A new religion . . .

Sometimes, I have this incredible urge to just go out and buy something ridiculously expensive. I know our financial situation - I am the one in charge of the bills. But it doesn't stop a part of me from thinking "What would it hurt?"

From shoes to clothes to an expensive camera to a lucious vacation for Mike and I . . .  the desire is there, but the reality is always underlying and I realize that we have to be practical. There is the house we want, the children we should save for, the vacations we'd like to take and somehow, Bebe clothes and Uggs seem to fall down the "Want" list. I'm not knocking them . . . just realizing I shouldn't be buying everything I desire.

So what do I do? I go out and buy a ghd IV styler. It's a flat iron. An amazing flatiron. A new religion, the tagline of the product boasts. On Wednesday, Karsen and I went to two different Cosmo Profs in Portland to get our very own ghds after she'd called around all morning trying to track down a few of them for us.

We each got this:



It's currently available at Sephora.com for just under $300 dollars, but I can assure you that I spent far less than that. A perk to be in the industry, I suppose.

I justify owning this in two ways. One, it is so much better for your hair than other flatirons, so I am obiviously using it on my own hair and in having healthy, cute hair, will be great advertisizing for myself. Two, when I get into a salon, I can charge a minimum of 15 dollars for a flatiron service to customers. My instructor works at a salon on her off days and charges $25 a service.

When I bought it, I had to tell Mike. It's kind of how the marriage works. He bawked at first, but when I pointed out that it was a tool and how much we've poured into his tools for his career . . . well, he understands.

Being as money conscious as we have to be, thanks to gas prices and my lack-of-a-job status, I have decided that the iron replaces my Coach for the year. I know it may sound silly to some, but I only buy one handbag a year. It's the only way I can justify buying Coach. So instead of a nice Fall bag, I'll be sporting shiny, healthy, straight hair for the season (or two or three).

Still, it doesn't silence my desire for standing with Mike on the Irish coastline or the Nikon to document the trip . . . someday, I'll have both.

The best way to spend a Sunday

I had the most wonderful day with my mom today. Seriously, it was so definitely needed after the last month and a half of having to avoid her to a certain degree and go behind her back in order to flawlessly execute her surprise party. My mom and I are pretty close and it's pretty easy to say that I have missed her.

I love that we have cultivated this friendship together as adults. I really find it refreshing that not only do I have her support as my mother, but also as a best friend, because I read too many blogs out there of women who have so much less with their mothers, whether it is by their choice, their mother's choice or situational circumstances. We have this connection that just makes hanging out with her so unique and fun.

Needless to say, today was a blast. Totally evened out the humidity and made me glad, yet again, that I no longer live in California. Four years of missing out on days like this makes me sad.

We stopped at IKEA this morning to pick up a couple of things that she'd been wanting and then headed down to Washington Square for some high class shopping. Mom bought her first Brighton handbag and though I personally don't care for most Brighton things (I find a lot of them a bit too much) but the bag she wanted was so stinkin' cute and perfect for a summer handbag.



We then swung by Nordstroms where I got a spray of my favorite Nordstrom exclusive perfume. We priced it out (way too much for how little you get) so I suppose I will just have to resort to only smelling like that whenever I'm at the mall. Oh .  . I love it so. (Just not enough to spend 125 dollars for 1.7 ounces. Woo.)

We enjoyed lunch together before having our wedding rings cleaned and inspected at the jeweler I got my wedding band from and looked at men's rings for Mike. Then we got down to business. Bathing suit shopping for New York.

I suppose I should explain to y'all where it is I am going, because the typical idea when someone says New York is the big Apple. But we are headed to upstate New York, to Seneca Lake, where my aunt and uncle have a home literally 100 feet from the lake. They have spent the better part of the last year and a half getting this reunion planned, including asking neighbors to be willing to take in some of the family members that are coming (like my family and I) for the stay of the trip. So seeing as how I am going to be a lake in the middle of July for a week . . . I need to have some type of swimsuit to wear that looks like I didn't buy it in high school. And I think I found the one:



(It's really cute on, I promise.)


I don't think I know anyone who enjoys bathing suit shopping and I have to go tomorrow or Tuesday to get some massive sunscreen, especially since before shopping today, my father showed me his new hat to protect his ears and the new pre-cancerous spots the doctor burned off this week. Got to love having pale, Irish skin.

I'm off this week from school, which couldn't work out more perfectly, because it allows me to get really ready for the trip, both packing and cleaning the apartment-wise, but also I can spend some quality time with friends that I have been missing out on. And Liz will be in town for the weekend, so there will be some mass Harper time. After I get this place scrubbed and get the pantry stocked for while I am gone.

Did I mention that Mike isn't going?

Eleven

One month to go until we celebrate our one year anniversary. Mike has already told me that he is planning something pretty sweet for the day (or evening - who knows. It's a Monday this year.) Of course, I have no ideas of what to get him for a gift. None, whatsoever. Neither paper nor clocks provide any help into what I could possibly get him as a first anniversary gift that says "Thanks for marrying me and still thinking/feeling it was the best decision you've ever made. I feel the same way."


Traditional                  Modern
1st - Paper                  Clocks
2nd - Cotton                China
3rd - Leather               Crystal/Glass
4th - Fruit/Flowers       Appliances 
5th - Wood                 Silverware
6th - Candy/Iron         Wood
7th - Wool/ copper      Desksets
8th - Bronze Pottery     Linen/Lace
9th - Pottery/ Willow    Leather
10th - Tin/Aluminum     Diamonds

Before anyone suggests a wristwatch, he already has a nice one that my parents got him for Christmas. And paper . . . well I have no idea what kind of paper he could utilize.

The only thing I can think of is a new and improved wedding band. His original was the ring from The Lord of the Rings, not because I am that big of a fan but because he is a pretty big fan and it was the only ring that he could get excited about. But since the day we said "I do" it's been a poor choice. Great conversation starter, but a poor choice otherwise. The ring was sterling silver dipped in gold, so you could see the elvish written on it. The gold version came in one size and Mike was positive it would fit. It doesn't. It's too big. So for the first year of our marriage, he's been wearing his wedding ring on his middle finger. Also, by a month into wedded bliss, the gold had pretty much scratched off and now . . . well, you can't tell that it once had the elvish on the outside of the band.

This is what I have in mind to get him:



It's a Tungsten Carbon Fiber ring with a comfort fit, which a friend recommended to me. I need to take Mike to the jeweler to let him pick one out, but I like that the tungsten is scratch-proof. I think this one may be too embellished for him.

Anyone got any suggestions??? Ideas?

Throwing in the verbal towel

I am scraping the barrel folks . . . the mental barrel of creative ideas. I think I am throwing in the towel on the 365 Blogging project. I feel a bit like a failure, but a bit relieved too. I plan to keep blogging on a very regular basis, but at least now, it won't be because I HAVE to.

Hope you understand. Keep reading. I'll be posting again before you know it.

Off to play with my new GHD flatiron.

Crappy entry . . . don't even bother reading

And now, dear friends, begins the OC side of me that needs to start making a packing list for the upcoming family reunion. It won't be the last list I make either, because I do have the occasional oc tendencies and I won't remember to keep the first list with me.

The beauty of attending a huge gathering with family members you never see is that they don't know your wardrobe, so there is little chance of everyone being so tired of seeing you in the same old things. Still doesn't change the fact that people like to wear new things from time to time.

I am flying United and they won't be changing to their $15 dollars for the first checked bag policy until long after I have returned home from New York, but I still need to figure out how to maximize the outfits I will be taking for more space.

I will need to make room for my super new, super fantastic flat iron that I am getting this week. I cannot wait to posess and wield this tool of hairstyling perfection. It's a splurge, for now, but once I am in the salon and making my own money, it will pay for itself in no time.

Long Overdue

This has been one incredible and exhausting weekend, but probably the best weekend of my life for a long time. My top secret project was finally complete and ready to be revealed, which it was Saturday night.

Back at the end of April, my father came to me with an idea and asked for my help in excuting it. It instantly got my creative juices flowing (hehehe juices) and I was off and planning before we were even done with our lunch. See, my mother's birthday was coming up and it was a big one. Dad had decided he wanted to throw her a surprise party with about a 60 person guest list and a four plate dinner option. The party planner in me had four different invitation and RSVP card templates ready by the end of the week and the stationery ordered little over a week later. We carefully planned when to get the invitations out, since we knew the party would be smack in the middle of wedding season.

So the date was set, the guest list made and invited and one night while my mother was on a work trip, Dad and I poured through photo album after photo album, boxes upon boxes of photos of my parents, my childhood, my family in its entirety and we tried to pick out a good collection of shots for a collage of her life. We marked the photos that were in albums and I scanned those and had them back to my father before my mom got back so she wouldn't miss them and suspect anything.

Being the kind of girl I am, who doesn't halfass anything, I wanted there to be centerpieces at each table, tying into the theme of the invitation that my father had picked out - butterflies. So my shopping list quickly began to grow from tag board for the collage to cardstock for coloring, letters, stamps and ink, flower pots, flowers, picture forks, ribbon, possibly confetti . . . and I had to squeeze it all in around school hours and still have enough time for Mike, my friends and of course, my mom so she wouldn't wonder what was going on.

It ended up being a huge hit, completely a surprise and so much fun. . . .

We decided the "lure" to get her there was that Mike and I wanted to take her and Dad to dinner on a gift certificate Mike had earned at work. It seemed plausible, because of Mike's recent birthday, Father's day and of course, Mom's birthday. So there wasn't much issue with that. But then she started asking about carpooling to save gas. I needed to get there far earlier than 6:30 to get set up and greet all the guests, so that wouldn't work. I had to tell her that we had plans to see a scary movie after dinner so she wouldn't want to join us and we'd have a reason not to carpool. I left school around 3pm and got ready and got to the restaurant about 5:15 to get things set up and the guests were to show up about 6 pm. Once Mom and dad were leaving for the restaurant, Dad secretly called me and I headed up to the front of the restaurant to "lead" her to the party. I decided to tell her they were setting up for a party in the banquet room and she HAD to see the centerpieces we'd seen them bringing in.

Hook. Line. Sinker.



They dimmed the lights even more so she wouldn't see immediately, so the "Surprise" pictures are kind of dark. I am hoping someone with a better camera got brighter shot than Mike did on mine. (I love my Dad's glowing red eyes). Mom and Dad included, we had about 45 people there to help her celebrate such a big year and it was a hit.



About a week before the party, I got a call from Mom's best friend from when she lived in California (pre-Dad) and Bonnie and her mom, Rosemary, were coming up for the party. A surprise on top of a surprise! When Mom got the to the party, people started coming over to wish her hello and happy birthday and Bon and Rosemary held back, kind of avoiding being seen until she was nearly through the entire group. But when they locked eyes on one another . . . I wish I could have recorded the scream they both let out. Sheer joy and excitement.



The collage . . . the product of 60 years, lots of film and a few late-ass nights for me getting things printed, cropped, matted and posted on the board. Click on the photo to see all the notes that I have added to the picture.



It was a lot of work and was over in about five hours, but it was so worth it. She is so worth it. I want to thank everyone for coming out and helping us celebrate the amazing woman that is my mom. She is a major part of the reason why I am the woman I am today.

The rest of Saturday night was spent at the Thirsty Lion in Portland with Kate and Joe and Aja and Brian. I haven't been in a bar like that, in PDX, in a long time. In fact, I didn't even know that Bar 71 was now the Thirsty Lion.





It's strange, going to a meat market like that, as a married woman. I felt more confident, more at peace. Actually, when I first got there, I felt a little self-conscious because I wasn't in short shorts and I wasn't a size 2. I debated going into the bathroom to take off the brown tank top I'd worn under my empire waist shirt to kind of "hide" the cleaveage at my mom's party. But then I stopped and realized that if I was going to let two and a half inches of fabric bother me that much, than I hadn't grown or matured at all since I first started going to bars and when "bar top shopping" for more busty shirts. After that, I just had a great time and realized that I wanted to still go out and do this more with my girls. Just because I am married doesn't mean I can't go dancing with my girls.



We pretty much shut down the bar and I got home about 2:30 to Mike on the sofa, sleeping, waiting for me. I utilized my awake status and wrapped my presents for the next birthday party I had to go to (did I mention that we were out at Thirsty Lion to celebrate Brian's 29th birthday?? We were.) and I got to bed about 3 am.

I awoke with a start at 9:53 Sunday morning, because we'd made plans to do brunch at Tommy O's at 9:30 (Kate, Aja, Joe and I) before I headed up to Felida for Sarah's daughters Larkin and Ruby's 1st birthday party. I'd been asleep when I got a text from Aja saying that brunch had been scraped, so I wasn't late and I hadn't overslept. Small blessing.

I got to Felida park shortly after 11 am and immediately saw the balloons. And the cake. And the dual highchairs. And friends like Nicolle who I do not see often enough. It was all so colorful and festive and everything a first birthday party should be.









After the party, I joined my parents and Bonnie and Rosemary and we went to Saturday Market in downtown PDX before having an early dinner at McMenamins on the Waterfront, where we got great burgers, tasty hard cider, a killer view of the river and I got a bit of  (needed) sun.






We finished up the night with some wine at home, watching the DVD of all our wedding photos (Bonnie and Rosemary were invited but since both Bonnie's daughters got married last year as well, there wasn't much time for traveling.), playing some Apples to Apples and wrapping up the night with more wine around my parent's firepit.

Perfect weekend. Now I am ready for one last week of school before our "Summer Break" and then the family reunion in upstate New York. I have do decide what to wear/pack (which is easier since most of the people who will be there, I haven't seen since I was 10, 14 or 17 years old, so all my clothes will be new to them) and the dreaded bathing suit shopping I have been putting off. Blah. Hate it. But Sam's in town and there will be girl time with our favorite Canadian this week.

Accepting the (dirty) truth

God, I love She Likes Purple. This girl so perfectly captures what I am thinking or feeling sometimes, it's a bit scary.

From "The View" posted today, June 19th, 2008:

Some people will always think I'm too ugly or too fat or too insecure or too liberal or too open-minded or too close-minded or too messy (which, well, they've got a point) or too happy or too depressed or too awkward or too wound up. They'll think my nose is too big or I'm too short or I don't listen to good enough music or I eat at Chili's too often or I make my dog talk or I watch too much reality television and not enough educational programming even though educational programming makes me more bored out of mind than more knowledgeable. Some people will think a million things of me, and they may dislike me for each one, and, regardless, I'd still be breathing in and out, and it would all be okay. It's even slightly self-absorbed to worry about all the ones who don't like me, isn't it? Why would I expect every breathing human to find me witty and likable?

*****************

I did something recently that I am not at all proud of and despite my attempts to rationalize or trivalize what I did to make myself feel better, it doesn't change that I f*ked up and hurt someone. Also, I hurt myself in the process, as she is friends with some of my friends and I worry that get togethers that include all of us are going to be extremely awkward, if for no one else, for me. But that is the price I pay for being a jerk. Now, I also have to come to accept the fact that chances are, this person who used to like me, probably now doesn't. I am the ass here; kick me if you please.

It's weird; I am okay with people who I don't like, not liking me back. It somehow justifies my feelings towards them. But when they seem to like you, it just feels strange. There is a girl at school who is like that. She's rubbed me the wrong way from the start (as well as a number of other people) but she is nothing but nice to me. How do you deal with that?

Smooth Transitions

Today's entry was entirely written and ready to be published and then . . . Myspace ate it. And I was pissed, but had to laugh too. Because when Mike and I first started getting to know each other, we'd email each other all day through Myspace while he sat at the gym (his old job) and I ran the front desk of an employment agency in downtown Portland. We'd feverishly wait for responses from one another and try our best to convey everything we were thinking and feeling without sounding too eager, desperate, hungry, horny . . . etc. and then tada! Myspace error! I ate your email!! HAHAHAHAHAHA . . . you will never find LOVE!!!

Okay . . . I never got that last message, but it felt that way. Call it my overactive imagination.

I've made it this far . . .

Private entry

Doing the math

Sunday, November 16th, 2008. Five months from today, to be exact. With all things going according to plan, I will be done with my hours at school, passed both my practical and written boards and be lined up with a position in a salon here in Vancouver!! By the end of the month, I should have almost half of my mandatory hours in. It's kind of crazy, because originally, I thought that this was going to be a year and a half process. But a combination of fate, luck and loving support from my family has allowed for me to put in a lot more time and I am already well on my way. I love the fact that I am going to be really doing it, really living my dream in such a short amount of time. No seven, eight or ten years for me before I get to where I want to be. Five months. An early Christmas gift.

Several of the girls at school had a countdown chain leading up to their graduation in April. We joke about how specific they were, but we all kind of are counting down the days. It's not that it's awful at school, because it's not. For me, it is night and day between my old jobs and doing this for a living. I really cannot believe that I am going to get to play like this for a living. This is so cool.

Hello . . . it's me again

How is it possible that a simple haircut can rejuvenate you and make you feel like yourself again? I really can't say, but I suspect that capturing that magic is a big part of what my career will be.

I cut another three inches off of my hair this week. That's about seven inches in the last three months, if anyone is counting other than me. I knew I wanted a certain length (this length) for awhile but when it came to biting the bullet, I couldn't do it. I had spent over two years growing out my hair; first for Mike to see it longer and then, second, for the wedding. But nearly a year post-nupitals, I knew it was time to do something bigger than just bangs.

I feel more like myself now than I have in a long time. Its weird. I didn't think I was missing anything but suddenly, it's like a switch has been turned on inside me. I'm more comfortable in my skin, more confident in the things I think, say and do. I love how I look . . . I can't remember the last time I said or even thought that.

If only all the problems in life could be solved with the right haircut.

Inclusion

Waiting for me today in my Flickr inbox:

Hi Betsy,

I am delighted to let you know that your submitted photo has been selected for inclusion in the newly released second edition of our Schmap Northwest Guide:

Marquam Bridge
www.schmap.com/northwest/panorama/p=123447/i=123447_3.jpg

If you like the guide and have a website, blog or personal page, then please also check out the customizable widgetized versions of our Schmap Northwest Guide, complete with your published photo:

www.schmap.com/guidewidgets/p=86572516N00/c=SG33032689

Thanks so much for letting us include your photo - please enjoy the guide!

Best regards,

Emma Williams,
Managing Editor, Schmap Guides

****      

Okay, so it's not an art show at a gallery in Portland or anything but they sought out my photograph and asked for me to submit it for consideration for their website.  I, for one, am honored. I shot the picture back in February 2007, when I joined Sarah and Rob Costa and their older two daughters for a Sunday afternoon at OMSI. I never thought that a little ol' snap of the foot of the bridge would end up here.



Kind of cool.

Definitely NOT PTA approved

My husband sits beside me, having both his side and my side of a conversation for me, since I am obviously far more interested in blogs and Myspace to participate in it myself. Tail end of the conversation . . .

"So now was that really worth all my explaining or should you just take your shirt off?"

Clearly I have not been paying enough attention to him in the last few days.

Beauty School Drop-out (some girls can't hack it)

There is grumbling in the halls of our school these days over an ex-student who attended VSB for a total of 20 hours last month before pulling out. Her original explanation to the school 'officials' was that her day job was in the real estate title industry and since the economy is pretty much shit these days, she really couldn't afford to shell out the fundage for beauty school. Her original explanation to some of her classmates was that this was not the environment she thought it would be and felt she may have better luck at a different school.

VSB is very much an "on your own" education environment. They have a flexible schedule, with only a single set "classroom" time one day a week for cosmos, one for nail techs, one for barber students and one for the esthetics students. The rest is a much more learn on your own pace. It kind of has to be. I guess I happened to start in March with a larger number of students (about 5 or 6 cosmos and 3 or 4 esthetics students) and though we cosmos started our 1600 hour quest the same day, none of us are at the same point. There are girls who come all day for three or four days a week, but not all five. There are others who come for maybe 6 hours a day, five days a week. The point is that every one is there to learn how and when they want. I am determined to get through the program by Thanksgiving, so in some ways, I may be further along than some of the others in my starting class. However, seeing as how a couple of the Hispanic students who started with me but don't come every day, work at a salon on their off days, they may be a bit more 'experienced' in the industry than I am. There really is no real gauge to say who is where except your own personal comfort level. (Actually, even that is a bad gauge because we have brand new students who are still learning the various cuts on their manikin heads and feel they are ready to work on live customers. I've seen their cuts. They're not.)

I know when people hear school, they think structured classrooms with bells and pencils and homework and taking notes from lectures. There is a little bit of that, but not like you'd think. It's more like an apprenticeship, learning on the clinic floor, hands on the chemicals and tools and doing bookwork on the down time.

I think our more recent drop out was expecting that and was disappointed when she learned that was not going to be an reality within these walls. Like I learned from Randy Pausch's Last Lecture, walls are obstacles to basically weed out the people who really don't want to achieve that dream. If you want something badly enough, you'll find a way around that wall to reach it. Clearly, she didn't want it badly enough.

So little Miss Drop-Out is Public Enemy 1 these days at our school because when she found out she was going to be held to the contract she signed when she enrolled at the school, she wasn't happy. In fact, she was so unhappy, she felt the need to write the owner a two page letter about what was wrong with the school in her eyes and one of the big thorns in her paw was the fact that despite the fact our hours say 9 am to 8 pm, we generally close around 7:30. We don't usually have customers in that late and for those of us who are there from open to close, that last half hour can add a lot of time to our personal evenings if we aren't there. Apparently, the owner did not know this little tidbit of information and now, we all have to stay open until 8 pm, customers or no customers.

Yes, it seems petty and silly and really, what is 30 minutes?? But if you are ever in the area and have nothing better to do, come drop in on me and pay me a visit. You can sit with us and see how antsy we are to get out and on our way.

The scars of all the ones we never knew

One of the things I quickly noticed about Mike when we first met was the noticable absence of video games in his life. Having been in more than one relationship in the past where the guy was borderline obsessed with Grand Theft Auto and Midnight Creatures 2, I found this absence refreshing and promising that there were in fact men out there who weren't tethered to their Playstations. Sure, Mike played one of those games online where there weren't even images, but just words that the various players would describe what their trolls were doing to the evil elves.

Yeah, I married a dork. But my dork was one that seemed to be removed from the pause buttons of my past. Seemed being the keyword in that sentence.

I cannot blame Mike for wanting a Playstation or an Xbox 360. All men are little boys deep down and boys love toys. I should be thankful that Mike enjoys video games over 4 wheels and motorcycles and hunting. But there was something inside of me that wanted to scream out "NO!" when he first started talking about getting his own Playstation 2.

It's a scar from a previous relationship, one that still sits close to the surface and is easily snagged on by silly little things like this. My ex and his father and brother would spend countless Sundays or weekday afternoons playing John Madden Football, drinking all the Pepsi in the house and smoking illegal substances. Naturally, they'd want to play on the good tv, with the clear screen and the sharpest images, so I was banished to either the bedroom or the kitchen and if I was going to be in the kitchen, would I mind much in making some munchies for them? Bring them a couple more sodas? And what drove me a bit batty was the fact that they didn't really play the game, as in manuveuring the team players throughout the game but would just build teams for the season and watch the stats as the season played out. If and only if their team made the Superbowl, then they would play the game and I would get to hear the vocal recordings of John Madden himself, who is a bumbling idiot.

For awhile, Mike was annoyed, but understanding of my 'not letting him' have a Playstation. But that period was short and he soon was bringing it up way too often for my liking. I finally sat down and explained to him what a Playstation 2 symbolized to me and why I was hoping that deep down, he really didn't want to have one.

It isn't fair to punish him for things someone from the past 'did' per se and I am not saying that having a Playstation in my old relationship was what destroyed it. Still, I hated it. I hated feeling like I was second to a black box and a couple of controllers. I especially hated that I had saved my money to buy him a brand new Playstation 2 for his birthday but just weeks prior to that, his brother turned up with one that he was looking to sell and my then-boyfriend couldn't wait. His brother could use the cash and why not just buy this one? Why not? It turned out to be hot and broken to boot, so within three or four months of owning it, Z was ready to drop kick it out the window. So eight months after I had bought the first one, we ended up buying a second one - a brand new one. Yeah, I'm still a little bitter about that one.

Mike finally talked me into letting him get a Playstation 2 around Christmas and when we received a cash check from his grandfather for the holidays, I decided it would be better for him to spend it on something tangible than groceries or gas, as he originally thought I would make him spend it on. And for months, that seemed to be enough. But Playstation 2's are old (since I've been battling them since 2002) and there are such better games and technology in Xbox 360s or Playstation 3s.

Of course, an Xbox 360 was the one and ONLY thing he wanted for his birthday. Forget about a party or any other gadget. After seeing how my friends Kate and Aja pooled their money together to help me get a professional pair of sheers, he got the idea for me and my parents to pool the money we'd be spending on his birthday gift together so he might be that much closer to an Xbox. I couldn't argue with his logic and as much as I hated the idea of having another gaming system in my home, what else could I do?

The Xbox arrived today, sadly after his birthday, but he was thrilled and was grinning ear to ear when I got home.

I'd just better have earned some extra credit bonus "Awesome Wife" points today over this. I just plan on keeping the "My turn" card in my pocket for my next Coach handbag. I'm allowed one a year . . . and 2008 is already nearly half over.

Adoption day

I met someone today. She was quiet and sweet and somewhat discarded into the clearance rack at Lowe's Home Improvement store. I haven't named her but here she is:





She's a Kalanchoe, a flowering succulent and I hope that she has a long life in my garden. She actually was pretty big, easily capable of being broken into three smaller plants and I really don't know why she was on the clearance rack. Possibly because so many of her flowers were in bloom. Kalanchoes tend to be pretty hard to get to flower again after they do the first time. It involves tricking them into thinking they are in winter by putting them in a dark place for months at a time, kind of like getting a bird to sleep by putting a blanket over it's cage.

I was out and about today running errands and stopped to give my grandmother a pedicure before she heads out for the East Coast. She leaves on Wednesday and will stay back there with various numbers of her other children until we all join her in New York next month. A month to be exact. Wow. Then I stopped at Lowe's and Fred Meyer's in hopes of finding new sempervivum (hens and chicks). A few years ago, every place I went that sold plants had so many of them to choose from but this year . . . zilch.

I did find an Emerald Empress at Fred Meyer's and a Stonecrop sedum too . . . but it took some hunting. I am really hoping that more will come in soon or I can get some new babies from friends gardens . . . (hint, hint, hint fellow lovers).

Iduhair

For those of you who are counting (which would be none, because why in the world would you???), to date I have cut Mike's hair three times, lightly trimmed my mother's once, cut my father's twice and my brother's once. Not counting the horrid job I did on my bangs in middle school, I have trimmed them once and Sarah's once as well. That is it for people I know and cutting hair. For all the hours a day I spend at school, it is the cutting that gets me the most uneasy, because it is so much more permanent than anything else we do there. You can repaint nails and fix a bad dye job. The worst thing that could happen with a perm is that it doesn't curl, and I haven't had a customer for a chemical straightening yet.

Why is it scary to make that transition from clients to friends and family? Probably because I know them and if I did seriously screw up their hair, I'd have to look at it and them and let the guilt just eat at me until the cut grew out and they forgave me. I mean, it is scary enough when someone sits down in my chair and wants a haircut, but if that was someone I knew . . . well at the least I would be extremely hesitant and underestimate my cuts.

I have yet to really announce myself ready to cut or even dye my friends for that very reason. Also, just because I am going to be licensed soon enough to be doing this professionally, I don't expect any of my friends to come to me over their current stylists. That being said, I was pretty surprised when friends started asking about coloring their hair, coming in for highlights, etc. It's all so very real, suddenly.

In the past, we've played with makeup and up do's and dress up. That's just what girls do. Several times a year, I'll head over to my friends' homes and doll them up for a wedding or a Christmas party or a night out on the town. New Year's Eve 2005, a group of us met up at Jessica's house and before we headed out for a night of drinking, dancing and celebrating at Aura, I did everyone's makeup. But this changing the color of someone's hair is really taking it to an entirely new level. One that I am confident I can do, but still a little weary of at the moment.

I know it's universal knowledge to everyone that walks into the school that we are just students and we are learning. But it is also very well known and understood that these are real people with lives and jobs and reputations and images; they come in wanting a specific thing and there is also that slight flutter in my stomach that what I deliver is not what they wanted.

It is also understood when we students work on each other that we probably aren't going to get it correct the first time. We practice so much on each other because we have that much time on our hands and itching in our fingers and ideas in our heads. I've already chopped five inches off of my hair, added both highlights and lowlights, not to mention the hair I've had waxed off. There are plans in the works this week to take a few more inches off, since I have been missing my shorter hair pretty much since July 29th, 2007. We practice as much as we are allowed on each other because we are preparing ourselves for those future clients and even more importantly, our friends.

My best friend Kate mentioned to me last night that she is ready to let me highlight her hair, if I feel comfortable doing it. She has been going to Toni and Guy for awhile, but her last root touch-up had been done down at the Aveda School in Portland. You can't really say that they screwed up her hair, but they didn't match the number of foils she'd had put in at Toni and Guy, which left her hair looking darker at the roots then she wanted. I am hoping that I can correct that.

Mike and I are working to perfect a haircut for him that is everything he wants and then consistently cutting it to keep it that desired length (he's soooo metro). My mom likes to point out elements of various women's hairstyles so that when I do take over doing her hair (planned for after the family reunion next month) and though my brother seems to be itching to beat the inevitable to the punch and shave his head, I am making him wait until I have my license and more men's cuts under my belt. Mike says his friends are interested in coming to me, but we'll see. I'm just as cautious about screwing up their hair as anyone else's.

Of course, you know what the difference is between a bad hair cut and a good one?

Two weeks.

Not just another day

Mike is clearly one of those men who is going to only get better looking and more distinguished as we get older.  There will come a day when he is the better looking of the two of us; I have already come to accept that. With his jawline, his eyelashes, his charming grin . . .  well I am absolutely shocked that he didn't have more women falling for him before me. I guess it's just my luck.

But I know that he will always see me as he did on our wedding day. The day he proposed. The first time we locked eyes on each other.

Mike turned 27 today, with little fanfare or hoopla. He didn't want a party this year and was even cool with having to work all day. But we'll be having our own little celebration for him tomorrow.

I don't think I can ever gush enough about how much I love this man. It comes so easily and naturally to me, loving him, that I sometimes forget to express it as much as I should.

Up do's I will NOT be doing tomorrow.

Actually, they aren't even hairstyles. They're hats and I thank Aja for sending me this link. http://jezebel.com/5013600/animal-magnetisms

I do have to say that I think the walrus in particular might just make the kind of prom hair statement that a Skyview senior would want to make. And this last one definitely puts new meaning to "mane"

I don't read eyelashes

Despite my attempts to explain to my husband that even though he looks longingly at me, batting his impossibly full and luscious eyelashes at me, I don't always know what he is thinking and or wanting.

I do, however, know how to pretty damn correctly guess baby sexes.

I guessed my friend, former schoolmate and blog reader Melissa was having a girl and she announced recently that she is in fact having a baby girl.

I felt that Rebecca Woolf of Girl Gone Child was having a girl as well and she finally posted on her page that she is having a girl.

I do feel that my classmate Maddie is having a boy, but she has decided to wait until she delivers to find out what her child is. But I am announcing it now.

Other favorite blogger of mine, Amalah, is also carrying her second child and I thought she was having a girl, but it was posted yesterday that she is having another boy, whom her first son Noah has already named "Tivo".

I've been looking back at the past year and how many people I know who have given birth. It's kind of crazy. Insanely crazy. From May 30, 2007 to May 30, 2008, I have known 23 people to have a child (or two!). And these are all people I know in real life. Not counting any of my bloggers. The classes of 2025 and 2026 are going to be incredible . . . I just know it.

Baby Steps

It's a few minutes shy of midnight and I cannot think of anything specific to write about. My day was typical, but boring, because Kristie wasn't there and Halley didn't arrive until nearly 2 pm. I did well on staying within my points today and came home to my husband eager and ready for me to cut his hair. And then I made him some grilled cheese sandwiches and watched "Beerfest" with him. Action packed day!

Earlier this week, while grocery shopping at Winco, I purchased a couple of their reusable "Green Bags" to ease my conscious about having such green friends and not being as eco-friendly myself. We do our best to separate our recycling from the garbage and I reuse the paper and plastic bags I have taken in the past from grocery stores as lunch bags and garbage bags too, but I knew it was time to step it up a bit. I really like the bags from Trader Joe's, but seeing as how I shop at Winco so much more frequently, it only makes sense to purchase a couple of their's. Rumor has it that the store will knock ten cents off your total for each of their Green bags you use, but I haven't noticed it in my receipt yet. Of course, that is not the reason I purchased them. I actually like filling them with my purchases; they seem to hold a lot more than the paper or plastic bags.

Also, my friend Ava at school is trying her best to turn me on to more tofu and gluten dishes, as she is a strict vegetarian herself. She had a dish today that I couldn't resist and she offered me a bite of the gluten. The texture was a little odd but it was tasty. I wouldn't mind having it again.

I am trying to make myself try more new things whenever I can. Natile (another beauty school classmate) got me to try sushi a while back and while it wasn't my favorite, it is something I would try again too. My brother loves sushi, so I only felt it fair that I should text him and let him know that a California roll had passed my lips.

Baby steps, folks, baby steps.

Hypersensative

I really hate that I read into things entirely too much. I do it all the time and I stress and I worry and in the end, it nearly always ends up being something silly, stupid or pointless. Sometimes an oversight, sometimes just someone cleaning house, condensing or changing their mind for reasons that have nothing to do with me. I don't even usually address the issues because I know they are so minute and generally have nothing to do with me, but still. Gut reactions are typically there to be trusted, right?

On that note, I am going to try to ignore the newest stupid flair-up and try to get to bed. Let's hope I am not awake until three dwelling on it.

Endurance or Spite?

I am happy to say that I fully stuck to my points today and managed to get all of my water down without really realizing that I had done so. With the reunion a little over a month away and myself, honestly, hardly any closer to any type of a goal than I was the last time I mentioned the reunion, I have decided to step up the exercise and really restrict my snacking if I want to have any chance of being any smaller.

Got home and was itching to hit the gym but didn't manage to get my butt down there until after 9 pm. The gym was empty and so I jumped onto my favorite treadmill and started up the 'Downsizing' playlist on the iPod. Yeah, that's what I call my gym mix. A good mile and a half in, a couple, who seem to always show up at the gym while I am there, showed up yet again. I can come at 8 pm, 8:30 pm, 9 pm or even like noon on a Sunday and this couple always shows up!! Our gym is small and only has two treadmills and I think they like to run together, but with me there, one or the other has to wait until I am done and that generally means the girl is sitting on the bike, half-heartedly pedalling until I finish up and get off. I have never cut my workout short on their behalf but I have always felt somewhat pressured to 'hurry up'. Something about the fact that I have been somewhat trying to find a time that they aren't going to be there and they always show up just annoyed me tonight. I know, it's out of all our control, but still. You think I'd get a break sometime, right?

They have come enough times when I'm already there to know that I tend to walk about two miles or 32 minutes - which ever comes last (though they tend to coincide every time), so after the boyfriend had run a mile, he got off and started doing weight training and the girlfriend got onto the treadmill next to me, half-heartedly walking, as if she was waiting out my usual time.

Well, two miles came and I felt great. 32 minutes then came and I still felt like pushing on and Mike has been urging me to push it past my usual distance/time if I want to amp up my training at all. So I did. Despite the fact that they were pretty much waiting for me to get off the treadmill, I walked another 3/4ths of a mile. Another 8 minutes of her looking over her shoulder at him and shrugging and him finally getting on the exercycle himself as they waited out my little extra push. I cannot say that I would have walked that far had they not been there, but I have been meaning to push myself harder for the last month. So who's to say I wouldn't have regardless, right?

It's wicked of me to do it and I know that. I guess it just bothered me that where I was merrily working out before they arrived, I suddenly felt like I could only walk to two miles because there was someone else who wanted the treadmill. Generally, if I go over to the gym and the treadmills are in use, I walk back to the apartment and walk back half an hour later to see if they are clear. I don't hang around and make someone else feel pressured to wrap up their workout.

If you were working out on a piece of gym equipment and were only halfway through your workout when you knew someone else, who just arrived, was waiting to use it themselves, what would you do?

Children of the Child-less

My sedum and Hen and chicks are going absolutely nuts this season, flourishing and blooming in ways I never thought they would. Last year they were neglected a bit too much due to wedding stuff, but this year, they are getting my full and loving attention. Since we've moved and are now on the top floor, our patio is flooded with afternoon light . . .

 







If this is what they look like at the start of June, I cannot wait to see what they'll look like by August. That last one is about the size of my hand.

Good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good

Such is anyone's lot in life. I suppose what matters in the end is that you are surrounded by the family and friends you want to be there.

Sitting there today, in the theater watching "Sex and the City", I found myself able to identify with all four of the ladies. At some point in my short life, I have been in some variation of each of their lives. From Miranda to Samantha, then to Carrie and now, certainly mostly Charlotte.

I look at my life, as small as it feels sometimes these days and my husband, who I sometimes forget is as incredibly loving and wonderful as he is and am thankful that I am where I am. My past is what made me "me" but our future is what keeps me believing.

Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.

Ever am I the lucky girl.