Archive for January, 2014


Curly locks, curly locks wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet feed the swine
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam
And feed upon strawberries, sugar and cream

“The lyrics simply reflect that curls are a symbol of elegance and beauty. This symbolism relating to curls and beauty has been reflected in many works of literature. The message in the lyrics is that a girl with ‘Curly Locks’ is so desirable that her future will be a comfortable life probably made by a good marriage.”  ~ Nursery Rhymes, Lyrics, Origins & History

I have curly locks.  At the risk of sounding full of myself I can honestly say I get tons of comments on my hair because 1) I obviously don’t dye it, and 2) it’s curly.  Lots of women envy my hair and I’ve even received compliments on it from men.

thCAQF3WNSIt was time for a hair cut, so I went in and got my usual bob style.  Then the stylist went berserk.  She started blow-drying my hair, something I avoid at all costs.  She blew and fluffed, blew and fluffed.  Then she did something that nearly made me shriek.  She took one of those round brushes and wrapped my hair around it while the blow dryer was directly on my hair!  I thought my head would go up in flames!  Okay, I thought, she knows what she’s doing, so I tried not to freak out too much.  By the time she was done with me my hair was completely straight.  Straight!

I don’t think there are any nursery rhymes about straight hair, and if there were they’d probably say something like,

Straight locks, straight locks, do the dishes and feed the pigs

I was so horrified by how my hair turned out I wore a hat to the gas station so no one would see the trauma done to my lovely curls.  Yes, I was quite aware that once I washed my hair again the curls would magically reappear, and they did, but for ten hours I looked like a stranger.  A stranger with straight hair.

So the next time I find myself complaining of the wily nature of my curly locks I’ll remember the day my curls were killed and be grateful for my oval-shaped follicles.  And the next time I see that blow-dryer and brush come my way I’ll remind my stylist that curls are admired and envied and if she dare take them away, well, I might just have to cut her.  How’s that for elegance and beauty?

P.S.  I don’t actually have anything against straight hair, it’s just that mine isn’t shouldn’t be made to be straight.  If you have straight hair I don’t really think you should have to wash dishes and feed pigs.

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Easy Evening

When I got home from the day job I saw a familiar car in the driveway. It used to belong to my brother but now is used mainly by my nephew, Paenney. He and his brother Fojo spent the greater part of today at my house with Husby, hanging out and sharing guitar-playing tips, having some lunch, and engaging in adult guy B.S.  I feel like I kind of wrecked the mood because, well, who wants a girl barging in on guy talk? They put up with me for a while before they headed home for dinner.

After the boys left (grown-ass men, actually, but I still call them boys) I headed over to my parents’ house to help my mom with a computer problem she was having.  I don’t know exactly what I did but I seem to have fixed it.  Call me the Geek Squad.  Of course I had to chat for a while with them after performing my technological magic, and they supplied me with a little chocolate for my trouble.  M&Ms and a delicious raspberry truffle.

I got home and saw that Husby kept the fire burning, the one he started up for the visit from our nephews, his godsons.  I snuggled into my chair next to the fire with a nice glass of wine and a big plate of Pizza Rolls.  Then I took a nice, hot bath and came back down to the fire and sat some more.

All in all it was a very easy evening.

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Happy New Year!

Oh, leave me alone.  I know I’m over a week behind in declaring “happy new year,” but it seems it hasn’t really started for me yet.  How can that be, you ask?  Well let me tell you.

Husby and I hosted Ruthie and Ray for the holiday edition of Dive Night, but not until January 3rd.  And because the twelve days of Christmas are after Christmas Day (much to the confusion of many) we were still in Christmas mode after the new year.  I wish I could give you a full dive night report but we were feeling so festive I didn’t take as many pictures as I should have.  Our heavy appetizer pot luck was done in shifts, and unfortunately anything after the first shift didn’t get a picture.  We had shrimp cocktail, meats and cheeses, pickled herring, artichoke dip, taco dip, the most delicious mini weenies wrapped in bacon and baked in a brown sugar glaze, mushroom tartlets, reuben spirals, cinnamon almonds, veggies and dip, and assorted cookies.  If I forgot anything check the comments as Ruthie might add what my middle-aged mind forgot.

Ruthie’s signature taco dip.

Artichoke-Gorgonzola Dip

Succulent shrimp with mouth-watering cocktail sauce.

Assortment of dipping crackers and chips.

We also had champagne, wine and assorted beers.  A fine time was had by all.

One night this week I made some really good seafood puff pastry things, but then I got sick.  Husby said he felt fine, so I guess I can’t blame my cooking.  But my stomach churned more than I would have liked and I stayed home from work the next day.  And the day after!  The thing is, all of the Christmas decorations were still up (except the tree, which came down on Sunday) so it felt like Christmas until today.  Despite my sick day off work I managed to gather and pack up the decorations so once again the house looks like the house and not Santa’s castle at the North Pole.

Tomorrow I’ll be back at the day job.  I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m glad I’m feeling well enough to go.  Tonight I’m going to relax and try to get used to 2014.

So, again I say Happy New Year.  I hope it’s going well for everyone so far.

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The sun is beginning to set.  Through the wooden blinds of my window I see golden-orange clouds against the blue sky.  Soon I’ll see nothing through the blinds but the reflection of the Christmas tree on the window.  The tree will stand for one more night, for tomorrow it will be unadorned, its twinkling lights and shiny ornaments put away until next year.

The Christmas season isn’t officially over until Monday, but there are no more events for the season this year.  We had our last bouts of entertaining and being entertained.  There are leftovers in the fridge that will serve us several evenings of dinner and cookies, oh the cookies, will make the evenings sweet into the first month of this new year.  The cold, dark, quite winter is setting in.

It was a good Christmas, as they all usually are.  Everyone in my little world is healthy, although I miss Diggy and his bow-bedecked head.  Sometimes I still wonder what I will give him for Christmas.  There were reminiscences of Christmases past and hearty celebration of the present season.  It’s hard to wait a whole year to the Christmas yet to come, but it’s there, shining in the distance, and for that I’m grateful.  I think a life should be measured by how many Christmases it has experienced.

So off we go into a new year with all of its promises and secrets.  Here we go again, on a year-long veture to the next Christmas.

Husby’s beautiful five-blossom amaryllis

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I Married A Genius

My husband is a genius.  I don’t write that because I know he reads my blog (hi Husby!) but because he makes my life easier.

You know those days when you strip the bed of its bedding with every intention of washing those sheets for an upcoming dreamy night in the splendor of freshness?  Then with everything else you have to do throughout the day you completely forget to wash the sheets?  And you have no other fresh sheets in the closet?  Okay, you’re probably much more task-oriented than I am.  But just imagine being dead tired, entering your bedroom and seeing a mattress dressed in nothing more than a mattress pad.

Well I’m sure not going to stay up and wash the sheets like I should have done hours ago, and I’m certainly not going to put the sheets I just took off the bed back on.  This is when Husby’s genius steps in.

“We’ll have sleeping bag night!” he says.

Works for me.


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