  Instead of letting all those people of the world upset me it makes me realize how important it is that I smile at everyone.  A smile is one of the greatest gifts you can give anyone.  I feel almost like a superhero of sorts, I must save the world one smile at a time.

We all face very difficult struggles in our lives and that one act of kindness can mean everything to a person.  It takes no effort, except maybe for the asshats with tight facial muscles.   It’s quite contagious too.  It spreads faster than a cold sore on a hooker.  How many times have you found yourself lost in your own thoughts and a nice smile from someone leaves you smiling as well.  It’s beyond awesome how one small gesture can alter someone’s mood.  It’s a gift we have been given, a gift that should be used and not taken for granted.  Use it any time you are happy enough to smile.  You don’t have to be rich to pay it forward in life, you just have to be happy.

I admit I do tend to take it further by chatting incessantly with strangers but it makes me smile and often times, them as well.  That way I can add in laughter which also requires smiling.  I hope after reading this it made you smile which will make someone else smile.

This morning as I was trying to enjoy my coffee, my husband started giving me a hard time about my kitchen organizational skills and more specifically he dared to question my baking supply cabinet.   I warned him not to go there and very specifically described what I would do to him if he did.  It was all in good fun, no need to start watching Dateline to find out the whole story.   I even mentioned throwing my coffee cup at him but realized the cup along with its contents were just too precious to me.  He made a joking remark about how I “throw like a girl”.  You know what throw like a girl means in my world?  That I can hit you in the friggin head with my shoe while I’m stirring my red sauce without even blinking.

I grew up with a mother that also knew how to “throw like a girl”.  We used to throw tennis balls over our two family house for fun and I believe as a child in Boston, she may have actually made it over a building.  I used to challenge boys to throwing competitions quite a bit, need I say who won?  If that is throwing like a girl then it is true, not too many boys can do that.  Doing anything like a girl means you are crazy strong.  I don’t even need to bring up the whole giving birth thing.  Even Obama referred to the US Women’s Soccer team as badass.  Damn straight we are.

Unfortunately, “you throw like a girl” is a saying that has been around for years and carries a negative connotation with it.  Usually implied as an insult to a boy, if a boy can’t throw well he is said to “throw like a girl”.  The funny thing is only girls seem to know that’s a compliment.  Another perfect example of how we are the more intelligent sex.  I would think that when someone can’t throw well they should be said to “throw like a boy”.  Sorry, that isn’t politically correct and I apologize for offending the male population.  So ladies, just keep grinning every time you hear that saying, we know what it really means.