I got my hair done the day we left for New Braunfels. I didn't have her take hardly any length off because my hair had been laying really well. Remember, I like to put no effort into my hair. The problem is, ever since she touched up my color, my hair won't do anything I want. Saturday I threw a fit and blew it dry and straightened it, then I used a curling iron to attempt a Farrah Fawcett feathered look. I liked it okay, but it was a bit too much work.
So, this morning I took my shower, did my morning routine, and then blew it dry. It was, of course, frizzy. Think Gilda Radner. Yikes. So, since the curling iron took so much time, I decided to try hot rollers. Yes. I still own hot rollers....
Oops. Okay, and when the heck did I develop those wrinkles on my neck when I turn my head?
I think I achieved the beauty pageant look instead of the loose curls I was going for. And I have to ask myself: Why the heck does a curly haired girl blow her curls out, just to curl them again. Crud. However, I had to leave to take the girls to school, then head to the church. No time to undo the damage. The scary thing is, not one person commented on the big hair and curls. Does that mean it's so scary, they don't dare mention it, aka "if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all?" Oh well, I'm getting ready to do a sweaty workout, so hopefully that will deflate some body...
After I finished at the church I went to get my oil changed. I go to one of those places where they direct you into place, and one guy is underneath while another is at your hood and they call out info to each other like healthcare people do in surgery or codes. Instead of "Hemostat! Scalpel! Epinephrine! Clear!" they are yelling out car stuff. It seriously cracks me up. Today I got a bigger laugh than usual there. The guys are always moving very quickly, and they are always super friendly and laugh and joke together. One guy was running into the office to run the lady next to me's card. His shirt got caught on the doorknob and he was hurrying so fast he didn't notice. That is, he didn't notice until he had ripped every single button off of his shirt. Everyone started laughing, and things slowed down for quite a few minutes because the guys would start working, then one would begin chuckling and it would have a trickle down effect of general hilarity, tears running down faces and stomach clutching. It was priceless.
I came home from getting my oil changed determined to get busy with my housework and finish up the scrapbooking that I started Saturday. I was over a year behind. I got 11 pages done, and have since stuttered to a stop. We've been eating in the living room because I'm determined to get caught up before I pack it all up. My goal is Friday.
Anyway, I returned home, turned on FIT TV to see what workout was coming up, walked back into the dining room and saw this:
After I jumped up and down, made my little shrieking noises and flapped my hands like a birdie, I calmed down and realized that it was not a tarantula, but a giant wolf spider. Thank goodness it wasn't covered in babies, or I don't know if I could have recovered as well as I did. I took a picture of it to share with you.
However, after taking it, I wasn't sure you could appreciate the size. I place my size 11 flip flop next to it so you could truly appreciate the size. Studmuffin said I should have placed a dollar bill by it. Dang it. He always has better ideas.
But, by the time I talked to him, I had scooped it into a shoe box and carried it out to the front yard. See? I've made some serious progress since the spiders of my youth and the bird eating spider we found in our living room!