My (Dynamic) So Called Life

There’s no hiding that shit has gotten real for me over the last few months, but not in a bad way. Divorce has been incredibly hard, but I’m definitely reaping the rewards of my new adventure.

I have a great new place in the city, a full-time job that is not only rewarding, but entertaining as hell (wait for it). Lucas is adjusting well to splitting time between his parents. And last, but not least, Baxter is LOVING being an only dog, again. Sorry, Mr. Bojangles but sometimes creatures get along better when they have a little distance between them.

See what I did there?

Every day is a new experience. This sounds super exciting and it is. However, becoming newly and completely independent can also be exhausting. On days like today I come home after working a twelve-hour shift at the jail and I feel like my autopilot is on autopilot.

Let me drive this point home for you a little more. Last night, I responded to a voicemail that I had already responded to two weeks ago with zero recollection AND last week I responded to an email from a dear, old friend that she sent me in 2015. Don’t ask. My autopilot’s autopilot is unavailable for questions at this time.

I love giving millennials a hard time about well, everything but I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a step back and acknowledge my own flaws as a mid-lifer. You heard me. I just publicly accepted the fact that I’m a mid-lifer. #thestruggleisreal #thoughtsandprayers

Life is challenging whether you’re embarking on your high school graduation and feeling like time has run up on the age old question, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” or you’re adapting to new issues by deciding to just keep the bottle of Tylenol on the bedside table because it saves you a trip to the medicine cabinet. The good new is that we’re ALL super terribly flawed humans who are destined to screw things up from time to time.

However, I will not let my screw ups limit, or define me. My goal is to be remembered not by my accomplishments, but by my recoveries.

Lucas Cub scout

Lucas at Cub Scout Advancement ceremony

Lucas kangaroo

Sunday Fun Day at the Nashville Zoo


Every problem seems small when you’re surrounded by amazing friends.

Luke-isms and Life Changes

I apologize for my absence. Suffice it to say that a lot has transpired since we last talked.

I’m now happily divorced and co-parenting with my ex-husband. Lucas remains our priority and we are both striving very hard to give him what he needs. It hasn’t been all smooth sailing for him, but he is STILL Lucas. Make no mistake.

Just before his Dad came to pick him up this evening Lucas saw a warning on NBC Nightly News regarding romaine lettuce and an E. coli outbreak. My li’l vegetarian showed some concern right away. Then, a little more concern when his Dad arrived.

“Dad! Dad! Oh my gosh! They said not to eat romaine lettuce on the news just now and I at a TON of it last night! Just keep a close eye on me this weekend. The symptoms are asthma and cancer. Mom, I drank that whole bottle of lime juice while you were in the bathroom. I love you. Bye!!”


Lucas sleeping

I feel so at ease when he’s asleep.

Deez Nuts! Chipmunk Problems

One day last week I started up my car and to my surprise the stench of gasoline came shooting at me from seemingly everywhere. The lights on the dash were flashing and the car was shaking harder than a Tilt-A-Whirl at a county fair.

Upon turning off the ignition and popping the hood one thing was certain. Someone had been snacking under my hood and it wasn’t me.

*Fun fact: As kids, my older sister Heather and I used to eat acorns because we thought they were filled with cheese. We never found one with the right flavor, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.*

Awe Nuts!


Later that day, I was conversing with my friend at the liquor store about my chipmunk problem. (I get ALL my mechanic advice from the liquor store.)

“Oh hon,” he said. “We used to have a chipmunk problem, too.”

“How’d you get rid of it?”

“Easy, honey. You just need to get you a feral cat.”

“How do I go about getting a feral cat because I’ll be honest, the picture in my mind is frightening. I might just keep the chipmunks.”

“No, baby. You just need to find a feral cat. That’s really the hardest part about it. Make sure you have on pants and long sleeves. Then, you need to get some oven mitts and have somebody duct tape them to your sleeves so they don’t come off while you’re wrastling with the cat. Once you get it to your house he will most likely stay if you keep food out for him to eat. Just don’t ever let it inside. Trust me.”


Several days have passed and it seems nothing else has chewed through my new fuel line. I’ve used the time to toss around a few ideas that don’t involve feral cats. Here they are in no particular order.

1. Chupacabra

2. Anaconda

3. Sasquatch

4. Africanized bees

And if I’m being honest, I’d rather capture a rabid Sasquatch covered in Africanized bees while making out with a Chupacabra than try to capture a feral cat any day of the week.

Luke-isms: Destination Truth

While watching Travel Channel’s series Destination Truth, Lucas (9) made note that before the explorers ventured into a new, or sacred land they usually started their journey with a visit to the local medicine man to request a blessing. Oftentimes, these ceremonial blessings involved giving the travelers a sort of spiritual token to provide them with safety on their journey. These good luck tokens varied depending on the location, the journey, and the mission, itself. Some of the items received by the show’s host, Josh Gates, have been goat tails, spices or tobacco for burning, and even ancient Egyptian fidget spinners. 
Now, if you’re new to Loripalooza, then I should let you know that my son not only has a wonderfully active imagination, but he also contains the gumption to act on his “great ideas.”
I knew something was in the works when he asked me to pause the TV.
  Destination Truth
Lucas: “Mom! Mom! Mom. I just had a great idea. What if WE became the medicine people for anyone who wanted to visit Middle Tennessee?”
Me: “That’s an interesting thought. What should we give them for good luck in their travels- chicken bones, or lizard tails, or what?”
Lucas:  “No, Mom. We would be MEDICINE people. What are the two biggest problems for people in Tennessee? Think about it.”
Me: “I have no idea.”
Lucas:  “Paranormal hauntings and seasonal allergies!”
Me:  “That was right on the tip of my tongue.”
Lucas:  “We could give out Aspirin, nose spray, Benefiber, Kleenex, and crucifixes.”
Me:  “It’s starting to sound kind of like a convenience store.”
Lucas:  “But no. Wait! We would also carry medicinal herbs.”
Me: “Which ones?”
Lucas:  “Oh gosh! We would definitely need chives, basil, and mint. Trust me. That will be plenty to start us off, but I need to tell you one minor detail. You MIGHT have to run it by yourself sometimes because we’ve been having a lot of littering at my school and I’ve hired some more recruits to work for me on that Junior SWAT team I started a couple weeks ago.”

Luke-isms: Twerking

After a few hours of fishing yesterday Brantley, Lucas and I headed home tired and dirty. Our first order of business was, as always- a tick check. Lucas was used to the drill and readied himself by starting the process without even having to be told.

Strip down. Arms up. Turn around. Spread your cheeks.

However, when we got to the last part Lucas turned back and said with hesitation, “Mom, you said twerking was against the law. I don’t want to go to jail.”

I know what you’re thinking. Hang on. I can explain.

Flashback to three days earlier when Lucas walked into the kitchen and announced, “Dad just showed me how to twerk.”

“Excuse me?”

Brantley spoke up, “No. No. See. No. That’s not how it happened. He thought he knew what twerking was and in an effort to educate him, I showed him a video on YouTube of someone properly twerking.”

“Properly? That’s not ok,” I said. “What on earth? What kind of video did you let him watch?”

“It was just an instructional video. They were wearing pants. I swear. It was totally wholesome and I guarantee it was more benign than what he thought twerking really was.”

I was intrigued. “What did he think it was?”

Brantley rubbed his face. “It’s hard to describe. Lucas, show your Mom what you thought twerking was.”

I immediately regretted my question.

“Ok. Stop! That’s worse! That’s WAY worse! Lucas, where on earth? Never mind. Listen, don’t ever do that again, ok?.”

I could tell the wheels were turning in his seven-year-old brain. “Don’t do which one? The one in the video, or the other one?”

“Don’t do either. Ok. Got it?”

“Why, Mom?”

“Becaaaaause it is against the law.”

“What about if I do it in private?” he asked.

“Still illegal in most states.”

Luke-isms Twerking

Lawd, help me.

Five Ways To Amuse Yourself On Facebook

Five Ways To Amuse Yourself On Facebook

Over the recent years, Facebook has given us a multitude of ways to entertain ourselves. With the touch of a button we can keep in touch with loved ones, stalk our exes, and find the answer to burning questions like, “What might my friends be cooking for dinner tonight?” Facebook isn’t without its drawbacks, however. It’s also the place people turn to when they need to air misplaced grievances about well, anything. Politics, religion, personal family matters, requests to diagnose my rash- it’s all on the table. I hear more people every day complaining about the social media site and making thinly veiled threats of shutting down their accounts for good. These are generally the same people who will post a photo of their ingrown toenail accompanied by a prayer request the following day.

So what keeps me coming back to Facebook time and time again? I’m glad you asked. Here are five ways I utilize Facebook for endless entertainment.

#1- Answer people’s questions.

Root Canal

#2- Tag your friends (without their permission) in discussions that have nothing to do with them in an effort to make them appear sketchy.

Prenatal Massage



Liver Parfait



ForSale3 ForSale2

#3- Jump into a discussion that has nothing to do with you by making a completely unrelated AND polarizing comment. If you’re lucky someone will “like” your comment and agree with you (which is completely stupid). Stumped for ideas? You can always go with Obamacare, global warming, or anything Jesus-related.

Common Core

Did I hear you say that you sailed through numbers one through three and that you’re ready to raise the stakes a little? I’ll take that as a silent yes.

#4- Search your local community page for a heated debate filled with self-righteous comments. (Tip: These are easy to spot because they have the most comments.) After reading through the original post and some, not all (We have other things to do. Am I right?) of the comments pick a side. It doesn’t matter which one. Once you’ve chosen a side, post a comment that vehemently expresses your agreement with some of the people, while at the same time makes you look like an unscrupulous asshole.

(Not recommended for anyone seeking employment in the near future.)

Facebook Drama



Double-whammy!! As you can see, I completed number four while also incorporating number two- tagging a friend. (Haha! Number two…)

#5- Post a vague ad on your community’s page attempting to sell items that were recently stolen from your neighborhood. This one is a real crowd pleaser!

Baby Jesus


And the fun just never stops!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this Loripalooza tutorial on Five Ways To Amuse Yourself On Facebook. I know I have! Now, get out there (while you stay on the couch) and have some fun.

For more DIY entertainment: How To Beat the Winter Weather Blues 

You Have No Kittens (Album Drop)

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s an honor and a privilege to sit down with hip-hop artist, Lucas Wescott on this momentous occasion. Today, he is unveiling his new single You Have No Kittens exclusively on Loripalooza.

Not only that, but he was even kind enough to carve some time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions for his fans.

Lori: How long have you been interested in rap and hip-hop music?

Lucas: Well, I’m a cool kind of guy so for a pretty long time.

Lori: Some rappers have a tendency to misbehave. Have you ever gotten in trouble?

Lucas: Well, I’ve never been to jail, but if I did then I would make sure my trial was on the news.

Lori: I understand that you like to dance. What is your favorite style of dancing?

Lucas: Tap dancing.

Lori: Tap dancing?

Lucas: Yes. I do it all the time in my hip-hop dance class.

Lori: Well, that’s wonderful.

Lucas: What inspired you to write this song?

Lucas: Because I would like to be a famous singer like, you know, Taylor Swift, or Bruno Mars.

Lori: Toward the end of the song it sounds as if someone in the audience is bothering you and you call them out by shouting, “Hey!”

Lucas: Yeah. I don’t allow that at my shows.

Lori: The name of your song is You Have No Kittens. Do you have any kittens and how do you really feel about kittens?

Lucas: No, I don’t have any kittens. When I think about kittens I feel inspired to have a new life, or to just act like a kitten. Stuff like that.

Lori: Do you have any dogs?

Lucas: Yes.

Lori: Is there anything you’d like to say about your dogs?

Lucas: Well, I like snuggling with them and sometimes they pee inside.

Lori: Do you know what your next song will be about?

Lucas: I’m not sure. Probably video games, or cooking food. I’m a pretty good chef.


Well there you have it, folks. The artist and rapper in his own words. What a humble guy.

Now, I know you’re all clamouring to get your hands on his new release. So without further ado, here is You Have No Kittens by Lucas Wescott.

Thanksgiving? Thanks For Nothing!


Big news, y’all. Big!

In the recent weeks I was informed that I am 1/16th Cherokee indian.

I’ll let that soak in for a minute.

You’re probably thinking the same thing I did initially. Duh! Look at you! Blonde hair. Fair skin. Ginger son. It all makes perfect sense. 

I have a lot of questions and a lot of lost time to make up for. For starters, where’s my land? Do I own a casino? Can I legally smoke peyote? And lastly, why am I just now finding out about this?

The answer to the last question falls squarely at the feet of my sweet mother. She apparently just never thought to mention it. I will refrain from pressing this any further considering I am still waiting on her to tell me how babies are made.

That issue pales in comparison (pun intended) to the Native American struggle that has been heaved upon my shoulders at the worst possible time of the year. I’m not going to lie. Columbus Day was hard for me this year. Why in the Hezekial do we dedicate the same number of days (okay, day) to Christopher Columbus that we also dedicate to real heroes like United States Veterans and Martin Luther King, Jr?


If anything, Christopher Columbus should be known for being the first man to get lost and refuse to ask for directions only to land in the wrong place and be like, “Nailed it! I made it here in record time, too because I wouldn’t stop and let anyone go to the bathroom. Now, stop staring at my panty hose and give me all your gold and spices.”

What a douche.

So keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I host Thanksgiving dinner this year because I’ll be wearing the Native American struggle. I’ll be wearing it hard.

Stiyu. (translation: Until we meet again)


Ayita Doya (translation: First Beaver to Dance)

**Please bear with me as I learn my native language, adjust to my new Cherokee Indian name and stay tuned for my first experience being racially profiled.

Sponsor A Suburban White-Boy

With the holidays approaching, many people will be asking themselves, “What can I do to help others who are suffering?” Well, ask no more. The struggle of the suburban white-boy is all too often overlooked. I made the following video in an effort to change that and raise awareness.

**Contains adult language

Please don’t let their suffering continue. This video highlighted the struggle of just one white boy, but there are millions more out there facing daily dilemmas like, “Should I play with my Xbox 360, or my Nintendo Wii U?” No child should ever have to make that decision. Not in America, dammit.

I heard recently that the same white boy in this video had to share a snack with another child because their mother forgot to send a snack to school that day. Yes, you read that right. Two children sharing one box of Goldfish crackers. Friends, it doesn’t have to be this way.

What can you do to help? I’m challenging everyone who reads this to share it with at least one person and show you support suburban white-boys everywhere by wearing their signature gray ribbon. Together we can make a difference.


You don’t have to do big things to change the world. Small things are cool, too and take up way less of your time. -Mother Theresa


Sponsor A Suburban White-Boy

Alternate Route: My Long Journey Home


I share the following story not in the hopes that you will learn from my mistakes, but that you will read these words and realize what a true badass I am (in case you didn’t already know).

I ventured home from work around ten o’clock one dark night in September. Before getting on the interstate, I thought it would be wise to stop and grab something to eat. I felt a nervousness in the pit of my stomach as I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-through. I should’ve recognized this foreboding moment as more than a prequel to a bout of IBS, but I didn’t. I was starving and tired.

The gentleman at the loud speaker read my order back to me incorrectly. After correcting it, he asked if I would like tomato on my chicken sandwich. I told him I didn’t care.

“Ma’am, I can’t decide for you.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I really don’t care what you put in that bag. I’m going to eat it regardless.”

“Please pull around,” he said calmly.

When I arrived at the window I apologized for being so blunt. I explained that I was just really hungry and tired.

“I didn’t get it at first,” he said, “but I believe you now with that look you got on your face.”

“Well,” I stammered. “My face doesn’t… move a whole lot.”

“My Grand Mama’s face don’t move a lot either ‘cause she had a stroke. You had a stroke?”

“No,” I answered grabbing my bag of mystery food. “Sometimes, when women get older…”

He interrupted. “Well, Imma pray for you anyway that your face move again.”

“Not necessary, but thanks. I guess. Ok, have a good,” he closed the window.

Friggin’ whippersnappers.

I was headed down the interstate when I reached into my bag and found my plain chicken sandwich made just the way I had requested. Cha-ching! However, as I approached the I-40/I-65 interchange there were lights flashing. My exit was completely closed. I panicked.

I don’t know any other way to get home. Should I call 9-1-1, or find a hotel? Maybe I can find a quiet place to bed down at an underpass until tomorrow. Wait a minute! I think I remember signs warning me about this last week, but I didn’t pay them any mind. I never thought that it would apply to me. I don’t use alternate routes! Alternate routes happen to other people.

Oh, Lori! Listen to yourself. This is exactly the kind of thinking that led you head-on into a Veteran’s Day parade in Fairhope, AL five years ago. Had it not been for a conveniently located alleyway and a horse that was light on his feet who knows what could have happened? Old people can be so mean when frightened.

It’s ok. I can do this! I will just use my navigation and this time I won’t argue with it.

I crammed that dry chicken sandwich into my face as Siri directed me in a forty-mile circle around Nashville only to dump me five feet past the initial roadblock. Thankfully, it was just far enough and I was able to follow my familiar route home. *

As I pulled into my garage that night I felt as triumphant as I always do after having worked a shift, but with a little extra chutzpah. Not only had I taken the path least traveled, albeit against my will, but I had also eaten fast-food for the first time in over a year and made it all the way home without crapping my pants.

*Strong work, TDOT on closing an entire section of interstate for a job that size.