Heather Christena Schmidt

Mom, first * Writer, second * Misanthrope, always

Ugh. I am so sick and tired of people and their popular shit to be upset about on the Internet. Like really. As many of you know, Halloween was just a couple of days ago. I, personally, had a great Halloween. As in, I didn’t do shit. My kids dressed up in their annual themed …

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I haven’t had much time to write for the last few months. I’ve written, just not on my blog. Still, I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I checked in with you guys until a couple weeks ago. My daughter was playing a for-fun tennis match with a friend, and the friend’s dad asked …

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Well. Where to begin? I am now (apparently) a petty thief. That is if you ask the manager at the La Quinta Inn and Suites a few towns away from where I live. I got a notice from the electric company about two weeks ago that our power was going to be turned out for a …

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There’s been a refreshing and, simultaneously, not-so-refreshing trend this last week or two on the Internet, and that is that people have stopped talking about the demise of American society  and values as we knew them pre-Trump, and moved back to the ol’ getting offended at everything on the Internet. I say it’s refreshing because …

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For two weeks, now, I’ve had a shocking revelation rise to the surface of my brain at least once a day. I mean I’ll just be going about my business when suddenly it hits and I’m like OH MY GOD THIS IS REAL. Just now, I had it again. I was wrapping Christmas gifts, getting …

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And even then, it nearly killed me. I don’t mean that it was dangerous or wracked with mishap that could have severed my head or anything. I mean I hated doing it so much, I could have died. I literally could have died. Literally. Not figuratively, like a spiritual death. I mean laid down on …

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My dog and I have a disturbing relationship. We have best friends necklaces. Like real…best…friends…necklaces. Her half is on her collar. Mine is on a chain I wear around my neck. Both have the “in case I’ve been found” number on the back. I routinely and out of nowhere break out into serenades to my …

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