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Hello Internet!

Let me assure you, this blog is not about tax. Or taxes.  Or anything even remotely similar to anything involved with the word “tax.”

In law school, we had to take a tax class.  It was required.  I went three times (first day, midterm, final exam).  I know, I was a bad tax student.  I got a B.  My husband sat next to me in that class.  Except he wasn’t my husband then, and he doesn’t remember me.  Probably had something to do with my attendance.  For me, tax is boring.  And no, I’m not a tax attorney.  In fact, I don’t practice law at all anymore, but when I did, I was a criminal prosecutor.  You know, Law and Order, rapes, robberies, the occasional homicide.  Fun stuff.  Stories for another time.

To get back to my point.  This story.

Because I found tax class so boring, I did other things instead.  Fun stuff.  Adventures.  Anything other than tax.

Fast forward many years past law school, and I’m now married to my husband.  12 years.  We have four kids.  They’re all under 9.  Because the whole family uses the computers, we have to “hide” certain things.  You can guess.  NO, not that.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  Think magical childhood fantasies that might require a computer occasionally.  So, since I’m the one tasked with doing that sort of stuff, I had a dilemma the first year — how do I label this?  You got it.

BORING TAX STUFF.

It was all the fun things, but hidden.  What kid will open that file?

Fast forward a year.  My dear husband is tasked with writing a letter concerning one of those magical childhood persons.  He wants to read the prior year’s letter, and wants to know where to find it.  He peruses our hundreds of document titles, and there it was.  BORING TAX STUFF.  He laughed and just knew.  Of course.  There it is.

Which brings us here.

I started a blog in 2008.  Not this one.  I wrote it for a year.  Family and friends alike visited.  At times, viewership soared way higher than I ever expected.  After a year though, I found myself censoring myself, all to please various extended family members.  Oh, and then there were the perverts.  Do you know how many men (I’m assuming men) search every. single. day. for “cute 5 year old” or “cute 6 year old” or “cute 8 year old”?  Too many.  I cringed every time I saw the search terms on my stats (this is the only post on this blog where they will appear).  I decided to move on.  Time for a change.  Less of a “mommy blog,” and well, more of me.  Mama and all, but there’s more.  Lots more.  If my extended family finds me, then so be it.

This is me.  Me, my ramblings, my musings, and my photography. No tax stuff.  Ever.  I promise.

Ironically, despite my tax class attendance record (or lack thereof), I do prepare our household taxes.

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