20150212090406In honor of Mother’s Day (hi, mom!), I thought I’d throw down five things my mom was totally right about.

I will have a child just like me.

I have three girls. In some tortuous way, they are each like me. Sometimes it’s an eye roll, sometimes a quippy retort I simply can’t rebut, and sometimes it’s discussing the merits of each Legend of Zelda game. It’s both awful and wonderful to have people so like me. And I bet my mom feels the same way.

You’ll thank me when your older.

Boy, did I thank her later. Thanks for not letting me go to that party where my friend got drunk then pregnant. Thanks for telling me to respect myself and my body too much to share it with someone underserving. Thanks for telling me kids would be the most awesome reponsibility of my life. I like to think I did a better job because of all that she taught me. So, you know, thanks, mom.

Life as a grown-up doesn’t mean you’re free to do what you want.

Okay, I totally want to go back to being a kid again. All I had to worry about was math homework and what to play after dinner. Now? Bosses, the government, and the IRS are constantly pushing me around, making demands.

Get an education.

I may no longer be working as a social worker, but the years I spent in college, learning critical thinking skills and how to transition from a child to a woman will always shape who I am. Despite all the challenges my husband and I faced, we persevered and we’re able to live more comfortably because of it. Thanks… again.

You’re not going to care what those people think when you get older. (AKA: If your friends jumped off a bridge would you do it, too?)

Yeah, I may still be in some kind of touch with some of those people, thanks to Facebook, but I truly don’t care a bit what they think. I’ve got both my parents, fantastic aunts, a loving husband, and three awesome kids. My world is pretty full of people that do matter, although I lacked that perspective at 14.

For all of this, I have to say thanks to all the moms (because you know you said it, too) for doing the very best you can with all you have in the moment. It’s exactly enough.

I'm That MomThis morning, my daughter walked around the house, in the aimless way they look for something except they expect you’ll pull it from behind your back and save them the trouble. She was supposed to wear her school shirt today. Literally, everyone else will be wearing theirs.

But, she went in the outfit she could find, because I’m that Mom. I know the other mom’s will judge me, maybe the teachers, too. It’s just that she knew two days ago, and she chose to Facetime with her friends yesterday instead of finding her shirt, so… she doesn’t have the shirt. Gotta learn the hard facts about responsible choices sometime. Might as well be today.

It was 39° outside, but she wore capris. Why? I’m that Mom. It matched the shirt (the wrong one), and she’d spent almost all of her time searching for the right shirt, so… she either caught the bus in capris or I drove her (after the argument) in jeans. Now, here is where you say I’m a shit mom, and maybe I am that mom. But, here’s the thing. I didn’t feel good. She was walking from the house to bus and bus to building… like 5 seconds of being cold. She won’t break.

I suppose I should add that this degree of devil-may-care-attitudeness comes from raising two girls already. I found the shirts, I fought for the jeans, I did everything because that’s what moms do. And, don’t get me wrong–they’re great grown up people. I just don’t think those details that got left to me, because they knew I’d fix everything, made their lives better. Or worse. It just exhausted me.

I can’t be everything to everybody, and I think there’s a lot of societal expectation to try to do that. Screw you, society. I’ve got writing to do, so I can show my daughter what comes of perseverance. I’m that mom.

20150212090406You may also not care, but if you read any further I’m going to assume that you do. Or you’re very bored.

  1. I have two dogs and a cat. And three daughters, two of which are grown up ladies, which freaks me out. And maybe a partridge in a pear tree somewhere. Sometimes, I feel like my life is made up of people who adore me that always need something from me. Then I realize that’s quite awesome, and I should stop head-complaining.
  2. I ‘headcanon‘ things all the time. Like couples in restaurants. Two puppies on the sidewalk. Everthing. Constantly. I think it’s a writer thing and I’m certain that what I come up with is far more intriguing than real life (as imagination tends to be).
  3. I have fibromyalgia. It’s this painful, life-suck of an illness. I’ve been very fortunate in a lot of other ways, and I try (most of the time) to focus on these ways.
  4. I got married to my love after dating for just nine months. Which, as a grown up lady, I realize was in-freaking-sane. Literally, just a whackadoo thing to do. I would kill my daughters for even considering it.
  5. I’ve been with my husband half my life. I was twenty when we started dating and he was nineteen. Nineteen. My oldest daughter is twenty now. The same age I was when we started dating. (Yes, I’m forty). I just keep going around this in my mind, like a Rubik’s cube of life. How is this possible? Is this a trick?

Can you relate to any of those? I for-real would love to hear if you can.

Tweet: “5 Things: You Didn’t Know About @lorisizemore (& didn’t realize you cared) | http://goo.gl/btEOim”

house rightGuess who had to buy a hot water heater and spent 24 hours without hot water which, I know, is so first-world-whiny, but it was awful.

Anyway, this happened.

Me: That tank isn’t going to get by that pipe.
Husband: Yes, it will.

Three hours later…

Husband: I had to take out that pipe.

The very. next. day…

Husband: I think the dresser will fit there without any problem.
Me: There’s no way. The bathroom door wouldn’t open.
Husband: It would mostly open. (Whatever that means.)
Me: I don’t think so. Remember the pipe? I don’t think you’re very good at this.

A tape measure later…

Husband: There’s no way that’s going to fit there.

Basically, I'm always right. And no hot water is bad. So bad. #blog Click To Tweet

coatrSo, just so you know how exciting and full my life is, I thought I’d update you. I am about three-fourths of the way through my novella set in the fifties. I’m really excited about it.

My heroine is one hot mess and it’s so interesting for me to watch her arc. My friend, Landra, tells me I only write really messed up characters. And she’s right. They’re my favorite. But in all fairness, I spent ten years in mental health. I think everyone is a little messed up. The fun is in the details.

Anyway, it is my fervent hope to have this story all wrapped up by the end of the year. Meanwhile, when I’m not writing, and I need to think on something or I need to really not think at all, I crochet.

Domestic life has its perks. Like fiesty characters and crocheted coasters. Click To Tweet


This week, I’m using clothesline and yarn to make coasters. I’ll leave you directions below. I can tell you that my ten-year-old and I are quite pleased with them. The rest of the house doesn’t really care. Doesn’t matter though. Much like writing, it’s the process that is magical.

Link: Awesome tutorial for crochet-rope-coasters

Photo used with permission from stock.xchng. Photo by: ariana873.

IRCI’m using my post this week to complain about the horrid commercialism of the holidays. No, no. It’s to celebrate finishing up my shopping and doing it all online because, damn, people are rude in stores this time of year.

Now that I’ve got my bah, humbug out of the way, I’ll get to my real point. I’m suggesting the best kind of gift we can give, if we’re fortunate enough to be able to do so. I’m not going to lie and say my kids didn’t get gifts for themselves–oh, yeah. I’m awesome at Christmas gifts, by the way.

But, I don’t like to miss an opportunity to truly give. Last year, my youngest daughter seemed a bit too caught up in the “I want it all, I want it now” attitude one sees in kids at Christmas. Especially children who have never known what it’s like to not have an obscene amount of stuff. (Don’t blame me–the grandparents are rabid about gifting.) So, she spent a weekend volunteering with us to clean used toys for underprivileged children.

And, let me tell you, that lesson stuck. She has spent the weekend cleaning out her toys, of her own volition, to donate this year. So, if you’re children are lucky enough, like mine, to enjoy bountiful holiday gifts, consider purchasing one of these gifts from IRC. The organization receives an A+ from charitywatch.org, so the gift gets to where it’s intended. You get a card to give the recipient and you both know someone’s life is better.

Either way, whatever you celebrate, I hope you have a happy, fulfilling holiday.

In which I remind my husband that I'm basically always right. Remember when the cat kept peeing on the bed and I looked it up online? And I told you she was stress-peeing? You laughed at me, but we switched her to wet food, and I mixed it with water, and that totally did fix it?
Him: Yeah…?
Me: Good times, good times.

FYI, I have a need for rightness-reinforcement.


wpid-20141012104711_kindlephoto-301793028.jpgThis has been the year for epiphanies, it seems. I have learned that turning forty is empowering (more on this another day, perhaps), that I’m extremely unqualified to give dating advice, and one more thing: I’ve got things to say about life.

Happiness, joy, life; all are things I’ve spent most of my time on this planet thinking about and working at. I’ve learned a bit, like the key to true happiness is personal responsibility. If someone else can make you happy, someone else can make you miserable. But if you make yourself happy, no one can take that away but you.

The thing is, a lot of people are scared of all that power. So they shy away from it. They buy things to fill the void. They chase after people to do it for them. And they never get it. If you don’t own all the power you have–the mistakes, the missteps, the joy, the achievements–you own nothing.

“It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere.”

~Agnes Repplier




Tweet: “But if you make yourself happy, no one can take that away but you.” @lorisizemore http://ctt.ec/5Tdea+


wpid-img_2097.jpgI think nearly everyone who is close to me laughs a little because I’m feeling-lady. I’ve had people tell me not to cry and I’ve actually had to explain that my tears were a natural expression of emotion and everything would be just fine. But, I also struggle to be more emotionally open to people, because I, like most Appalachian people, received a healthy dose of keep-your-private-business-private.

I tell my daughter she and her friends are the oversharing generation. It’s all on FB (or Instagram or Twitter or, or, or). And yet, she nurses her hurts in private, like most of us. I think they overstate in order to be engaging constantly, interesting at all times, and shocking. They live in a magazine layout or a liquor commercial because someone is always watching.

But it’s not genuine (speaking generally, not her specifically). They’re selling what their peers are buying. So, maybe we don’t need to ban them from Facebook or humiliate them on street corners. I get it. I might even do it, if I felt the situation called for it. I’m nothing, if not discipline inventive.

I’m just wondering, do we need to be teaching them less about what we find appropriate and more about being genuine? Might they (potentially) be more satisfied in their lives (and less likely to share inappropriate, bathroom-mirror selfies) if they were okay, their feelings were okay, their flaws were okay?

Just something this video, which I adore, of Mr. Rogers got me thinking about…




Tweet: On being feeling-lady, genuine, and okay. | @lorisizemore http://ctt.ec/03dhl+,/p.

My husband and I took a road trip (i.e. doctor’s visit) and I took some horrible pictures to share with you. This post is actually in two parts. me

That’s me. I like to look adorable when I go to the doctor.

I’m totally lying. I’m hiding my lack of make-up, my hair is in braids like a school girl, and I threw a bandana on over that. However, cool points for me: the bandana  had skulls on it.


This is where we go–Capitol Market. So named for it’s closeness to the state capitol building. And it’s a market. But, ohmygosh you guys. They have fresh veggies, fresh meat and fish (I buy so much. so much). They also sell local and awesome wine and chocolate. And other stuff I’m forgetting because that’s what I do. Check out the website I linked in the name.

coffeebarYes. Yes, that is a coffee bar!!!11 I didn’t actually get any coffee. We were late so we had to run, but next time. Oh yes, coffee. Next time. You, me. steamy coffee goodness.


So, this is my lunch. It’s an Italian sandwich near the meat market. They have these slips of paper, and you can choose anything you want on your sandwich, the type of bread, the cheese, the condiments. Every. thing. This? Delish.

Have you ever made the best of an otherwise unpleasant day out?


FYI 1: There were no toilet seats anywhere near the food.

FYI 2: I did NOT buy a mug. See how responsible I’m becoming?