The “shard” was likely the size of a grain of rice, maybe smaller, and I knew I was just going to have to wait until my foot was ready to spit it out. It could take weeks. It didn’t help that a friend told me about someone whose body spit glass for like 4 months after a car accident. I figured since mine was more of a “who handed Leigh Ann something fragile” accident, it may only take a fraction of that time.

So I waited. I grabbed the tweezers when I felt something hard breaking through. I’ve extracted an unbeknownst to me piece of glass from my foot before, so I totally knew what I was doing.

But expert one time glass extraction aside, I started to doubt myself. The wound was round and hard, and started to take on a yellowish tint, reminiscent of the warm sunshine, or maybe a raging infection. And then a thought popped into my head.

It’s totally a corn.

A corn? I know. So totally not sexy. But you aren’t here because you expect me to bring the sexy. (Or if you are, forget what I said about the whole corn thing. How you doin?)

I have never had a corn, never seen a corn…I don’t even really like corn. But the fact that I automatically knew this was a corn has to say something about my intelligence level, right? Like I know things that I don’t even know.

According to the google, I can do several things to get rid of my corn friend, who I have named Cecil. (See above about not being responsible for bringing the sexy.)

Internet, meet Cecil. Cecil, internet. Also, I feel you should know I had very pretty feet before I started running.

1) I can see a licensed podiatrist to have is “assessed.” I don’t need it assessed. I need it removed. But thank you. And I don’t need your condescending stares, sir.

2) Soak my skin in hot water and take a  belt sander to the corn. #nothanks My feet are wicked ticklish, and anyone who goes near them will get kicked in the face. Yes, even myself. I’m flexible.

3) Find and cease the source of the friction. That’s really helpful. I shall now cease all things walking and vow to only wear my beloved Nike flop flops.

4) Burn it off with some over the counter acid. Apparently most OTC corn removal meds contain salicylic acid. Mmmmm…who doesn’t love the smell of burning skin?

Apparently corns as a sign of a bigger problem, kind of like roaches or mice. You think it’s just the one, but apparently there’s something else going on under the surface, likely ill-fitting shoes that cause too much friction. 99% of the time I am wearing one of 2 pairs of shoes: my beloved Nike flip flops, or my beloved Asics DS Trainers, which cost me a good $100. Shoes that cost $100 – that you got fitted for no less – should not cause problems. So we’re going to go with “unfortunate side effect or running, and we can’t believe it happened to you, because your shoes are perfect in every way.”

Now. Who has a hand held sander and doesn’t mind getting kicked in the face?

She’s so sad. Doesn’t she look sad?

Anyway, SOME STUFF:

MomCom Austin is still on the horizon and you should totally go. I mean I am, so…

I’m actually really excited to hear speakers like Amy Simmons from Amy’s Ice Cream (if you’re not from Austin, Amy’s is THE ice cream place here in Austin. Which sounds kind of weird because it’s not where we went today, but my place of choice today was based not on my preference, but on the fact that there was a playground in the shopping center. Amy’s, you are my true favorite with your Mexican vanilla and Reese’s peanut butter cups and oh, those wacky hats!), erotica author Desiree Holt (who apparently uses Barbie dolls to simulate the, uh, “situations” in her novels!), and more. Also, MomCom is a place where I know I will get to see a bunch of my people, and it’s just a really fun day. So go get yo’ ticket here!

Some links:

Over on allParenting, I put together a fun roundup of upcycled crib ideas. I’m still waiting for the tutorial on how to turn mine into a keg.

I come and go with Momastery, but I really related to this post. I have a thing growing in my heart, and I know I’m going to have to buck up and do it soon.

Oh, you found your parents’ copy of the Joy of Sex too?

Seriously, y’all. A little dirt never hurt anyone.

I love this old man.

Jen Hatmaker does it once again with her relatable humor. Also, I don’t get people who don’t get satire. Then again, I lost a Facebook like when I mentioned twerking, so there you go.

I had a plan. Today I was totally going to write about how the TigerCat had been gone for a week, and right when I started like feeling some feelings and stuff, I finally discovered he had taken up residence in the backyard of an elderly couple a block over. Then I was going to tell you how hurt I was when I went to go get him and he acted like he didn’t even know me or worse, like he didn’t really want to come home because THEY HAVE FRISKIES HERE MOM, FRISKIES.

No wonder.

I was going to tell you about how he made me feel like he was a teenager out past curfew, and I was the deranged mom who tracked him down and told him to GET IN THE MINIVAN OR ELSE. You are grounded. No gecko killing sprees for a week, young man. And he was all, eff you, Mom! I’ll come home whenever the hell I want!

Parenting is hard. Also, I feel the need to tell you I don’t really drive a minivan. Cool factor restored.

So that’s what I was going to tell you about, but then we went to get him tonight, you know, as a family, because that’s how the Torreses roll – you get one of us, you get all five. Honestly, I should have known this outing was doomed form the start.

We had come armed with a towel, some work gloves (because this dude, he bites, especially when you try to drag him away from his Friskies), and a can of gourmet cat food (not Friskies). Christian plucked Tiger from the yard and headed for home while my kids continued to shout random questions and statements to the hard of hearing elderly husband. About 4 houses down (yeah, we walked. We’re dumb like that), Christian was losing the battle and asked me to go get the cardboard carrier that the couple offered to loan us.

So I got the carrier. We dumped him in, closed the top and high fived each other. Then I headed back to collect the precious children, who were now visiting with the neighborhood kids. And this is where it went from average walk around the block to collect wayward cat to WHAT KIND OF HELL HATH YOU BROUGHT UPON US!

As I shooed them homeward, Claire made it about 15 feet before she was suddenly laid out flat on the sidewalk. Like, I think she actually skidded, she fell so hard. She had a fierce scrape on her knee and screamed like she’d been blasted by a land mine. I did that magical mom thing where you drop everything and scoop up your child and try to ease her pain, and now I can’t hear out of my left ear.

The neighbor girls, age 12 and 8, were so sweet in trying to help me collect my kids and the random things I was carrying – the cat food, a can of Off (Why am I carrying a can of Off??? Apparently we came prepared for the wrong disaster), and my keys and in the chaos someone handed Zoe the cat food, which she promptly dumped directly on her flip flopped feet. Because of course it was open. Because of course I chose the cat food that didn’t have a flip top and had to open it prior to leaving on our excursion.

So now I had one crying, bloody kneed child and one crying child whose feet were covered in “real flaked tuna and egg bits!” Are you wishing you were me yet?

I stood there frozen, no idea what to do. I just needed to get around the damn corner to my own damn house, and then you guys can lose your shit all you want, okay? The neighbor girls whipped into action, cleaning Zoe’s feet off, scooping up the splatted cat food, and shuttling Zoe and Rachel down the sidewalk after me with gentle cooing that only kids who love other little kids can muster.

What seemed like a year later, we finally made it home, applied Spiderman band aids, got jammies on, and got to bed. But that side of the block will forever remember The Day the Torres Family Rained Their Terror Upon the Street That Wasn’t Even Theirs.

And the TigerCat? We spoiled him with canned food and lots of love and manged to keep him home for a little over 24 hours, which is some kind of record. I’m willing to bet he’s back at the elderly couple’s house. You know, where things are not quite so crazy-town.

UPDATE: He came back after all. He’s now insisting twice daily real flaked tuna and egg bits. Meh. I’ll take it.

Being from Dallas (like Dallas Dallas), it always annoyed me when people said they were from Dallas when they were really from Grapevine, Lewisville, Flower Mound, et cetera and so on and so forth you get the idea. But then again, no one knows where the hell those places are anyway, so Dallas it is.

We hung at the Great Wolf Lodge for about 24 hours and had a blast. There’s a crazy amount of stuff to do there, but we mainly stuck to the water park since we were only there for a short time. My girls were in heaven. My sweet niece, whose birthday we were technically celebrating, actually got tired of swimming (and probably just tired in general — she pals around with my 5 year olds so much that I often forget that she’s just now turning 4) and fell asleep on my sister for about an hour or more. I would have loved to do the same (on a chair, not on my sister)(no offense, I’m sure your chest is very cozy, but let’s not let this get weird), but if I wasn’t in the pool with my eyes on my own kids, I was being dragged up and down the slides over and over by the 3 year old.

Anyway, some pictures! Or feel free to just scroll right on down the the bottom for this week’s links.

A tree grows in Grapevine.

 This monstrous bucket drops 1000 gallons of water like every 5 minutes.

Biggest fireplece EVA. Everything’s bigger in Texas, amirite?

We can tell you how tall you are. Can’t help you with the goggles though.

Oh, this was fun. After swimming and  before dinner, Rachel was giving all the vomit signs: lethargic, asking to go to bed, saying her tummy hurt, heavy breathing…I didn’t want to take her downstairs, but I did because BUFFET. We even took the plastic liner from the ice bucket to use as an impromptu (and see through!) barf bag. After noshing on some watermelon, she bounced back with the fervor of 100  5 year olds and declared to the entire resort “I’M NOT GOING TO THROW UP! I WAS JUST HUNGRY!” Thank God, but keep it down okay?

Christian is wondering what he did to deserve being trapped in a resort in the middle of nowhere with all of these females.  You paid for this, buddy!

JUMP! Zoe and her cousin are thick as thieves. Also it was way too cold to be swimming outside that day.

I told the kids to do something crazy. They never fail to deliver.

Some links:

Thanks so much to everyone who shared my post about My People. YOU ARE ALL MY PEOPLE. And I love you.

On the allParenting front, I interviewed the lovely Bernadette Noll from Slow Family Living on creating and keeping your tribe.

My friend Susan Schorn just released her first book, a memoir, Smile at Strangers: And Other Lessons in the Art of Living Fearlessly. I just got my copy in the mail and I can’t wait to read it.

Elaine from The Miss Elaine-ous Life wrote a fabulous post about what goes on behind her Instagram photos. An idyllic snapshot may not have idyllic conditions (and I’ m actually tempted to steal her post idea)!

If you like vasectomy humor (and really, who doesn’t?), you’ll love this post by Bad Parenting Moments: The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Happy weekend!

For seven and a half years we have lived with and cursed its poopy brown tile and unproportionately high mantle. Every house in our neighborhood has the exact same fireplace with the exact same mantle and exact same tile. Maybe poop brown was the thing in 1982? Maybe it was soooo 1981 and they got it at a steal from the homebuilder’s clearance bin? Either way, there’s no good reason it should still be around 31 years later.

Also I started thinking about how I was only like four when some sweaty dudes were in my future house laying this horrible ugly tile. I think even at that tender age I would have made a better choice. Probably rainbows or something because I was all about rainbows when I was four.

ANYWAY. Fireplace. Here’s the before, plus or minus a few tiles:

Don’t be jealous of our mantle decorations that include Minnie Mouse Bingo, beads, a spool of ribbon, a rubber lizard, a jar of leaves (don’t even ask. I stopped asking a long time ago), and a plastic flower.

The plan was to work on it most of Saturday, but life gets in the way, as usual. Here’s how it went:

• Saturday was Christian’s sleep in day, and I accidentally let him sleep later than he wanted (read: the kids were watching cartoons and I was enjoying some quiet coffee and writing time. Not sorry.).
• Then he had to finish the yard work that he started the night  before.
• Then it was lunch time.
• Then he offered to blow up the kiddie pool since the kids were restless and it’s already hot as balls here.
• Then I got sleepy.
• Then I took an hour long nap in Rachel’s bed.
• THEN we finally left the house to price out and pick up some of the supplies. By this time it was about 3:30, and once we left the home improvement store, it was dinner time.

This is how we roll, people.

I should tell you here that projects aren’t really our strong suit. We want to do them, but it’s in the actual doing that we falter. Before we had kids, we decided to build a circular patio in a shaded corner of our yard where nothing really grew anyway. Thanks to a stupid rainy summer in 2007, followed by a twin pregnancy, twin babies, and a good dose of laziness, we finally finished the patio in time for the girls’ first birthday party nearly two years later. Thus it was dubbed “The Two Year Patio.”

Then there was the sandbox that we built next to our back porch. My husband…he is a bit impulsive and just started digging a hole one day when I was out. Thanks to his sister coming to visit, we had the sandbox ready in time for the twins’ second birthday. But had she not helped, we’d likely still be digging the hole.

Finally, there was the door Christian busted down after Rachel locked herself in her room and was too young to realize she had to unlock it (and what special kind of genius put locks on the bedroom doors anyway?). Why we didn’t think to take a screwdriver and to some shimmy magic to pop it open like we did the 800 following times they did the exact same thing in Zoe’s room, I have no idea. But a door hanging on one gangly hinge isn’t really safe so we had to replace it, and since this is an older house, the door didn’t really fit. No biggie, just a little sanding, which we eventually got to. A year or so later. Then things expanded when it got warm again and now we need to sand some more. Or just wait until it gets cold and the door can close again.

So after dinner we finally bust out the chisels and start whacking out some tiles. I have some tips for those of you who may do a similar project:

• Wear goggles, unless you want tinier than tiny shards of poopy brown porcelain tile embedded in your cornea.
• Wear shoes, unless you want tinier than tiny shards of poopy brown porcelain tile embedded in your foot. Some people may even opt for close toed shoes. (We call them professionals.)
• Try to stay out of the direct chiseling of your DIY partner unless you want tinier than tiny shards of poopy brown porcelain tile embedded in your forehead, cheeks, or cleavage.
• You know what? It’s probably best you just stay out of the way and go check Facebook or something.

So after maybe an hour or more of chiseling and hammering and sweeping and scraping, this is what we are left with. Not bad for “Day 1 that didn’t really even start until 6:30 pm.” It already looks a million times better.

That’s a towel wadded up where the tile ripped a hole in the sheet rock, not a blood stain. Either they didn’t use cement board back in the 80s, or they took some serious shortcuts in this house. Which again explains the discount poopy brown tile. It smells really old and musty in there, and my favorite quote from today was, “I really hope that’s insulation and not fur.”

Here’s what we’re going for:

Despite my amazing DIY photo skills and awkwardly chubby wrist I think it’s going to look awesome when (if) we are done.

Also, this happened in the middle of all the hammering and chiseling and cursing and Netflix Pingu episodes. She got up a few hours later and we discovered she had a fever of 102. Way to get out of helping with the home improvements.

I suddenly realized that I’d just stepped into “I want to wear your skin for a jacket” territory, but she was totally gracious about it, because she’s just as weird as I am. That’s the good thing about hanging out with bloggers. Most of them are kind of fucked up in the same way you are.

– Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess), Let’s Pretend This Never Happened

I had a strange, kind of existential moment of clarity the other day. I know! I’m as surprised as you are given my brain is usually clouded with murky, milk spattered thoughts like “I wonder whose poop that is in the toilet?” and “When was the last time I gave them a bath?” (Also, holla if you’ve ever looked up a word like existential to make sure you’re using it right!)(Actually, I’m still not sure.)

But oh, this thought was so clear and clean, and it felt so good! Like standing in the warm sunshine on a chilly spring day or getting your kid to the toilet right before she barfs.

I had the pleasure of attending the 3rd annual Listen to Your Mother Austin show in early May. As always, it was a thrilling experience. After being in the show last year, it was so incredible to be able to sit and enjoy it and NOT feel like I was going to vomit. I knew how nervous the new cast members were, and I even got a little squeamish just pulling into the parking garage (which last year was the parking garage OF DOOM!). I cried through many readings, I bawled SO HARD during my friend Kristin’s piece, and laughed my ass off during others. It really is an incomparable experience, and I’m thrilled that I not only got to be a part of it, but that I got to see it from the outside this time.

But the best part? The best part was seeing so many people I loved, feeling like I was a part of something so big.

At the theater that evening, I felt it. Pure comfort and ease. I couldn’t walk 3 steps without hugging someone. Bloggers, writers, friends.

These are my people.

I have my fair share of friends, but I often feel like I am sitting on the outskirts of the group. I’m in, but I’m circling, sometimes even waiting for someone else to make the move to fully include me. Let’s all have a moment of gratitude that I am not out there in the dating world, because that just has fail written all over it.

I attended the show with one of my non-blogging besties, Lori (who recently told me that she loves it when I mention her on my blog, so Lori Lori Lori Lori Lori. LORI!). She had no idea where I was taking her, really. She was just excited about the prospect of a child free night out and a cash bar. I know she felt a little out of her element. “How do you know all of these people?” she asked, and it was all through blogging and social media. Some I have only known online, but we hugged like old friends. Many have actually become dear friends with whom I have since shared many good times. We’ve formed writing groups. We get together for lunch. We commiserate about blogging, parenting, and have even trained for half marathons “together.”

From L-R: Missy, 2013 cast member Ava Love Hanna, me, 2013 cast member Bernadette Noll. They are all fantastic writers and people.

I hadn’t really realized until that night how comfortable I felt in this environment of writerly folk. I consider myself a pretty big introvert, and sometimes making conversation in social situations gives me a huge headache. But I felt I could have stayed there all night.

My fellow 2012 cast members all greeted each other with warm, genuine embraces. We caught up on each other’s lives and accomplishments: some are performing; some are publishing real, live books. I introduced myself to a few cast members and congratulated them on their marvelous essays and this huge accomplishment. In a total out of body experience I forced myself out of my shell to talk to LTYM creator Ann Imig (thank you, glass of cabernet sauvignon! You were worth every penny of your $8) and thank her for what she has created.

Ann and me. We are very shiny.

This is the magic of the blogging and writing community. We are oversharing birds of a feather. Sometimes we don’t really know each other but at the same time, we know each other so well. And once that relationship is extended into real life, we find that we can connect on many other levels, but this level will always be our level.

From L-R: Missy again, me, LTYM Austin producer and hilarious blogger Wendi Aarons, and 2013 cast member Lauren Bayne.

I believe that people are in our lives for certain reasons. We travel various journeys together. I value my pre-kids, non-writer friends immeasurably (as in LORI, who, like I said, loves being mentioned on my blog) . We’ve experienced pain, grief, and joy, all while heading through this parenting rabbit hole together. Those ladies are like sisters to me. Likewise, there are things about my life that only my twin mom friends understand, like why I refuse to take all three kids to the grocery store unless we are out of toilet paper and baby wipes and paper towels AND there are no stray leaves in the yard for wiping.

In the past 10 years or so I’ve gone from floundering with relationships of convenience that I didn’t really understand to having a heart full of friends and confidants and feeling like there is always someone to reach out to for one of my many many first world problems. And I’m so thankful for each and every one of them.

But you have friends…and you have people.

I think I’ve found my people.

Amazon links are affiliate links. My people are okay with this. And thank you to Trish Morrison for the group photos.

This has been a busy couple of weeks for me. I had a couple of deadlines, a meeting with my writer’s group, the end of school, a mini vacation with the fam, and oh yes the general taking care of the children and the home and the showering and such. I tell you, that shower is usually the first thing to get bumped, you know? Also this was my first full “summer” week. School’s out, and we’re looking forward to staying busy with stuff. What kind of stuff I have no idea. Preferably stuff that doesn’t burn a shitton of gas and cost a shitton of money. Also, when there are no school days, I kinda forget which days I’m supposed to bathe my kids. It happens.

Anyway, some stuff:

MomCom Austin is coming up quick! Like wasn’t I just there in January? If you’ve never been to MomCom, it’s a fun day full of speakers and networking with other moms just like you (uh…if you’re a mom) — working moms, work at home moms, stay at home moms, entepreneurs…they’re all there. I’ve been three times, since the conference’s inception, and I get a little something awesome out of each one and have met some wonderful people in the process.

The next event will be June 29, 2013, at The Oaks Event Center here in Austin. Tickets are $109 for a full day of fun engagement, including light breakfast, lunch, speakers, workshops, exhibitions, and a reception featuring local food and cocktails. Go here to register.*

Some links:

On the allParenting front, I had some stuff published! Also remember when I told you that all my articles weren’t going to be about twins? Huh. Me too.

• Moms’ biggest fears about having multiples
• Blogs for parents of multiples
• 9 Thrifty & chic DIY blogs  <—–not about twins!

If you haven’t seen this post from Jen Hatmaker floating around Facebook, then you are living under a rock. Or maybe you just don’t run in blogging circles like me. But she wrote the most hilarious post about how at the end of the school year, moms. are. done. And I have to say, when someone as fabulous as Jen says something like “Children should not be allowed to learn to read until they are already good at it,” it makes me feel a LOT better about sucking at this once in a while. Read The Worst End of School Mom Ever.

A local grad student made this amazing time lapse video of Austin locations at night. It’s kinda beautifully creepy. (Thanks Corrin from Oh Hey, What’s up?)

My friend Kristin from Two Cannoli shared one of her Listen to Your Mother castmate’s piece on her blog. Second Place Muffins is a wonderful read about the memories we hold dear.

Probably my favorite blogger in the world (as in she has no idea I exist) Amalah delivers huge LOLs in My Writing Process. Let Me Show You It. We bloggers are quite deficient in the attention area.

Happy weekend!

In true Christian fashion (my husband, not the religion)(I mean, we believe and stuff, that’s just not what I’m referring to this time)(Okay, I’ll stop now), my dear husband surprised Zoe with a new-ish bed Sunday night by taking the front off her crib. Sure, sure, she’s probably ready, but no one discussed this with me, and maybe I’m not ready okay? But gah she’s cute in that bed.

I still rock her to sleep, did you know that? I bet you didn’t. Yes, she’s almost 3.5, and I still rock her to sleep because she’s my baby, my LAST baby (knock on all the wood in the house), and I adore her so. The big girls were always so good about being set in their beds and going right to sleep, but this one…this one needed a little more coaxing. She’s gone through phases where she’s content to just be placed in bed, phases where she’s asked to go to bed after a little snuggling, and then come back to wanting to fall asleep in my arms. I can’t complain. Rocking her to sleep was the one thing I had left to hold onto in a world of “I do it mysewf, MAMA!” And having a toddler (preschooler? What is she now?) fall asleep on you and breathe their sweet sleepy breath is one of life’s greatest gifts.

But Sunday, oh Sunday. Sunday she opted to climb right into her big girl bed instead of sitting in the chair with me. I rubbed her back and stroked her hair, and she was out in less than five minutes. She slept like a rock instead of her usual waking once or twice per night.

She came into our room in the morning to get me up (it was my sleep in day. Holla!), all of the sudden she was spouting real, full sentences and conversations and complex mathematical equations. What the hell, life? Did you really find it necessary to deliver me a full fledged big girl in the same week that my oldest are practically moving out?

I feel like for the past several weeks I’ve been so focused on the fact that preschool will soon be out and the kids will be home with me all day every day, that I’ve completely glossed over the fact that Tuesday was their last day of preschool. EVER. And after this summer of sweating our asses off and likely driving me crazy, I will have full fledged kindergarteners, and soon they’ll be gone all day every day, and I’ll miss them and have I really made the most of these past 5 years home with them, and now I’m about to vomit.

I’m going to be a mess on the first day of kindergarten, y’all.

Everyone says it will be great. They say I’ll be sad for about a day, then I’ll bask in some freedom. This is what you’ve been waiting for, Christian says. And he’s right. I’ve been waiting for the day that they start kinder and we’re not in each other’s faces all the time. I’m a better mom when we all get a break and some space from each other. But can’t they go to kindergarten without growing up? Shouldn’t there be an intermediary step between 2 day a week preschool and 5 day a week kindergarten? Post-preschool-almost-big-kid-but-not-quite-because-mommy’s-not-ready school? (If you answer 3-4 day a week preschool, then yes, thank you, and I will send you the bill. Times 2.)

I’m nervous about them being gone. I know I’ll miss them. I’m sad that they shook their I don’t wanna go to school phase like two weeks before graduation. I’m afraid they won’t like big kid school. I’m afraid they’ll miss preschool. I know they’ll be exhausted when they get home. I’m afraid they’ll use up all their good behavior at school and leave the nastiness for me.

I fear I will never get them there by the ass-crack of dawn time of 7:45 in the AM. Seriously? 7:45? 7:45.  Yeah.

***************************

I started crying immediately after I walked out of the church this morning. I was dropping them off at preschool for the last time. EVER. Can’t we just stay in this phase?  I asked Christian. Preschool is so fun! Cute crafts, fun games, no real responsibilities. I was a blubbering mess all morning, and racing around town to procure teacher gifts was a welcome distraction.

The pre-k kids got to choose from a list of careers to dress up as for their segment. As completely no surprise to me Claire chose a ballerina, and Rachel chose a baseball player – both such perfect representations of where they are in their preferences and personalities right now.

Zoe played the part of the grumpy 3 year old.

OMG waiting is so. hard.

Kindergarten will be an adventure. A new phase. I’m apprehensive because I know that once they’re in school, they’re IN SCHOOL, and things will never be the same again. There really is no stopping the growing up now. I miss them already and they haven’t even left.

Awkward smiles, everyone!

Whew! All this graduating is hard work, yo.

Take heed: You haven’t really lived until a 5 year old cups your boob and you don’t even notice. Also, hair? What is the matter with you?

Until lately, THE reader has been Google Reader, because Google pretty much runs the world, and your blog reading along with it. But the Google gods announced earlier this year that as of July 1 2013, they would be sending their reader to sleep with the fishes, along with its friends Google Buzz, Google Wave, and Google+. Oh wait. We’re still trying to use that last one, aren’t we?*

That means that if you’re using Reader, you need to find a new method to corral your favorite content from around the web. Here are a few suggestions:

Feedly

I just started using Feedly, and I love it like Claire loves her preschool boyfriend. Feedly allows you to import ALL of your current subs directly from Google Reader, so really you don’t have to do much of anything. I took it a step further and used it as an opportunity to clean up and unsubscribe from a bunch of subs that weren’t relevant to me anymore (not yours, of course).

Feedly shows images from the posts in your reading list, which is a nice improvement from the somewhat utilitarian looking Google Reader. I also love that they have an iPhone app, which Google Reader didn’t (although they did have one for Droid). Best of all, you can share a post on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, or email straight from Feedly. Really it’s the best lazy person’s reader.

Note: I had tried to unsubscribe from certain blogs over and over again in Google Reader, but they kept coming back like a bad case of herpes. I used to be in Blogger back in the day, and turns out I had to go in and manually unfollow all of the blogs that I had originally subscribed to through the Blogger dashboard FROM the Blogger dashboard. It wasn’t all that quick, but it didn’t take a whole afternoon, and my nice, clean herpes-free Feedly reader makes me uber happy.

bloglovin’

I don’t know a lot about bloglovin,’ but I do know some who use it and like it. You can follow your favorite blogs and apparently discover new ones. Hooray! I haven’t signed up, so I really have no experience, but you should know that it’s out there. They also have iPhone and Android apps.

Email

If email reading is your thang, feel free to sign up to receive all of your favorite blogs in your inbox. Most of them should have an email subscription option in the sidebar (mine is right over there…just under my social media icons, or enter your email addy below). I check my email so sporadically throughout the day, that any and all blogs would get lost until I had a chance to sit down and devote time to reading them, and that ain’t happening. But a lot of people prefer it.

Facebook

Not only do I deliver my posts via my Facebook page, I talk all kinds of nonsense over there too. It’s fun. But while I definitely think you should like my page, I don’t recommend making it your prime source for keeping up with your favorite blogs, since Zuckerberg likes to play around with algorithms more than his…you know. Basically out of all of a page’s fans, only a certain percentage of people will actually see each post due to both timing and fancy Facebook math.

Genie in a Blog

Promote Your Page Too

Twitter

Some days I log onto Twitter and it’s nothing but #giveaways and #reviews and #noise. And the inspirational quotes….BLECH. But other days I log on and it’s tweet after tweet of great content from awesome bloggers and all of the sudden I have 30 tabs open on my computer.

Follow @latorres

How do you keep up with your favorite stuff from around the web?

*For a really interesting article on Google’s failed products, check out this post on the Failed Google Graveyard. Pretty interesting to see what they tried to get off the ground.