Stay-At-Target Mom

I recently told my kids I wanted to become a stay-at-home mom.


“How is that even possible? We’re too old for that.”


“Oh, I never said I wanted to stay home with you. I just want to stay home.”

I mean, seriously. I’ll always be a mom. I’m just tired and need a break.

The idea of having free time in the day is, so…

Actually, scratch that.

I want to be a Stay-at-Target Mom.


That way I won’t have to do laundry.

Plus, have you seen the stuff they have?

Joyous aisles filled with…

Hedgehog heaven!

Screen Shot 2015-11-22 at 12.18.45 PM

Screen Shot 2015-11-22 at 12.19.01 PM

And flannels for dogs!

Screen Shot 2015-11-22 at 12.19.17 PM

It’s too much for the senses!

Oh, and they have that whole ‘Target run’ thing. So if you tell somebody you went for a Target run and just say the word Target really softly and quickly, they’ll think you went for a proper, full-on, pavement-pounding run and look at you all on-board with exercise!

And, when your husband calls you in the day (don’t rub it in if you have one), you can say you’re doing some ‘Target’ practice and he’ll be all cool with your new Katniss Everdeen lifestyle.

It’s really too good to be true.

So who’s with me?

Who wants to become a Stay-at-Target mom?

Perhaps we’ll even call ourselves something catchy. Like ‘The Targeters.’

Do I hear a “Clean up in aisle three?”



*disclaimer* Target did not pay me for this endorsement. My obsession with Target is all my own doing. However, if Target would like to pay me for this endorsement, I’d be okay with that. I’d even be okay with just the hedgehog lamp.



The Goldfish Diet

In recent months, I’ve been into whole foods.

Whole cakes.

Whole pies.

Whole bags of chips.

It might be the widow thing. I’m not sure.

So I’ve switched things up a little and now I’ve started dieting.

Although so far, nothing.

No waif-like activity.

Or concern from colleagues that I only have a few months to live.

The only positive is that for once in my life I’m finally on trend with something. Losing weight seems to be all the rage. Or at least trying to does.

I searched ‘diet books’ on Amazon, and was greeted with 104,951 ways to suck the fat right out of me.

Shouldn’t that be more than enough ways to svelte it up? Apparently not.

So I’m creating my own diet.

I call it The Goldfish Diet.

And get this!

With my diet you don’t have to count calories, or exercise, or even be bothered by portion control.

With my diet all you have to do is move!

To a smaller home.

You can thank Swimmer, my goldfish, for all of this.shutterstock_250912813

When Swimmer started out in a bowl (a small bowl), he was a small-sized fish.

Then he moved up in the world. Spread his gills. Got himself some more square footage. Upgraded to a larger bowl.


Suddenly we’ve got Tanker on our hands.

So I got to thinking. Maybe voluminous homes make for voluminous people?

Swimmer gets bigger when he’s got the room to grow. So why not us? Maybe we grow bigger in bigger homes.

If true, imagine the relief of just having to move to a smaller home for the pounds to melt off.

Call me a guru.

A life coach.

A charlatan.

I don’t care.

Because pretty soon you’re going to be calling me skinny.

Once the living room is boxed up.

And the house in is escrow.

Hey, it’s got to be better than cabbage, right?



Bounced Check Fees and Other Things That Don’t Make Sense

My bank recently charged me $38.50 for bouncing a check when I thought it was fairly obvious I didn’t have any money in the first place. Clearly, they do not understand cash flow, which is a bit naughty, considering they go by the name BANK.

Surely, I told the teller lucky enough to answer the phone, it would make sense for banks to consider repayment in something other than money for those who don’t have any.

I referenced the restaurant industry and their forward-thinking ‘wash dishes’ campaign.

“Do you have a canteen?” I asked.

“A canteen?”

“Yes, I thought perhaps I could pop down, say, between 2 to 4 p.m., and wash a few dishes? I could probably do a set of 12 dinner-sized plates and a handful of smaller, appetizer ones if things aren’t really caked on. There’s also a chance I could tackle some coffee mugs barring any lipstick stains in glaring colors. I’m quite put off by vibrant lips.”


“You know, to work off the $38.50.”

I sensed a bit of eye rolling on her part, but can’t confirm.

“Perhaps a basket of baked treats then? Are there any allergies in the office?”

I tried a new approach.

“What exactly is the $38.50 charge for?” I asked.

“It’s for our time. Processing paperwork, etc.,”

“And by etc., do you mean vodka shots?”

“Have I addressed all your questions and concerns today?”

“Hardly!” I replied. “We haven’t even touched on the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker. That’s a very big concern of mine. It’s so endangered, it may have actually become extinct while we’ve been on the phone. Heartbreaking stuff. Oh, and the plight of Aboriginal culture. Another biggie. So no, I guess you really haven’t addressed all my concerns today. Let’s just call this even, huh?”

“Have a nice day, mam.”


But don’t worry, BANK! I will be calling back tomorrow to apply for a job. You’re charging $38.50 for about 10 minutes of your time. If my calculations are correct, that means your tellers are making $231 an hour, plus or minus a few vodka shots.

That should help my finances.

After all, what do you think? Money grows on trees?


How about you? Is there something that just doesn’t make sense to you?


**disclaimer** All conversations documented on this blog are with live customer service representatives or unicorns, depending on who is available at the time.




Welcome to Bits & Bobs!

Louise-Quote-72DPIIf you’re looking for Bits & Boobs, that’s a different site entirely. And I really can’t help you there.

If you’re looking for FDA-approved parenting tips, cleaning tips or organizational tips, this is also not the site for you.

But hey, if you’re looking for humor and randomness from someone whose life has been a great big spiral of suck lately, then come on in!

And by spiral of suck I mean becoming a widow.

And by even suckierness I mean being waitlisted for a widow’s support group. “Sure! Go ahead and grieve! But just when it’s a little more convenient for us.”

I’ve lodged a complaint with the creators of the ‘get out there and try new things’ advice (widowhood should not be on the list. Neither should crack cocaine, I suppose, but I can’t help everyone.)

Until I hear back, Bits & Bobs is my way of trying to make my heart chuckle. Climb my way out of the fog. Catch the next train back to sanity.

I hope it makes you laugh, too.

No pressure, or anything.


p.s. The beauty of having a life that needs to be un-sucked is that you don’t have to be a widow to play along. Anything counts. So let’s do this together. Let’s laugh through the tough. And maybe one day our lives will be a little less sucky.