Pour Some Sugar On Me

Pour Some Sugar On Me

Once upon a time, I expected my husband and my marriage to meet my every need, fill every void, soothe every fear, supply all my joy… do you see where I’m going with this? I’ve filed this version of insanity away in my, ‘what the hell was I thinking?’ folder. It’s a fatty.

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I Sweat The Small Stuff

I Sweat The Small Stuff

I understand that our God only gives us what we can handle. And that we are allowed to go through challenging circumstances that purpose to shape us and change us for the better. So apparently I can handle neck acne. I didn’t even know this was a thing, but it is, because I have it. Adult acne in traditional locations is already frustrating enough. I know because I’ve struggled with it forever. I have it under control right now for the most part, oddly enough via the use of blood pressure medication. Some smart people discovered that relief from acne was an after-market effect of a medication designed to lower blood pressure. And since I am guessing my blood pressure would have been sky-high for much of the last couple of years, I’m getting a fantastic two-fer with this stuff. But back to the point, all of a sudden I have a persistent grouping of painful and unsightly pimples that play leapfrog from side to side on my neck. This is bullshit.

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An Introduction

An Introduction

It’s suggested to new bloggers that your first post tell readers why you are here and what they can expect to find in your blog. Makes good sense to me. So here goes. I am here because Glennon told me to do it. It wasn’t me. It was her. She did it.

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