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When breaking up with your stylist…

See this? This was taken today before I went out to the grocery store. Okay, so it isn’t. Not far off…but you get the picture. I haven’t been to my hair stylist since December. Remember December? Christmas, halls decked, before the New Year? Yeah. My bangs have taken the shape of unruly weeds sprouting from my head. I have taken scissors to them, but alas they cover my bottom lip. Again. So back to ‘when breaking up with your stylist…make sure you have another option in the wings. I have none. It’s like I don’t trust anyone else, but I can’t go back to robbing banks before seeing her for my nine week trim. Her price had gotten out of hand, sadly. Like way out of hand. It was either feed the family this Wednesday thru Friday, or get a hair cut. So style has suffered. Whoa is me.

You know how on the show ‘Cheers’, when Norm would come into the bar, everyone would yell, ‘Norm’? Well that appears to be me at the Prime Care Clinic. “Why yes it is me, again. What? You can rattle off my date of birth before I tell you?” Uh, huh…that’s how it’s been this fine winter, melting into spring. Now it appears I have bronchitis. I’m a bit peeved about it, too. I am a HUGE advocate of taking mountains of vitamins, drinking plenty of liquids, getting rest, washing hands, wearing surgical gear to open public doors…you name it. Yet…yet!!! I have had the flu, the strep throat not once, but twice, and now bronchitis. All in the span of 2 months. Lesson learned? Eat the brownies for breakfast, drink that bottle of wine for lunch, and buy that monkey picture that no one will understand, but you love it more than Monet’s, Walk in the Garden. Or whatever Monet painted that everyone knows. For those catching up, I did not buy the monkey holding the camera picture. I was on this kick of saving money, watching my wants and needs and deciphering them best I knew how. Well, little did that help. I waltzed back into the store after only 4 days of willpower and it was gone. Who in the world wanted that ugly picture more than me? *as I beat my head with my fist*

So just do whatever, sickness will find you no matter what fortress of vegetarian slug you’re living under, hoping to cheat death by days or years. Enjoy life! Period.     I will try just as soon as this right lung of mine wants to begin cooperating again and stop being intimidated by all the sludge moving through it.

Well, everyone enjoy this weekend. After the teacher told me upon pick-up of my kids today, to make sure and not bring them next week for spring break, I decided I have to find alternative plans for them. May the good times begin…and may Monday not find them in my office as I begin the work week. 🙂

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Hurtful, Nasty Reminders

reminderReminders are usually for our benefit, right? Like when your gas light comes on it means, get gas. For me, it signals I’ve got 100 more miles to go. I am famous for pushing it to the last fume to get me to the pumps. One day I will regret passing the ten stations to find the one with five cents cheaper per gallon. (I know, it isn’t that much, but still). Or the reminder that your car insurance is getting taken out automatically from your account tomorrow. Which signals me to go by the bank and put it in! But there are a few reminders that one does not need. i.e….

Yesterday I received a card in the mail from the veterinarian. It had a heartfelt note in it of condolences for my dog that passed away a couple weeks ago. Yes, I was finally getting to the point where I didn’t break down once a day. Like when I go and look for his bed, or check outside to see if he’s lying in the sun. It’s finally becoming bearable. Not forgettable, by any stretch, but doable. And then the card. Which I opened while driving the kids up the driveway. And there it was…they sent Walter’s paw print along with the written sentiment. OMG. Why? Why now? I shoved it back in the envelope and took a deep breath. I’m still thinking about it.

Here’s another example of a hurtful reminder: When the lovely people behind Facebook send you a memory of your cheating husband as he kisses you on the cheek. Ah yes, that was just six months ago…before my friend’s rat turd husband cheated on her. And there she gets a reminder of better times. Or when you get a snap shot of your family member who passed away, and you’re not quite over that one, either.

Reminders….not always a good thing. 😦

On a happy note, because I need to always leave on one…I’m back to writing my new book. I’m feeling pretty good about it, too. Who wouldn’t like to imagine Kevin Costner all day? And be able to have him say the sweetest things to your heroine…which you imagine is yourself? LOL!! I’m down with it! 🙂

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Finding Time for the Christmas Spirit

NORMEvery year I say I’ll do it…I’ll find time to relax and enjoy Christmas. Breathe in the days like a slow drag of endorphins, swirling around in my head, producing a silly grin on my face. Sit by the tree and watch the lights dance on the ornaments that only come out once a year. Go out to the kitchen, my ultra-clean kitchen, and begin baking cookies for which I have to Google which store in the free world sells the ingredients. (Because I can’t just make chocolate chip or molasses:) Then mosey into the dining room and begin wrapping presents while watching black and white movies. All the while supervising my tots making a gingerbread village. Ahh, the Norman Rockwell of it all!

But alas, every year it never seems to happen quite like I want it. This year for example I’ve been working my butt off. A virus hit my workplace and I’ve had to go in double time, the only cookies I make come from a roll in a messy kitchen, and I’ve managed to wrap only a few gifts, because Amazon is still shipping the others.  Gingerbread village? Ha! Try ugly lined paper and crayons to help pass their time until the Jolly ol’Saint Nick shows with toys that will interest them all of a day and a half (if I’m lucky). The future days don’t seem to have any more hope for a slow down.

There’s always time to dream for next year, I suppose.