by Beth Woolsey -

This Is Worse Than the Day I Pooped My Closet

Listen, friend. I will give you one — and only this one — opportunity to stop reading. If periods gross you out, you should be done. Right now. Click away. Abort. SAVE YOURSELF. Or carry on. I don’t care — *shrug* — I’ve done what I can. Now it’s on you.

I don’t really know what to say about this other than it’s worse than The Day I Pooped My Closet. And I do not believe Hallmark has made a sympathy or apology card that quite covers the “I’m sorrys” I owe my son-in-law so I’m a little stuck on how to make this right. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

26 May 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

I found a turd on my desk this morning.

An actual poop.

Just one tiny tootsie roll, all by itself, still fresh. Puppy sized. But there was no way for the puppy to get on my desk, and, also, he wasn’t in my room. Which means the turd just spontaneously materialized there. Or someone put it there. Except WHO WOULD DO THAT so I’m going with Option A — spontaneous materialization. I cannot accept the horror show alternative that I’m STUCK IN MY HOUSE QUARANTINING with a MONSTER who deposits mini poopies, hot off the presses, ON MY DESK.  ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

These Are Our Consecutive Weeks of Unprotected Grinding

This isn’t a real post.

This is a check-in because I haven’t written a real post.

In brief, here’s what’s happening around our house:

1. I’m writing. All the words. All the time. Morning ‘til night. Weekdays and weekends. Just writing and writing and writing. More soon.

2. The dog ate Greg’s dental night guards a couple weeks ago and it’ll be at least one more before he gets the replacements. That means all I’ve heard and will hear for the foreseeable future is that these are our Consecutive Weeks of Unprotected Grinding. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

I’m Biased Against Fat People and I Just Found Out: Especially Awkward Since I AM One

WELL, THIS IS QUITE A SHOCK, FRIENDS. Especially given the size of my butt. And also my thighs. And also my belly. All of which are, objectively speaking, according to science, fat. 

To be clear, I’m not using the word “fat” in a derogatory sense here. I’m using it in a factual sense. I’m not suggesting fat is unattractive or that it makes someone in any way inferior to folks with less fat. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

Sometimes I Think We’re Not That Weird. Then I Realize NOPE.

You know, sometimes I think we sort of have our crap together around here. Sometimes I think we’re Not That Weird. Or rather, if we’re weird, we’re weird like Everyone Else now. We have our quirks. We have our adorable dysfunctions. We try to love each other well, and we succeed and fail and succeed and fail, but we keep practicing. So I look around these days, and I figure we’re Normal.    ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

A Mommy Photo Shoot: The Realistic Kind

I mentioned recently that I cleaned my room and rewarded myself by soaking in diarrhea water. It’s just one of the blessed realities of being a busy mom.

FORTUNATELY, before said cleaning, my friend Rachel came over to take some photos for me.

See, I’ve wanted to do a REALISTIC photo shoot for quite some time. You know, like, wearing the things I usually wear. Without cleaning or decluttering my house. Without avoiding the angles full of dirty dishes. I’ve wanted to do an AS IS photo shoot. What You See Is What You Get. Partially for you because EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW THEY’RE NOT ALONE in their lack-of-pristine living. And partially for me because I actually want to remember how life really was. Not a beautified version of it, but the nitty, gritty, grimy truth with its laughter AND dust bunnies, its joy AND dried ketchup, its camaraderie AND moldy flower stems, because this life is lovely. This life is wonderful. This life is gorgeous in its own muddy way, no covering up required.  ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

I Am Not Qualified to Have Conversations. Nevertheless, I Persist. Sorry.

Alright. I don’t know if this is advice or anti-advice, but it’s something, and now you’ll know it, too, instead of me just carrying it around in my head all by myself where it should probably stay locked up forever. 

Here’s the sitch: We bought a stunning farm in Oregon. And we’re working on the farm — a LOT these days — hoping to open early summer as a private park. ...  read more