felt

well, after enough brow beating, strange looks, and generally stink eyes, I went back to my hairstylist to put ANOTHER (no no no no no) perm in my hair, and then while it is doing it's thing, constantly combing it straight.  Throughout the whole process.  Then wash, LOADS of conditioner, and then the stylists magic power-the blow out with round brush.  Voila.  beautiful, straight lovely shiny hair.  Wow! 

Fast forward to today.  Wash day!  I take my blow dryer to it and when I'm done I basically have frizzy hair that sticks straight out from my ears.  both sides.  then fans out and down from there.  The top is straight and flat on my head.  mmmm.   nice.  jump back into the shower, and decide to "work" with whatever perm is left in there.  turns out, the back and 3/4 of the sides are good.  from the ears front however, horrible.

Right now, I am sitting with a shower cap and a hair turban on my head with about a pound of deep conditioning treatment specially formulated for African American hair, hopeful that it is doing some sort of magic.

Why yes, I DO start my new job on monday.  I am a p-r-ofessional.

Also, I went to try on teacher clothes tonight.  nothing.  man, I am on a roll!

fail fail fail fail fail.

The UPSIDE to all of this is: my skin cancer was removed on my shoulder-they got everything, the stitches are out, and I'm much less itchy. The suspicious looking thing on my back was nothing.  I got a perfect eyebrow wax.  My toenails are the perfect shade of pink.

Remember good old 80's hair?  Perms, Aqua Net, etc.  Well, I am bringing it back, HARD!  The new look I am rockin' is seriously kick ass...

or maybe someone maybe just needs to kick me in the ass.

It wouldn't be far off to say my head now looks strangley familiar:

0812_richard_simmons_5334993_wenn2

ah yes, and if I sign my contract tomorrow, I'll also be getting a beautiful photo i.d. to commemorate my bad decision!

Walk of shame time.   Last week my mother in law was here and she said, oooh, let's go into that store and see if they have my Vera Bradley contact case in Java Blue.  My inner voice said "ooh yes, let's go look at that quilted shit", my outer voice, because we were among children, and mo has a mean backswing...said, "okay, sure, whatever you would like."  So, in we go.  I'm thinking, WHAT is the attraction here?  Really.  Swarms of women poring over these bags.  I could whip one of these suckers up in, oh, four days maybe?  Mo however could do it in one hour with her hands tied behind her back. 

Anyway, the saleslady says snottily, "well, what YOU'RE looking for was a LIMITED edition, in a RETIRED pattern and is extremely hard to find."  That was all it took.  She might as well have said, I'm sorry ma'am, I have one right here-let's just wrestle for it. 

Mo stomped out of that store muttering...something like " I'll have that if it is the LAST thing I do!"

We spent four hours on e bay that night. Only to find that the saleslady was indeed correct.  This sucker was the HOLY GRAIL of Vera Bradley contact lens cases.  Mo got on a plane to Rhode Island and settled for one in CALYPSO Blue that she found at her local proprietress of Vera Bradley EXCLUSIVE merchandise and she got it with a gift card that had been collecting stray gum and dust at the bottom of her cheap knock off NOT Vera bag.

Fast forward to yesterday.  I was innocently in Hallmark, wasting time, and I noticed some fancy schmancy clipboards.  Colorful.  Festive.  Incredibly cute.  Just what will make my note-taking and training less tedious.  SOLD!  But wait, what about these matching post it notes and pen and .... wait a minute....this is VERA F*ing Bradley!

My pattern is Carnaby, should you be so inclined.  I'm currently wracking up hours on e bay looking for the SOI bag.  (SOI standing for "so over it"

Vb

  Nicely played, ms. bradley, nicely played. 

go forth and procure this book: American Wife

American Wife: A Novel (New York Times Notable Books)

Curtis Sittenfeld

God, it's so hot here in Virginia.  It's a wet heat.  sopping.  humid.  I go from the air conditioned car to the house and I can feel the sweat starting in my hair and dripping down to join the sweat on my face and soon top of the head to small of the back, it ain't pretty.  This is the time of the year that blow drying my hair is not an option, the sweat beats the blow dryer by about 5-1.  Already, I've found myself lying on the hard wood floor directly in front of the a/c vent on 72 degrees, just so I can get my bra on.  (that's a nice visual)

I don't know when the profuse sweating started.  I always had upper lip and nose sweat.  slowly, it has encroached over my entire head.  it's disgusting.  embarrassing.  mortifying.

Bob's grandfather has his 90th birthday coming up in two weeks, in R.I., it will be a real classy affair-pig roast and tables in a garage, but already I'm wondering what I am going to do about the sweat.  Hat's actually make it worse.  People stare.  Technically these are my "people" so politeness would seem to say...let it ride.  But no, there will be pointing and laughing and lots of stares. 

One year, when on vacation in New England, I actually walked around with a towel on my head, like a turban.  It was a LOOK let me tell you.

I'm currently considering strategically placed ice packs.  Anyone have an alternative? And no, the alternative cannot be not attending.  I must attend.

language alert.  I will be using foul language in this post, if you can't stomach it...you've been warned.

Ok, I work in a preschool.  Mike Rowe should come and spend the day because it IS the world's dirtiest job.  I thought flying spit, snot, and wiping butts was bad enough, until the day that my whole class revealed that at recess they put worms in their pockets and had been sitting criss cross applesauce for 20 minutes (that's "indian style" to all you non-pc types).  It was basically worm sludge at that point.

Now, preschool ended last week.  However this week, we are closing down our classrooms because those "damn kids from vacation bible school and boy scouts" use our rooms.  My director basically wants our stuff behind Fort Knox like defenses, with booby traps and false openings.  But, I digress.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you all know about the hoo ha of swine flu.  Now, we basically just bathe ourselves in purell every day, and shove tissues at the kids constantly, but not until AFTER the kids have left for the summer, does said director come up with this brilliant thought.  BEGINNING TOMORROW WE WILL BE DISINFECTING EVERY ITEM THAT THE KIDS TOUCHED THIS YEAR. Which to me, would have been a sensible precaution to do, oh, every FRIDAY, not at the END OF THE FREAKING YEAR!  Lysol the suckers down at least.  But no, NOW it's rubber gloves and bleach and "simple green" (FULL STRENGTH, oh the horror!) and since it's pouring this week here, towels in the classroom to dry off each peg, puzzle peice, lego block, plastic horse. etc.  And, just to make sure we're doing it correctly, we have to do it IN FRONT OF CRAZY DIRECTOR who basically is just supervising and criticizing at this point.  NOT HELPING, nooooo, just watching and commenting (ooh, there's a smudge there, and ooh I see crayon on the bottom of that, etc.)

So, two or three more days of this and then...sweet freedom, I'm outta there.  I might need to be exorcised after this week.

Hey, there was hardly any language at all in this post!

Chocolate

The struggle with food began in earnest for me when I went away during college to England for a half semester.  I had a room, with a bed, a three tiered shelf and a desk.  I was lonely, cold, wet, scared, and insecure.  Luckily, one block down was a convenience store.  Now, England is not known for it's culinary delights, however, in terms of junk food, I'd probably place it at number one.  Every day, I stocked my little shelf full of junk.  I'd arrange it and inventory it and replace what had been eaten.  Most of it was sugar, cadbury chocolate and the occasional salty bag of crisps.  Every evening, I'd drown the bad feelings with snacks and milky, sugary tea.  hob nobs, prawn crisps, golden crumble (which I think is actually an Australian thing).

Well, I came home and tried to mend my ways.  However, since I was a homebody, I became a closet eater.  At night.  In the kitchen.  Before anyone else was around.  Back at college, I hoarded food in my room.  Finally, after my mom died, my metabolism caught up with me and the weight "stuck" around long enough for me to go on rigorous diets, lose the weight, and then eat in oblivion again.

Why burden you with this tonight?  I'm hungry.  I've been doing fabulously compulsively well on this round of calorie counting and journalling.  But, today, I've been starving all day.  I've been trying to work out what emotional thing I'm trying to force down with food (albeit diet food) but haven't gotten it yet.  I was hoping this would help. 

Maybe it's the end of the school year.  Maybe it's the unkown of next year.  Maybe it's the long, long summer in front of me.  Who knows?  Anxiety however, is lurking about.

So, my calories consumed, I'll be having a big glass of water and retiring with some mind numbing t.v.

wow.  what a year!  Preschool (with kids) is done.  We have two or three days of packing, sanitizing, and inventory-taking then we'll really be done.  I've missed blogging, but felt like if I started up again, I wouldn't be able to keep up with it, but I'm going to try.

I'm going to attempt to fill in the last year in short bursts.  Working backwards.  The crazy thing is that I am once again on the weight loss wagon.  JUST like last year.  Today I'm frustrated to think...I'm losing the same 20 freaking pounds every year!  This year, though, I've gotten a nutritionist and I'm using "sparkpeople.com" which is amazing and you should totatlly check it out if you are at all interested in tracking your nutrition, exercise, or calories.

Also, similar to last year, I've gotten a new job.   In September, I'll be teaching severe special needs for the local public school system.  I'm really excited for this.  The past year teaching preschool with the disastrous director did have a good side...I felt "the fire" for working with kids who have needs, that aren't being addressed.  So, I'll be addressing their needs and mine starting in the fall.  Full time, five days a week.  With relatively the same schedule as my girls, so that will be a plus.  AND, of course, there's that little thing...money.  ALL my pay won't go to therapy bills now, some might actually come back to me and let me have a little more freedom in that department.

So, to wrap up.  I'll leave you for now with my favorite new blog www.cakewrecks.blogspot.com .  I also am enjoying www.bookswim.com, which is like netflix for books (no more late dues for me ladies!), and my passion for the REAL HOUSEWIVES of New York and New Jersey (California and Atlanta...unwatchable) and a blast from the past...Golden Girls.  Man, Bea Arthur was the best. 

Well, both the therapist AND the shrink have agreed.  I need to make an appointment with the cardiologist.  I have had a thu-thump-thump for about 10 years now.  Until my daughter was born (when I had high blood pressure and gestational diabetes) it was only when I got really anxious and all the docs said, anxiety is causing an adrenaline rush...yada, yada, yada.  Since Lola was born, when I exercise, especially at the beginning of a session I sometimes get a thu-WHUMP-thump, which then goes away.  So, of course, my mind immediately goes to chest cracking open heart surgery where they implant a baboon heart and I am given six weeks to live (same old story, different disease).  They even mentioned the 24 hour monitor (I'm familiar with that Ava wore one when she was a week old b/c of a fast heart rate, but it was ok.)

So, I'm stomping my feet like a baby because I'm scared.

I did just finish hula hooping, lots of sweat but no thumps.

I guess I'll be eating less fried foods, and more broiled food. 

(insert mental picture of me holding my head in my hands, and wiping the sweat from my brow)  you got it.

Snowy here today, so I'm making portugese kale soup, which my neighbor's grandma used to make when I lived in Massachusetts.  I have no idea how I got this recipe into my head, but it's stuck there.  She was also famous for fried bologna, something I've never made.  I guess she was famous for any kind of processed meat product.  hmmmm. 

Into a large stock pot put:

1 chopped onion about fist sized

5 large red potatoes cut up in bite sized chunks (I leave the skin on)

olive oil to coat

then add:

1 very large can or 2 regular size cans of red kidney beans

1 package of kielbasa or smoked turkey kielbasa (sausage) Chop it however you wish.  (Sometimes I use only half and put the rest in a quiche.  You could also throw it in some tomato sauce for pasta or grill it.)

and 1 package fresh or frozen kale, I've also used chopped collard greens.  Works great.

then immediately add:

1 large can of chicken stock and about 8 cups of water.

Simmer for a few hours.  Season.  Serve with crusty bread.  Yum.