Angie Harmon is My Political Sister

Angie Harmon is My Political Sister

MoreMagI recently read an article in the September issue of More magazine and just had to share a little bit of Angie Harmon love. While the article was supposed to be about getting what you want at any age, it seemed to be more about the 40-something Rizzoli and Isles star’s stance on family, faith and politics.

And surprisingly enough, it was her position on politics where I felt a little flutter of sisterhood. Towards the very end of the article the topic of Harmon’s Republican roots came to light and she actually labeled herself a ”liberal Republican.” While I consider myself somewhat of the same, I certainly do not think I’m near the liberal she is but it’s a term I’ll go ahead and claim.

Harmon cited an incident a few years ago where she was labeled a gay-hating racist just because she disagreed with the way the president was handling current situations. According to Harmon, nothing is farther from the truth, so shortly there after she went on a campaign to clear up her political position and personal beliefs.

About the situation she said, ”I was devastated. I had one actor friend tell me I was brainwashed and stupid. Here was this brutally intelligent person, and I sat there looking at the limitations of his thoughts. Call it naiveté or stupidity, but I didn’t know that unless you are a Democrat, you aren’t allowed to talk politics in Hollywood.” (Insert city of choice here.)

She then said (and this is where I really connected with her, because I’ve been saying this very thing for years), ”It’s bizarre to me that the so-called tolerant party can be so intolerant.”

Hello, sister! That’s what I’m saying. Not that I’m trying to make a huge political statement here or that I’m lumping every Democrat into the same mold, but I just wish that more people who claim to be ”open-minded” would actually be so.

Monogrammed Side Table a Snap

Monogrammed Side Table a Snap

 

sidetablebeforetable

I had this little table hanging out around my house for about a year before I decided to give it a face lift. It had been outside, inside, held pumpkins and mums, and had been just plain ugly the entire time. With the purchase of new living room furniture, I decided it would find a final resting place as a side table (but it still needed major help). I actually used flat black spray paint on this project because of all the spindley things — getting a smooth coat of paint on that was not something I was looking forward to doing with a brush. Before I sanded and painted, I put my Cricut machine to good use and cut a monogram letter out of sticker paper for the top. After spraying the entire piece, I peeled off the sticker, sanded some more and waxed the entire piece. . . and it really was just about that easy, and quick (once I decided its fate).

Poop in the Parking Lot

Yes, we’re still potty training. Still. Our little guy seems to get the ”pee pee” part of this whole process, but when it comes to the other he just refuses to go for it. I keep reading that this is normal for so many children, especially boys, but when you’re dropping poop in the parking lot I think it’s finally time to remedy the situation.

My husband and I were in Home Depot the other day looking for the necessities of our latest DIY project when our son decided to fill his britches. I mean, fill. We shortened our shopping trip and ventured outside to change the dirty pull-up on the back hatch of my Jeep.  As I hunted for the wipes, my husband undressed the little guy and tripped the ”Baby 911” alarm. When I hear the words it means, “Honey come quickly, because this diaper is too yucky for me to handle alone,” or better translated, ”You do it.”

Did I mention, he FILLED his britches. But this was okay, because I’ve done it before and it’s all good. So after many wet wipes and heading toward relief, I just happened to notice that the ground was a little mushy. I looked down (toward my sandal-wearing feet) and noticed that I am stepping in human poop! What? I questioned my husband, because he did the undressing; and we realized that the britches must have been fuller than we previous thought (although I don’t know how that is possible).

What’s a conscientious Mom to do? I’m not one to let feces just lie around where someone might step in it, but this was smushed beyond a pick up. So I and my poopy shoes got back in the car and headed for home, all the while hoping that unsuspecting passersby will just think it’s doggy doo from the PetSmart next door (sorry dog owners).

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