Twitter. And A Shout Out To The Nerds.

I joined the world of Twitter.

Under the Twitter name SweetLoveTweets.

I know, I know. It should be my business name.


Imagine my angst.

I was furious after I happily typed away my new user name and got this:


(Insert slow motion monster vocals here)


Next try. SweetLove. Taken.

No way was I going to do SweetLuvVintage or SweetLoveVintaj.

So, SweetLoveTweets it is.

Follow me, won't you?

So I don't feel like such a nerd.

I love nerds. I find them so endearing.

Bookish smarts.
Glasses and braces.
Lewis, Gilbert and the Lambdas.
Strange quirks.
Obscure interests.
Napoleon Dynamite.

I don't know a thing about computer programming or Star Trek.

But I most definitely have an inner nerd in me.

Plus, haven't you heard?

Nerd is the new black.


Baby In Blue Gets Picked Up By Impulsive Girl

Almost embarrassed to admit my most recent impulse buy:

Look at that face.

How does someone leave their baby at Valu-Thrift?

Luckily, he wasn't lying in a woven basket at the front door, crying hysterically.

He was behind glass in a large and dirty wood frame.

I laughed out loud when I saw him.

Laughing at item = tossing in cart.

First thought after bringing him home: Shitballs. What am I going to do with him?

Second thought: A peanut butter banana honey sandwich sounds really good right now.

Third thought: I'll just take a picture and maybe he'll come in useful sometime.

Sweet Love mascot?

And lastly, my personal favorite:


Two Thousand Ten

Isn't she oozing with sweetness?

Not realizing how stinkin' cute she really is.

Just pedaling along, ringin' the bell, in sassy sandals with lace trim socks.

Lipstick red shades.

Not a care in the world.

Not thinking about trying to balance life. Or what to make for supper.

Not thinking about flossing and Crest White Strips.

Not psychoanalyzing her issues.

I sometimes wish I could be that girl for one day.

Again. That was me almost 3 decades ago.

I still wear pigtails. (Not as cute)

And big sunglasses. (Still as cute)

I still like to dress up. On the days that I'm not in sweats and my red plaid flannel.

Pretty sure that outfit is going to start walking around on it's own.

I'm still sweet. Most of the time.

When it's not most of the time, I can be a big turd.

A grown-up tantrum of sorts.

Except I call it, Mom's. Gonna. Snap.

Or, momsgonnasnap.

Or, MOM IS GOING TO SNAP!!!!!!!!!!!

I've changed in other ways too.

My wheels have evolved from 3 to 4. Plus an engine.

I have smile lines and crow's feet. Just means I smile a lot. Not that I'm getting older.

I'm not terrified of helicopters anymore.

They don't send me screaming, sobbing and running hysterically in circles yelling, "HELLEEEEECOPTEEEUUUURRR!!!! HELLLLEEEEEECOPTEEEEUUUUUURRRR!!!

My mom says I sounded like I had a french accent when I did this. Tres chic.

I don't drag around a white blanket that resembles swiss cheese from the holes.

Instead of white lace trim socks, occasionally I'll have one sock inside out and one sock right side in. By the time I notice that one is inside-out, the inside, which is now the outside, is dirty, so I leave it that way. A quirk that I keep telling myself is cute.

I don't constantly sniff Strawberry Shortcake's hair.

But I would if I had her. She was so sweet.

So am I. Most of the time. Except when I'm a turd.

And still a little sassy.

And a tiny. bit. bad-assy.