I Don’t Even Know If This Rises to the Level of “Boring”…

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Gentle Reader,

I had momentum that I didn’t want to stop, so another post.  Let’s pray for something interesting, shall we?

1.  Cooper is now at The Ranch for a few weeks, playing with his brudder and his favorite person in the world (Daddy-it’s always Daddy.  I am merely a roof over his head in between his time with The Code and The Ear-Rubber.) which leaves me with some time to get some real (read: paying) work done.

2.  I had to throw another fuzzy blanket on the bed last night.  I LOVE THIS.

3.  Alas, with the shift in the weather, I’ve got allergies and the headaches I always get when the weather really starts to shift from one “season” to another (Having experienced actual seasons in Indiana, I can authoritatively state that Texas has two seasons-“hot” and “face meltingly hot”, I sometimes miss Hoosier country.).  If it means that we get temperatures below 80?  I’ll take a headache.  Sign me up.

4. My skin has not yet accepted my demands for surrender, the battle continues.

5.  Upshot, a tenuous detente has been reached with my hair.  It involves a round brush, and I can’t really tell you more than that.

6.  Will someone please come over and teach me how to read a calendar?  Because twice in two months now I have seriously misread a calendar and double-booked.  Actually, will someone just be my booking specialist?  I will pay in brisket.

7.  I made bean and kale soup.  Finally.

8.  I made spaghetti sauce.  (From a jar.) (I am shamed.)

9.  I did add my own ground beef and some spices.

10.  D & C-CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW HOUSE!!!!!!!  I can’t wait to visit and see it!

And I’m going to stop here and allow this post to end with a modicum of dignity.

Goodnight,

Wordie

An Open Letter to My Skin and My Hair

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Okay, gang, we’ve been together for, AHEM, awhile now.  We’ve grown to know each other.  And let’s face it, none of us is perfect.  But we’re stuck together.  So a few concerns must be addressed POSTHASTE.

1.  Skin?  What the WHAT?  You’re dry, you’re oily, you’re sensitive (yet you are a sucker for anything that smells yummy and has interesting packaging), and lately, you’ve been breaking out and making me look like one of those bad mugshots you see on The Smoking Gun.  This is unacceptable.  We need to figure out a lasting solution to this problem because I have no desire to wander around this earth scaring small children and animals.

2.  Skin?  (I’m not a big believer in sandwiching criticism in between praises-you know what I do for a living, get used to it.)  When did we go from never needing lotion except to smell good and feel girly to needing to apply it IN THE SHOWER so as to avoid looking like a raisin in desperate need of exfoliation? And while we’re on the subject, I expect to be able to use something other than baby lotion or unscented industrial-grade lotion that comes in a boring pump bottle.  And I expect that said interesting and fun lotion will CUT THE MUSTARD, m’kay?  Let’s get RIGHT ON THIS.

3.  Speaking of exfoliation, Skin, when did this ritual ablution become an every other day necessity?  Ashy skin flatters nobody and you know it.

4.  And this one disappoints me most of all.  Hair?  FOR SHAME.  You were my rock.  My ace in the hole.    When Skin was not my friend, I always had you.  You have been thick, straight, and fabulously healthy for the insane majority of the time we’ve been together.  I had to have you THINNED because of your bounty.  And how do you repay me????  By going weirdly unattractive-and-not-quite-curly in the back, redeploying cowlicks that have been retired since before Justin Bieber was even BORN, and (this is the most offensive part) sending in grays in LARGE NUMBERS.  What did I do?  Can’t we talk about this?  You complete me.  What can I do to get US back?  I am willing to admit fault here-I grew up, and apparently after 25, Daddies get a LOT less enthusiastic about upkeep on their daughters’ hair.  But being brave, you soldiered on with me past the Red Door (sniff…) to a more affordable hairstylist.  And you forgave me after I tried to do my own highlights.  You’ve stuck by me in this new adventure in my life where I don’t actually HAVE a stylist because that would require some kind of consistent cash flow and we both know that won’t be happening for a little while longer.  You clearly possess the stronger moral character, and I’m willing to undergo whatever spiritual refinement needs to happen in order to get US back to being US again.

5.  But I still can’t afford $300 hair coloring yet so we’re going to need to come up with some kind of compromise on the gray.

Now, we all know that the legal system does not look kindly upon unilateral contracts, so here’s my end of the deal:

1.  Skin?  We WILL get back to Sephora, the nice ladies at Neimans WILL remember us again (I feel like there is a Steve Winwood song about this…), but for right now?  The best I can do is to keep us in Clairsonic and Neutrogena Sensitive Skin formula or whatever other OTC skin care you think would work. I just can’t do anything more.  Please stop it with the insanity and the breaking out because nobody wins when that happens.  And while you’re at it, you need to have a sit-down with my hormones and bring them on board with this coalition because they are a vital part in this, too.  (Book a long meeting with the hormones, because I have LOTS to go over with them.)

2.  Hair?  Yes we used Phyto shampoo for those Halcyon days when Daddy wasn’t nearly as careful in scrutinizing the Amex bill, but I think even you knew back then that those days couldn’t last.  Besides, the formulation for “already healthy hair” didn’t smell yummy.  It smelled like some kind of hippy-dippy herb mixed with dirt.  We’ve been over that for quite awhile now, so don’t expect a return.  You’re pretty well used to your OTC products now, and I promise to continue to buy yummy smelling shampoos that have a name brand.  Please get together with Skin and help Skin understand that, truly, there have been advances in OTC products and so it should give them a chance.  After all, you’re still obscenely healthy and shiny.  And I promise to try to quit plucking a gray every time I pass a mirror or other vaguely reflective surface.  And I promise to try not to sigh mournfully every time I paw through my hair like a chimpanzee at the zoo (finding gray hair instead of fleas or whatever the heck the chimps are looking for).  There are women out in this world that would LOVE to have this problem and I need to be more mindful of them and their struggles.

Deal?

-Me