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Friday #gladitude!!

The #gladitude project...changing perception one small, noticeable thing at a time...
The #gladitude project…changing perception one small, noticeable thing at a time…



Dear Cosmos,

You’re drunk. Go home.

Love, Brynn.




Sick, pained (and by pained, I mean the hounds-of-hell were playin’ tug-a-war with my soul and every fibre of my being while being bone-crushingly exhausted) and topped off with the day “off” for a Valentine brunch that was naysayed by a kid with pink eye. During a snowstorm. Uphill. Both ways.

*jazz hands*


Coming to the realization that my littlest boy doesn’t always cry because he’s sad…but because *I’m* sad…and having him wrap his still-too-small arms around my neck and just hold on.

Thermal T-Max socks. Because it’s STILL eleventy-fucking-billion degrees below zero. Celsius. Uphill. Both ways.

Keurig Chai Latte. My single 1950’s wasteful vice. In a cup. Of joy. And how it turns a frown upside down. (Well, close enough.)

Epicure 3 Onion Dip mix. Not because it’s a product, but because all of these products give my health-conscious 24/7 palette a break from boring and adds a side of ZING! With no additives or gluten or nut products. Okay, I don’t care about the nut products, but for some, that would be STELLAR!

If I’m not happy with food, no one’s happy.

True story.

The flowers my husband gave me early last week are still in full bloom and splendor. Economical bastards. I love them.

Creativity. I am pretty damn good at what I can make with my Go, Go SpazzyHands of Joy. I’m tootin’ my horn.

Newest "Colour!!" Buddy...
Newest “Colour!!” Buddy…



Colour. Continued. Ongoing. Escapism.





Tissues. Name brand. “Not-going-to-rip-your-nose-off” while you silently break. Soul cleansing rains from ocular orbs.

I’ve taken chances. I’ve reached out. I’ve been empowered by the opportunity and the response.

Asshat lumbar discs that have been silent for two months. Pain-free…because someone took 2.2 minutes to read about what was really wrong.

Changing perspective. It’s a choice.

Hearing my eight year old daughter squeal at telling her daycare friends about a Valentine…from a boy.

Watching an 18 year old and a 14 year old brother both come out of different rooms to question said lass about said boy. Calmly putting my coffee down and a smile on my face with the realization that this poor girl, having four brothers, is going to have a very, very complex dating life.

As a mother? Sometimes, it just doesn’t get any better… 😉


  1. Mae

    Little arms may grow , but their love of hanging on will never grow old.
    Little girls with brothers have the love of young men that is unconditional , kind and best of all they show her the kind of man she needs in her life later.
    Little cups of coffee sometimes fix the biggest problems even if its just to take a step back to breath.
    Even little stars falling make huge impacts, I’m sure glad you fell into our lives!

  2. GypsyDee

    *this* in the throes of all things crazy-walk-the-plank chaotic…made me smile..and celebrate our solidarity of parenthood…Thank of healing energies to you my Lovely Lass…the sweetest heart I know <3

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