Tag Archives: punching bag

Moving with Kids Sucks, So Let’s Punch It Out

Our family moved from New York City last year. It kind of felt like we packed up in the middle of the night, put on five layers of clothing, and left under cover of darkness.

My husband got a job offer in Oregon that started right away so we headed out in the middle of a blizzard on one-way tickets to Portland. We decamped at my mom’s house and searched for a place to live. Which we found. And it was adorable. But it was rented and the owners moved back in at the end of our lease, so we needed a new adorable place to live.

Like many of you out there, we salivate at the amazing house deals out there, and we think to ourselves, Wouldn’t it be great to buy?

But then, like a lot of you out there, we already bought, at the wrong time, and have watched–or are watching–thousands of dollars fly away in the wind as we pull our rain jackets closer around our faces and close our eyes.

And if it’s not your house, it’s your job, or your investments, or your plans for adventure or independence. Kind of sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?

So indulge me as I take a minute to get out a punching bag.

On the punching bag, I’ve written ECONOMY in red permanent marker (the bag is made of white leather, so the red will show up, don’t worry). And now we’re putting on giant boxing gloves and on the count of three we can all give it our best shot. Or twenty shots. Or however many shots we need until we’re heaving, sweaty, emotionally drained balls on the floor. And then we can take off the gloves and get out brass knuckles or knives. Kitchen knives are fine. I don’t expect you to all have switchblades.

Alright, GO!


That was good.

Let me finish sweeping up the insides of the punching bag and applying Vaseline to my hands.

You know, I’m a pretty positive person. In fact, I like to think of myself as a consistently glass-half-full kind of gal. But I’ve had a few mad goat moments lately. (You know the goat from Sesame Street? I think we’re related.)

So I just wanted to have a mad goat moment with you, and say it’s okay to lose your marbles sometimes. We just can’t keep it together all the time.


Next up, after the dust settles, an awards-show-style round of thanks, complete with violins.