Still, it's nice to depend on one of my two southern girls for motivation to write at least twice weekly. So yeah, I'll probably be back on Friday.
Without further ado:
1. I was so pumped to read (from a reliable source) this news today: a canonization date at last! And only a week after my John Paul turns 2. I'm thinking of hosting a killer double header party at our house. Polish vodka, miter shaped cupcakes, and maybe a koala hugging station. Let me know if you want to get on that guest list.
|I'll drink to that.|
I first bought in it grad school and wouldn't you know it, even though I need it so much more desperately now, I rationalize that it's soooo much more essential to buy organic pain-free baby soap and sunscreen for my offspring than to wipe away the traces of their nighttime terror campaigns on my delicate complexion. But last month, I ordered some again and, for the first time, used it yesterday evening and again this morning and even though John Paul (not the koala hugger) woke up every 94 minutes last night to breathe croupily into my mouth and splay like a sweaty starfish across our king-but-felt-like-a-full-last-night bed, I look...fresh. Dewey, even? My girl Elizabeth will hook you up if you're ready to take the pamper plunge.
3. This is super embarrassing to admit, but I'm a tiny bit into dystopian young adult fiction. I'd like to blame somebody, but personal responsibility dictates that I own my nasty Amazon habit, loud and proud. But, buuuut, after my latest foray into modern Orwellian-aping pseudo lit, I'm proud to say that after spending $8 on Amazon 2 nights ago and devouring the first installment of the "Delirium" trilogy I marched (drove) my disciplined 30-year-old self to not one but two libraries yesterday to pick up books two and three. I should finish the whole series by tomorrow evening, and be none the wiser, smarter, or holier for it...but they're entertaining, and they're smut free. And damn I love me a good post-American dystopia.
4. I took all of your thoughtful advice and input and decided to lurch into a lumbering cantor on Saturday evening and may I just say, my back did not thank me. I may not have gained as much weight yet but my holy Relaxin, that felt really terrible on Sunday around 3 am. Like really terrible. Double stroller power-walking, you're my new favorite.
5. And while this is not a favorite, I would now like to poll the audience about something extremely serious and mysterious: my hair color. Apparently, as the lurking underlayer nearest my neck would seem to indicate, I am no longer actually a blonde. I don't know how long this has been the case, but I mean to get to the bottom of it sometime Saturday morning around 10 am for my annual professional cut and style. I usually do a full set of foils, sometimes I throw some lowlights in there too, just to be crazy, but I think I'm going to allow whatever lucky Aveda lady I get set up with this go-round to conduct some archeological research on my color and get to the bottom of it, so to speak. And also cut off an inch or five.
So this is now: (please overlook the stunned selfie)
And here's what I'm thinking for later:
|Darkest espresso + longish layers|
|Medium with caramel highlights + side bangs|
|Legit bangs. Terrible idea? + Chocolately brown|
Thoughts? Vote me in, and I'll prance down to the Aveda school with a cell phone image in my hot little hands.
Be sure to head over to Hallie's for more mental stimulus than you could shake a stick at.