Nicknames...they stick with ya

My roommate in college gave me the nickname, "Eggshell" along with any other word that had "shell" in it: "Magicshell, Turtleshell." I suppose it is fitting that these pictures find their way to me.

Worst haircut in the history of women

I'm literally crying right now. Don't you think that if you bring in a nice specific picture with views of front and back of a cute haircut that they could at least get it anywhere close to the picture??? I look like a pineapple...upside down! I'm just sick about it. What do you do when the hair cutter person is arguing with you that THIS piece is supposed to be longer? All I could say was, "It looks good," halfheartedly. I'm not an "in the moment" kind of person. I always react after the fact, when it is too late. Sure, now I have plenty of things to say!

I mean, these women who take us under the cutting scissor's knife really have NO idea what they put us through. For me, getting a haircut is so nerve wracking that I always come home with a tension headache because every muscle is flexed while I'm getting cut. I get flushed, have to remind myself to breathe, find myself making weird twitching shapes with my fingers.

You know, usually, after a haircut, it takes a washing and a styling yourself to really see if it is an okay haircut? Well, I did give it that chance and it is literally the worst haircut I've ever seen. Holes and unevenness all over the place. I can't go out in public looking like this. I have a pit in my stomach.

What else can I say...There is just nothing worse.

A Good Way to Start and End the Day

So, yes, I am a mother of a 9 (almost 10) month-old boy. Before he was born, I was warned by many that, "you've got to watch out for boys" and "boys are different, they'll getcha." You mean, the whole diaper changing thing right? Yep. They pee on ya. Since the first diaper change, I've had my fair share of drinking fountain-style streams shot forth at me.

However, this morning I was caught off guard, standing by the changing table. I looked away for a second, then looked back and suddenly felt wet being sprayed into my eyes and around mouth area. "AAAAAAAHHH!" I shouted. That's right, folks, my son peed in my mouth. All my husband, Dave, could do was stand at a distance and say, "I'm sorry that happened to you (snicker)."

Also, around 9-10 months a little devious monster emerges and suddenly they start protesting routines that have been routines for 9 months! You wouldn't think they would be so attached to that stinky, very full diaper? "What?" you say. Well, why else would they protest getting their diaper changed so much?!

Dinner time used to be so peaceful. Anything that was put infront of him, he ate. When he was full, he'd let us know. Now, it is like dodging the spinning propellers just to get the spoon in and out without a major splattering all over the place. Tonight, peas was the choice of vegatable. I will replay the events exactly as they happened:
"Dave, I'm goin' in!"
"Shelly.....(long pause) be careful. Its a jungle in there."
"Call for back-up if you don't hear from me in 10 minutes."
I swerved this way and that. Must...get...spoon...in...mouth...
YES!! I did it. "Breaker, breaker, the rabbit is in the hole, I repeat, the rabbit is in the hole."
"Wait, NO! AAAHHHH!"
"Code red, code red! I've been hit. Multiple hits in the eye and mouth! I've been...PEAD. The enemy has used the dreaded machine gun with full force!"
And that's exactly how it happened.

So, you see, I began my day by being peed on and ended my day by being pead on.

My Love for Cheese

www.pdphoto.org

Really, I would marry it if I could. I love all kinds of cheese: cheddar, Swiss, Colby, mozzarella, cream cheese (especially when it is cream cheese frosting!), just to name a few. But today I would like to nominate brie as the cheese of my heart. I love to slice it thick on baguette bread (as pictured above) and melt it under the broiler. Mmmm...so good. Anytime I can muster up an occasion to splurge and get some, I do it. My first trip to Trader Joe's was about a week ago. I went in to see what all the hype was about. I didn't intend on buying anything except for when I came across the cheese section. The brie was on sale and I HAD to have some. That's all I wanted.

"Can I please, can I please??"

For most people, maybe it was unusual to walk out of Trader Joe's with only one thing. The guy at the check out counter said,

"That's IT?! That's all you have?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Wow. Usually people come in for just a few things and end up spending $150."

"Not me."

"Would you like a bag."

"Nope."

Funny thing about Trader Joe's...everything is hormone-, pesticide-, yada yada-free. That's great and I'll support the cause whenever I can pretty much afford it. But, sometimes they just don't make sense. For example, on the label for my brie cheese, it says,

"Our cows just say noooo Our Farmers Guarantee" and then in the middle of the stamped seal it says, "MILK *from cows not treatedd with rBST*."
That's great! Really.

Then in even bigger lettering, just above the Nutrition Facts, it says,

"No significant difference has been shown between milk derived from cows treated with artificial hormones and those not treated with artificial hormones."

Kinda funny. But I still love my brie.

Distracted

I got off to a good start with two posts in one day and then not a word for over a week. Well, I'll tell ya, I've been involved in another world. My mother tipped me off to a blog featuring a series about a woman and her rancher husband and how they met. She is a great writer and frankly after reading her work I don't have a whole lot to say in comparison. She's great and has a huge following. Like thousands of people who actually leave comments and, I'm sure, lots who just read silently. I couldn't sleep last night because my mind was racing with her witty way of writing and the romantic story. Now, I'm just waiting for the next installment. It's like waiting for the next Harry Potter.