Me.

The truth is that I’m no longer willing to keep pretending like I’m going to get anywhere on time.

I’m no longer willing to take a side on a subject I could care less about.

I’m no longer willing to waste my time believing I’m ever going to fit into those size 6 jeans again.

I am willing to go to bed late if it means one more late night pillow chat with my teenage daughter.

I am willing to walk “just one more time” around the lake with the pup when she’s got her eye on a squirrel on the other side.

I’m willing to see the point in knitting a pair of socks from $30 yarn instead of buying a $3 package of 2 pair.

Me, the 30-something mother of the most amazing almost 14 year old. The wife of a chemist, in a brand new long distance marriage – he in Minneapolis, me in Memphis. A pregnant woman with another girl on the way and fears that she’s forgotten everything she ever knew about babies and having enough energy to care for one. A sales assistant in a confusing financial landscape of large words and larger numbers. A slow-moving knitter, an amateur chef, an OCD-fueled nutcase, bored blog stalker, half-wit cleaner, and incapable recycler.

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