Batgirl’s Beauty Secrets
June 20, 2008|Comments (none)
All girls need a lovely bathrooms. They are vital to our ability to feel whole and beautiful. We need to be able to walk in and be inspired to endure the pain of plucking our eyebrows, rub our skin raw in an attempt to exfoliate, battle the bumps from shaving our legs, and make use of that strange little torture device known as an eyelash curler. Guys, you have no idea what we go through. **insert any scene from The Bridget Jones Diary**
Why am I so hung up on this? Because Josh came home the day before yesterday after having been gone for a month. Guess who decided to get gorgeous before he arrived? I am now a blonde, press-on nail wearing, fake tan toting priss. I also committed the ultimate sin en route to picking him up: I wore high heels with jeans.
I just thought I would confess.
NOTE: I would have liked to post pictures of my newly finished bathroom (painted, decorated, and fantastic) but those Neanderthals working at WordPress decided that I never needed to be able to upload pictures again. Guess what!?!? WordPress must have heard my nasty little comment and decided to reopen the uploading feature. Either that or my wonderful friends, Carl and Kemble of Zowbie Consulting, fixed it. Those two are just superfantastic. So, you’ll notice — there are now pictures of the bathroom!
Socks in the City
June 17, 2008|Comments (none)
Guess what I am knitting? Socks!!! Okay, I confess that while I love knitting — I am also a big ol’ chicken when it comes to trying new stitches or tackling any project that can’t be easily transformed into a washcloth or scarf should I abandon it half way through. Indeed, I am a fickle knitter. Thus, socks seemed a daunting task. I was just sure that after completing one sock, I would be too traumatized to do much more than suck my thumb and do macaroni projects. That would be Sock Syndrome, a.k.a. Sockitis. It’s real. It’s chronic. And I don’t want it.
Mondays are Knitting Circle days **insert a dancing dervish or two** and last night’s circle was just about as terrific as having a jar of Nutella all to myself. My fabulous friend, Katy, taught me how to make socks the right way (using four lovely bamboo double pointed needles) in Waffle House after Knitting Circle. Could I just say that this was the first positive experience that I’ve ever had in Waffle House? It didn’t smell like a smoky public restroom and the floors weren’t sticky. Anyway, we sat there inhaling the vanilla-scented waffles, knitting, and coming off of our Knitting Circle induced manic cycles. Why does Knitting Circle make us manic? We are so excited to be there — so thrilled to be able to express ourselves with like minded females — that we cannot contain our alpha-ish selves any longer. We burst. We bubble. And then we crash. It’s delightful. 
NOTE: for reasons known only to the uncool folks at WordPress (they are NOT on my Clone List, by the way), my pictures won’t upload. They are not too big either. So I borrowed pictures from Google image search. You may smack my hands. I’m baaaaad.
The Single Life to The Simple Life
June 15, 2008|Comments (none)
It’s so strange to look at pictures taken of me the summer before I met Josh. In those photos, I see the girl who didn’t know if she would ever find true love or if that true love would love her in return. They show a young woman who is just about to meet the love of her life. Isn’t that wild? When that photo was snapped — I had no clue that in a few months my entire life would change. Yup. That’s before I got my simple on. That’s before I found my path.
I wouldn’t want to go back. Nope. I’ll never miss being single. I’ll never miss being a child either. To quote Hope Floats: “Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome… beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most…Just give hope a chance to float up and it will.” True that.
Did I ever mention that I am terrified of bridges and tunnels? There are several names for it Gephydrophobia, Gephyrophobia, and Gephysrophobia. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to cross the Hoover Dam? Ask me when the bridges in my area were last inspected. Go on. Ask. Guess who checked it out before packing a single box to move here?
