Bullfrog and belly in Greeley, Colorado, 1973. Frog long gone: belly has returned after a 40-year haitus. Aging = yay! Also, what the hell is up with those clipper things in my other hand? I suspect it’s a good thing I don’t remember what those were for. I’m sorry, 1973 giant frog, I’m really sorry.

Mom of three little girls, very happily married. Vegan. Ideas/Opinion art director at the Boston Globe, which I absolutely love. Wyoming native, formerly of Colorado, Montana, California, New York, and Washington state. I play a 12-string guitar (“play” is a word used loosely here), sing, and am wildly competitive in Emily’s bank-robber-rules version of Monopony (yeah, you know what that is. Dibs on Pinkie Pie). We have two rescue cats and one rescue dog and I should probably get one of those “Who rescued whom?” bumper stickers because that is totally @#*&ing true. If I had a free day to myself I would swim, and swim, and swim, and swim. I’m trying to curse less, but the kids are already in elementary school so really why bother stopping now. Oh, and I have wicked panic attacks.

Oooh – too much information! This is probably a good time forĀ  infinite_scroll=”false”

But remind me sometime to tell you the story of how we found our rescue dog because it is epically awesome and involves both a last-minute flight to Vegas and an Allosaurus skeleton.

Here are some photos, posted mostly because I’m procrastinating doing something that actually really does need to be done . . .


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