About That Headache

Last night I couldn't sleep.  It was one of those nights where dreams are weird and relentless...First I'm lost driving down the interstate, but then somehow I'm WALKING, only it's like an interstate in that I can't just turn around.  Then I'm somehow in a car wreck...And it's MY FAULT, but I have no idea how it happened.

Ugh.

Brent's alarm went off at 4:20, as usual.  I snuggled up to him for a few minutes, but really couldn't wait for him to get out of bed...I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I physically kicked him out of bed. 

Literally.

His alarm went off.  He didn't want to get up.  I was tired and irritable and I just literally shoved him out of the bed.

Because I'm loving like that...

Anyway, I couldn't sleep, and once it hit 5am, I decided it was time to get up and color my hair.

Ooh!  Ooh!  Did I remember to tell you that I got hair color for free!  You betcha I did!  I got a coupon in the mail for a free John Frieda Hair Colour foam.  I was excited to try it, yet fearful because it was a totally different application method than I'd ever done before.  I had wanted to try it out last night, but was on call, and you know a  sure fire way to get called in is to do something stupid that can't be interrupted like coloring your hair...

Anyhoo.  It was 5am.  I decided to color my hair.  Before beginning I very carefully read the instructions.  I decided (as I do every single time I color my hair) to ignore the skin allergy test.  I mean, really people.  I can barely be bothered to read school newsletters that my kids put on the table in front of my face! 

So.  Right off the bat I decided to ignore the stupid skin allergy test.  The next bit of advice was to "apply water resistant cream around the face."

Water resistant cream.  Water resistant cream....Hmmm...

VASELINE!

I had no Vaseline...What to do.  What to do.  What. To.  Do.

It was moving on toward 5:30.  I had to get the girls up at 6am.  My precious hair coloring minutes were tick tick ticking away...

Now, I confess I've never applied water resistant cream to my face either, but my old brand never recommended it.  What if John Frieda's hair color would stain my skin more?  I didn't want to go around with dark purple streaks on my skin!  (Red hair colors have purple in them) 

This post is really boring me.  I apologize.  But I will persist.  After all, this story MUST be shared.

In a moment of shear desperation I pulled out...

Preparation H.

Yep.  You heard me.  I was on a mission and I was NOT going to let a little thing like lack of Vaseline or A&D ointment deter me!

I defiantly placed a dab on my finger and smeared a thin layer all along the edges of my face, the tops of my ears, and even along the back of my neck for good measure.

And then I began to color...

A few minutes into the application process I developed a splitting headache.

'Cause y'know as a nurse I understand how Preparation H works. It CONSTRICTS your blood  vessels.

So strangely it gave me a headache.

And it lasted until about 9am. 

But my hair turned out GREAT!  And, the John Frieda rinses out much easier than Loreal, so if it holds its color as well, they may have made a new customer out of me!

Oh, did you want to see a picture?  Well when i got home from work and decided that I needed to blog my stupidity I decided to snap a picture with my phone..

Whoa!  That was scary.  Let's try this again...

I don't know.  Is that any better?  Apparently taking a photo of oneself with a phone is harder than I imagined...Let's just go for JUST the hair, okay?

Well, that's as good as it gets...


So, what other uses have YOU found for your random tube of Preparation H?

From Frizzy Hair to Christmas Tidings

I turned 36 yesterday.  It was a GREAT day.  My husband took the entire family to eat at Red Lobster.  Popcorn insisted on ordering lobster.

She thought it was the scariest looking thing ever.  But she ate a few bites...And she tried scallops and shrimp cooked three different ways, none of which were fried popcorn shrimp.

She mostly ate her rice, some steamed broccoli and cheddar biscuits.

I tried not to shudder at the fact that I could feed the family for a week on what we paid for one meal.

You will be pleased to know that I then went shopping.  FOR MYSELF.  And I bought stuff for myself alone!!!  I know I refer to shopping a lot in this blog, but what my followers who know me only through blogland don't realize is that I am still wearing clothes from before my children were born.  It is a sad thing to look in my closet.  I thought of getting rid of everything over three years old.  But then I realized I'd have no clothes...

My back has been bothering me.  I feel as if my body has betrayed me.  I exercise.  I watch my weight.  I lift patients that weigh as much or more than me...And that seems to have outweighed all of my endeavors to have a healthy back...Did you know I think people who have back pain are annoying?

Well, anyway I find myself VERY annoying, so therefore I'm sure my coworkers are getting tired of my refusal to lift patients this week.

My hair is also betraying me.  I need to color it.  I haven't had it cut since late June.   It is a frizzy mess with gray roots showing.  Perhaps I shall take time from my life to get it cut.  Perhaps I have betrayed it instead of vice versa.

I feel as if I should write my Christmas letter/cards.  However, I can't decide what to say.  Should I tell them of my aging body?  Perhaps I'll mention my frizzy hair and kids with dramatic tendencies that comes from who knows where.

Or maybe I'll tell them all about our animals...How we went from two to five in just a matter of weeks.  And now we are back down to three.  Our pregnant female cat disappeared one day and we haven't seen her since.  Of course we have hawks and owls and of course the coyotes who come to my back fence and look in at our animals on a daily basis...Now all Popcorn wants for her birthday is a little kitten.  SOOoooo.  Does anyone have a kitten who will be ready to wean on December thirtieth? 

Studmuffin is finishing our Christmas shopping today.  At least I think he's finishing it.  Until I remember another gift I forgot, we are finished...

Do you need a Chesney story?

Well, as you can see from my last few posts, we have new decorations out.  She has been really good to leave them alone, as being scolded makes her tremble in fear.  Unless it involves Popcorn's socks, and then she will risk severe punishment for a taste of that delightful funk...Anyway, a few days ago I heard Bookworm yelling "Chesney, no!!"  And then I heard Popcorn's panicked rejoinder...

I came in the room to find them wresting a porcelain doll that my Grandmama gave me for Christmas one year as a child from her jaws.  My grandparents seldom gave us gifts as they had 16 grandchildren and five children...So obviously buying gifts would be a little overwhelming.  Well, one year they gave all of  their smaller granddaughters a little porcelain doll.  Here is what mine looks like:

Isn't she cute posed on the reindeer my mother in law made a few years back?  She used to have a bonnet, but it has been lost at some point through the years.

Anyway, I offered Chesney a sock, and she quickly dropped the doll with no complaints.  The girls both chorused relief, as it would be terrible if Chesney ate the doll.  I agreed whole heartedly.  Then Bookworm said, "Yes, those bits of porcelain would have cut up her insides"...And I silently thought that I wasn't particularly thinking of the harm the DOLL would do her if she ate it, but rather the harm I would do the DOG if she ate the DOLL!

The doll is now happily posed safely in a tea cup on my piano, out of the jaws of death...

 And the dog is currently safely chewing on an old sock that I have Popcorn put on every day or so, just to keep the right proportion of her foot funk in it, (okay not really, but only because Popcorn is a disobedient child and refuses to humor me) and she is quietly lying at my feet by the fire, and Kelsey is sitting with her head on my arm rest...

And I can't help but be sort of glad that we have dogs in the house.

Considering I was raised in a no pets allowed in the house family, I never thought I'd say that!

Well, I shall sign off now.  But not before I end with yesterday's chuckle courtesy of Bookworm.  The middle school Gifted and Talented children were given the privilege of going to see the Nutcracker in Norman.  AND they got to go to OU the campus and eat!  ALL BY THEMSELVES!! (We will not discuss the stress hives I had over this.)  Anyway, I asked her what she thought of the Nutcracker...Well, it seems she was too distracted by those tight tights the men were wearing.  Let's just say that she never wanted to see that many details of strange men's anatomy.

Then, she and her buddy went to eat at ChikfilA.  However, her friend only had five dollars, and they were hoping to hit Starbucks before they had to return to school...Well, Bookworm pointed out that if they ordered just a sandwich and water they would have enough left to get cocoa at Starbucks.  Yes, my 11 year old has mad money skills...

So, they ventured into Starbucks after their feast of a classic ChikfilA sandwich and filtered water...They ordered the smallest hot chocolate they had...

"And Mom, can you believe they charged four bucks for a little cup of hot chocolate?!!  You could buy a whole box of hot cocoa mix for like a dollar!  And it didn't even taste good.  They overflowed it with whipped cream and it tasted horrible!"  Of course, my kids hate whipped cream, and she didn't know to tell them to hold the whipped cream.

So, I'm happy to report I'm raising a daughter who recognizes the value of a dollar, and knows how to make her money stretch...And she values modesty...

But I have to confess that my other daughter said, "I want to go see that!" when Bookworm described her horror over them men's apparel.

So, there ya go.  My universe is apparently in balance.

A Letter to Olay

Dear Olay,

I love you. I love the smell of you. Did you know that is what initially led to my love affair with you? It's true. A few years ago when I started to notice that the Grand Canyon started to develop on my forehead as the result of a hideous sunburn I received in my mid 20s, I decided I could do with some firming cream...

I remembered that Grandma Irene used you. I remembered watching her spread your pink creaminess on her soft face, and I loved to kiss her cheek just after using you... I loved the smell of that cheek, and I loved my grandma, and I determined that when I got old I was going to use you so I could be a wonderful grandma, and beautiful, and then I would smell beautiful too...

Only I discovered "old" was relative...Plus, I had decided to emulate Grandma Irene not only on her choice of beauty products, but on her determination to never have gray hair until the age of 80...I was determined to fight every sign of aging within my power...From wiry curly gray hairs that are determined to stick straight up off of my head, to craters developing in my forehead...

I decided to try you, back in the day when you were still "Oil of Olay." Only now, you have decided that having "Oil" in your name hinted at sliminess and blackheadiness, and all sorts of unsightliness, so you changed your name...

But I have remained faithful to you, my beloved. I have purchased you with diligence and regularity...

Only now, as I age even more, I'm beginning to depend even more heavily on you, my beloved soft smelling pink creamy friend...I have expanded from using you sparingly on my forehead and eye area, to covering my entire face...And now my neck. Should I have lavished you there sooner? Would that have stopped the wrinkles that appear like the folds of the Saggy Baggy Elephant if I turn my head?

And now I have even begun to generously apply you to my chest...When did that skin lose it's firm freckliness? It has instead become freckled and wrinkled...

Sigh...

So, last night as I lavishly spread you onto my cratered forehead, my crows feet eyes, and my Saggy Baggy Elephant neck, then down to my freckly, wrinkly chest, I began to ponder...

What other areas do I need to expand your use too? What about that crazy fold of skin on my elbow? The unfortunate dimple-age on my upper thighs? Will you firm up the loose skin on my abdomen that has stretched to carry two babies? Will you halt the progression of "game show contestant flap" on my upper arms? Your lovely little jar proclaims you to be "night firming cream." Will you firm up other areas of my body as well as my face? Should I perhaps forsake the Jergens Ultra Healing lotion that I currently use as it is the only lotion that does not cause hives to appear all over my body, and begin to fill my bathtub with you and soak in you every night for at least 45 minutes before turning in?

You see, you are definitely my beloved cream. I will remain faithful to you. I will never leave you nor forsake you, and may my skin deal with me ever so severely if I ever do...

I just need to know if I need to buy stock so that I can perhaps reap a profit from the giant vats I'm foreseeing in my future to control the aging process...

I think the curls give everyone fair warning.

Popcorn has been begging for a perm for two years. I finally decided to let her get one...

And then I found out that they start out at $55!!!

YIKES!!!

So, being the tightwad that I am, I begged my mom to do it for her.

Because that's the kind of gal I am.

Last weekend we went to see them, and while Bookworm checked cattle with my dad and rode through the cattle on her horse, my mom slaved over Popcorn's hair.

I always loved when my mom washed my hair. She was a "beauty operator" back in the day. She owned a shop by our house, and closed it after I was born. Getting a good head scrub/massage by my mom while she washes your hair is the best!

After she washed it, she decided to trim the ends. Good idea. It hadn't been trimmed in several months. The challenge to sit still began. Not an easy job for a kid who's blog name is "Popcorn" in direct comparison to her personality.

Then, we had to let the preconditioner set...

At this point, all is cool with her world.

Still feelin' cool as Grandma is still rolling her hair...

By the way, we are already over an hour into this process.

Okay. I'm obviously not feeling so cool. She is having total melt down at this point. Remember the burn of a perm?

And, no. I hadn't washed my hair in approximately to 3 days when this picture was taken.

I wish I could pretend this was out of the norm.

But it's not.

I consider washing my hair optional, and to be done a maximum of twice weekly.

True story.

Oh, and please disregard those Rustler jeans I'm wearing. They are a holdover from high school, and my mom keeps them around for when I come home. It's handy to have them there for riding horses...

Aren't those high pockets lovely? And let me assure you, even though those are men's jeans, they go ALL. THE. WAY. to my waist.

Speaking of, I think this may give you a clue as to why they called me Steve Irkle in high school.

And Peewee Herman.

And why I refuse to tuck in a shirt to this day....All legs, short waist, short torso, monkey arms.

Enough said.

At this point, the smell is so bad she can taste it.

Lucky for her my Grandma Irene came to see the excitement.

And, in typical Grandma Irene fashion, she had a stash of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Almond Joys in her car.

Because that's the kind of grandma she is...

The chocolate helps remove the icky taste, ya know.

Plus, this meant I got to eat an Almond Joy for no apparent reason other than moral support.

That's just the kind of mom I am.

Full of support and Almond Joy.

I think the two hours worth of fidgeting/hair pulling/scalp burning was worth her suffering.

Plus, that curly wild hair gives people a peak into her personality before it explodes all over them...

You know the phrase "I got a wild hair?" Well, Popcorn lives a life of wild hair ideas.

So, I guess this hair is fair warning.

Although it is quite possible those wild hairs come from my side of the family.

And, yes, in typical Lumberjack's Wife fashion, I posted a picture of a picture. Although I did not copy this idea from her, I was already doing it when she started doing it. However, I don't want her to think I'm copying her, and not giving credit...

I think it's particularly nice that I left the caption from my scrapbook in it.

And, no, I was not helping them clean the kitchen. Someone needs to immortalize these shenanigans for all posterity on film.

Besides, I HATE taking care of leftover meat. And, as the youngest, I'm fairly adept at avoiding tasks I don't like.

Maybe Dawn hates leftover meat too.

Perhaps that's why she's holding a knife to Paula's throat.

Leftover meat can lead to desperate actions.

How to deal with stress...

I recommend just coloring your hair.

I prefer red. I think that redheads have made a very firm decision. They know where they are going in life, and who they are.

Unless, you are a natural redhead, and you are currently confused about your place in life, I recommend maybe trying brunette. Perhaps blond.

The point is just change your hair color. It makes the world so much better.

What if you HATE the color you chose? Well. I'm sorry, but you made a bad decision...

Just kidding. That is actually what I say to my children when they are suffering consequences of poor decision making.

I have never done a post about my hair. But I think nearly every blogger I've read has at least one post about hair. Female bloggers, that is. What is it about that? I guess it's the way women communicate with each other. Part of our whole bonding experience...

Here is one of my senior pictures. This is before I went with the wild curly look I was sporting while trying to do the Julia Roberts maniacal curl...Sorry, can't find a picture of that either!

Did you know I once had purple hair? No, I don't have pictures. You see, when I was in high school, I started using 7 day color rinses. Or 30 day temporary color. As a matter of fact, you can read about the first time Studmuffin met me and I had an orange stripe in my head right here...Anyway, I had just cut my hair short for the first time since 2nd grade. The new cut just cried out for a new color. I decided to go with a deep auburn. Which turned out to be more magenta. I washed and washed and washed my hair. I decided maybe it was my imagination, and possibly nobody would notice. Until I stopped for gas at the service station near my parents house. A guy named Sam came out to chat with me. We stood and chatted and played catch up, and he suddenly piped up with "So, why is your hair purple?" So much for wishful thinking. Thankfully it was only a 30 day rinse.

Really, Mom? Was this ever really in style? I'm feeling some doubt here. And for anyone who is wondering I'm placing this picture in 6th grade. Just before braces and glasses. Yes, it just kept getting better and better.



Alright, so blogger thinks this picture should face this way. Even though I rotated it. Oh well.

Anyway, the main point of this post, is that one of the ways I seem to deal with stress is with hair changes. Semester exams my first year of college? I cut off my Pretty Woman locks (this is what I was going for, not what I was achieving. Please understand the distinction,) and went with short and frizzy...

This haircut occurred when I applied for nursing school. I hated it. I quickly tried to grow it back out to the wedding picture length. It felt like it took forever.

The day I took the nursing boards: Can you say pixie cut?

Ditto about the rotating thing on this picture.

Move to Oklahoma? I actually went back to my natural color, which is supposedly brown. However, since it has been over 15 years since I've seen my true color all over my head, that info is sketchy. I do know that my natural color has lots of silver high lights in it.

Contemplating job changes? I colored my hair back to auburn. I say back to auburn, because it has been varying shades of red since I was in high school.

Tomorrow I have a job interview. It is back in the field of my first love, cardiology. However, my department is going through some big changes, and we have some staff leaving and some going to be out for surgery. I really don't know how they will get by. I hate to leave them in the lurch in a difficult time. However, I really would love to get back to 12 hour shifts. So, I'm asking for prayer. I feel very positively that God has a specific place He wants me to be. He has a specific plan for me to serve Him in that place. Pray that God's plan will be clear to me.

Thanks!

Strange that my hair doesn't look anything but brown in any of these pictures, huh? I'm guessing it's because I actually took pictures of pictures since my laptop isn't hooked to my scanner and I don't want to mess with loading it onto this. Just trust me that I've had varying shades of red for some time, Okay?

I can't tell you how many times I've told my youngest to put her legs down, that nobody wants to look at her bottom. Apparently, I felt the same way she does. I wonder if my mom ever wanted to swat that little tush for being up in the air so often? Dang. I hate paying for my own raising!

Glimpses of Terror and I hate my hair...

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!