I found myself in the most bizarre twitter conversation earlier today…
Here goes:
Wendi Aarons : As a Scorpio myself, I’m not sure I want to eat a plate full of asparagus just to keep my nether regions happy.
Wendy Bradford : Oddly enough that is what I ate last night #Scorpio @feelWeirdAboutItNow
Clearly, I couldn’t let such a conversation rest without sticking in my two cents. Not only am I a Scorpio, but, lo and behold, I had just purchased a massive bag of asparagus from Costco on Friday in addition to having already bought two bunches from Fresh Direct because they were on special…
Two things it’s hard to argue with–really good deals and helping out kids with cancer…ok, not necessarily in that order 
When I was invited to an event by Trumpeting Media at the LOFT Flatiron store at which I would
a. get an exclusive preview of Loft’s new charms benefiting St. Jude before they officially went on sale
and
b. have the chance to chat with blogging buddies over cocktails and hors oeuvres while shopping the store at 30% off
I didn’t have to think for too long before I said yes.
At the event, we were privileged to hear from Gracie, a little girl who had received life-saving treatments at St. Jude and was proud to have been a part of the marketing campaign for the organization that saved her life at no financial cost to her family.
Have you ever wondered how many insidious germs are lurking in your apartment?
Quite honestly, I have never been that interested to find out.
While I'd like to think that my home is pretty clean, there are four people (including two adorable and germy children) living busy lives nestled amongst a whole lot of clutter in my apartment.
Sure, I clean up messes. If something spills, I mop it up. If someone sprinkles raisins all over my living room, I vaccuum. I am constantly wiping counter tops and sweeping up crumbs.
But no, I would not classify my apartment at spotless…by a long shot.
My family and their clothes are clean. Noses get wiped, hands get washed and shoes get removed and left at the door.
Let me start by saying that I rarely have my groceries delivered. I can often be seen schlepping five or six heavy bags full of stuff–sometimes while pushing a stroller and offering my elbow to my five year old while crossing the street.
Today, I had a cold and it’s been raining incessantly (and I actually had a babysitter for a couple of hours), so I left my kids at home and headed to my friendly neighborhood Dagostino’s to do a big buy.
Fast forward to later in the afternoon. No groceries have yet arrived. I leave the apartment with Mr. Five Year Old and see this note stuck to the wall next to the elevator: (see photo)
