Back in July, we received a little note in the mail from my MIL's minister. She goes to a large Baptist church ... spiritually, she is a UU. But she likes the people, and she wants to play in the bell choir. No bell choir in that town's UU church.
Back to the story.
Her minister sent us this: "Just a quick note to let you know that God has placed LW on our hearts down here and we lift her and you up in prayer often. Jesus Christ is your strength and healing."
Now, the theological message doesn't happen to be my flavor of brandy, but I'm impressed that he took the time to do this. I spoke to MIL, and he actually stopped her in church one day, asked for our address, and jotted it down.
Would your minister do this? And if not ... why not?
In an action that took maybe 2 minutes, this guy impressed us -- total strangers -- and got some major loyalty from his parishioner.
I think it's easy for us to "close the gates" around our congregations. To the person who stands up in Joys and Sorrows and says "my family member is having this happen ..." we will give our sympathy, perhaps even drop the church member a card. But to go the extra step and ask for the address of the person in question? And send a note?
Impressive. A lot of bang for the buck.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Message from a Baptist Minister
Back in July, we received a little note in the mail from my MIL's minister. She goes to a large Baptist church ... spiritually, she is a UU. But she likes the people, and she wants to play in the bell choir. No bell choir in that town's UU church.
Back to the story.
Her minister sent us this: "Just a quick note to let you know that God has placed LW on our hearts down here and we lift her and you up in prayer often. Jesus Christ is your strength and healing."
Now, the theological message doesn't happen to be my flavor of brandy, but I'm impressed that he took the time to do this. I spoke to MIL, and he actually stopped her in church one day, asked for our address, and jotted it down.
Would your minister do this? And if not ... why not?
In an action that took maybe 2 minutes, this guy impressed us -- total strangers -- and got some major loyalty from his parishioner.
I think it's easy for us to "close the gates" around our congregations. To the person who stands up in Joys and Sorrows and says "my family member is having this happen ..." we will give our sympathy, perhaps even drop the church member a card. But to go the extra step and ask for the address of the person in question? And send a note?
Impressive. A lot of bang for the buck.
Back to the story.
Her minister sent us this: "Just a quick note to let you know that God has placed LW on our hearts down here and we lift her and you up in prayer often. Jesus Christ is your strength and healing."
Now, the theological message doesn't happen to be my flavor of brandy, but I'm impressed that he took the time to do this. I spoke to MIL, and he actually stopped her in church one day, asked for our address, and jotted it down.
Would your minister do this? And if not ... why not?
In an action that took maybe 2 minutes, this guy impressed us -- total strangers -- and got some major loyalty from his parishioner.
I think it's easy for us to "close the gates" around our congregations. To the person who stands up in Joys and Sorrows and says "my family member is having this happen ..." we will give our sympathy, perhaps even drop the church member a card. But to go the extra step and ask for the address of the person in question? And send a note?
Impressive. A lot of bang for the buck.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
The Water Song Element for ... Me
I am travelling to Corpus Christi, Texas, this weekend, en famille. The mother-in-love (mother-in-love, I call her) lives there, and it is Bayfest.
Was thinking about this today, making casual mental notes about things to pack, and it hit me.
Exactly what I need.
I need to sit by the water.
I need to sit by the bay, and watch the water lap.
The water here has healed me before. I have hope for her gift again.
Was thinking about this today, making casual mental notes about things to pack, and it hit me.
Exactly what I need.
I need to sit by the water.
I need to sit by the bay, and watch the water lap.
The water here has healed me before. I have hope for her gift again.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Strip Me
Right before I henna'ed my hair, I used some clarifying shampoo on my hair. It purports to strip all of the buildup and geegaws from all the junk we dump in our hair. Seemed to work ... my hair felt cleaner and soft as anything. It was ready to take the color.
Now ...
I need clarifying shampoo for my soul.
The best example I've ever heard of this is when John Lennon recorded "Believe." He stripped everything away ... "I don't believe in mantra ... in Jesus ... in Buddha ... in Beatles ... I was The Walrus, but now I'm just John ... the dream is over."
I need to clarify my soul.
Now ...
I need clarifying shampoo for my soul.
The best example I've ever heard of this is when John Lennon recorded "Believe." He stripped everything away ... "I don't believe in mantra ... in Jesus ... in Buddha ... in Beatles ... I was The Walrus, but now I'm just John ... the dream is over."
I need to clarify my soul.
Friday, September 22, 2006
It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp ... er, Mom
"At the first parent teacher conference, the P.T.A. handed out the survey, telling parents where they could be used as volunteers. It was the last option on the page that has some up in arms. A line that read, 'No, I do not want to get involved. I want my children to be thieves, drug addicts and prostitutes.'"
Lizard Eater: (gurgle ... choke ... wheeze)
Okay, I'm not surprised. You can see this attitude everyday, whether it's the PTA, or the "Doing a Good Thing Committee" at your workplace, or the "Name the Issue" committee at your church. Folks that get so blinded by what they're doing, who take martyrdom as their pay, that they completely lose any sense of perspective.
Yes, if you don't sign up to help pass out frozen cardboard cookie dough for the PTA, it is proof positive that you are a bad parent. You obviously do not care about your children, and frankly, they'd be better off in foster care. Perhaps even out on the street. At least those street kids have loyalty to each other.
Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Lizard Eater: (gurgle ... choke ... wheeze)
Okay, I'm not surprised. You can see this attitude everyday, whether it's the PTA, or the "Doing a Good Thing Committee" at your workplace, or the "Name the Issue" committee at your church. Folks that get so blinded by what they're doing, who take martyrdom as their pay, that they completely lose any sense of perspective.
Yes, if you don't sign up to help pass out frozen cardboard cookie dough for the PTA, it is proof positive that you are a bad parent. You obviously do not care about your children, and frankly, they'd be better off in foster care. Perhaps even out on the street. At least those street kids have loyalty to each other.
Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Weather is great. Glad to be here. Want to stay longer.
Little Warrior had a chest CT scan today. Wilms', if it recurs, often shows up in the lungs, so they try to be vigilant about that. They wanted to redo it since the July one, because with that one, her lungs collapsed a bit with the anesthesia, so there were some dark spots.
Last night, The Husband and I were a bit stressed. That ole feeling of "gee, this weather's been great. We'd like some more of it."
No news yet on the scan. I like to think that if there was something there, they wouldn't have let us leave the hospital.
Last night, The Husband and I were a bit stressed. That ole feeling of "gee, this weather's been great. We'd like some more of it."
No news yet on the scan. I like to think that if there was something there, they wouldn't have let us leave the hospital.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
BARNEY has jumped the shark
You heard it here first, folks. With the addition of Riff, the orange dinosaur, that artful example of American post-surrealism, Barney, has jumped the shark.
Further critical analysis of television geared toward those still on their first set of teeth will be shared at a later date. (But let me just say that "Boohbah" was clearly created by people who have experienced LSD.)
Further critical analysis of television geared toward those still on their first set of teeth will be shared at a later date. (But let me just say that "Boohbah" was clearly created by people who have experienced LSD.)
Monday, September 18, 2006
On the last M.A.S.H. episode ... and cancer
'So, how are you and The Husband doing?' a friend asked.
Well.
I remember watching the last episode of MASH with my parents. I guess I was in high school. What I remember clearly is that as we watched the characters giving each other emotional goodbyes, my father -- a Korean war vet -- said, 'No, it wasn't like that.'
'We didn't believe them. We all assumed we'd be recalled and have to come back. When we left, we said, 'Yeah, see you in a month.' We didn't believe the war was over.'
So, that's where we are now. The truth is, we don't know if the war is over, or if this is just a vacation.
We try to find joy in every day. We hug and love each kid every day, and we watch Little Warrior with very fresh eyes, considering she's our fourth child. It is not often that we forget how precious each moment is.
And we pray we won't be recalled.
Well.
I remember watching the last episode of MASH with my parents. I guess I was in high school. What I remember clearly is that as we watched the characters giving each other emotional goodbyes, my father -- a Korean war vet -- said, 'No, it wasn't like that.'
'We didn't believe them. We all assumed we'd be recalled and have to come back. When we left, we said, 'Yeah, see you in a month.' We didn't believe the war was over.'
So, that's where we are now. The truth is, we don't know if the war is over, or if this is just a vacation.
We try to find joy in every day. We hug and love each kid every day, and we watch Little Warrior with very fresh eyes, considering she's our fourth child. It is not often that we forget how precious each moment is.
And we pray we won't be recalled.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Holy Tangerine-Head, Batman!
Apparently, it will oxidize over the next three days and get darker. That'll probably be good, but heck, I like this.
Change can be good.
Friday, September 15, 2006
The Husband just spent half an hour wrapping me in plastic wrap
Well, to be more specific ...
My head.
I have begun a henna journey.
My hair was, to use my father's term, terdmuckeldy brown. The past 8 months saw a huge jump in grey.
I like grey hair. At 37, however, I was not liking MY grey hair. But I've done the whole bleach-highlighting stuff, in younger years. Very damaging for the hair, and apparently, not real good for humans. So, I happened upon the henna world and got interested.
It was nice to be interested in something. Other than counts and cts and such. And God, do not even get my started on how disinterested I am in all the millions of projects that people think I'd be just perfect for ...
Anyway, so after reading for weeks about it, and doing the strand test and skin test and all that prudent stuff, I am now diving in.
Cue the soap opera music ... Will Lizard Eater's hair turn auburn? Or orange? Will her head, in fact, simply fall off because ohmygod, having all this "clay" on long hair, piled up on my head is durned heavy?
These and other questions ...
My head.
I have begun a henna journey.
My hair was, to use my father's term, terdmuckeldy brown. The past 8 months saw a huge jump in grey.
I like grey hair. At 37, however, I was not liking MY grey hair. But I've done the whole bleach-highlighting stuff, in younger years. Very damaging for the hair, and apparently, not real good for humans. So, I happened upon the henna world and got interested.
It was nice to be interested in something. Other than counts and cts and such. And God, do not even get my started on how disinterested I am in all the millions of projects that people think I'd be just perfect for ...
Anyway, so after reading for weeks about it, and doing the strand test and skin test and all that prudent stuff, I am now diving in.
Cue the soap opera music ... Will Lizard Eater's hair turn auburn? Or orange? Will her head, in fact, simply fall off because ohmygod, having all this "clay" on long hair, piled up on my head is durned heavy?
These and other questions ...
Monday, September 11, 2006
The 9/11 Hammer
They're beating us over the head with the 9/11 hammer today.
Don't get me wrong. It profoundly affected all of us. This is a good time to look back, remember and reflect.
But watch the context, people.
On the radio this a.m, at the time the first plane went into the first building:
"Let us all remember the events 5 years ago, right now ..."
They go into a song.
The song?
"Born in the USA," Bruce Springsteen.
Do people listen to lyrics anymore?
Later, on a different station ...
(hushed voice) "...9/11. Remember where you were. Never forget." Segues into a song ...
"Margaritaville."
I ain't making this stuff up, folks!
Well, since we are all looking back and sharing ... I was at home, child 1 was at kindergarten, child 2 was playing. The Husband called and told me to turn on the tv. "They think a commuter plane flew into a building." With him on the phone, I turned on the tv to see them showing the video of a plane flying into a building. Was it the first or the second? I don't remember. But I do remember very clearly telling my husband, who was in his car and hadn't seen any of this, with no doubt in my mind -- "That was not a commuter plane."
I called a friend of mine, one of the Smug-Never-Watch-Tv types, since I knew she wouldn't have hers on. Told her to. Called my sister, waking her up. I remember what I said. "Turn on your tv. We're being attacked."
Mostly a blur after that. Was it that night or the next day when the family and friends began going down there, holding up their signs? All desperately searching for someone they loved. After watching hours of this, I had to turn it off. "I can't cry anymore," I remember telling myself. My heart was ripped out of my chest.
Child 3 was born 9 months to the day. 6-11-02. Her middle name means "beautiful."
Don't get me wrong. It profoundly affected all of us. This is a good time to look back, remember and reflect.
But watch the context, people.
On the radio this a.m, at the time the first plane went into the first building:
"Let us all remember the events 5 years ago, right now ..."
They go into a song.
The song?
"Born in the USA," Bruce Springsteen.
Do people listen to lyrics anymore?
Later, on a different station ...
(hushed voice) "...9/11. Remember where you were. Never forget." Segues into a song ...
"Margaritaville."
I ain't making this stuff up, folks!
Well, since we are all looking back and sharing ... I was at home, child 1 was at kindergarten, child 2 was playing. The Husband called and told me to turn on the tv. "They think a commuter plane flew into a building." With him on the phone, I turned on the tv to see them showing the video of a plane flying into a building. Was it the first or the second? I don't remember. But I do remember very clearly telling my husband, who was in his car and hadn't seen any of this, with no doubt in my mind -- "That was not a commuter plane."
I called a friend of mine, one of the Smug-Never-Watch-Tv types, since I knew she wouldn't have hers on. Told her to. Called my sister, waking her up. I remember what I said. "Turn on your tv. We're being attacked."
Mostly a blur after that. Was it that night or the next day when the family and friends began going down there, holding up their signs? All desperately searching for someone they loved. After watching hours of this, I had to turn it off. "I can't cry anymore," I remember telling myself. My heart was ripped out of my chest.
Child 3 was born 9 months to the day. 6-11-02. Her middle name means "beautiful."
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Abortion and the taboos of talking honestly
We're all for honesty ... except in certain areas.
A hesitation to be completely honest is not always for nefarious, puritanical or "politically correct" reasons. Sometimes, we hold back on complete honesty in discussion because we're afraid that our honesty can be used against "our side," whatever it is. Allow that there may be a gray area, and the other side might grab it and say, "See, this proves our point."
Or, we might hesitate to be honest because we feel that it somehow takes away from a legitimate issue.
Or we might hesitate because we worry that putting our honest thoughts out there might overshadow our deeper message.
What's been on my mind is abortion.
I am very much pro-choice, because I am only one person and I know that I have not experienced everything, good or bad, that life has to offer. I haven't been a pregnant 15 year old. I haven't become pregnant through abuse. I haven't ever felt that getting pregnant was the absolute worst thing that could happen to me. And I have never received the news that "we're sorry. Your unborn child has a rare birth defect. He will never have a good life."
So how the heck can I say that no woman should be allowed to make that choice?
Happily, I have never had to make that choice. Twice, we worried that might have to. Both our second child and fourth had preliminary prenatal tests that indicated there might be a problem. But with both, more extensive testing said everything was fine.
In our heads, we felt we knew what we would do. Neither of us wanted to make a child be born with profound difficulties.
And we had Little Warrior, number 4. For 6 months, everything was great. Month 7, she was diagnosed with cancer.
Even in the very worst of the maelstrom, we were able to say that the only thing worse would have been if she had never been born. Even if her little life had ended right then, we knew without the tiniest shadow of doubt that those 6 months were worth it.
So, here's the rub:
Knowing what we know now, if they had told us while I was pregnant that she was carrying cancer cells, would we have continued the pregnancy?
Knowing what we know now ... oh, absolutely. Completely. No question.
But ...
If we did NOT know what we know now ... if we had not gone through the experience and realized that even 6 months is worth it, would we have continued the pregnancy?
I don't know. We don't know.
And that's the honest truth.
A hesitation to be completely honest is not always for nefarious, puritanical or "politically correct" reasons. Sometimes, we hold back on complete honesty in discussion because we're afraid that our honesty can be used against "our side," whatever it is. Allow that there may be a gray area, and the other side might grab it and say, "See, this proves our point."
Or, we might hesitate to be honest because we feel that it somehow takes away from a legitimate issue.
Or we might hesitate because we worry that putting our honest thoughts out there might overshadow our deeper message.
What's been on my mind is abortion.
I am very much pro-choice, because I am only one person and I know that I have not experienced everything, good or bad, that life has to offer. I haven't been a pregnant 15 year old. I haven't become pregnant through abuse. I haven't ever felt that getting pregnant was the absolute worst thing that could happen to me. And I have never received the news that "we're sorry. Your unborn child has a rare birth defect. He will never have a good life."
So how the heck can I say that no woman should be allowed to make that choice?
Happily, I have never had to make that choice. Twice, we worried that might have to. Both our second child and fourth had preliminary prenatal tests that indicated there might be a problem. But with both, more extensive testing said everything was fine.
In our heads, we felt we knew what we would do. Neither of us wanted to make a child be born with profound difficulties.
And we had Little Warrior, number 4. For 6 months, everything was great. Month 7, she was diagnosed with cancer.
Even in the very worst of the maelstrom, we were able to say that the only thing worse would have been if she had never been born. Even if her little life had ended right then, we knew without the tiniest shadow of doubt that those 6 months were worth it.
So, here's the rub:
Knowing what we know now, if they had told us while I was pregnant that she was carrying cancer cells, would we have continued the pregnancy?
Knowing what we know now ... oh, absolutely. Completely. No question.
But ...
If we did NOT know what we know now ... if we had not gone through the experience and realized that even 6 months is worth it, would we have continued the pregnancy?
I don't know. We don't know.
And that's the honest truth.
On being subservient
Funny how something casual can stop you cold. I was reading one of my favorite blogs and the writer casually referred to being a homemaker as being in a subservient role.
Huh.
The American Heritage Dic defines subservient as:
adj 1: compliant and obedient to authority; "editors and journalists who express opinions in print that are opposed to the interests of the rich are dismissed and replaced by subservient ones"-G. B. Shaw 2: abjectly submissive; characteristic of a slave or servant; "slavish devotion to her job ruled her life"; "a slavish yes-man to the party bosses"- S.H.Adams; "she has become submissive and subservient"
I do not bring money -- well, significant money, anyway -- into our family unit. That is true. However, I am the person who pays all the bills. The Husband has no idea where all the money goes; for all he knows, I'm stashing it away in a Swiss bank account. Except that our electricity stays on, and our house hasn't been repossessed, so he figures I'm taking care of it.
To be subordinate would, I assume, mean that someone tells me what to do. Well, The Husband does occasionally tell me that I need to take some time for myself, but other than that, he provides no direction. I sometimes wish he would, as it sounds kind of nice ... no prioritizing, just do as I'm told. Of course, the thought of me taking orders from a spouse is equally hilarious as the idea of him giving me orders.
Don't misunderstand. This isn't some sort of foaming-at-the-mouth, "I love my job as CEO of the home!" I think 90% of the "mommy wars" are boring, same-old, same-old of people trying to justify their lives by putting down others. I call working moms "working moms." I don't think it implies I don't work. I call myself and others of my ilk "full-time moms." It doesn't mean working moms aren't always mothers.
I was just genuinely caught short with the assumption that a homemaker is subservient. The fact that it is an assumption made me want to explore the idea.
Having given it an initial perusal, I can now discard the idea. I am an educated woman who made a choice to retire from the professional world to devote my energies (for this period of my life anyway) to my children, husband and home.
Back to that third meaning: "Useful as a means or an instrument; serving to promote an end."
Well, isn't that all of us?
Huh.
The American Heritage Dic defines subservient as:
- Subordinate in capacity or function.
- Obsequious; servile.
- Useful as a means or an instrument; serving to promote an end.
adj 1: compliant and obedient to authority; "editors and journalists who express opinions in print that are opposed to the interests of the rich are dismissed and replaced by subservient ones"-G. B. Shaw 2: abjectly submissive; characteristic of a slave or servant; "slavish devotion to her job ruled her life"; "a slavish yes-man to the party bosses"- S.H.Adams; "she has become submissive and subservient"
I do not bring money -- well, significant money, anyway -- into our family unit. That is true. However, I am the person who pays all the bills. The Husband has no idea where all the money goes; for all he knows, I'm stashing it away in a Swiss bank account. Except that our electricity stays on, and our house hasn't been repossessed, so he figures I'm taking care of it.
To be subordinate would, I assume, mean that someone tells me what to do. Well, The Husband does occasionally tell me that I need to take some time for myself, but other than that, he provides no direction. I sometimes wish he would, as it sounds kind of nice ... no prioritizing, just do as I'm told. Of course, the thought of me taking orders from a spouse is equally hilarious as the idea of him giving me orders.
Don't misunderstand. This isn't some sort of foaming-at-the-mouth, "I love my job as CEO of the home!" I think 90% of the "mommy wars" are boring, same-old, same-old of people trying to justify their lives by putting down others. I call working moms "working moms." I don't think it implies I don't work. I call myself and others of my ilk "full-time moms." It doesn't mean working moms aren't always mothers.
I was just genuinely caught short with the assumption that a homemaker is subservient. The fact that it is an assumption made me want to explore the idea.
Having given it an initial perusal, I can now discard the idea. I am an educated woman who made a choice to retire from the professional world to devote my energies (for this period of my life anyway) to my children, husband and home.
Back to that third meaning: "Useful as a means or an instrument; serving to promote an end."
Well, isn't that all of us?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
White Girls With Dry Hair ...
... go immediately to the ethnic section of your area Tar-mart (whichever) and pick up a bottle of "Creme of Nature" hair conditioner. Do not just get any ethnic conditioner, as some have vaseline and such in them, get "Creme of Nature." Marvelous. Butter-soft hair, whatever that means, but you'll say the same thing after use. Good shampoo, I've heard, too.
If You Give a Family Some Leisure Time ...
Okay. Obviously, the Lizard Eater family doesn't do too well on our own.
The holiday weekend saw:
* The Princess, attempting to execute a turn on her bicycle, go face-first into the curb. Amazingly, no teeth knocked, no broken bones, no stitches. But she looks like she was in a bar fight.
* Our tv go dead, dead, dead as a doornail. Quick research said that it would cost $200 bucks each way to ship it for repair, and they might not even be able to fix it. Planned f-ing obsolescence. So, en masse, we went to Best Buy (love that 0% interest/3 years) and joined the plasma generation.
-- Have you ever read, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie"?--
I had already done the research, knew the make and model of what we wanted, knew they had it in stock. Easy in and out, right?
"It's HDTV. You want to get a high def signal, right?"
Eh, nah.
"Well, do you already have Directv?"
Yeah.
"It's just 9.95 forthe high def signal ... and we give you an instant $200 off the price."
Oh. Okay, then.
No problem, and a nice little perk, right? Except we also have tivo, so we had to upgrade to a HD tivo. Back and forth with Directv about the money issue on this, and scheduling, and whatsiswhatforaaaaaargh!
It was at this time that I got a brilliant idea. We have an old teeny tv in a closet. I've got a metal coat hanger. Tv and antenna. Eureka!
No one liked my idea.
Anyway, an hour and a half later, we walked out with the tv and an appointment for service and some cranky kids. Got home, set up the tv and realized.
Now I need a cabinet to put it on.
Okay, now where was I? Oh, yes, one more thing:
* The Husband injuring himself.
We freecycled the old tv, offering up its broken self for someone who knows how to fix tvs. Got a taker. It's about 200 lbs, so The Husband graciously helped him get it in the car. That actually went okay, but when The Husband was exiting the car, the cord somehow wrapped itself around his ankle and he went flying, catching himself on his wrists, and hurting his elbow. He's now waiting for an MRI.
Back to school, back to work. We don't do well with free time. We obviously need supervision at all times.
The holiday weekend saw:
* The Princess, attempting to execute a turn on her bicycle, go face-first into the curb. Amazingly, no teeth knocked, no broken bones, no stitches. But she looks like she was in a bar fight.
* Our tv go dead, dead, dead as a doornail. Quick research said that it would cost $200 bucks each way to ship it for repair, and they might not even be able to fix it. Planned f-ing obsolescence. So, en masse, we went to Best Buy (love that 0% interest/3 years) and joined the plasma generation.
-- Have you ever read, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie"?--
I had already done the research, knew the make and model of what we wanted, knew they had it in stock. Easy in and out, right?
"It's HDTV. You want to get a high def signal, right?"
Eh, nah.
"Well, do you already have Directv?"
Yeah.
"It's just 9.95 forthe high def signal ... and we give you an instant $200 off the price."
Oh. Okay, then.
No problem, and a nice little perk, right? Except we also have tivo, so we had to upgrade to a HD tivo. Back and forth with Directv about the money issue on this, and scheduling, and whatsiswhatforaaaaaargh!
It was at this time that I got a brilliant idea. We have an old teeny tv in a closet. I've got a metal coat hanger. Tv and antenna. Eureka!
No one liked my idea.
Anyway, an hour and a half later, we walked out with the tv and an appointment for service and some cranky kids. Got home, set up the tv and realized.
Now I need a cabinet to put it on.
Okay, now where was I? Oh, yes, one more thing:
* The Husband injuring himself.
We freecycled the old tv, offering up its broken self for someone who knows how to fix tvs. Got a taker. It's about 200 lbs, so The Husband graciously helped him get it in the car. That actually went okay, but when The Husband was exiting the car, the cord somehow wrapped itself around his ankle and he went flying, catching himself on his wrists, and hurting his elbow. He's now waiting for an MRI.
Back to school, back to work. We don't do well with free time. We obviously need supervision at all times.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Quick Product Endorsement
Just got some Good Hair Days Magic-Grip Hair Pins. If you have long hair, and you like to wear it up in buns or twists or whatever -- run, do not walk, to a Sally or Ulta and get some:
http://www.goodhairdays.com/plastic-bulk-hairpins-chignon-pins.htm
They're like old fashioned "beaters" but much better.
I love that a hair pin can make me happy. Normal is so delicious.
http://www.goodhairdays.com/plastic-bulk-hairpins-chignon-pins.htm
They're like old fashioned "beaters" but much better.
I love that a hair pin can make me happy. Normal is so delicious.