gubbins [ˈgʌbɪnz]
n Informal
Yours truly.
Growing up, gubbins were what was left on your plate after you had just eaten, say, a taco and a good amount fell out and didn’t make it into your gob. They were the extras, the little bits that you wouldn’t really miss if you scraped them into the trash, but what my parents insisted I eat up. As in, “Eat your gubbins!”
As much as this blog is a way for me to share the gubbins of my life (see definitions 1 and 3 above) in the Wild West with friends and family back in the motherland: New Jersey, it’s also a family journal of sorts so we can look back on these wild days with 2 youngin’s and wonder where time went.
As of August 2018, our family of 4 is made up of my husband Jordan, myself, and our two boys. I work on this late at night, once the boys are tucked in for the night, or early in the morning, cup of coffee in hand. Neither opportunity presents itself with regularity, so posts are sporadic and a bit haphazard. It is one (of my many) passion projects. My biggest passion project, aside from raising my boys, is owning Powder7 with Jordan.