Learn how to take criticism, or be prepared to fail at life

If Matt Walsh is cramping your style, you haven’t got one. That’s the word on the net these days. He wipes up with tell-tale blog posts grabbing the center of attention – like this one.

The Matt Walsh Blog

Business owners: I feel your pain.

How do you do it? How do you deal with it? How do you wade into our societal pool and find employees who aren’t thin skinned, self-entitled narcissists? How do you successfully weed out the plethora of whiners who fall into a billion pieces if mommy doesn’t pat them on the head and call them special every 45 seconds?

How do you manage to filter out guys like my friend, codename “Steve”?

Here’s an email exchange I had with “Steve” this morning. He asked me to look at his blog and offer him some “honest” feedback. Of course, when people ask for “honest” feedback, what they normally mean is, “I’m awesome at everything, therefore any honest person will surely have nothing but approval and praise for my endeavors.”

But I decided to take Steve at his word. I decided to make the dubious assumption that he would…

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I never thought I would…

I remember when I was ‘that mom’ who didn’t think I would… But I did. And now… As Grandma, I do too.

To my darling Cara and Emma

As I walk through life as a full time working twin mom, I find myself going through scenarios that I NEVER thought I would ever experience and saying to myself “Well geeez, I never thought I would be the person that would…”

As these phrases have been growing in my mind (and some are quite funny) I figured I was overdue for a blog entry and might as well share!

I  NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD…

I never thought I would be the person in the grocery store buying FOUR gallons of milk at a time.

I never thought I would be the person that uses my kitchen enough to have to run the dishwasher daily.

I never thought I would have to think so quick to evacuate two babies from the bath tub after a pooping incident.

I never thought I would come home to find four car seats being…

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The Turkey Roaster Story

Everybody has one… A slow cooker or turkey roaster story.

I may never forget listening to my mom and her best friend giggle about the disaster that happened one year at Easter. Mable and Lee had gone to her son’s for Easter weekend and joined in the process of putting the turkey in the oven to roast. As Gail searched the kitchen for her roaster, Mable prepared the turkey with a special rub, careful to get under each wing and into all the nooks and crannies of the thawed bird. After deciding to send her husband after a ‘discardable’ roasting pan to use for the day, she turned the oven to preheat and worked on the rest of the meal. Slowly the kitchen began to fill with a rank and disgusting odor. Since the aroma had the distinctive scent of heated spoiled something-or-other, Gail opened the oven to check.

In the oven was her roaster, complete with the left over remains and various nuances of Thanksgiving dinner’s turkey carcass, the last bird Gail had prepared in her kitchen. As the story goes… Replacing the roaster was cheaper than calling in an exterminator and toxic waste removal crew, so they took the roaster, carcass and contents to the dumpster and proceeded to celebrate Easter.

All while laughing at the demise of the Thanksgiving carcass and roaster, considering the thorough search of the house to eradicate the horrendous smell of dead “something” that arrived during the weeks prior to Christmas. So horrid was the aroma that much of the winter, they’d gone out to eat, because they couldn’t find the stench.

Thus began the discussion of the missing roaster in my kitchen earlier this morning. Of course, I knew it wasn’t in the oven, because my roaster is a counter model, operated with an electric cord. So, we searched the pantry. We searched under the sink. We searched every place that I might normally have put the roaster for most of the next 4 hours.

Then we stopped long enough for lunch and my youngest son came home.

While we were still laughing about the missing roaster, he enters the kitchen with a perplexing frown on his face. And we asked if he knew where the offending roaster might have been placed (since he occasionally cleans up after a big meal… You know, he MIGHT have put it away.

“Oh, it’s on the freezer.”

On the freezer? We quirk simultaneous eyebrows and ask.

“Yeah, I took it out to the garage to dump the turkey carcass in the trash bag and left the empty roaster on the freezer.”

We (my daughter and I) exchange that look that says, “I don’t want to clean that out.” And the evening goes on…

We found the turkey roaster. Soaked it in a bit of dish washing soap and hot water, came out smelling fresh and sparkling clean. No odor remained when we brought it inside, and no residual residues remained after cleaning it.

It is now wiped, dried and put away on the top shelf of the pantry where it has once again taken it’s non-cooking useful days as a keeper of the pretzels and school snacks, safely out of reach.

Totally happy that no turkey carcass was found meeting the eternal demise of the roaster… Yet once again, a turkey carcass story is in the making.

I wasn’t ready for marriage

The Matt Walsh Blog

I met my wife on eHarmony. I was a morning rock DJ in Delaware, she was living in Maryland and finishing up her degree. I drove two and a half hours to pick her up for our first date. I spent most of my bi-weekly paycheck on tickets to a dinner theater in Baltimore. The rest went to gas and tolls.

And that’s the way it would go for the next year and a half (minus the dinner theater part). Once a week, I’d spend money I didn’t have and drive the 260 mile roundtrip to see the love of my life. Sometimes I’d sleep for a few hours in the guest room at her mom’s house, waking up at 2AM to head back to the coast for my 5:30AM radio show.

I was very tired back then.

And broke.

Lord, was I broke.

She’d take turns driving my way, burning gas she couldn’t afford to burn and…

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