I know, I know… it’s been a while since I’ve spilled a few beans about myself, almost a whole YEAR actually. If you are new here, you might be taking up precious
minutes seconds of your day wondering “who really IS this girl Pippa? What makes that bad ass mamajama tick?” If we have been peeps for a while then you probably already know what kind of ride you are in for… there are a lot of petals on this delicate flower, so let’s pluck a few shall we?
1) If it comes on a Triscuit I’ll eat it…Sure, I love the finer things in life, champagne, caviar, a perfectly constructed and memorable meal that stays in your heart forever, but I can’t live without Triscuits (or Krud Kutter or Ziplock Bags… different post). They make my world go ‘round (or square in this case). Growing up my Aunt Debby would eat cottage cheese with Triscuits almost every day… Seriously, it’s so good that every time I have it now I text her to let her know. Everything and anything else on a Triscuit? Yep… I’ll go there, can’t go wrong in my book.
2) I hate snakes. To my friends who have ever posted a picture of a snake you probably know this (please don’t do it again) but no joke, I abhor them. I’m cringing just even typing about “them”. Soon after we moved to Witzend I spied one in the yard thankfully from the safe comfort of a window, slithering off with not a care in the world. Pffft! No way man. The hubs was at work so I sent him 45 text messages that each read “SNAKE IN THE YARD! Come HOME!” … and then I didn’t go to that section of the yard for weeks. I swear, every friggin’ leaf that rustled scared the bejesus out of me, my nerves were shot for months. If you ever see ME post a pic of one of “those” things know this…either my account has been hacked or I have been kidnapped by a band of rabid vampires and I am using the picture to secretly let everyone know that I need to be rescued, it’ll be our safety word, OK? Just come get me. Please?
3) One of my biggest pet peeves are the friggin’ jackwads who drive in the left lane… all.of.the.time. People… it’s for PASSING! And ONLY for PASSSSSSSING! I also happen to have a lead foot. So much so that my dad used to call me “Shirley Muldowney” growing up (Legend). Yep, every trip has a finish line and if you find yourself lollygaggin’ in that left lane you can be sure as shit yer probably gonna see the grill of my big old bad ass black Suburban in your mirror. Stay RIGHT and nobody gets hurt… MmmKK?
4) I don’t die my hair. I mean, I did. I mean, I used to…duh. But then I got lazy (or we could politely say that life got in the way) and the grey started to come in…and then I started totally diggin’ it. Why? It’s good grey. It’s the kind of grey that says ‘I’ve earned my stripes’. I’ve made it to my mid 40’s and have a lifetime of antics under my belt (plus, um…mom of boys, hellllooooo!?) I’ve earned every friggin strand and, dag nabbit I’m going to rock it. And truthfully, I have had some dear friends not live long enough to be given the chance to embrace a few stray greys. I know for a fact that they would have if they could have. So that’s that, I’m still here, that part of the salon trip ship has sailed and I dig my grey.
5) My primary goal as a mother (other than to keep the Witzend Wee Ones alive) is to teach the boys that they can do any and everything that they want to do if they dream big enough and work hard enough. Cheesy but true. Probably why I bawl my eyes out every time someone gets the golden buzzer on AGT. My parents instilled this in me early, and I ran with it, shoooooot, sometimes I ran circles around it (and sometimes I didn’t). But it is my job now to make sure that if my boys can dream it they can do it. It may just be goals of making motorized lego contraptions and super awesome secret forts for now, but as they get older I hope that they remember that there is always a way to make their dreams come true. They better just make sure though that if one of them wants to to be a frigging juggler and run away with the circus that that circus is the BEST DAMN CIRCUS on the planet. Or if they want to dig ditches, fine.. the word needs ditch diggers too but they better dig the deepest ditches known to mankind.
There you have it, Now go forth and be your own best juggler or ditch digger, just make sure you aren’t juggling something crazy dangerous like knives, or balls of fire or vicious toy poodles, and that you call before you dig.