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Mothers are Refrigerators

Published on: March 16, 2013 by Missy O'Brien Category:Slings & Arrows, Whimsy

Waxing rhapsodic about motherhood is not something I’m ever likely to do, at least until I’m a waning old woman who’s losing herself. Then again, waxing in general is not something I ever do – to cars, floors, or legs.  Tried waxing various furry parts of me once, and...

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Headless Goats & Wrong-Headed Women

Published on: March 15, 2013March 15, 2013 by Missy O'Brien Category:What were they thinking?, Whimsy 4 Comments

Evan Davidson of Inglewood, California, gazed upon what was supposed to be his beloved wife at rest in her lovely expensive casket and told the mortuary that they had the wrong woman; it wasn’t her head, even given being dead. The news article didn’t mention whether or not he...

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Priest Baiting

Published on: March 12, 2013March 12, 2013 by Missy O'Brien Category:Miscellaneous Mayhem, Whimsy 4 Comments

With all the cardinals returning to Rome to roost and preen their fine red plumage,  the bird watcher in me remembered something heretical I wrote Before Blogging, back in the day when I had to find real people to address. Yes, it’s a real letter, and I really sent...

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Knowing My Place

Published on: March 10, 2013March 10, 2013 by Missy O'Brien Category:Slings & Arrows, What were they thinking? 4 Comments

Hell is not being consigned to flames of woe.  Hell is being assigned to work beside a refrigerator – a noisy, full-sized, gleaming white one. You might wonder what business a refrigerator has in the center of a large open office environment, a presumably professional and public sort of...

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Beef Stew & Bitching

Published on: March 7, 2013 by Missy O'Brien Category:Household Havoc, It's All Relative 1 Comment

“I will grudgingly do this, Mom,” wrote Younger Son. How can you be irritated at a kid who uses a great word like “grudgingly” and even spells it correctly? This was in response to a gentle reminder I’d posted about doing math homework or something equally as attractive. My...

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The Search for Mirth

 

 

 

 

 

Gratitude is easy — you’re upright with a pulse and still remember where you live? Grateful, and done!

Mirth is hard — one look at the headlines can rob you of the will to live. Why bother with pointless exercises like brushing your teeth or breathing?

And so I search for Mirth — a capricious mistress, whimsical and perverse and untidy and contrary. But that’s what makes her interesting.

While misery loves company, Mirth enjoys it even more. Thanks for joining me!

Missy O’Brien | mirthfulmissy@gmail.com

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I don't know how the hell to spell frankincense, either. It's a terrible title for a blog. Just subscribe to Mirth or bookmark the site, and you'll never have to fumble-finger it again.

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