The Impacted Turd and the Raccoon that Blew our Transformer and Almost Gave Me Diabetes


What started out as fairly typical Monday, quickly dissolved into the shitshow I’m experiencing as I write this. Thanks, in no small part, to my husband’s ingenious invention.

Granted, he designed it to power solar sump pumps. But since we don’t need those in South Florida, Miami McGyver here rigged up a whole charging station so I could juice up both our phones, my laptop AND our WiFi! He’s good like that.

(As an aside, if you have a property that doesn’t have power or you need a remote power source for any other reason – like your transformer blew – check his stuff out here!)

Back to where this all started. I had picked up my kids at school, given them a snack and had started the very painful homework process when we heard an explosion and immediately lost power. At about the same time, I hear my son’s blood curdling screams.

His poop is stuck.

After trying unsuccessfully to massage his belly and several other measures to avoid having to do the thing I didn’t want to do, it became clear that I would have no other recourse than to go in and scoop it out.

After that harrowing (and incredibly revolting) experience, I decided we all needed to go outside and get some fresh air when a neighbor drove by asking about the power outage. She explained that she heard the explosion and that she had witnessed an animal fall from the power line.

Because inquiring minds want to know, I headed to the back yard to investigate and see if I could locate the fried cat I told the kids we were having for dinner. But while looking for the charred remains of whatever blew our power out, I heard a noise and discovered a raccoon. A very much alive one. So I tried to take its picture while my dachshund tried to do what she was born to do, hunt her some varmint.

As I was being very careful not to piss off our little friend, my daughter started screaming bloody murder and I turned to find her tear stained cheeks and horror stricken eyes.

The following dialogue ensued:

Me: “What is the problem???”

Her: “Mommy, No!! I don’t want the raccoon to get Lola or jump on your face and give you diabetes!!”

Me: “You mean, Rabies?”

We later discovered, when a whole crew from the power company was dispatched for the clean up on aisle 9, that the live raccoon we had seen was actually mourning the loss of his mate — who was limply hanging, suspended from the wires that were all tangled up in our tree. Turns out it wasn’t such a great place for their nest.

I’m happy to report, however, that unlike the poor ‘coon, save for some poisonous fumes from my non-soy candles, my kids and I made it relatively unscathed.


And to my knowledge and great relief, I did not contract diabetes from the aforementioned raccoon.

How was your Monday? Leave a comment below!



Cheap Thrills: Yes! Cheap Toilet Paper: No, Thanks.


I’m not above trying to save a little dough here and there, especially now that money’s tight.

And there are certain things that I will penny pinch over. Like the gas for my car, for instance. I figure I’ve never put in the expensive stuff and my cars (and I’ve only had 4 cars in my entire life) have all lasted a good ten or so years. Knock wood.

Why spend $50 on costume jewelry that will only be in style for 2.5 seconds when you can get the same thing for a couple bucks at Forever 21?

And if you’re not getting stalked by paparazzi on your megayacht, you can pick up the cutest swimsuits at Target or Old Navy and skip the $100+ options at department and specialty stores.

All of these things I’ll scrimp on. But when it comes to toilet paper, there’s no substitute for the good shit.

Cheap toilet paper has several drawbacks. For starters, some rolls disperse all kinds of little fibers.

Now, boys may not care so much what they wipe their bungholes with, but girls have got other crevices that you don’t want all those little bits getting stuck to or sucked into. Just sayin’.

I also discovered that aside from being unsightly, “toilet paper can irritate your vulva and your vagina, especially if you have sensitive skin” And apparently, it can cause all kinds of infections if you don’t use it properly.

Now who wants an irritated vulva? Not me!

Another huge problem with cheap rolls is that they’re like half-ply. Which means that when you try to unroll it, you end up pulling off little microscopic bits that end up all over the floor. When you do manage to unroll a decent amount in one piece and you try and wipe with it, you end up with urine soaked hands.

And that’s best case. I’ll spare you the visuals of describing using it to clean up back-door messes.

Moral of the story: Unlike Trump*, keeping my hands pee-free is kind of a priority for me.

Are there any other items you won’t settle for less than the best? Leave a comment below!


That One Time My Boob was Out


I know breastfeeding is a natural thing. And women should be allowed to do it in public and all that.

But normally, while you’re breastfeeding, the baby’s face is partially obstructing your boob. It’s not like you’re just sitting there with your breast hanging out. Although, honestly, we all have them so that shouldn’t be a biggie either.

Except when you’re at a “getty” at your sister’s house. And you’ve just come out of the room after breastfeeding your infant. And you don’t realize that he’s tugging on your dress.

And your saggy boob is just hanging there. Exposed.

And you’re having a conversation with your brother-in-law. And his friend.

And he casually tells you, “you might want to put that away.”

Have you ever had a “wardrobe malfunction” in public? Leave a comment below!


The 4oz Pour


Why the 4oz Wine Pour is Immoral. And Why We Must Unite to Put an End to this Travesty.

Have you ever wondered why your wine glass is so big?

Me too.

In fact, my friends and I wonder this all the time.

Especially when a server comes by and pours a tiny little bit of wine in our big ass glasses.


Now, if you’ve ever had children or even just been around those tiny people, you know that when they’re first born, their itty bitty bellies can only hold so much liquid. Like 2 – 4 oz.

That’s why those little fuckers only sleep for like 2 hours at a time. They get hungry because their little bellies can only hold a tiny amount of liquid.

But once you get older, your belly can hold a hell of a lot more than just a tiny 4 oz of liquid. Trust me.

So riddle me this: why do some bartenders/servers still insist on serving you this obscenely small amount of wine?

It’s embarrassing. It’s a treachery of the most severe kind. And symbolic of all that’s wrong with this country.

Seriously, there oughta be a law.

So I call on all of you to do your civic duty. And fill up those glasses. Let them fulfill their intended purpose.

After all, people who drink wine aren’t infants. At least not usually. And if they are, then it’s ok to only give them 4 oz.

And if you go somewhere and they only give you 2oz? Well, that’s just treason. Plain and simple.

How do you feel about those tiny pours? Only leave a comment if you recognize that it’s criminal. Or if you’ve started a petition I can sign and share.



The Peeping Pool Guy


I’ve heard so many stories about “the hot pool guy.” Ok. Again, maybe not firsthand stories. But certainly in movies and TV shows.

And I always wondered about this phenomenon. Were there really hot pool boys everywhere? I had never had a pool so I wasn’t sure.

When we moved into a house that had a pool, we mistakenly thought we could maintain it ourselves.

But once it started to resemble a pond, we caved and hired a pool guy. An ok-looking guy. (Cue my disappointment.) One that services our pool once a week. On Tuesdays.

However, this week’s President’s Day observance on Monday kinda threw me off.

As an aside: I’d like to share that my morning routine involves getting up to use the restroom and then opening the blinds and returning to my bed to complete my brain training and to meditate.

And also that I sleep naked.

So yesterday, as I finished my meditation and opened my eyes, they were met by the gaze of the aforementioned pool guy.

In shock, we both stared at each other uncomfortably until the reality of the situation crystalized and I slid, not so stealthily, under the covers and waited for him to leave.

Now I’m struggling with hoping he didn’t see anything and hoping that if he did, he liked what he saw. I guess I’ll know if he starts showing up more than once a week.

Have you found yourself in any compromising situations with maintenance crew? Don’t let me suffer alone. Leave a comment below!




Farmers Only. A Dating Site for Farmers.


My husband used to travel a lot for work. But not to fun places like Paris and London. Or even New York, California or Vegas. No. He had to go to places like Evansville and Gary Indiana, Carbondale, Illinois and Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

After one of those trips, he told me about a commercial he had seen for a dating site just for farmers. I thought he was either a) high or b) that it was a spoof or a joke.

Until one day, I saw the commercial with my very own eyes. Here. In Miami.

He felt vindicated. I felt thoroughly bewildered.

The commercial was for


As you can see, it’s a real thing.

No. I swear.

So if you’re a farmer or rancher or just a good old country folk….you, my friend, don’t have to be lonely.

Because City Folks just don’t get it.

No. We don’t. We really, really don’t.

Have you ever heard of this dating site? Better yet, have you used it and found your country soul mate? I’d love to know. Leave a comment below!

What is it with kids and Face Painting?


I love taking my kids to arts festivals. Always have.

When my eldest was little, she loved to color in her coloring books. But as she got older, she grew frustrated when she didn’t know what color to make something. Or when she’d color outside of the lines.

And I would always tell her that it didn’t matter if she colored outside the lines. And that she could use any color her little imagination wanted to use. Why not make someone’s hair or skin purple? But no matter how many ways I tried to explain it, she was becoming discouraged that she wasn’t a great artist.

And that’s when I started taking her to the festivals. So she could see all different types of art and know that her way was okay.

When my two little ones came along and started going through a similar stage, I continued the same tack.

We go to several arts festivals throughout the year and at each one, my husband and I point out all the different types of art – from  mixed media to painting, photography, digital art, printmaking & drawing, watercolor, claywork, glass, fiber, jewelry & metalwork, sculpture and wood.

And at first, the kids seemed intrigued by all of it.

Until they discovered that they sell kettle corn at these things. And that they offer face painting.

Needless to say, our festival outings now consist more of standing in line for hours for both of these things and then attempting to get them to look at the art, knowing full well that anything we say is falling on deaf ears.

And the worst part is that after about 15 minutes, they smear off the paint and then don’t eat their dinner.

The silver lining is that most of these festivals also serve alcohol.

I just hope that at some level, they’re absorbing some of the knowledge we’re trying to impart and will grow to love and appreciate the arts. And allow themselves to be creative, use whatever color they damn well want to and color outside the lines.

Are your kids distracted by face painting? Leave a comment below.

When You Can’t Blame Autocorrect for your Potty Mouth


How many times have you found yourself cursing at autocorrect for changing the things you intend to write into something completely unintelligible?

I know it’s an almost daily occurrence for me.

Now, I have an iPhone because I’ve always had an iPhone. And because the one time I decided to switch to a Samsung, I got a virus on like the second day. And besides that, I just wasn’t a fan. Except for the whole Swype thing.

So as soon as iPhone was kind enough to let us download a Swype app, I was all about it. It makes typing on the phone so much faster and easier.

When my fellow iPhone users see me using it for the first time, they swear it’s some kind of sorcery. So if you haven’t tried it, you definitely should. But only after you finish reading this.

Anyway, as with most keyboard apps these days, Swype will try to anticipate what you’re going to type and offer suggestions or corrections.

Now, sometimes, these little aids are quite convenient. At other times, however, they can be quite dangerous. Especially those times you actually take the time to slowly type out what you intend to say, knowing full well Swype will not discern from your little screen scribbles that you intend to say perhaps a proper noun, and will change what you painstakingly typed into some other thing.

And you don’t notice it changed it until you go back to re-read what you typed. Because the recipient has replied with, in best case scenarios, a ton of question marks, or worst case, some very unbecoming curse words and mean emojis.

But yesterday, whilst replying to a friend’s Insta post wishing her good luck on a race, my phone offered up some very helpful suggestions for what I didn’t know I was actually trying to say.

And I have to begrudgingly admit that this time, it probably isn’t Swype’s fault.

I started thinking that maybe I need to watch my potty mouth and curtail the cursing.

But then I thought…..

Nah. Fuck that shit.

Has your autocorrect every gotten you into any trouble? Let me know by leaving a comment below!

Why I Made the Switchel


See what I did there? Probably not. Since you likely don’t have an inkling what Switchel is.

So here’s the deal.

At some point when I was a kid, I started becoming conscious of nutrition. It didn’t happen overnight, mind you. I still ate cereal and a shit ton of white rice. And let’s not forget my favorite Slurpee diet. Yes. It’s exactly what you’re thinking. I thought it was a brilliant idea to not eat and only consume Slurpees.

I clearly didn’t learn anything about good nutrition at home. My mother didn’t like to cook and my father only made arroz con pollo or paella on Sundays. So my sister and I pretty much grew up eating Kraft mac n’ cheese and a whole lotta fast food.

So I’m not sure when or how it happened that I got into learning about healthier food options and supplements, etc.

Because to this day, when my mom comes to my house, she laments that there’s nothing to eat. You know, because I don’t have junk food or soda here. When I tell her I have plenty of stuff, like organic fruits and veggies, she rolls her eyes and makes gagging sounds.

All of this to say that I’m always interested in learning something new about how to improve mine and my family’s eating habits and health.

For instance, every morning, I start my day with warm lemon water with a couple tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, a teaspoon of honey and a dash of cayenne. I don’t know that it really does anything. But it makes me feel good to start my mornings that way.

I was an early adopter of Kombucha. Especially when I learned there was alcohol in it 😉

So when I heard about this “new” drink called Switchel, I had to learn more about it. Turns out it’s not new at all. It’s actually been around for quite some time. It’s supposed to be a healthy alternative to energy drinks. And it’s super easy to make.

It’s made from apple cider vinegar, fresh ginger, maple syrup and water and is supposed to help reduce inflammation and give you an electrolyte boost. And because it’s made with apple cider vinegar, you also reap its benefits that include healing compounds like potassium, magnesium and probiotics. It also helps to balance your body’s pH levels and, as a liver and lymphatic tonic, detoxes your body.

Oh, and you can totally add liquor to it and still call it healthy. At least I do.

The best part? My husband actually liked it. And so did my kids. I call it a win.

Have you ever tried Switchel? What has been your experience with it? Leave a comment below!




Is That an Ice Cream Truck? No, It’s the Afilador!


Having been born and raised in Miami, you take some things for granted. It wasn’t until I lived in Pensacola that I realized just how true that was.

I grew up with a Vacita (Farm Stores) on almost every corner. The lazy man’s convenience store. Where you could drive up and get some milk or ice cream. Heck, you can even get hot food and wine. When I asked where the nearest Vacita was in Pensacola, people looked at me like I had three heads. What do you mean a store that you drive through?

When someone did something that seemed impossible to have done without an incredibly crazy amount of luck, I would call them a Cag. I hadn’t realized that nobody had a fucking clue what I was talking about. Because, it turns out, Cag was short for cagar, which literally means to poop. And while one would assume that pooping would mean something bad (and in some cases, it does. Like when you tell someone, “lo cagastes”) This actually means that something lucky happened. I know. It doesn’t make any kind of sense. Unless you’re Cuban.

Or when I was waiting at a traffic light to make a left turn and would hope for the fletch. Short for flecha. You, know. The arrow that indicates it’s ok to turn.

Or refer to my chanclets (slang for chancletas – flip flops.)

Again, I was met with incredulous stares.

But one of my most favorite things about Miami, that I didn’t realize didn’t exist in other parts of the country, is the Afilador.

This is an ice cream truck-like vehicle, complete with a little “song.” But instead of serving up refreshing treats, this shop on wheels offers to sharpen your knives and other tools.

It’s seriously amazing. If you haven’t seen one around your ‘hood, you’re missing out. My kids are so intrigued by this whole concept that every time the guy drives down our block, they laugh and chase after the truck – even knowing full well that it’s not ice cream in there.

Is there anything special about the town you live in that anyone else just wouldn’t understand? Leave a comment below!