Thursday, June 29, 2006

Mysterious Skin
I am happy to report that not only do I not have a broken nose and that I can take the punch, but I do not have measles or the Lyme disease.


A couple of weeks ago I noticed a weird oval ring on my hip. Nothing huge or itchy or raised or anything – just a reddish ring. I thought it might be a bug bite or maybe a reaction to new detergent. I ignored it.

After a week, I figured I should take some action and threw a little Lamisil on it, thinking it could be ringworm. When I was in high school I worked for a vet for a while and I got ringworm from the dogs and cats a couple of times (maybe upwards of 4). I threw a little ointment on it and everything was fine, if not itchy for a few days.

But I didn’t have the itch and the Lamisil didn’t work. Then I noticed another, similar splotch. I opted to ignore everything and hope for the best.

Then I noticed more splotches – all over my torso.

I work somewhat near the offices where some people have been passing around the measles. I didn’t believe I had the measles as I don’t have any symptoms besides the splotches. Deeps finally suggested I call the doctor, they saw me this morning.

I have some kind of rosacea – it starts with a p. She pulled out one of those fun skin books with the color pictures and we looked over it carefully. Then she examined me again (behold my gut splotches!) and compared against the book.

Me: So it’s just like, there.
Doctor: Yep.
Me: Huhm.
Doctor: It’ll go away in a few weeks. It might spread a little but doesn’t really go above your chest or below your knees.
Me: How’d I get it?
Doctor: It is a virus.
Me: What causes it?
Doctor: We don’t really know.
Me: And it isn’t contagious?
Doctor: No, and it’ll go away in a few weeks. You don’t need to do anything.
Me: Wow.
Doctor: Yeah, rashes can be bad – you’re lucky it’s nothing worse. Usually when I see rash on the chart I think, “Oh god.”
Me: So that’s it?
Doctor: Yep.

I like doctors who say yep.


Wednesday, June 28, 2006

She always finds the silver lining
Yesterday I worked with Wendy at the gym.

I explained that I had been a little unwell the previous day and that I needed to take things a little easy – so as not to hurl all over her nice gym shoes.

We worked out, things went okay and I told her my tale of woe.

She listened carefully, asking questions and giving me the sympathetic head nod. She only giggled a little – but that’s when I did.

And then she offered up this little gem, “And now we know that you should be able to take a punch to the face.”

“I guess, but I really hope it doesn’t happen again,” I replied.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess I need to work with you on the evasive moves.”

“It’s hard to evade a toilet seat.”

“You’re telling me.”


Tuesday, June 27, 2006

What are you going to do?

You win American Idol and now you shill for Ford. I guess that’s not such a big deal, except that you’re shilling for the year-end clearance sale. And you’ve stolen the stage from Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

I guess it could be worse – you could have Clay Aiken’s bangs.


Monday, June 26, 2006

And that’s how I got the black eye
We had a pretty nice weekend – until the tail end, which I’ll get to in a moment.

Saturday we went to a very fun birthday party where we chatted and ate amazing food and had delicious tropical drinks and probably could have stayed all night (as reported by my husband, who was really enjoying himself) except we had a wedding early on Sunday. We had to be on the road by around noon.

The wedding was beautiful, despite the rain. And despite the humidity everyone looked great (I have looked better, but whatever – my husband looked quite dapper). We had a great time and I caught up with old friends last seen at the ever-famous Italian wedding.

Then I did something that upon further reflection I think sealed my fate.

When the salad came, I remarked to my husband that it tasted like onion vinaigrette. He nodded or something and stopped eating the salad.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve developed an allergy of some type and can’t eat raw onions. If I do – I get very nauseous if I’m lucky. If I’m less lucky, I spend a lot of time purging. (Is that a polite way to say puking my guts up?)

The vinaigrette, I think, appeared again on the salmon I ordered. I scraped a lot of it off – but clearly didn’t remove enough and shortly after we got in the car I got the face that said approximately, “Please take me home immediately so I can spend some quality time throwing up.”

We had an hour+ drive home. I had my keys in hand when we pulled in the driveway and I raced into the house to… unburden myself. As I reached the toilet I pulled up the lid and as I leaned forward the lid came down and smashed into the bridge of my nose. Oh yes – I need to vomit, once I clean up the blood.

Things went downhill from there and now I’m sitting here, still nauseous, having slept little and feeling quite lousy. My nose isn’t broken – I got lucky – and I did spend a lot of time in the bathroom which was less lucky. My nose is sore and I have a small bruise under my right eye just to make things a little extra pleasant.

My poor husband has been up all night trying to take care of me, but giving me lots of space. I’m going to spend some quality time on the couch today with an ice pack on my nose (not much swelling – it just hurts like hell) and sip some ginger ale.

It’s my worst wedding hangover ever. The saddest part, I only had one glass of wine.


Friday, June 23, 2006

Harsh realizations on a Friday morning
I’m going to a wedding this weekend.
I don’t have shoes.
I don’t have a pedicure.
I don’t have a gift.
I should probably shave my legs.
I think I have a dress.
I’m pretty sure it is going to rain.
My hair will look extra awesome in the rain as I hobble around in new shoes trying to disguise any little cuts on my leg, wondering if I got a good gift.
I’m an idiot.


Thursday, June 22, 2006

Use it or lose it
Deeps has some vacation due to him that he’ll forfeit if not used by the end of the month. So next week he’s taking some time off. I’ve done the math and realized he’ll be home for roughly a week and a half – by himself and without any supervision.

I can only hope that we all survive.

He has no idea what he’s going to do with his time off. I’ve suggested he go visit some friends in New York, maybe hit a few museums – but he’s sort of shaken off that suggestion. I think he’s thinking of wallowing in his own filth for a couple of days.

I casually asked if he might be willing to do a few jobs around the house. He said he didn’t do yard work if I wasn’t around to keep him from harming himself. So that’s reassuring – if annoying.

Then of course there’s the crown molding project – which again, would be great to get done – but looks like it won’t be done without my supervision. I spot the ladder. And I know how to work the saw.


Wednesday, June 21, 2006

But British and with 300% more lesbian!
That should get your attention.

Deeps and I have been watching borderline television programs this summer. I still haven’t gotten into Deadwood – it just never appealed to me. I know it’s supposed to be good, but whatever. I can’t get into it. The saddest part is that my husband assures me that I’d like it because “people get killed all the time.”

That’s right; he invoked the Boehm Body Count Rule. He made up the rule when noting that when I watch certain types of movies (usually action, thrillers or horror) that I expect a certain number of deaths to occur. I don’t know if that’s totally true, but I can’t deny that I do enjoy seeing stuff get blowed up.

Anyway – I’m toying with this theory about shows that are critically acclaimed but don’t appeal to me like Rescue Me and The Shield. I think it’s the Hemingway conundrum (aka the Stooges factor) – some men seem to gravitate towards and like Hemingway more than some women. I appreciate the sparseness of his prose but I am not a fan.

What does this have to do with lesbians? Well one of the summer shows that I’ve started watching is Hex on BBC America (warning: sound effects). Basically it is like Buffy but with less plot advancement, more lesbianism (like it’s written by the staff of Maxim) and more British.

It’s not a show I’d watch during the regular season, but it is perfectly acceptable for me during the hot summer months. It’s not especially good and it doesn’t bring anything new to the genre, but sometimes it is funny. The plotting is very slow - which is surprising because Brit shows have much shorter seasons and usually cram more stuff in. I'm three hours into season one and I know very little about what is going on.

And like I said – they constantly talk about lesbianism. I don’t really have a problem with that, but it’s kind of hilarious how much it factors into every single conversation. I think someone has mistaken sexual orientation with character development. Whoops!

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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Ear-piercing shrieks of staggering loudness
So it’s hot. I had a dentist appointment last night after work – hot and dentist don’t really go together in my world.

Deeps picked me up after a round of deep-scaling. Fun times! We got home without incident and as I walked in the back door I was happy to see that it was a little cooler in the house. Just as I opened the front door to check the mail, the smoke alarms went off.

I don’t know what that’s all about – but I can tell you that we have the loudest domestic smoke alarms I’ve ever heard. I’m not exaggerating a bit when I say they were ear piercing – like you have to cover your ears not to go all crazy like in a episode of Star Trek.

The Poopus poofed out and jammed herself under the coffee table. She let loose a series of low, deep wails.

The other fun thing about our alarms, they are somehow hard-wired into the ceiling – so you have to unplug them to reset them – we think. We don’t actually have any instructions about how to deal with these things. But you can’t just push a button like a normal smoke detector and reset the things. You have to haul out a six foot ladder and start pulling stuff off the ceiling in every room and hallway. These things were everywhere.

We spent the next 30 minutes climbing up and down ladders trying to shut these things down. I also walked around looking for smoke or fire – I didn’t find anything. Whatever triggered them is still a mystery.

Everything is back in place now – but we’ve got the ladder on stand-by in case they go nuts again. I’m hoping it won’t the next trigger doesn’t come at 3 AM.

The only good thing – at least we know there is no human way to sleep through the smoke detectors. I think they’d wake the dead.


Sunday, June 18, 2006

Beware the Mansquito
So Peaches and Peggy are on a multi-weak odyssey of patio construction. Last weekend after our obscene shopping trip we changed into our grubbies (we call it flop ‘round the homestead) and helped excavate the big hole where their patio will eventually live.

This weekend they were constructing the patio and we were unable to help because we had to make the annual journey to Jersey to visit the outlaws. Deeps goes more regularly but I’ve got myself to one visit per year. It’s what we call “marital compromise.”

On Friday night we stopped by to see how the work was going – a big gravel and stone dust delivery had been made that morning. They were working on the wood frame and we pitched in to help. Within a few moments I was covered in giant mosquitoes – they were man-sized.

It didn’t take too long for us to determine that the mansquitoes liked me the best – I am extra delicious to them. We planned on walking to the center to pick up some cash at the ATM after our work on the frame – but given my blood loss we opted to drive.

My dreams of the summer spent nursing cool drinks on our friends’ patio went up in… bug spray. I’m pretty sure OFF! cannot defeat the dreaded mansquito. I’m just glad no children were around. Surely they would have been carried away.


Hot in the city
Today is the first very, very hot day. The temperature is hovering around 96 according to my little temperature gauge. Yowza.

I think the problem with the extreme heat in New England is that during a heat wave, it is hard to find relief in the city. Sometimes you go to restaurants for a break – maybe to skip out on cooking at home – and you’ll find a steamy, AC-free environ. And these aren’t like little dive places; I encountered this problem more than a few times in larger restaurants in Harvard Square.

So remember people – keep hydrated, wear your sunscreen and when you walk into a place, check to make sure the AC is working before you get a table.


Friday, June 16, 2006

Momentous Occasion
Last night I miscalculated on dinner – I thought we had some ingredients that we didn’t have. So after a few moments of negotiation we opted to do a quick carry out from a local restaurant.

We’ve been visiting a local Mexican place for a few months. I think it’s a real challenge to get good, affordable Mexican food (or Tex/Mex) in New England. The whole region suffers from “but is it spicy?” syndrome and often you get watery, flavorless fare.

I like burritos. Deeps doesn’t really care for them – he prefers rellenos and enchiladas.

We have no Chipotle. Which doesn’t appeal to me so much (clearly I am in the minority). We were spoiled in Chicago when we lived just down the street from a fantastic and authentic Mexican restaurant. We were regulars and the proprietor would sometimes just bring us food without bringing the menu. We were never disappointed.

For a long time, we just avoided Mexican food. And then when we bought the townhouse, we got lucky – we lived just a few blocks from a pretty good place. They have like 10 kinds of rellenos every day. And they make burritos.

Deeps: You know what today is?
Me: What?
Deeps: You can get your free burrito!
Me: Already!
Deeps: Your frequent burrito card is full.
Me: I don’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed.

I decided against cashing in my burrito card today – it’s too soon. I want to save it for a special occasion. Or at least when I can’t afford a burrito.


Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Watch the birdie
Earlier in the week I was participating in a meeting in one of the office conference rooms. The meeting was winding down and people were gathering their things to depart. I looked out the large picture window to see something fall past the window.

This isn’t totally unusual, except the room was on the 10th floor. The woman next to me gasped.

“What was that?” she cried.

Alarmed, we all raced to the window and huddled around. I spotted him right away – Perry was perched on the roof of the building across the street.

Apparently he’d been taking a snooze or something on the roof of my building when he decided to take flight next door.

Everyone was captivated – we started talking animatedly about the bird and swapping stories about him. Then we noted a little bird flutter close to Perry.

And just as quickly, we all started to clamor in unison: no birdie, stay away from the falcon!

Perry wasn’t interested – he was preening while the stupid little bird fluttered around and away. He may never know how close he came to annihilation - they don’t call him a bird brain for nothing.


Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Wherein I reveal my inherent Midwestern-ness
My colleague told me about a rockin’ sale at the Le Creuset outlet in Kittery, Maine. The nice thing about living in New England is that all the states are small and jammed up together. You can drive an hour north or south and be in another state – sometimes even two states away!

I got this idea about going up to Kittery since my cookware was getting a little pitiful – my workhorse 3 qt. sauce pans have been beaten into submission. I figured I’d take advantage of the sale and buy me some fancy French cookware. Later I mentioned this great idea to Deeps who didn’t seem able to come up with a good reason why we shouldn’t go. And off we went…

As we pulled onto Route 1 we saw the prominent signs for Le Creuset (next to the Bass outlet). We pulled into the parking lot and found a nice spot – but before I was out of the car I peered through the windshield to see something that made me actually squee: a Black and Decker outlet store.

I made a beeline to the store while Deeps fumbled with the car keys. I’m not sure he even saw me, I moved so fast. I was inside and wandering around looking or a 24 volt cordless drill in a flash. I had my list for Father’s Day – but this was better – Father’s Day sales at an outlet. I tried not to go too crazy but I am the proud owner of an $8 orbital sander (regularly $60) and a $10 18 volt cordless drill with two batteries and carrying case (regularly $80). I also bought a shop vac and a fancy stud finder – because that’s what every home really needs.

I got some drill bits, a few saw bits and I don’t know – other stuff. Old men in the store trembled in my wake. I had a list – I was on fire.

When it was over my first instinct was to pull out my phone and call Big Al to tell him about my deals. He’d never believe it.


News you can use
I had one of those days that requires a lot of time on the couch, in the dark when you get home. Maybe you have cereal for breakfast. And perhaps you answer your spouse’s questions with single syllable grunts. Then you watch something on television that requires little thought or interaction.

So I picked The Closer – which is pretty decent for such activities.

My biggest problem with The Closer falls squarely on the shoulders of one Meryl Streep. In the ‘80s she exploded onto the scene by portraying complicated characters, usually sporting some type of exotic (or not so exotic) accent. A lot of people ignored her nuanced performance and without the aid of a complex character to portray opted to go for the accent: Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, and Fishstick Paltrow come to mind.

Anyway – this brings me back to Kyra Sedgwick’s performance of one Brenda Leigh. I suspect in many parts of the country, people think that Kyra’s choice in southern accent is perfectly fine. She sounds like the twangiest, nightmare version of the worst truck stop waitress I might ever encounter in the land of stereotype.

She talks too fast (compared to most southerners I know). Although, Jaime Pressley* has offered up a very quick delivery for her character Joy on My Name is Earl. And her accent is great – granted, she has the benefit of having a mellow southern accent naturally. But she has a good ear for what it should sound like for someone like Joy.

Maybe she can call up Kyra sometime and give her some pointers.

The other problem I had last night – to quote one Alan Sepinwall – someone had Kyra’s lipstick set on “clown.” It was a total disaster. When your husband notices how bad a woman’s lipstick (on television no less) looks – you know you need to blot. And then fire your make-up person.

*edited to fix typos - because I can't type at 6:30 in the morning; I threw in a couple of links too


Monday, June 12, 2006

New Schedule
I’m finding that I can sometimes write in the morning, but not as much as I once did. However, since it is summer my evenings are more free and flexible so I think I might start blogging more at night. If you’re a regular reader you’ll probably start finding stuff updated from the night before.

Like the entry I posted last night – see, it is still kind of fresh. Like day old bread. Now make some French Toast out of it and call it breakfast!

God, some French Toast sounds good about now. When did I last have French Toast? Mmmm... toast.


Sunday, June 11, 2006

The alleged perv next to the mouse
I got tons of good material this weekend at a party with kids and later at the giant outlet mall where we spent ungodly sums of money. I actually feel shame – so we helped Peaches and Peggy excavate 140 cubic feet of dirt for their new patio.

Anyway, I’ll share with you this short story.

We visited a friends’ house for their daughter’s first birthday. The place was packed with people and kids and even a couple of dogs. Everyone was having a great time.

Our friends said that they’d gone to the home of one Charles Edward Cheese to mark the event earlier in the week. While at said Cheese residence, the kids enjoyed games and pizza while our friends took guarding the table.

Apparently a man was sitting by himself nearby eating pizza and kind of watching the kids. Some of the mothers noted this and alerted other mothers in the area. Then they complained to the manager.

Our friends started to giggle at the retelling. Apparently the man was a dad, keeping the table while his slightly older kids (in the 10+ age range) ignored him and spent his money on video games.

There’s a lesson in all of this. I’m sure someone can tell me what it is.


Thursday, June 08, 2006

Twenty years older
Our newest neighbor moved next door a few months ago. She’s been busy sprucing up the outside and planting a very nice garden. In fact, she’s starting to shame me into more garden action – except it’s been rainy.

Tuesday night we took advantage of the clear, dry weather to do a little yard work – Deeps took care of the lawn while I worked with the Weedeater. We were done in less than half an hour and things looked much, much better.

Our neighbor said hi over the fence and we chatted a bit about her flowers, my chilies and how we both hate the ugly fence. Then she mentioned that she made a copy of some old town documents to share with us.

Apparently the street we live on used to be part of a farm (which isn’t exactly surprising) and she found our lot and our house marked in 1896 – about 25 years before we were told the house was built.

She did a little sleuthing and discovered that back in the day the town said your house was built when the last permanent building was constructed – so her house was allegedly built in 1930. But that was the year the garage was built. Our house was the same, there used to be a garage – it was built in 1920 but the house was there years before.

Just like that – the house is nearly 25 years older. We missed her hundred year anniversary, we can better reconcile some of the Victorian features inside (the woodwork didn’t make sense for a house built in 1920). And we have a better sense of what direction to move in when we look at any renovations.

I think the house has held up well for being over 100 – the electrical is new, the roof is new, the basement is dry. We got lucky and our old house is a little older than we thought.

Now – when will I reveal to Deeps that I’m actually 41 and not 31? I wonder if he’ll be so cool.


Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Lady of the Night
Our house has become a very popular stop on the cat love trail. That’s right people; the Poopus has been advertising her wares. I think she’s working profiles on MySpace and maybe eHarmony.

So there are at least four cat suitors parked outside the front window – they show their love and interest in the mighty Poopus by staring at her through the window. Then she gets all freaked and starts poofing out, the tail all twitchy, and then the low growling starts.

She’s playing hard to get with her middle-aged, flabby cat self.

The boy cats do not seem to have any issues with this behavior. They just keep staring at her. At first I thought they would fight with her through the window and destroy my screen but the males don’t seem so interested in fighting as they do in loving. And they’re patient too.

The Poopus keeps playing hard to get – she lashes out quickly and then we have to distract her and chase away the cat outside so that she doesn’t undo our screen repairs from last summer.

Meanwhile, the boy cats have other problems besides getting the cold shoulder from the dark princess – apparently we have coyotes in the neighborhood.


Tuesday, June 06, 2006

I think I’m going to write about Sammy Terry

Sammy Terry – you know, like cemetery – was the local spooky movie host in Indianapolis when I was a kid. He hosted the midnight movies that played on Channel 4. I’m not sure when I was allowed to stay up until midnight, but I suspect there was a close correlation between that event and my parents’ divorce.

Nothing brings kids closer to their TV family like divorce.

Anyway, I recall vividly watching Mighty Joe Young while parked on my Nana’s couch (on the east side of Indy) late on Saturday (or possibly Friday) night. I remember being upset when the man was keeping Joe down, but then happy that despite the many slights he suffered (and chains and beatings) he still saved those orphans from the fire. Good for him!

I can’t really remember a lot of Sammy’s bits – I recall him spending some quality time talking to his rubber bat. I also remember one particularly riveting segment where he disappeared and reappeared repeatedly for about five minutes. Even as a kid – a young kid – like seven or eight, I thought it was lame. But I still liked Sammy. I just liked the idea of him. I liked that someone would share my love for old horror movies and would take the time to bring to me every week.

Through Sammy I met the Universal monsters, Abbott and Costello, saw the work of Ray Harryhausen, and eventually stumbled upon John Carpenter. I don’t know if that made me a better person, a weirder person or a disturbed person – but I like to think it made the awkward time of parents’ disintegrating marriage a little less awful. At least for a couple of hours.


Sunday, June 04, 2006

Only one person noticed that I somehow truncated the entry about a former co-worker who invited us to his house for a party and showed up a giant uhm… painting of his personal parts.

One person.

You are reader of the year, Mike Pope. I salute you.

So the ending. It was better when I originally wrote it – so I apologize for my less than stellar summation. Basically, not all of my co-workers had seen the painting in question so we tromped back in the house and looked at it as a group. We were collectively creeped out and maybe someone made a crass comment about whether or not the painting was to scale.


And that’s the best cliffhanger resolution since Who Shot JR?


When bad things happen to good DVRs
Our cable company gave us a DVR last summer when we signed up for new service last summer. It has been about a year since we got the DVR and we’ve been very happy.

Until the past couple of weeks.

The DVR kind of freezes, it goes all pixely and stops playing. Or worse – it won’t play at all. I tried to record a few crappy movies a couple of weeks ago – they didn’t record correctly and I spent the next couple of hours trying to get the cable box to respond at all.

I started complaining to Deeps that we should call the cable company. We finally caved and called the cable company – once we made it through sweeps. I needed to watch LOST first, okay? I have priorities.

Tomorrow we’re taking the flaky DVR back to the cable company to switch out with a new box. Tonight I’m frantically watching backlogged television – not so much stuff that I haven’t seen already (although, there is some of that) but also stuff I really loved and kept: like about six fantastic episodes of The Office.

I kept those episodes to rewatch on hot, boring summer nights. Like the Dundies or the one where they do conflict resolution or drug testing or better yet, the amazing season finale that made me actually get misty-eyed. The sitcom made my cry and not in a “very special episode” kind of way.

So I will bid the DVR a fond farewell – and say goodbye to stuff we recorded but couldn’t get to play back: like the penultimate episode of Doctor Who, House Detective, and the always popular three-hour BBC America mystery called… I don’t remember. I was planning on taking a nap to it.


Friday, June 02, 2006

Travels with the French Connection
I love talking with the French Connection when I’m busy or exhausted or both – she’s a breath of fresh, crazy air.

She called to make plans with us (we’re having dinner tonight – more fresh material!) and we were talking about her crazy workload over the past few weeks. In an effort to take a little break from the stress, she and CC decided to go visit some friends in Montreal.

She casually mentioned that they’d left early on Friday to beat traffic but then that didn’t quite work out and they ended up leaving on Saturday morning.

When she said that I knew what happened. Because I know the French Connection so damn well.

They were about two hours into a five hour journey when someone (I’m guessing her husband) raised the issue of passports. Americans driving to Canada can still usually make it over the border with a valid driver’s license. But the FC is a different story. She’s not a US citizen, although she’s married to one. She’s legally here in the country but to leave and return she needs a passport.

I think we all know where this is going. Someone forgot her passport.

I told Deeps the story and stopped at the “they left on Friday but then had to turn back and left again on Saturday.” Deeps guessed correctly what happened as well.

Me: Do you think we should tell her our unified theory about her life?
Deeps: No.
Me: Why? It could help her!
Deeps: First, I think she’d get mad and it might hurt her feelings.
Me: Okay.
Deeps: Second, she gives us too many hilarious stories this way.
Me: That’s true.
Deeps: And third – I think she could do us grievous bodily harm if we made her mad.
Me: Yeah. Wait ‘til she finds out I blog about this stuff.


Thursday, June 01, 2006

I love Father’s Day
I really benefit from Father’s Day by being clever: I make a list of all the tools I need and wait until Father’s Day sales to buy them.

As a new homeowner, there is no shortage to the work I can do on the house – we’ve got lots of little projects.

So I’ve got my eye on a shop-vac, an orbital sander and an 18 volt cordless drill. I know – it is every girl’s dream!

I think I accidentally bought stuff around Father’s Day one time and figured out that I could get stuff much, much cheaper if I knew what I needed.

My list has been written since early March.


Bad hair day
I’m getting my hair cut and colored tonight. This isn’t exactly a big deal, I do it pretty regularly but I’ve held off on getting it cut so that I could do more growing out for the summer wedding season.

The first wedding is in three weeks.

I held of a little longer than I’d originally planned because I have a big project at work and thought of the haircut as a symbolic thing to mark the end of the project.

The day has finally arrived for me to shed my bad hair – it’s been especially bad for the past couple of weeks. I’m not sure what happened, but it’s like the color has been sucked away by stress. And the shape is all over the place… and it is often plastered to my skull or flying around like I’ve stuck my finger in a socket.

I think everyone will benefit from a better hair day tomorrow. I just have to survive the last few hours of sad, middle-aged lady hair.