I wish I make nice words together with my mouth

I was driving to work the other night and listening to an author being interviewed on NPR when I suddenly found myself in a jealous funk.


Does every writer also have to be a master elocutionist?


I have quite a number of talky friends, actually. There’s my Dial-A-Friend (really the only person I EVER talk to on the phone).

And my Genius Marathoner friend in Denver…

And of course The Dark Knight runs in brilliant circles.

Its not that I’m stupid, its just that there is a concerning disconnect between the complex sentences in my brain and the noises that come out of my mouth. I was on HGTV once. They made me talk about my furniture. Apparently the camera deducts 10 IQ points from its target.  Or maybe its just me.

As a result of this I tend to avoid too much unnecessary social interaction.

So I decided to search out a speech therapist. He was no help at all. So here I am, afflicted.

Next time we meet on the street, don’t be expecting anything fabulous to come out of my mouth.Or even socially adequate.

So brace yourself for the worst possible scenario.

Lummy Lurpee- The first REAL blog…MY first REAL blog.

For 13 years we did pretty cool fabulous things. We frequented Chicago Symphony performances. We attended dinner parties in the Western Cape of South Africa. 

We had friends.

We were fabulous pretty cool.



Now we take the baby and the two-year-old to Target on Friday night because our apartment is like the fiery inferno in the summer and all we ask for in life is to breath some conditioned air that doesn’t smell like beef.  Still, its not easy leaving the house. The boys have food on their clothes and everyone is lucky if I wear a bra. The Dark Knight always looks great.

Siegfried lacks the ability to pronounce a "Y" or an "S" at the beginning of a word. We overlook this shortcoming because he is two.


"Siegfried, can you say STRIPED SHIRT? SSSSTRIPE. SHHHHIRT."


We make it past the clothing and towards the toy station. Siegfried is unique in his inability to understand that these toys are available for purchase. 


He just wants to play. And we have nothing better to do so we let him.


The Dark Knight and I take the opportunity to cool off and rest our tired brains.


Oh yeah, and Boy is there.


At some point the toy section ends.


Then Boy starts making the Bad Noise.


And I decide we need to hydrate with Slurpees


The Dark Knight brings us our Slurpees and we sit in the one corner of the eatery that most resembles a cave. The Dark Knight gets coffee because he has a PhD and those kinds on people don’t drink Slurpees.


The creatures and I slurp.


All is quiet.


Then I give Boy a taste because I am a genius.


At first he is apprehensive.


And then his Hungry Arm starts rotating.


And then I can’t shovel it in fast enough.


The Dark Knight has finished his coffee and the caffeine has allowed him to temporarily predict the future.


…and tragedy strikes.


The world slows to the speed of water sap. The Dark Knight and I, triggered by a probable toddler apocalypse and fueled by caffeine and Slurpee, spring into super-human action.









About Me

I am a female and I was born and raised in Tejas!

At the age of 21, I married the Dark Knight.



(The Dark night is not his real name and the dry-erase board is not his real head, but with my uncanny portraiture abilities, its likely he would be recognized in the streets and mobbed.  They’d steal his Target watch, just to have a little piece of our fame).

The Dark Knight is brilliant and hot, but very very demanding.

Ok, those last two weren’t demands but the implications are clear. Actually, the poop inquiry is always a little murky now that we don’t have dogs.

But this blog is about me. And nothing. Not the Dark Knight. Although sometimes he makes an appearance.

Anyway, we’ve lived in various locations on the planet but once we arrived on the African continent we started pumping out babies like nobody’s business.We had two.

Siegfried….and Boy.


Now we are back in the States and The Dark Knight does brilliant things and I stay at home with Siegfried and Boy and try not to go completely scooters.

I arrange furniture at night and paint pictures of trees and my esophagus hurts when I button my pants so I don’t. Ever.

I am 37 and my name is Zoe  Sheena  ……Violet.


Disclaimer: I am conscious of the fact that practically everyone on the face of the earth has a blog JUST LIKE this one. I’m not doing it because I think its original or because I’m better at it. I’m doing it because I can. And its a great way to let off steam at the end of a long whatever.