She's still one hot mamma.

Today is my mom's birthday and it's a significant one - or more than the others, I guess? I don't know, I feel like every birthday should be a big deal because there are so many ways to die EVERY DAY and the fact that we all keep managing to live another year is truly miraculous. I digress. 

My mother is 60 today. And more fabulous than ever. 



So I thought I would share the first blog post I ever wrote about her today, because to this day it still makes me laugh. Enjoy, and Happy Birthday, Mom! 

I have a strange life problem. Well... it's really a blessing and a curse. I have a hot mom.

Don't get me wrong, 99% of the time, it freaking rocks to know that my parents are still so young at heart. It's the other 1% I try and block out. Let me explain.

My mom is in her mid-fifties and she looks like she's... well... much younger. Mind you, she has had no cosmetic surgery, the woman just teaches six aerobics classes a week, three of which are at 5:45 in the morning, and then she goes and rides her horse for at least an hour almost every day. Throw in the fact that we're 100% Swedish and you've got yourself one hot mamma. Needless to say, this woman can kick my ass. She's awesome.

She is also wonderfully weird.

We were sitting around the other day and having coffee, and the subject of Christmas came up.

Mom: Oh! If anyone is stuck on what to get me for Christmas, go to [insert big country horse supply store here]! They have so many awesome things!

Me: Okay, like what? Keep in mind that I'm poor.

Mom: Well, they even have horse treats.

Me: Mom... I'm not going to buy you a bag of horse treats for Christmas!

Mom: Well, I'll use them!

Me: Okay.. is there something that's in between horse treats and like... a new saddle?

Mom: Oh, I wouldn't ask you for a saddle. Oh, but you know what, they do have these awesome leather chaps that have fringe going all the way down the sides.

Me: As in... assless chaps?

Mom: Well, yeah, Emelie. All chaps are assless.

Me: I am not buying my mother anything that can be described as assless.

Mom: Why? I think they're cool!

Me: Let's change the subject please. How did your burlesque aerobics class go? I admit that this might not have been the best subject change, but this is how we talk, people.

Mom: Oh, it was so much fun! We had feather boas and everything, it was great. Oh, except my friend was sick and she was so upset that she couldn't be there.

Me: Oh, that sucks! She would have had fun.

Mom: I know, and she was supposed to make "penises in a blanket" so then we ended up not having any "penises in a blanket" :(

Me: Mom... I think it's about time I write about you in my blog.

Mom: Really? Why?

Me: Because I love you. And someone needs to start writing down the things that you say.

I'm not kidding, though. I truly do love my mom, and I rarely pass up the opportunity to hang out with her nowadays. I honestly hope that I'm as badass and free-spirited as she is for the rest of my life. She freaking rocks.

This also means I'm going to have to start working out, though...

I love you, Mom!

We Can Do This.

I feel ridiculously behind lately - basically ever since I hurt my back. While my back is feeling better, my brain seems to still be in "I can't do anything mode," so this entire week has just been about catching up with my goals.

I have a lot of goals.

I'm editing my novel, writing this blog twice a week, crocheting like crazy, trying to be a better housekeeper, and living a healthy lifestyle.

But they're all good goals! I like them! 

It's just all about the balance. 

And it's amazing how a few days of being in bed with back pain can really throw you off and screw with you. And then I start to feel guilty, because writing and crocheting don't require me to be up and walking around, so I should have taken advantage of the time that I was stuck in bed, but then the other voices in my head are all "yeah, but you still had to work in the bookshop for 8 hours every day and holding up your body is exhausting, so you should just be nice to you." 

And I know that the latter voices are correct. And my back is feeling better now, so hopefully, my brain will catch up soon. 

I know this isn't really sounding like an actual blog post, but it's as much as I can muster right now while I prepare for everything else going on. (Things like the reading I'm doing this weekend with my writing group!)

I'm sure I'm not the only one going through this right now, so if you are also feeling like you're struggling to tread water, leave a comment down below and let's just give each other all the virtual hugs, okay?

Because we can do this.

My precious revelation

If you've been following my Instagram story, you know that I, at the ripe old age of 27, threw my back out on Monday night and have been hobbling around ever since, not unlike the evil witch from Snow White. Not when she's all "Mirror mirror, tell me how pretty I am," but when she's all old and haggard and obsessed with apples. 

All I did was pick up a book, which hardly seems fair, as books have always been my dearest friends. Although now that I'm thinking of it, I've always been pretty sure that those who I counted as close friends were also people who were most likely to be responsible for my death, so I suppose the books were just fulfilling their true purpose and keeping my life interesting, but still... not cool, books. Not cool.

So I went to go see a chiropractor. A lot happened there that I think I have to save for another blog post or perhaps for my memoir because I'm still processing some of the ridiculousness. That being said, the chiropractor was awesome and my back is feeling somewhat human again, but he basically told me that my spina bifida occulta (which I love because it totally makes it sound like I'm part of a group that worships spines, doesn't it? The Spinosaurus would be our god. JOIN US...) or even just my body in general is a genetic minefield of weirdness. Yay! So I left and I was all "THANKS, MOM, FOR TEACHING ALL THOSE JAZZERCISE CLASSES WHILE YOU WERE PREGGO WITH ME" (true story) but then the angel on my shoulder was like "Hey, she was just trying to stay healthy. Besides, her birthday is coming up. Be nice." 

So I texted her to update her on the situation and to humbly tell her how nice I had decided to be:


So mysterious...

Last week I had a physical with a new GP and I was actually really excited about it because I've been having terrible migraines up to three times a month for the past... seven years? It felt like it was time to get it checked out. 

Up until now, I've tried a myriad of solutions: 

  • Acupuncture - relaxing, but generally ineffective.
  • Chiropractic treatments - this ultimately led to me discovering I have spina bifida aculta, which is great to be aware of but also did nothing to solve the migraine problem. 
  • Diet changes - I drank more water, less coffee, ate more iron-rich foods in case it was an iron deficiency, etc. Nothing works. 
  • Prayer - gave me general good vibes, but apparently, God isn't letting this one go that easily. 

So there I was at a real doctor's office at last, and I was finally going to get some answers, friends! She was going to check my blood and be all "HOLY CRAP, WHY AREN'T YOU EATING MORE CHEESE?" or something. I don't know what doctors really say when they look at bloodwork, but I assume the answer is always more cheese, but also I'm not sure it's possible for someone to eat more cheese than me? For example, my chef friend who we'll call "Sookie" for obvious reasons, texted me the other day that they had mac and cheese available at her restaurant for lunch and then she was all "unless you want your regular sandwich?" and I was all "how is this even up for debate right now?" and she responded with "I don't know! Maybe you had mac and cheese for dinner and breakfast?" at which point I told her that I would still want mac and cheese if that dream scenario were in fact true. 

Wait, what was my point again?

Oh right, I was at the doctor's and she was about to solve all of my problems. 

We talked for a while. I really liked her. She listened to my long list of concerns and thoughts and made me feel heard. That part was great. 

What was not awesome was when she was all "So we're going to check your bloodwork and if it's anemia or something, that's great because we can work on that, but otherwise, you should know that migraines often happen for seemingly no reason at all." 

So guess what happened when I called them to get my results, friends. 


Now, obviously, most people would be thrilled to hear that their blood work came back with no glaring problems, but when you have a glaring problem with seemingly NO LOGICAL REASONING, you start to feel... what's the word? Oh right. Doomed. 

And then... a migraine hit me THE VERY NEXT DAY. 

But it's okay. It's all going to be okay. You know why? Because if you think about it really hard, this really just makes me more mysterious, right? And who doesn't love a woman of mystery? They're always dressed in cool dark dresses, with long hair and big eyes and men are all "oh man, she's so mysterious. I have to draw her." 

So I imagine The Mr will see me with my migraines and then be compelled to do the same. 

So romantic...

P.S. I just found this on giphy when I searched "woman of mystery" (which also brought up A LOT of borderline porny stuff, by the way) and I have no idea who drew it, but now I need to know, so if you have that info, please leave it in the comments! Thanks! 

Hey! On April 8th, my writer's group is performing excerpts of our work at The Hickory Stick Bookshop in Washington Depot, CT! You should come. I'll be there and I'll be reading some new material! There will also be a bunch of talented people reading their work. 


Details here

Just some casual girl talk.

An actual conversation I had with the Bestbian this morning via text*:

*The Mr also wants me to add a disclaimer that if you're grossed out by body talk, you might not dig this one. Sorry not sorry. 

Me: Whoa, <that girl we worked with five years ago at a restaurant> is pregnant now too?



Bestbian: Good lord all these women and their babies.

Me:  Why is everyone breeding so much? CALM DOWN, PEOPLE.


Me: Please don't get pregnant. I can't handle that responsibility. 

Bestbian: Never. You hold off at least for a while too, or I will freak out. 

Me: FOREVER. Pee and blood are the only things I will allow to come out of my vagina and that's only because I have no choice in the matter.

Bestbian:  ...I need to know that you know you don't pee from your vagina. 

Me: Well, yeah, but you know what I meant. That region is off limits.

Bestbian: No baby zone.

Me: Precisely. We should get spayed together one day.

Bestbian:  I would love that. Tubal ligation buddies! 

Me: Hooray!

Bestbian: We could put out notices that we're finally tying the knot. our Fallopian tubes.


Still with me? YAY! Because I also have some news:

On April 8th, my writer's group is performing excerpts of our work at The Hickory Stick Bookshop in Washington Depot, CT! You should come. I'll be there and I'll be reading some new material! There will also be a bunch of talented people reading their work. 


Details here

Cold feet.

So yesterday my friend texted me a picture of a book that we have both been really excited about reading and it finally just came out and THE EXCITEMENT LEVEL IS HIGH, FRIENDS.

But, because it's me, there is an issue.


So APPARENTLY The Mr is annoyed because he buys really nice socks and I have always opted for really cute socks.

His are warm. Mine have narwhals on them.

His are fancy moisture-repelling socks. Mine all have holes in them. 

And when we got married I was all "Yay! Free socks!" 

He did not agree. 

Which brings us to our next marital dispute... 

I have a lot of books. 


IN MY DEFENSE many of these are free because I am a bookseller and I get a lot of Advanced Reader Copies from publishers, BUT I also buy a lot of these books too. Especially if I read the ARC and then really loved it, so I want the author the get dollars and I'll buy it just to be a good fan. 

Which brings us to today.

My sock drawer is full of holey socks (insert divine joke here) and my hold shelf at the bookstore is overflowing. 

But what am I supposed to do? None of the fancy socks have narwhals on them... But my narwhal socks are no longer providing any level of warmth. 

If only I could convince the two sock companies to join forces! 

Dear Fancy Sock Makers,

I have been forced to buy your socks in order to continue my love of buying books. Normally, this would not be a problem. Your socks are fantastic in all ways but one: THERE ARE NO NARWHALS ON THEM. 

While I appreciate your ability to include a wide array of colors and stripes - even polka dots! Go you! - I am saddened by the lack of cute animal patterns. 

Must I really sacrifice my love of the Sea Unicorn in order to have warm feet? 

Of course, it's not just narwhals that I enjoy on my socks. Puppies, sloths, and giraffes are also always welcome, just in case someone on staff has an aversion to narwhals. Although, why would you hire such a monster? 

Wishing you all the best,



Hi Emelie,

Thank you so much for reaching out! I too love Narwhals, what an awesome idea :) I did share your feedback with our product team, we always appreciate customer feedback! I also want to make sure you've seen our Woodland Creature socks, they do have cute animals represented on them :)

Thanks for being on board with us and I hope you have an awesome weekend!

Thank you for choosing Darn Tough!

And for the record, I did NOT see those woodland socks before, but it's a good thing that they exist because now I can buy books again. 

Plus, I think we can all agree that if they do in fact add narwhals to their designs, I will be heralded as a True American Hero. 

You're welcome.

And it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign.

Whenever my schedule starts to fill up and my stress levels start to rise, the two things I cut out first are yoga and meditation. Because I'm a moron. 

I was born with a very mild form of spina bifida, which causes severe back and hip pain when it goes unchecked. I also get these mysterious migraines on a frequent basis that may or may not be related to the spina bifida or it could be that I've never had my wisdom teeth removed or possibly an iron deficiency? There are lots of theories floating around that have yet to be confirmed. Insurance has been gained and doctors appointments have been made and hopefully, we'll have solutions soon, but in the meantime, I live in a world of question marks. This world of question marks often leads to stress and anxiety. And when a question mark and a stress or anxiety ball love each other very much, my world then becomes populated with a lot of those question mark-exclamation point combos. 

It seems to me that a logical person would be very vigilant about doing the things that keep her brain and body happy when they are so keen on being very unhappy at the slightest disruption. 

Alas, I have never been known for my logic skills. I'm more one of those... excitable puppy types of people. I do whatever I fancy whenever I like as long as everyone in my life is happy. I forget to take care of myself until I'm reminded to do so when it's absolutely necessary. 

So yesterday I was discussing this very thing with a group of teens that my husband and I run a support group for at our church. The topic we were discussing was all about recognizing signs from God and how often these signs aren't very blatant, but instead are only obvious in hindsight and when we need or want to see these signs most is usually when we're least likely to be paying attention. 

But then last night I got home and I sat down on the couch with a heating pad on my back to soothe the pain and pulled up YouTube. Lo and behold, one of my favorite yoga instructors had uploaded a video titled "Yoga for Hips and Lower Back Release.

Alright, God. I hear you. 

P.S. I absolutely love this song, but can we please talk about this music video? I have so many questions! Why is everyone making out? What's with the weird cartwheels? I need to figure out this narrative.

P.P.S. If you don't know Yoga with Adriene yet... you're welcome. 

P.P.P.S. One of my favorite bloggers, Advice I Needed Yesterday, also wrote about her experience with fate and signs from the universe and it's like God is confirming my life choices all over again. Go read her now

I am Corgi. Hear Me Roar.

Things just got serious, my friends.

If you follow my Instagram Story, you already know part of this story, but I saved the most Emelie (the Emeliest?) part of the story for the blog because, well, it got weird. 

Let me start at the beginning: I went to the Town Hall today to register myself as a business since I changed my name legally after I got married, but I'm still writing under my maiden name, so checks being written to Emelie Samuelson weren't really going to fly at my bank anymore, but also because I'm actually getting paid a lot more for writing stuff now and I thought that maybe I should be a little bit more... official? It was all very grown-up feeling.

After dropping 5 buckaroos at Town Hall and being told that I am now legally my own business (I tried to list the voices in my head as employees, but thought better of it at the last minute, which I think is progress), I walked over to the bank to open a DBA account, at which point I found that the woman who runs things over there is a fellow NaNoWriMo participant and she and her husband write post-apocalyptic sci-fi together. I took this as a sign from God that she approved of what I was doing and my banking choices. (Thanks, God!) 


But then the bank lady's computer started being slow, so while she figured that stuff out I texted Bestbian to be all "OMG I AM A BUSINESS NOW" and she texted me some confetti (which is a thing we can do now?) and then she asked what I registered myself as: my name or AwkwardlyAlive?

Me: I went with my maiden name.

Her: You have a maiden name. That's still so weird.

Me: I know!

And then she went on to explain that the term "maiden name" really skeeves her out because apparently calling people maids or matrons was just a way to say "she's allowed to bang now," which is weird because that means when we say "maiden name" we really mean "virgin name" historically speaking, and so then I meant to send a text that read "so aren't all non-virgins matrons?" but auto-correct decided that "non-virgins" isn't a term and instead was like "I think you meant 'non-corgis'" WHICH IS WAY MORE ADORABLE/DISTURBING THAN WHAT I HAD MEANT TO SAY. 


But you'll be glad to know that I was all "NO!" and I remained strong because I'm a good feminist and also because my account wasn't officially set up yet so I really needed to play it cool. But mainly because DOWN WITH THE PATRIARCHY.  

But the real takeaway here is that I'm I registered business now, friends. I AM EMELIE DOING BUSINESS AS EMELIE. 

I think my dog is secretly my teenage daughter.

The weather today is gross and disgusting. 

It started off rainy, which I like, and then it turned to snowy, which I also like, but it's all coupled with 35mph winds, which I do not like. 

Especially when the dogs have to go to the bathroom and then when I take them out I'm forced to curse the heavens about the fact that we have two huskies and no fenced in yard because BUYING A HOUSE IS DIFFICULT. 

But then the dogs look up at me and get all blinky because snow is blowing into their eyes and I sigh and tell them that I know they didn't choose a life of pooping outside either. It chose them. And then Aloy is all "actually, I used to poop inside all the time when you first brought me home, but you and The Mr always yelled at me for it, so not to be that guy, but I think that means that technically this is your fault." 

She's not wrong. That's the annoying part. 



We're all going to die yay!

I don't know if it's the time of year or maybe some planets are doing the conga line, but I feel like a lot of people in my life are going through tough times right now. 

If you're one of those people, I want you to know that I love you and I'm sending you so many virtual hugs (and IRL ones if you're nearby, too!).

Life can be crummy sometimes. The Mr and I just did our taxes and, even though we expected to owe, it's never fun to watch the numbers get calculated. 

So then I decided to watch some husky videos on youtube and learn how to be an even better human for our dogs, but for some reason my brain was all "yeah these dogs are great, it sucks that they'll die some day" and I've spiraled into sadness and my face is buried in Gio's fur and he is confused. 

But tomorrow is a new day and I believe that these crummy feelings will pass and be replaced by other ones. 

Because one day my dogs will die. And so will The Mr and so will you and me, too. 

I've recently discovered there is an app that reminds you of this on a daily basis. 

I know that sounds terribly depressing, but it's also kind of liberating. We're all going to die. So why waste this life being sad about stuff? 

So once I hit publish, I'm taking off my bra and putting on sweats (the start to any series of good decisions) and then I'm going to pour myself a glass of wine and snuggle up on the couch with my husband and my dogs and forget the mountain of money that we owe the government for one more evening. 

Because, hey, I might not get the chance tomorrow.