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Deft sleight of follicle

[This post is utter fluff with bonus terrible cell phone pictures. You've been warned.]

In addition to being taken to task for my comments about the unflattering wide-angle lens Otto used in this post, there were a couple of comments about how DIDN’T YOU LET YOUR HAIR GO GRAY? and I DON’T SEE ANY GRAY AT ALL YOU LYING LIARPANTS WITH PANTS AFLAME. (I may be paraphrasing.)

These comments made me laugh, and then they made me feel all warm and fuzzy, and then I sent each of you a pony as a thank-you.

You may remember there was some serious trepidation about disembarking from the Hair Dye express. After all, I’m so YOUNG (ha!) and VIBRANT (haaaaaaaa!) and really not ready to look like someone’s grandmother. On the other hand: lazy. So very lazy. And also I still have acne so hey, problem solved. Time to go gray!

But the thing is, I was sure my gray was really, really obvious because my natural hair color is just this side of black. I mean, my roots were SUPER-obvious while I was still coloring, so I never anticipated all of the comments I regularly get on photos about how my hair has hardly any gray at all. Turns out, I have a few things going for me here. (more…)

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Various

“DUDE I AM, LIKE, SO DRUNK.” Here we have a sentence that I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually said in 40+ years of life, mostly because I can count the times when I’ve truly been inebriated on one hand with fingers left over. I don’t actually like being drunk. I like occasionally being a degree or two more cheerful than I can manage on my own, but thanks to being a relatively small person and infrequent imbiber, one drink is all that takes. Perfect.

I know no one wants to hear me continue to bitch and moan about The Tragedy Of Stupid Medication, but I have been off the supposed Wonder Drug (why yes, it made me wonder if my doctor was trying to kill me) for about a week and I STILL FEEL DRUNK. Perhaps if I enjoyed this feeling, was a heavier drinker, or was otherwise a little more risky in my proclivities, this wouldn’t be a problem. As it is, it’s a big freaking problem. I hate everyone and everything even more than normal and THAT is a feat in itself, I’m pretty sure. Also I need to drink a pot of coffee anytime I need to drive anywhere.

My doc picked a shiny new Wonder Drug to put me on, and I’m not going to lie—I haven’t even picked it up, yet. I’m afraid to take it. This may have been the worst medication experience I’ve ever had and it’s enough to make a person believe that roots and berries were good enough for our ancestors and so probably just drinking some hippie tea or something will be fine. (more…)

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Avert your eyes

I continue to be a giant barrel of fun wrapped up in a drooling, spontaneous nap. Perhaps I should try to enter a new line of work, such as mattress tester. (Not that I’d be all that good at it; turns out I can sleep just about anywhere.)

Now I have a new thing to keep me awake, though! Woooooo! Lucky me.

Have I ever mentioned (once or a hundred times) that I have terrible skin? More specifically, I have finicky, easily insulted skin, as befits a delicate flower such as myself. As a teenager I had the occasional pimple, no big deal, but my acne has continued to worsen in adulthood until it was joined by rosacea and wrinkles, and it’s a veritable PARTY OF HORRORS on my face these days. I’m used to it, and for the most part I’m able to keep things under control.

It’s all part of the joy of being a woman, right? I use the special face wash with the fancy facial scrubbing sonic brush doohickey, then I coat my face in special serum made from the tears of unicorns, then I apply a moisturizer that both hydrates AND controls oil (magic!), and finally I apply spot treatment to any active zits and Holy Hell You Look Tired And Old undereye-de-bagging cream to the circles under my eyes. As one does. And then if I’m feeling really fancy (and haven’t fallen asleep yet…), I put on makeup. (more…)

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It turns out my life is dull

I don’t know if my life used to be more interesting than it is now, or if I just used to believe it to be more interesting. (Maybe don’t tell me. Allow me my fantasy that my life was once better than it is now.) I keep thinking, “I’ll write once something fascinating happens.” But guess what! I suppose this is middle age, yes? When you realize that your life is just not all that exciting…?

(To be fair, I actually had that epiphany over the weekend when Otto was watching Formula One and I plunked myself down on the couch next to him. The coverage cut to a new thermal imaging camera they’re using to show how hot the tires get on the track, and at the same time both of us went, “Ooooooooooh!” That was when I realized that what passes for excitement in your 40s is really nothing like what you imagined when you were younger. It was also when I realized that true love is also a far cry from what I once assumed.)

So until something thrilling happens (haaaa), you get snippets. (more…)

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Why you don’t mix the government and money

I keep meaning to tell you this story, and what better time than during a government shutdown? Er, slowdown. Or whatever we’re supposed to call it. It just seemed like a good time to reaffirm what every American already knows, which is that our medical system and government are—SURPRISE!—not actually operating as smoothly as they’re supposed to.

Try to contain your shock.

So! Perhaps you remember that about a year ago, I took to the blog to detail how we’d finally gotten Chickadee qualified for Medicaid coverage while she was hospitalized. That was a really big deal, both because the process is crazymaking and because if she hadn’t, we would’ve been on the hook for medical bills we had no reasonable way to pay. At the time, I thought getting the Medicaid approval would be the end of our financial issues related to her illness.

Haaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha! Yeah. Pull up a chair! (more…)

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Relaxing?

Otto and I have a quaint little Monday morning routine, and it goes like this: My alarm goes off, and I commence slapping my clock in sleepy annoyance, and Otto says, “Why does Monday morning always come so EARLY?” I grunt in response, and thus our love carries us through another week.

Oh, wait. Actually it’s COFFEE that carries us through another week. That charming exchange we have every Monday morning is just that precious little reminder that when you truly love someone, you forgive them for trying to have a conversation with you before you’ve had your coffee. And then you pack a lunch for your beloved and you don’t spit in it or anything. Because TRUE LOVE.

I think the problem is that every week, we have this idea that the weekend is going to be relaxing, and then every weekend we think OOH! AAH! NO WORK! Now we can do OTHER STUFF! And then the “other stuff” ends up being just as tiring as work, and/or we stay up late, forgetting that we are old and require a lot of sleep.

Let me just grab another cup of coffee and tell you all about the weekend. (more…)

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Hipster me this

[Before I get into the actual post, a great big sloppy thank-you to everyone who responded so kindly to my last couple of posts (and the corresponding post over on Alpha Mom). I am emerging from the fog and hoping I never have to switch medications ever again. Thanks for being patient with me.]

Remember how last summer Monkey got glasses and there was much rejoicing? There was also some self-flagellation, because he’d been having trouble seeing for a while, and I hadn’t kept up with yearly exams, but all of you assured me that these things can happen and the important thing was that it had all been resolved and it could’ve happened to anyone. I like you, have I even mentioned that?

So a couple of weeks ago when Monkey started complaining (again!) that he was having trouble seeing, I was all, “Oh, we’re probably due for your yearly exam very soon,” and then I went and checked and, yeah, His last exam was in June. Whoops. I like how I totally learned my lesson from before, don’t you? I went ahead and made him an eye appointment. And then listened to a week of “Mom! HEY MOM! Can you read that from here? Because I can’t! I can BARELY SEE IT!” (more…)

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Things which suck

1) Feeling like you’re failing your kids.
2) Feeling like you’re failing yourself.
3) Feeling crappy.
4) HAVING MANY FEEEEEEEELS, period.
5) Sometimes not wanting to talk about those things because there will always be someone ready to tell you that you’re doing it wrong.

A thing which (hopefully) does not suck:
Me, over at Alpha Mom, reassuring you that you can manage depression and parenting and not ruin everything.

Yeah, it would be better to never be depressed and just naturally be a perfect parent, but it would also be better to own a glitter-pooping unicorn and never have to say, “Please don’t speak to me that way.” We don’t always get what we want, so let’s make the best of what we have.

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Groggy

“You have to blog so I have something to read on the way home,” my father said to me this morning.

“No pressure!” I answered, and we laughed. Then I told him I’d try to come up with something.

When my folks come to visit for less than a week, it feels like they arrive and we eat and have some wine and some ice cream and then they leave. I never know where the days go. It is never long enough, and yet after they go I reassemble the house—taking the place mats off the dining room table and replacing the decorative runner that indicates we are normally an eat-at-the-kitchen-table family, stripping Chickie’s bed and putting her sheets back on and the guest sheets and towels in the laundry—and then curl up with Licorice and take a nap. I’m completely exhausted.

To be clear, it’s not my dad and stepmom who are exhausting. It’s probably just life, but somehow we stay up a lot later when we have company, I guess. (more…)

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Birthday bonuses

I neglected to mention that about a week ago, Licorice and I had our birthdays. (Hers is the day after mine, according to the rescue from which she came, and also karmic math equations wherein your birthday + a dog’s birthday the very next day = The One True Dog.) It’s hard for me to verbalize why my attitude towards my own birthday these days is pretty unenthusiastic. It likely has something to do with the speed of time passing, the unexpected loops life has thrown our way the last couple of years, and gravity. (Mostly that last one.) Regardless of the cause, my excitement for marking another year of my life is hovering somewhere between “NO” and “whatever.”

On my birthday morning I woke up to a very excited family, a pile of small wooden boxes, and a weird paper thing. Following instructions from Otto, I eventually assembled this tableau:


(more…)

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