Archive of ‘Does This Mean I’m a Grownup?’ category

Top Three Lessons Working Moms Can Learn From The Red Sox

I was born into Red Sox Nation.  Growing up in Boston, being a Red Sox fan is simply what you do – like breathing or drinking on St. Patty’s Day.  So when the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004 after an 86 year drought it seemed…well, unnatural.  Great but unnatural.  And now this year to have […] Read more…

Working Mother to DC: Put Your Big Girl Panties On And Get Back To Work!

So let’s just get it out there that I will probably offend you no matter what your political affiliation:  Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Anarchist (especially the anarchists – they take themselves way too seriously). I can’t be the only working mom out there who feels like DC is filled with a bunch of two-year-olds holding their […] Read more…

Girl Time – It’s Better Than Prozac

It’s been two weeks and I am still basking in the glow from a girls’ weekend with my closest high school friends.  I am here to tell you that seventy-two hours of belly laughing will change your life for the better.  You know, after the hangover subsides. As I boarded the plane at Logan Airport to head back […] Read more…

Embracing Being a Girlie Girl…and a Professional Woman

When I was in pre-school my teacher took my mother aside and said, “Mrs. Winbourne, we play pretty intensely here at school – finger paint, playground time, play dough – and I just want to let you know that you really don’t need to send your daughter to school in dresses every day.” To which […] Read more…

I Am a Working Dog

“Working dogs make excellent pets as long as potential owners realize that these dogs must be given ‘work’ to do. Dogs that are not to be used for their original purpose must be trained from a young age and are best suited to active persons and families. Obedience training,dog sports, informal or novelty shows, and trial work are […] Read more…

I Have Thirty-Nine Years; Thank you Holly Fischer.

There’s nothing like experiencing your birthday and the death of a friend in the same week to make you reexamine, well, you know, everything.  And it’s not just any birthday or any friend.  Thirty-nine is like the numeric equivalent of sort of pregnant.  I’ve been telling friends that I’d like to just skip thirty-nine because eight […] Read more…

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