Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The World's Fastest Melting Ice Cream Cone

This afternoon Tatum and I went to the mall. While there, she managed to dump nearly her entire sippy cup of goat milk on herself in her stroller (while I was checking out at Dillards). 

Oh, and let me mention she is teething like mad and her nose is a faucet. So I use the precious last kleenexes to try and sop up the goat milk and make a dignified exit.

We head to the play area and I let her run around and dry off a bit, but when it's time to go I can't put her in the sopping wet stroller, and she won't follow me wearing her little giraffe backpack/leash. 

So I'm carrying her, wearing 4 inch heels, through the mall to a bathroom where I can get my stinky little girl cleaned up. With much difficulty, wriggling (she wants to push the I'm carrying the china department), and squawks of disapproval from her (and me) we make it to the car. 

Figuring I deserved a little treat for that wrestling match, I decide to treat myself to a dip cone at a drive through.  Perhaps I should have had a premonition when the man handed me a wad of napkins...

I pull away, the chocolate still wet on the ice cream when I feel a drip running down my hand.

I quickly lick it away.

Then another.

I look and now there are four steady streams of ice cream running from beneath the chocolate ensconced cone.

Down my hand. Down my arm. Into my lap.

I place the wad of napkins in my lap and hold my hand over it as the pool collects.

I'm beginning to eat the ice cream quickly now, biting into it and slurping up the ice cream as fast as I can. I have to switch hands and now my right hand becomes covered in the rivers of sticky mess and the steering wheel is sticky to boot.

Furiously I begin eating with abandon. I'm two years old and trying to give myself an ice cream headache.

Then a whole half of the chocolate shell drops into my lap. I flip it over and use it as a cup for the dripping ice cream, only now that ice cream is pouring out the open side.

Then I see I need to merge lanes. And I'm surrounded by big rigs.  Whilst bathing in ice cream.

I try to pull into a neighborhood but see it is gated, so I manage to merge and am still licking away.

Looking down I notice that the warmth from my lap is melting the chocolate shell, adding to the sweet swamp in the middle of the napkin wad.

I'm nearing the end now. Chocolate is embedded in my fingernails and ice cream has dripped clear down to my elbows. I look in the mirror and have a chocolate smudge on my face.  Thanking the good sweet Lord I have a fresh supply of baby wipes and I promptly go through five to begin the clean up, pulling into my garage as I wipe down the steering wheel.

Once inside I had to scrub up like a surgeon, but I think I've learned my lesson.

Next time I'll just go to froyo...

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

A Hairy Tale

Hi y'all. I know I've been MIA for a month or so (okay, almost two).  Let's leave all the excuses of a job and a kid and busyness aside and jump back in.

I've thought about what I want this public notebook to be, and I want to get back to the basics. I don't have the time or energy to be the next super-crafty mama, or recipe junkie, or aspire to be another Pioneer Woman. 

This is snapshots of my life and what I learn, sharing along the way.

So to dive back into the self-effacement with both feet, I present to you the story of me dyeing my hair.

Now, I've dyed my hair off and on for the past 4 or 5 years...more consistently when I moved to Seattle since there was no SUNSHINE to make my hair that radiant beach blonde it's always been. 

When I moved to Oklahoma I going to Sally Beauty and mixing my own concoctions--and usually they turn out great. So I set out a few weeks ago to dye my hair a shade or two darker blonde.

The irony of this, lest it be lost on you, is I was dying my hair a tad darker so to be closer to my natural shade and I wouldn't have to worry about dyeing it anymore. Just stick with natural stuff like chamomile and lemon and things like that and avoid those nasty chemicals that can't be good for anyone.

Just a shade or two darker was all I needed. That's what I was going for.

Then I made the mistake of trying a different additive to keep the red and brassy tones out. It was Ardel case you are crazy like me and whip up your own hair recipes.

THIS is what I was left with.

Oh heavens. I was a brunette. A brunette with charcoal undertones.

It faded down a bit...well, turned more (ironically) reddish...

Thank the Lord for color corrector...this was Round #1

It was still a bit darker than I wanted it so Round #2 of color corrector...

Isn't this a nice, dried out shade of...straw? (tongue in cheek)

Then a plain old box of hair dye...twice...

By now my bathroom reeked of chemicals. Keep in mind I had started all this to avoid pouring more chemicals on my head...but at least it is now back to blonde. And actually not that much worse for wear.

What's even more funny is this ended up pretty darn close to my natural just took a very circuitous route.

As for Tatum and Roy they are constant companions. Well, Tatum is constantly with him and Roy seems to tolerate it. She "loves" on him now, giving him hugs, laying on him, using him as a pillow while she drinks from her sippy cup. He gets nearly half of every meal she eats, and she gets to mercilessly chase him around the house with her walker squealing in enjoyment.

I think it's a fair deal.

That's all for today. I'll leave you with this parting shot of my little dancer...