Holy crap, it's Friday!

I didn't think it would ever get here; in fact, so much has gone down this week that I felt like I got about ten years older. But I guess I really didn't.

I did, however get to a point in my hair growing out time that I need to talk about.

So I haven't cut my hair off since last year. I only got a little trim a month ago, so now my hair is about three inches long. All over. Those of you who have normal hair will not understand. Those of us with this wavy-curly bushy crap will understand the importance of what I'm about to say.

It's getting bad up in here, you guys. BAD.

It's like helmet hair meets soccer Mom hair meets the Dorothy Hamill haircut. All those, plus what we refer to as, "The Otis Wave," because my Grandpa had this crazy wave in the front of his hair, and ever so many of us got that exact same wave in the exact same place. Even my sister, whose hair is completely different from mine, has a bit of it.

But not like this.

It's more like this, except attached to me and not Princess Di:

from digestionsante.com

Yeah. It's pretty much EXACTLY like that, except I can't get it to lie neatly with a part and whatever because that innocent little trim I got last month has proven itself to be a horrible mistake. I knew when she made that comment about my hair being thin that I was in for trouble because, seriously, I'm 36. No one in my whole life has ever used the word thin to describe my hair. It is bushy and coarse and just so, so not thin. So when she said that, I should've just followed my instincts and run out.

I did not. Therefore, this is entirely my fault.

Except that now I can't remember why I had the brilliant idea to grow out my hair in the first place. I think maybe I should just shave my head.

Yep. That sounds like a magnificent idea.

Ugh. I know I won't, but I wish I could.

Mid-afternoon blog post today, in honor of the fact that I just remembered something and I don't want to forget it again before I write it down.

Here goes.

I was flossing my teeth, because I had a very delicious sandwich for lunch that had some very pungent garlic and onion action (and I don't want to knock anybody out with what I've got brewing up in my teeth) and I had a flash of memory.

It doesn't happen very often, but this one was hilarious, and I can't believe I forgot about it for this long.

I used to have a student, and I don't even remember her name any more, because she only had a few months of lessons (probably because she was a turd), and one day we were having a particularly trying time getting any work done.

You must realize, when you bring me your kid, who by the way was only five, and expect her to get thirty minutes of learning, what you're really getting is a few five-minute spans of concentration, with five-minute breaks in between. Seriously. They cannot mentally keep it together for long periods of time, so basically I'm teaching them how to concentrate, with a little bit of music thrown in there. That's just how it is. The longer they take, the more learning we get in, but especially around holidays or breaks, that's just all I can do.

At any rate, she was super mad, because I was making her repeat things, and we were getting to a point where I could tell she was about to either scream or cry, so I changed the subject. "What do you think you want to do when you grow up?" I asked her.

She thought for a second and then said, "Well, what do you do?"

I said, "I'm a musician."

She said, "Well, I've never heard of you, so you must not be very good."

Yep. That's how she rolled. I told her, "That's probably true, but I don't do it to be famous, I do it because I love it."

She thinks for a minute, and then replies, "I want to do something that I'm really good at, then, so I can be famous and make money. Not like you."

HOW DID I FORGET THIS CONVERSATION???

It's so good. I can totally remember the whole thing, because I was still in my 20s, you know, with dreams and all, and it kind of hurt my feelings.

Now, however, I'm over that. That kid was hilarious. Bravo, little girl, for calling it like it was. And bravo, me, for finally remembering it and sharing it with the world.

Yet again, you're welcome.

Yesterday, I realized that I am at a point in time where I have completed all of the multiple crafts upon which I was working. And now, I am craftless.

CRAFTLESS.

It's not as though I 'm not busy, or I don't have enough to do, but when I'm not working on a project, I feel all empty inside. Well, maybe not completely empty. There is still my ongoing quest to get all of the #1s and gold medals in Criminal Case on Facebook.

It's just not the same.

I usually run out in January and August and then I get a new one, but for some reason, I guess I just finished up early. And with no ceramics for the summer and no other events for which I need a homemade gift in sight, I am not sure what to do.

I guess I'll have to decide on something today. 

TODAY. 

I have to do it today, because it's already been bugging me for four days, and I don't think I can take it anymore.

I may have a crafting addiction. Yikes.

So I'm having a dilemma, and I'm not sure what to do about it.

Actually, I know what I'm going to do about it, but I'm not sure if it's the right thing, or if I should just keep going the way things are right now and stop letting my nose be such a pain in my butt. Let me elaborate, as per usual.

For a couple of hours, a couple of times per month, I go to a place and do some work. It's not much, but I really like to be useful, and they tell me it is, so I'm glad to do it. HOWEVER, there is a lady who works a few hours right before I come in to do my few hours, and...

...well...how do I put this nicely?

She smells like a farm animal gave birth, pooped and then died in the hot sun. Yep. She smells that bad.

So, anyway, I do my best to wipe everything down with hand sanitizer and a kleenex when I go in for my shift, but I cannot get that smell out of the chair we share.

And every time I sit down or stand up, I smell it.

And last time I went in, I could smell it on myself after I left.

And I almost died.

At any rate, I have that smell issue where my nose doesn't stop smelling things, even after a long time, so I was also sitting there, gagging every minute or two. I'm sure everyone else wondered what was wrong with me.

It's not like I can say, "Hey, did so-and-so open fifty cans of tuna fish over here, poop in them and leave them to rot for a month in a vat of b.o.?" because that would be inappropriate.

So I have to do something. I can't just leave it the way it is. My plan is to see if I can just come in on a different day. If not, I will have to just not go in at all.

Seriously. It's that bad. I am going in later today, and even though I know she hasn't been there today, I'm still bringing heavy duty antibacterial wipe action with me. Just in case.

Argh.

Yesterday, we went to Costco for our semi-monthly toilet paper extravaganza.

And other things. We buy other things. It's just that the toilet paper is really good quality, and then we don't have to buy any more for ages, so I kind of concentrate on that.

At any rate, you would expect it to be kind of dead on a Tuesday at around 2 pm, right?

WRONG.

There were just people everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I am kind of reduced to following the back of my husband's shirt around the store at that point, as I try to ignore all of the noise and the smells. Well, honestly it's mostly the smells but I know that I'll survive if I just keep my eyes on the prize and don't become distracted.

What was the prize? Um...a huge package of toilet paper, two boxes of protein bars, heartburn pills and a bag of those mini cheeses that are in the red wax.

They are delicious and that part was totally worth it.

At any rate, sometimes I think I'm the only person who is hating the whole thing, because I look around and everyone else seems to be having a good time, buying 52 boxes of brownie mix and/or an industrial oven. And I am just trying to get the hell out of there, despite the fact that I am bypassing all of the good samples and the clothing area, which I normally enjoy.

Sometimes it dawns on me that I might be a weirdo.

It's not that there's anything wrong with other people, necessarily. I would just prefer to never be around them and to be alone in my house. Which leads me to believe that the next logical step is a bulk purchase of cats, so I guess I'd have to go to Costco anyway, because where else would I get the seventy-eight billion pounds of kitty litter my ninety cats will require?

Except I'm allergic to cats, so that's not happening.

Oh, well. I guess maybe one trip every couple of months is something I can survive. Plus, next time we go, it will probably be July, which means that the Christmas stuff will be up, so that's fun.

Sigh. 

Costco, why do you make me hate you?

We had a super eventful weekend that culminated in the most dreaded of all events: Trying on clothes for a special occasion.

It's the worst. I know what I have, but a lot of times I haven't even attempted to put it on in months, or sometimes even years. I did a little better this time, because I thought it out beforehand and purchased new pantyhose and other such nonsense, but still, it was pretty awful.

Everything looks better on a hanger in my closet. It also looks better in my mind when I think about how I looked the last time I wore it.

Fortunately for me, I only purchased the dresses I will be wearing (it's a multi-day thing) a couple of months ago, so they actually fit better than they did the last time I wore them. However, they both require the wearing of the pantyhose because sometimes, when a person loses weight around her mid-section, there is this magical thing that happens where the skin is still there, it's just not as firmly packed with fat, so it is jiggly.

That magical thing happens to me a lot. It's not really that magical.

At any rate, trying stuff on requires a lot of time and/or squeezing into pantyhose and pretty shoes that are not necessarily the most comfortable, and then standing in the hallway, blocking access to the only full-length mirror in the house. 

My husband loves that part, especially when he was the one that started to try on clothes and I totally cut him off to get in there. However, in my defense, I wanted to see if our outfits would clash and also if we would look okay together.

Well, he looks cute.

I, on the other hand, do not look nearly as much like Dorothy from The Golden Girls as I wanted to, and therefore I am disappointed. I really need to get that shiny, smooth Dorothy Zbornak thing going on. You know, with an outfit like this:

from thegoldengirlsreviewedby.com

Yep. It's fabulous. It's like a boxer's robe with a bow tie. And all of that could be mine if I could just figure out where to purchase or even find a pattern for such an ensemble.

But then again, it's a wedding. And I don't want to take attention away from the people involved so maybe my normal dress is a better idea. 

I still hate pantyhose. It's gross and it makes my legs look way too tan, even though I didn't get the suntan color, I got the buff color, which I believe is another term for skin color. My legs are just normally white. Actual white, not the white people skin tone that Crayola miserably failed to re-create, and that the pantyhose people have decided upon. That skin color is a lie. No one is naturally that orange unless they have some kind of vitamin deficiency or something like that.

I just don't tan. I burn and then become pale again. I think I came from cave people or someone who lived underground and had absolutely no melanin at all.

At any rate, trying on clothes at home is the worst. It always makes me feel as though I should throw everything out except my big shirts and only wear them, along with my big pants. I know, though, that I can't do that. Because that would just be too easy.

Stupid pantyhose.

Grumble grumble.

But someday I will find a source for clothes that are like Dorothy's clothes. Perhaps I will even get me a bowtie. And look how stern and judgmental she is! Someday, man. Someday.

I made my diet goal a week early!

I feel like that's a dangerous thing.

Usually, if I make my goal (which is rare, because losing weight is a slow and painful process for me, which I like to make even more painful by giving myself unrealistic goals, such as losing 50 pounds in a week), it's right in the nick of time and then I do whatever event it is (usually something requiring a tight dress), and then I proceed to eat fries and drink beer and undo the good weigh-in.

But not this time, buddy.

Mostly because I've had a killer stomachache for three days, but still. I get stress stomach which is probably a good thing because it prevents me from eating anything really good. You know, like alcohol, greasy food, jalapeños. Mmmmmm. Jalapeños. Which I've been eating a lot of anyway because they don't have a lot of calories and they are delicious.

But I don't think they've done too well with the increased amount of ibuprofen I've been taking for my jaw. It feels like someone detonated some kind of acid bomb in my gut and now it's a little burnt and uncomfortable in there.

And I don't even care, because I lost THREE pounds this week. THREE. All caps.

At any rate, we don't have our special, dress-wearing event for another week, so there's still time for me to lose more. Maybe even another three pounds. 

Hahahahahahahahahaha....who am I kidding? I never get two good weeks in a row. I get five weeks of half a pound, followed by a week of a pound, and then this magnificence, which will be followed by a three-week dry spell with either no loss or small gains, and then the half pound losses will start up again. Maybe.

This isn't science, you know. It has a lot to do with magic and also unicorns. And also how much I'm going to sing in the shower, because despite tossing and turning and not being able to turn off my brain last night, and despite not being able to eat any delicious jalapeños because my stomach is being a little ridiculous, I LOST THREE POUNDS THIS WEEK.

Nothing else is going to matter today. It's a little Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat up in here today. Things may get weird.

Oh, well.

There's this yardsale page for my town that I like to look at on Facebook, but I've noticed a lot of items just constantly getting bumped up the page and not selling, so I thought I'd offer a little advice, since I am the resident expert on...

...well, everything. Seriously.

At any rate, the first thing a person should NOT do is photograph those things in a realistic light. Pretty much always make sure the item is lit as poorly as possible, or with a really greenish or blueish light, so that the color looks sickly and kind of makes the person wonder whether he or she is looking at stains or shadows on the items. That'll really make people want to take that puke green used bra home.

Also, don't wash or iron articles of clothing. People want a good idea of what the item will look like after it's been worn on a three-day camping trip, slept in, and then balled up and thrown on the floor.

Make sure that if any bedding is being sold, the bed is unmade, with wadded-up pieces of clothing edged in there for realism, and perhaps suspicious staining on the sheets. That shouldn't be an issue with anyone. Not at all.

As a matter of fact, whatever is in the background of the picture taken of the item for sale should be as filthy as possible. Take lots of pictures in the dirtiest bathroom available, or make sure that items are laid on a carpet that looks like it's riddled with dog poop stains and maybe some old cigarette butts, for texture.

Finally, sell lots and lots of items that were purchased at the Dollar Tree store, but sell them for more than a dollar, leaving the $1.00 price tag visible in the pictures so people can see what a sweet deal they're being offered.

If these tips are followed, sellers ought to get exactly the results they deserve.

Yep.

This morning, I read an article about someone whose marriage broke up, leaving both her and her ex much happier and better off. While I loved the idea of the article, because even though I think sometimes that maybe people don't think about marriage long enough before taking the step, and that's the real problem for some people, there were a few points in it that eventually led to me not finishing the article because I got annoyed. Mostly because she's 28 and trying to sound like she has the wisdom of the ages.

Yes, I got annoyed by something. Shocking, isn't it?

At any rate, I feel that, as someone who has been with my person for 22 years, married for almost thirteen, I get to say something back. This is my rebuttal to some of her arguments.

First, she said that love should not be unconditional, giving the fact that she had gained weight and her partner had stopped being passionate about his life to back up her opinion. I STRONGLY disagree with that. I think that maybe that's her experience, but it sure as heck isn't mine, and I think that for anyone who has given birth to a child to be able to say that is a terrifying thing. And she has. I think that maybe for some people, that's how it is, but to make a blanket statement and tell people that there's no way they can expect that from their partner for life is a bunch of crap. I love my husband. For no better reason than because I choose to. Every day. Even when he's a poop. And he loves me back, even with my Christopher Walken hair and my intense star-phobia that forces him to lead me through dark rooms while my eyes are shut tight and I'm being a big old baby. (Plus, he's never once led me into a wall, which I'm sure would be hilarious, so bonus points for that) He CHOOSES to love me when I don't deserve it, and I CHOOSE to love him even when he doesn't. If that's not unconditional, I don't know what is, so there you go. It's possible, lady, and it's a good thing, since we're trusting each other to wipe butts and stuff when we get old. And have both gained/lost weight and totally lost our passion for riding horseback on the beach. Come on, lady. The person you get old with has to love you unconditionally, or they just aren't the right person with whom to grow old.

Then, she said that not being "head over heels in love" was also why their marriage ended. Um, hello? Are you kidding me? It is impossible to remain all ecstatic about a person all of the time. It would be entirely too exhausting, not to mention being impractical, to be twitterpated your whole life. Good grief. That was the paragraph that made me die the most. Sometimes I look at my husband and I feel like I need to just squish him because he is so cute. Other times I look at him and all I can think about is how he didn't get me the right brand of cereal at the store (except that would never happen because he knows quite well how I feel about my cereal). That's called life. Everything is super good when it's shiny and new, and then you have periods of super happy alternating with periods of dealing with life. Which is just the way it is. That's where the whole unconditional love part kicks in, so there you go.

Finally, she talked about focusing on your life so the love part can just work itself out. That is BANANAS. Love takes work. It's a decision you have to make every day (see my ginormous paragraph about it, above). If you don't choose to love someone, you won't. It's that simple. I choose to love Cinnamon Toast Crunch, therefore I do; conversely, I choose not to love raspberries because they taste like evil, rotting death. Therefore, they aren't allowed in my presence or I will puke. But that's a choice. Right now, I am choosing to try to like mushrooms because people who don't eat meat are supposed to eat mushrooms. I guess it's one of those things they talked about on a day I was home sick or something. Anyway, I am working on it. Still not my favorite, but I'm going to get this. That's my choice, and it's not easy, but I figure, beer wasn't on my list of favorites ten years ago, but it sure is now.

Because I kept on trying. 

I guess maybe the whole tone of her article was the annoying part. You can't be 28 and have all of the answers. I have eight years on her, and I sure don't have all of the answers, and my parents have twenty-odd years on me, and they seem to know more stuff but they still screw up. It's awfully irritating to have someone with whom I disagree write a whole blog post about it.

Wait a minute. 

Or maybe never mind that last part. Depending on how you feel this morning.

Holy crap, it's been a week.

Like, a crazy long week.

Like, the kind of week where you keep forgetting what day it is and Friday seems so far away...except that today is Friday.

If I can remember.

I have already told five people that I'll see them tomorrow, and then been reminded that it's Friday so I will see them Monday. And then I promptly forget until the next person tells me.

However, it's Friday. And we shall endure. 

Look at the cute puppy.

from list25.com