Monthly Archive for September, 2013

Previously Unseen X-Files Footage

And, just like that, Agent Mulder was well on his way to believing …in seemingly giant hedgehogs.

Agent Mulder belongs to Melissa, despite my best attempts to kidnap him.

Food for thought.

“I could never be a Buddhist,” Claire said today during lunch.

“Why is that?” I asked. Her statement really didn’t surprise me. She’s learning about Buddhism in school right now. Her public charter school is great about teaching them aspects of world religions.

“Well, they’re vegetarians!” she exclaimed.

“So?” I asked, wondering where she would go with this.

“I love bacon WAY TOO MUCH to even THINK about being a vegetarian!” she said.

I laughed. “True,” I said. “Me, too.”

“They don’t believe in killing any living creature,” she added. “Not even BAD GUYS!”

I nodded.

“…but you know what?” she said, a light dawning behind her eyes. “If everyone believed in not killing, I bet there wouldn’t be very many bad guys TO kill.”

The profundity discovered by an almost-8-year old nearly took my breath away.

“Hmm,” she added, still thinking. “…but I DO love bacon.”

I am now This JoAnn

Wait a minute…haven’t I always been This JoAnn?

Yes, and no.

For a while I was known as @casualperfect, which is a shortened version of The Casual Perfectionist, but I decided to shake things up a bit …On Twitter at least.

So, make note!

I’m now @ThisJoAnn.

If you forget and go to the other place, that’s okay. There’s a friendly reminder from this JoAnn about This JoAnn.  🙂

Kleenex Boxes & Box Tops

What I’m about to show you is life-changing.

The BoxTops are now on the REMOVABLE strip ON TOP of the box!


Do you know how hard it is to wrench an empty Kleenex box out of an artist’s hands AND cut a hole in the bottom!?

Practically impossible.

This is not an advertisement for Kleenex. I’m not a spokesperson. This is the answer to a silent plea for help, a long time coming.


Every year, I brace myself for this day.
Surely things won’t be so raw after so many years?

But, emotion bubbles up and irritates the rawness that tingles beneath the surface of my day-to-day routine. Tears sting the backs of my eyes if I linger on certain thoughts too long.

I feel the feelings; let them wash over me, through me.

Everything marches on, and I shake my fist at the audacity of time. How dare it soften the edges!?

But then my fists unclench, and I grasp hold of that softness, and it carries me through to tomorrow.