Bang, Bang

Some people killed some people. 

Some people who shared similarities with the people who were killed got mad that those people were killed because it really seemed senseless. 

And then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And you see where this is going. Well each time this happened, the people who shared those similarities got mad.

Duh. Of course. Their similarities made then different from the people who shot the gun who killed the people, but it didn’t make them ‘bad’. 

DIFFERENT DOESN’T = BAD

And they got scared. Because if they shared those similarities….could they be next? Is it just a case of wrong place, wrong time? It needs to stop. How do we stop it? We ALL know it needs to stop!

But when it comes to these police officer shootings, perhaps the media shouldn’t be looking to black community to see how they are going to fix this problem. This is a primarily white person problem. (I know the office in Minnesota was of Asian descent, but that is an outlier.) 

WE need to fix this. It’s not up to the black community to educate us. To stop us. 

Just like it isn’t up to the LGBT community to educate us.

Just like it wasn’t up to children of Sandy Hook to educate us.

Media-focus your camera here, to see what we are going to do, what I am going to do. And not on the grieving black community.

Birthday Cookies

Look, if I send my kid to school with 13 cookies and I go to pick her up and she’s the 2nd kid out of the door and there are only four other little butts on that mat, I want my other cookies back, lady!

I may have bags under my eyes and my shirt on backwards but I can still count past ten when there sugar and fancy frosting involved!

I just cleaned poop off of my toddlers ear and then had to brush her teeth because she told me, “poopy taste icky.” AFTER she gave me a goodnight kiss!

AFTER!!

Sometimes a leftover cookie is all we SAHM’s have to keep us from jumping off the highest level of the play equipment…..which wouldn’t really do anything except sprain an ankle and maybe gain us some sympathy points from the hubby and then maybe he might empty the dishwasher.

But that’s ok. You just eat those cookies like we both don’t know where they went. I’ll pretend like all these extra kids came and left when I wasn’t looking and ate the cookies.

Fine.

Hundreds of Years From Now

The other day my husband was home and I was able to poop alone on the toilet. (Which, TA-DA…is zen!)

No kids

No this guy.

So I got thinking about this show I watched, Who Do You Think You Are. Some day my distant ancestors may research me and try to find out how I spent my life and what I did with it.

If I helped people or advanced humanity. How I lived life, what life was like for me. What legacy I left behind.

And here I am, just pooping.

I know what you’re thinking. “Why in Gods name is this freak show always talking about shit?”

I’m a nurse, asshat. You’re welcome.

Purple Tears

I finally decide to take to Facebook to beg for new mom friends, a cry for help of sorts…and 5 seconds later Prince died. Typical Her et al. luck. 

It’s odd how famous people are like us where they live and die and someone is mourning him like the hell I went through last summer when I found my dad.

He wasn’t any more important than my dad, he was just better known. And a much better musician than my dad, although that bar was low. Sorry dad.

What craftsmen, they were. May they continue their art by speaking to our hearts. Both my dad and Prince.

Had a Burthday

The blog, not the blogger.

I like to casually gloss over these things as if nothing has happened. Mostly because I didn’t notice. And I wouldn’t have if WordPress hadn’t notified me that I needed to pay for my .com again. Thank Obama.

So I thought I take it back to the Her et al. that does cuss and doesn’t talk all about her dad dying all of sudden last summer….errrr shit!!!!

Oops. Ok. Miss Martha Stewart Her et al. here revisiting my most popular post! You guessed it!

Lotion Potion 
Shared over one catriple times. I made a batch tonight because Baby et al.’s elbow’s looked like this:

 But that’s after I rubbed the lotion on which really overly perfused her skin making it really red! 
We call that “dinosaur skin” in this house. No clue why. Sissy et al. started it one day and it seemed pretty politically correct, so I let it fly. 

Unlike the time she said she had “homeless hair” at the Grand Floridian. It was a pretty accurate description of her hair at the time, but I cringed at the people she could offered with that!

Back to my lotion. Best. Stuff. Ever. To add to its awesome, I got the new Kitchen Aid attachment everyone else has, the bowl scrapper. Yes, it’s as glorious as it sounds. It looks like this: 

So I squirt my four little ingredients (refer to previous post), flip on my stand mixer, and forget all about it. Because I did this after dinner and dinner includes wine on Sunday’s (and every other day that ends with “y“). And it’s easy to forget with wine!

Maybe that’s why Baby et al.’s elbows look like dinosaur diaper rash. Oh well. At least we’re on our way to improvement now. 

Does anyone miss the old Her et al. or have you all evolved with me….or left? Blog followers are like the boyfriends girls have when they are going through their bar fly stage, they kind of fly in for the night/weekend/month and then move on. Not that I mind, I do the same thing to you guys! 

But, to those lifers I have, you guys are my fav! 🍾

Er Mergerd!

I. Could. Vomit! If it wasn’t the pope, please don’t tell me!! I’d like to die thinking the pope read my blog post about Leonardo DiCaprio not being hot anymore! 

A little more info. This is from the stats page of my blog. It tells me all about the people who read my blog except like, who y’all are. Ok, not really. 

Basically it tells me which country your ip pings back to and how people find me (via Facebook, WordPress, or Google). So I saw yesterday that someone (Obvi Pope Francis) had been beep bopping around Heretal.com cause it’s the bomb, yo!

So thank you, Her et al.iens! And to my favorite Her et al.ien, Pope Francis, I thank you, kind sir. Please pardon my French.