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Emily Morrison

Emily Morrison

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Wednesday, 24 April 2013 15:46

Playing Mom

I'm going to admit something that I'm sure not many people would admit, publicly anyway. It's a truth that flies in the face of popular parenting lore, but a truth nonetheless: It's hard to play with your kids. I know, I know. No one should say this, especially not mothers who want to be seen as one woman theme parks. My theme park would be named 'Crazy Mom Land.' There would be lots of bumper cars, batting cages and log flume rides with kids snacking on a bottomless supply of homemade chocolate chip banana bread, but I digress. Parents are supposed to love building sandcastles near doggie droppings. We're supposed to smile while whipping up batches of mud pies as our kids hold worms and say, 'Look at him wiggle!' We're supposed to enjoy play time.

Wednesday, 17 April 2013 13:59

Bridging the Gap

My sister Mary and I "bridged the gap today." Starting at the legendary Fort Knox, Bridge the Gap is a 10-mile road race around Verona Island to sponsor RSU #25 middle school students trip to Camp Kiev. It was scenic in places, but chilly and hilly everywhere else. From the bone chilling winds gusting through us while we crossed The Penobscot Narrows Bridge to the mile-nine hills, we ran our ever-lovin' arses off. But today's race wasn't just a trial run for Mary's first half marathon, it was a mile marker in our lives. 

Wednesday, 03 April 2013 13:13

Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match

In Joel Stein's recent 'Time' article 'Match Point,' he poked fun at a new claim made by the dating site eHarmony that it has, in fact, discovered the science of love. At a psychology convention in February, the site claimed that couples who share similar traits (interests, beliefs, intelligence, romantic prowess, wealth and overall attractiveness) make the happiest marriages. In his tongue-in-cheek response, Stein wrote, 'If two people aren't enough alike in 29 categories, eHarmony won't match them and their marriage is going to suck.'

Wednesday, 20 March 2013 14:29

Trouble travels in three

Why is it trouble always seems to find us in threes? Is there some universal law of the cosmos that dictates tragedy should strike in triplicate? I'm quite certain Mother Earth has a good chuckle at our expense every now and again. Why am I so certain? Defense Exhibit A: last night. 

Now before you think some terrible fate has befallen me, the tale I have to tell is no worse than a sick kid, a cat's butt and a dog's ear. Hard to believe these three things have anything in common, but Fortune is a fickle-hearted fool, isn't she?

Wednesday, 06 March 2013 16:54

Ice pops, root canals and face plants

Middle children are neat people. For most of their childhood, they fly underneath the radar. They are stealth bombers whose only mission in life is to remain undetected. This may sound callous to those of you middle children whose only mission was to receive more attention. Stereotypically, this is a middle child's biggest gripe; however, all of the middle children I've ever met have said the opposite. They enjoyed a break from the bright parental spotlight more chances to eat cookies behind the couch, chew gum while falling asleep, and give your brother a new hairdo that will have kids calling him 'Spike.' 

Wednesday, 13 February 2013 15:15

These things happen

Let me begin by telling you all straight out, I realize I'm whining. I know this is pathetic and petty and I'm supposed to have a shred of journalistic integrity or something. I figure, if I can't whine in my own column, than what's the point? So if you're not in the mood for a rant, just 'peace out' sister brother mother friend. Go with my blessing because I've had a doozy of a day, and I'm about to unload.

Earlier this week I had an appointment to see my lady doctor. Thinking of myself like a family sedan, I decided that regularly scheduled tune-ups could go a long way to increase my longevity. It was a lovely thought. Unfortunately, when I arrived for my check-up, the secretary informed me she had been trying to reach me all day: 'Your physician called in sick.'

Wednesday, 06 February 2013 15:28

A fart in church

The other day I was having my hair relaxed. It's a long story with an even longer history, but the long and short of it is, I needed a relaxer. Limp and lifeless in August, I decided to give my hair a body perm at the end of the summer. Half way through this winter, I started to resemble a poodle who had stuck her paw in a light socket. As you can imagine, this particular style didn't especially become me.

Anyway, after I had the bonds in my hair broken and reforged by a lovely hair elf, I came back out to the front of the salon for my blow out. Though hard to pry my eyes away from my recently-relaxed reflection, I glanced at the chair beside me and froze in mid blow. There he was, my third grade Sunday school teacher, getting his hair did. 

Wednesday, 30 January 2013 15:59

Fowels are funny

On the way home from school yesterday my son asked, 'Daddy, do you know what a foul is?' Jack's school is 40 minutes from home, so many of our conversations with him occur while in transit. Topics range from the color of the sky to what he and is best friend, Drew, worked on that day. Literally, he's all over the map. Yesterday, Jack was quiet, but thoughtful quiet, the kind that says, 'I'm working out the Pythagorean theorem here,' not the 'I'm just waiting for you to look away so I can pick my nose' kind.

Wednesday, 23 January 2013 16:12

Heartbreak happiness: make it Swift

Who doesn't love a Taylor Swift break up song? I want to break up with someone just so I can say, 'We are never ever getting back together' 5,000 times in a row legitimately. Unfortunately, I'm happily married and in my 30s, but man, if we weren't so stable, this one would be on my iPod 24/7 (if I had an iPod).

In fact, every one of Swift's songs makes me either want to skip through a meadow with my love beside me, or throw said love down a dark stairwell. I'm seriously considering taking up guitar just so I can spill a few teardrops on my glittering six-stringed instrument and call it a day. Actually, that sounds like a lot of work. Perhaps I'd feel better if I met someone named John, fell prey to Mr. Doe's devilish ways, and then wrote him a nasty note via song lyrics. How epic would that be? 'You played a twisted game with me. Now I'm dissin' you in my quadruple platinum album. Deal with it, Johnny.'

Wednesday, 09 January 2013 14:59

Holidays Shmolidays

After the holidays, everything savors of anti-climax. It's only logical I guess. We spend weeks (some of us months) in preparation, decoration and eager anticipation of the holiday season, so it follows that life feels a little ho-hum after so much joy and good cheer. I'm dealing with my own post season slump, and it just ain't pretty.

First, I bought myself a Jillian Michaels workout DVD for Christmas. I think Jillian Micheals is a robot. Besides being quite surfer-dudish, I think she's a cyborg created to say things like, 'Shred it, girl.' I don't want to shred anything. I want to shed belly fat, not shred it. That just sounds painful.

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