Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Post #7,8,9 of 29
I may have dropped the ball a bit. I have an excuse, and here it is:
On Tuesday Knox and I were supporting Koby and the CHS Lady Wolves basketball team (they lost a heartbreaker in overtime by two points - knocked them out of playoff possibility) and as for last night... well, I don't really have an excuse EXCEPT that Koby was home before 5:30 pm (no practice) and we were both so thrilled that we just sat around watching television and eating awesome food.
On Tuesday Knox and I were supporting Koby and the CHS Lady Wolves basketball team (they lost a heartbreaker in overtime by two points - knocked them out of playoff possibility) and as for last night... well, I don't really have an excuse EXCEPT that Koby was home before 5:30 pm (no practice) and we were both so thrilled that we just sat around watching television and eating awesome food.
Today's blog is brought to you by
SOCIAL RELATIVITY
❝
I hope you’re hungry."
“Interesting. A friendly sentiment in
this country, cruel taunt in the Sudan. It’s a lesson in context.
❞
Basically any "compliment" my students give me would be an excellent example of 'social relativity' - it's amazing how they can combine "warm fuzzies" with "cold pricklies". They've mastered this conversational conundrum to the point where it is almost poetic. (i.e. "That picture is so pretty! It doesn't even look like you!" "Thanks and.... Owwwww.")
And finally, the ultimate social relativity ... on days when I'm wondering if I'm a "Never Been Kissed" Drew Barrymore or the newer "Finally Skinny and Pretty Again" model, I get this in the mail.
It's a letter from Clyde, the Filipino child we sponsor through Compassion International*, and his mother. "Ma'am, I hope that you will never get tired of writing my son and in encouraging him going to school." Okay, did you want a letter every day? Because you're reaching over thousands of miles and gripping my heart with your bare hands. Want a pony? I bet we can find one to send to Clyde...
And even more often, I'll see this boy.
The beautiful thing about family (and most lovely in the members of your family who can't speak yet) is that your husband, son, sister, mother doesn't care which celebrity tabloid you most resemble in your mismatched pajamas. Your toddler doesn't care how much junk you're carrying in your trunk. There's no comparison: it is what it is. (Although my family does seem to put a lot of stock into how fast I can make a bottle or the ability to remember to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.)
*Click the link to visit Compassion International's site and be sure to read my friend Sarah's inspiring blog post about child sponsorship.
Leonard and Sheldon
- The Big Bang Theory, CBS
More examples of contextual interpretation.
"You look like you're getting some junk in your trunk."
This was said to me by my husband over the weekend. For me, it's a statement filled with hope. For other women, it just might be the thing that their suspiciously missing husband said. (In any context, he was wrong: I was just swollen from my strep shot.)
Dairy Expiration Date vs. Pay Day
How is it that when I'm buying milk and I notice that the expiration date is uncomfortably close (sure to happen at Fuller's, by the way), that very same date might be the next pay day and feel tortuously far away?
"You remind me of Drew Barrymore / Leighton Meester / Elisabeth Moss."
Basically any "compliment" my students give me would be an excellent example of 'social relativity' - it's amazing how they can combine "warm fuzzies" with "cold pricklies". They've mastered this conversational conundrum to the point where it is almost poetic. (i.e. "That picture is so pretty! It doesn't even look like you!" "Thanks and.... Owwwww.")
And finally, the ultimate social relativity ... on days when I'm wondering if I'm a "Never Been Kissed" Drew Barrymore or the newer "Finally Skinny and Pretty Again" model, I get this in the mail.
It's a letter from Clyde, the Filipino child we sponsor through Compassion International*, and his mother. "Ma'am, I hope that you will never get tired of writing my son and in encouraging him going to school." Okay, did you want a letter every day? Because you're reaching over thousands of miles and gripping my heart with your bare hands. Want a pony? I bet we can find one to send to Clyde...
And even more often, I'll see this boy.
The beautiful thing about family (and most lovely in the members of your family who can't speak yet) is that your husband, son, sister, mother doesn't care which celebrity tabloid you most resemble in your mismatched pajamas. Your toddler doesn't care how much junk you're carrying in your trunk. There's no comparison: it is what it is. (Although my family does seem to put a lot of stock into how fast I can make a bottle or the ability to remember to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.)
*Click the link to visit Compassion International's site and be sure to read my friend Sarah's inspiring blog post about child sponsorship.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Post #6 of 29
Family, your imaginary Valentines have come early this year. (Don't worry, you still have time to get me something.)
Compiled below is a fantastic composite of things I would buy for my relatives if I had infinity amount of dollars...
For my dear husband,
I'd buy a ranch in some Western state. (Thinking Wyoming, Montana...) And we'd call it the Donkey Slobber Ranch and Estate.
For my parents,
for Mom I'd buy the Ballard Carnegie Library in Seattle (which is conveniently for sale) and we could start filling it with books pronto, and for Dad I'd buy a super energy-efficient house. He's not so much a tree-hugger as ... let's say in an enthusiastic monthly competition with himself to see just how low he can get the energy bill. He's roped my mom into the game as well, though I think she plays with less than his desired amount of enthusiasm.
For Koby's parents,
I'd buy a Cessna. The next to-do on their larger than life to-do list (which they're actually tackling!) is to take piloting lessons. And so here is the plane they will use to fly me to Seattle when I need to add some books to Mom's library or visit Koby on a crazy hunt in Montana.
For my sister,
this shiny whip. Oh and I'd pay a scientist to cure dogs of car sickness so her Dalmatian Keya could actually ride in it too.
For Koby's sister Elizabeth,
I'd buy an art studio and stock it to the max - acrylic and oil paints, artist-grade brushes, canvases, gesso, easels and watercolor, pens and ink, linoleum cutters, brayers, inks, a printing press, a light board, drafting table and of course, make sure there was a great ventilation system. (**It occurs to me that some people might infer from this that Elizabeth has a problem with flatulence. I would like to take a moment to remind people that lots of artistic media have very toxic fumes. Thanks for your attention, I know Elizabeth appreciates it.)
What would you buy?
Compiled below is a fantastic composite of things I would buy for my relatives if I had infinity amount of dollars...
For my dear husband,
I'd buy a ranch in some Western state. (Thinking Wyoming, Montana...) And we'd call it the Donkey Slobber Ranch and Estate.
For my parents,
for Mom I'd buy the Ballard Carnegie Library in Seattle (which is conveniently for sale) and we could start filling it with books pronto, and for Dad I'd buy a super energy-efficient house. He's not so much a tree-hugger as ... let's say in an enthusiastic monthly competition with himself to see just how low he can get the energy bill. He's roped my mom into the game as well, though I think she plays with less than his desired amount of enthusiasm.
For Koby's parents,
I'd buy a Cessna. The next to-do on their larger than life to-do list (which they're actually tackling!) is to take piloting lessons. And so here is the plane they will use to fly me to Seattle when I need to add some books to Mom's library or visit Koby on a crazy hunt in Montana.
For my sister,
this shiny whip. Oh and I'd pay a scientist to cure dogs of car sickness so her Dalmatian Keya could actually ride in it too.
For Koby's sister Elizabeth,
I'd buy an art studio and stock it to the max - acrylic and oil paints, artist-grade brushes, canvases, gesso, easels and watercolor, pens and ink, linoleum cutters, brayers, inks, a printing press, a light board, drafting table and of course, make sure there was a great ventilation system. (**It occurs to me that some people might infer from this that Elizabeth has a problem with flatulence. I would like to take a moment to remind people that lots of artistic media have very toxic fumes. Thanks for your attention, I know Elizabeth appreciates it.)
What would you buy?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Post #5 of 29
A Game of Thrones
I know you're judging me. Go on, judge. Judger.
Okay, so my friend Belinda has me reading this book. Yes, it's high fantasy. Yes, it involves lords and ladies and knights and dragons and bastards (literally, not figuratively) and it all happens in a place that isn't Earth but is really, really similar to Earth. But today I'm not going to talk about the fact that I'm a huge nerd who reads fantasy novels (gulp), and I'm not going to try to explain what exactly the "game" of thrones is.
I am going to talk about judging people and understanding someone separate from your own understanding of them. It sounds paradoxical, but it helps one avoid the pit of ignorant disapproval. And a little book (alright, more like an 800 page novel) called A Game of Thrones is helping me climb out of that pit.
A Game of Thrones is written in a style that is both maddening and intriguing. It's not a particularly unique way of doing things, but it's making for an interesting read. George Martin has designed his book so that it moves incredibly slowly, but the reader has both the benefit and the curse of comprehending the story from nearly every character's point of view. Martin has broken the story into chapters that follow the actions of varying characters, and of course, each chapter ends at a cleverly inconvenient moment. The problem with knowing the story from so many different viewpoints is that the reader finds it hard to pledge allegiance to any one character or "side"... it's really hard to separate good from evil, because at one time or another, each character does something despicable or redeeming.
And so I started thinking. I've pigeon-holed a lot of people onto the "wrong side" because of patterns of bad behavior. This is, of course, relative to my viewpoint - I am the good guy in my own story, my friends and family are the good guys, too. I've mentally thrown lots of my friends' boyfriends into the Loser Dungeon because of their selfish decisions, and it's inconceivable to me when that same boyfriend is around for months or years later. I forget to some people, he's a good guy. I've been quick to shackle bosses and coworkers to the Stocks of Stupidity, but very rarely does it occur to me that in some stories, I might be the bad guy.
We all do despicable things, but we seem to gloss over them because our story is limited to the viewpoint of one character. We all play our own little game of thrones, in which we are the king or queen. I know you've always heard that you'll never understand someone until you walk a mile in their shoes, but I think this goes further than the proverbial mile. Every one will be a traitor and every one will do something spectacular and selfless. I'm not suggesting that we ignore the vile acts people commit against themselves and others, but I am suggesting that we appreciate that we have all been written as dynamic and not static characters, and humbly forgive each other likewise.
So in short, the moral of the story here is that fantasy novels are for every one. Enjoy your Super Bowl Sunday.
 |
| Photo taken from this website. |
I know you're judging me. Go on, judge. Judger.
Okay, so my friend Belinda has me reading this book. Yes, it's high fantasy. Yes, it involves lords and ladies and knights and dragons and bastards (literally, not figuratively) and it all happens in a place that isn't Earth but is really, really similar to Earth. But today I'm not going to talk about the fact that I'm a huge nerd who reads fantasy novels (gulp), and I'm not going to try to explain what exactly the "game" of thrones is.
I am going to talk about judging people and understanding someone separate from your own understanding of them. It sounds paradoxical, but it helps one avoid the pit of ignorant disapproval. And a little book (alright, more like an 800 page novel) called A Game of Thrones is helping me climb out of that pit.
A Game of Thrones is written in a style that is both maddening and intriguing. It's not a particularly unique way of doing things, but it's making for an interesting read. George Martin has designed his book so that it moves incredibly slowly, but the reader has both the benefit and the curse of comprehending the story from nearly every character's point of view. Martin has broken the story into chapters that follow the actions of varying characters, and of course, each chapter ends at a cleverly inconvenient moment. The problem with knowing the story from so many different viewpoints is that the reader finds it hard to pledge allegiance to any one character or "side"... it's really hard to separate good from evil, because at one time or another, each character does something despicable or redeeming.
And so I started thinking. I've pigeon-holed a lot of people onto the "wrong side" because of patterns of bad behavior. This is, of course, relative to my viewpoint - I am the good guy in my own story, my friends and family are the good guys, too. I've mentally thrown lots of my friends' boyfriends into the Loser Dungeon because of their selfish decisions, and it's inconceivable to me when that same boyfriend is around for months or years later. I forget to some people, he's a good guy. I've been quick to shackle bosses and coworkers to the Stocks of Stupidity, but very rarely does it occur to me that in some stories, I might be the bad guy.
We all do despicable things, but we seem to gloss over them because our story is limited to the viewpoint of one character. We all play our own little game of thrones, in which we are the king or queen. I know you've always heard that you'll never understand someone until you walk a mile in their shoes, but I think this goes further than the proverbial mile. Every one will be a traitor and every one will do something spectacular and selfless. I'm not suggesting that we ignore the vile acts people commit against themselves and others, but I am suggesting that we appreciate that we have all been written as dynamic and not static characters, and humbly forgive each other likewise.
So in short, the moral of the story here is that fantasy novels are for every one. Enjoy your Super Bowl Sunday.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Post #4 of 29
Parenthood consistently surprises me.
In parenthood I find that many of my preconceived notions are unrelated to the truth - not unlike the way I feel about my relationship with adulthood, and my 'being in it', or whatever. And if they're not completely unrelated, they're something else. It's like my ideas only began to grasp the depth and width and many-layered nature of the truth. Which isn't that surprising, really. It's just the where I was wrong about things that surprises me, if that makes any sense.
So, when you're a kid (and even still, sometimes), there is no comfort to rival that of a parent's. My mom's hands were always cool enough to comfort me when I was sick or feverish: her voice was always calm enough to speak some sense that I could understand. I always knew that my dad could fix any problem because he was big and strong and well, Dad. Is there anything that can be more soothing than to be very small and climb up on the lap of someone much bigger and have them tell you it will be okay?
I've assumed that now, since becoming a mother, I am that bigger person whose merest 'shhh' could send a toddler into slumber. And it is nice to really feel Knox relax in my arms, to know I have that comforting power.
What I didn't expect was that I would once again be the comforted. What I didn't know was that a baby, who can't talk or walk or count to three, would with a glance be able to bring me a peace that's almost like I'm small again and not in charge. My helpless son doesn't know that I have to see him after a day of chaos at school, he doesn't know that his smile has prevented me from having a very public meltdown in a Walmart.
Is this a lot of pressure to put on an infant? Or is it normal? I'm not sure.
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Unrelated Side Notes on Parenthood:
In parenthood I find that many of my preconceived notions are unrelated to the truth - not unlike the way I feel about my relationship with adulthood, and my 'being in it', or whatever. And if they're not completely unrelated, they're something else. It's like my ideas only began to grasp the depth and width and many-layered nature of the truth. Which isn't that surprising, really. It's just the where I was wrong about things that surprises me, if that makes any sense.
So, when you're a kid (and even still, sometimes), there is no comfort to rival that of a parent's. My mom's hands were always cool enough to comfort me when I was sick or feverish: her voice was always calm enough to speak some sense that I could understand. I always knew that my dad could fix any problem because he was big and strong and well, Dad. Is there anything that can be more soothing than to be very small and climb up on the lap of someone much bigger and have them tell you it will be okay?
I've assumed that now, since becoming a mother, I am that bigger person whose merest 'shhh' could send a toddler into slumber. And it is nice to really feel Knox relax in my arms, to know I have that comforting power.
What I didn't expect was that I would once again be the comforted. What I didn't know was that a baby, who can't talk or walk or count to three, would with a glance be able to bring me a peace that's almost like I'm small again and not in charge. My helpless son doesn't know that I have to see him after a day of chaos at school, he doesn't know that his smile has prevented me from having a very public meltdown in a Walmart.
Is this a lot of pressure to put on an infant? Or is it normal? I'm not sure.
Unrelated Side Notes on Parenthood:
- I hate the cartoon 'Olivia' on Nick Jr., I feel compelled to admit it. That pig is pain in the ham, her parents don't discipline her for doing idiotic things, she has an art teacher whose favorite art supplies are "sparkles" and "glitter" and also invited the entire class to her wedding. I think I could start a separate blog reviewing the shows on Nick Jr.; I'm already compiling some grievances against 'The Backyardigans' and don't even get me started on Peppa Pig and her uncomfortably phallic family.
- There isn't anything worse than having a band-aid on your body, then not having a band-aid on your body and sub-sequentially knowing there's a bloody band-aid somewhere in the house where your very curious baby lives.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Post #3 of 29
Things that are Relatively True -or- Lies at the Doctor's Office
LIES NURSES TELL YOU
The doctor will be in to see you in a moment.
What she means: Now that you've waited in the waiting room, make yourself comfortable in this room where you will surely wait for thirty more minutes. Feel free to lay back on this extremely flimsy paper, be sure to peruse the magazines other sickly people have touched, and please have the decency to wipe the drool from your face when the doctor comes in and wakes you up.
This shot will be in your hip.
What she means: This shot will be in your butt.
Regarding above shot - This medicine is pretty thick, that's why it's taking so long to inject.
What she means: This shot is made of nearly solidified poison and your butt will now hurt worse than your throat ever did.
You may have gathered that I visited the doctor today. I don't like going to the doctor. As you might have suspected if you know me, it's not for the normal reasons. My reluctance to visit the doctor springs from two deep-seated fears.
1. Going to the doctor's office means admitting I have lost. And when I say "I", clearly I mean my immune system. I hate losing.
2. I don't like admitting I am in pain, so when I do (i.e. going to the doctor's office), I am terrified that my symptoms will immediately go away, my germs will take a hike and the doctor will look at me skeptically and tell me there's nothing wrong with me. And I will feel like a baby.
It's clear that I have some issues. I blame number one on the fact that I am the oldest kid in a family of Type A personalities. I blame number two on my friends.
There were two embarrassing circumstances involving visits to the ER that played out a bit like number two, one in high school and one in college. They remind me of an episode of Arrested Development, in which GOB (Will Arnett) and a woman (Amy Pohler) end up married in Vegas "through a series of escalating dares". Only in my case I ended up in the ER after a series of escalating bouts of paranoia and WebMD diagnoses.
Once, in high school, I had sudden fever and aches while my parents were out of town. Thanks to the slip of paper with the standard TSS warning in every tampon box and a phone conversation with my best friend, I ended up at the hospital. While living in the dorms at ACU, I had sharp, persistent pain in my lower abdomen (on the side where the appendix is) and at the time I was rooming with a bonafide WebMD pro. I ended up in the ER at 3am with another one of my best friends and her boyfriend on his birthday. Not sure if he ever forgave me for that. Both times I felt fine by the time the doctors came to look at me (hours later, as any passerby could tell there was nothing wrong with me) only to find out that I had a virus and probably gas, respectively. Mor ti fied.
So today when my strep test came back positive, it took every thing in me not to leap down from that bench with flimsy paper and do a victory dance, as if I needed to tell Doc "I told you so!" What kinds of professionals do I need to talk to about this?
And anyway, while on the subject of half-truths, here's one I told my nurse today:
My diet is "good" to "excellent".
She asked me to rate my diet from "poor" (Yes! We're poor! Oh wait, not what you mean? Ok.) to "fair" to "good" to "excellent" to "vegetarian". Not sure how vegetarian made it above excellent, as I remember eating a lot of French fries while I was a "vegetarian", but I digress. Aaaaanyway this is how I rewarded myself after hobbling out of the office 1 1/2 hours after my scheduled appointment time. Nothing like washing down some high-fructose corn syrup with some high-fructose corn syrup.
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LIES NURSES TELL YOU
The doctor will be in to see you in a moment.
What she means: Now that you've waited in the waiting room, make yourself comfortable in this room where you will surely wait for thirty more minutes. Feel free to lay back on this extremely flimsy paper, be sure to peruse the magazines other sickly people have touched, and please have the decency to wipe the drool from your face when the doctor comes in and wakes you up.
This shot will be in your hip.
What she means: This shot will be in your butt.
Regarding above shot - This medicine is pretty thick, that's why it's taking so long to inject.
What she means: This shot is made of nearly solidified poison and your butt will now hurt worse than your throat ever did.
You may have gathered that I visited the doctor today. I don't like going to the doctor. As you might have suspected if you know me, it's not for the normal reasons. My reluctance to visit the doctor springs from two deep-seated fears.
1. Going to the doctor's office means admitting I have lost. And when I say "I", clearly I mean my immune system. I hate losing.
2. I don't like admitting I am in pain, so when I do (i.e. going to the doctor's office), I am terrified that my symptoms will immediately go away, my germs will take a hike and the doctor will look at me skeptically and tell me there's nothing wrong with me. And I will feel like a baby.
It's clear that I have some issues. I blame number one on the fact that I am the oldest kid in a family of Type A personalities. I blame number two on my friends.
There were two embarrassing circumstances involving visits to the ER that played out a bit like number two, one in high school and one in college. They remind me of an episode of Arrested Development, in which GOB (Will Arnett) and a woman (Amy Pohler) end up married in Vegas "through a series of escalating dares". Only in my case I ended up in the ER after a series of escalating bouts of paranoia and WebMD diagnoses.
Once, in high school, I had sudden fever and aches while my parents were out of town. Thanks to the slip of paper with the standard TSS warning in every tampon box and a phone conversation with my best friend, I ended up at the hospital. While living in the dorms at ACU, I had sharp, persistent pain in my lower abdomen (on the side where the appendix is) and at the time I was rooming with a bonafide WebMD pro. I ended up in the ER at 3am with another one of my best friends and her boyfriend on his birthday. Not sure if he ever forgave me for that. Both times I felt fine by the time the doctors came to look at me (hours later, as any passerby could tell there was nothing wrong with me) only to find out that I had a virus and probably gas, respectively. Mor ti fied.
So today when my strep test came back positive, it took every thing in me not to leap down from that bench with flimsy paper and do a victory dance, as if I needed to tell Doc "I told you so!" What kinds of professionals do I need to talk to about this?
And anyway, while on the subject of half-truths, here's one I told my nurse today:
My diet is "good" to "excellent".
She asked me to rate my diet from "poor" (Yes! We're poor! Oh wait, not what you mean? Ok.) to "fair" to "good" to "excellent" to "vegetarian". Not sure how vegetarian made it above excellent, as I remember eating a lot of French fries while I was a "vegetarian", but I digress. Aaaaanyway this is how I rewarded myself after hobbling out of the office 1 1/2 hours after my scheduled appointment time. Nothing like washing down some high-fructose corn syrup with some high-fructose corn syrup.
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Thursday, February 2, 2012
Post #2 of 29
I am relatively sure I'm falling ill... for the billionth time this school year.
That is all. I want to curl into bed now with a bottle of Vitamin C tablets and fuzzy socks. Better post tomorrow. (No promises.)
That is all. I want to curl into bed now with a bottle of Vitamin C tablets and fuzzy socks. Better post tomorrow. (No promises.)
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Post #1 of 29
I'm participating in NaBloPoMo 2012 (after the NaNoWriMo disasters of '10 and '11) and this year, the theme is 'Relative'. Whether or not I succeed or fail, write about the theme or ignore it completely, know that I am trying. I say trying because Knox has started this awesome new sleep schedule that I think is probably thanks to two new teeth poking up through his bottom gum. Stay tuned for some mathematical equations that explain how Mrs. Andrews' mood is inversely related to n (n = number of hours of sleep experienced during the previous night).
So, to kick off what is thankfully the shortest month of the year, I'll start by documenting how the CUTEST relative of mine came to be, in vintage picture format.
BABY CHRISTIE : (1986/87)
BABY KOBY (1988)
BABY KNOX: (2011/2012)
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It's a pretty short list, I know, but we're still figuring each other out.
So, to kick off what is thankfully the shortest month of the year, I'll start by documenting how the CUTEST relative of mine came to be, in vintage picture format.
BABY CHRISTIE : (1986/87)
BABY KOBY (1988)
BABY KNOX: (2011/2012)
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Alright, if your eyes aren't bleeding from baby picture overload here's a list naming the traits I feel Knox has inherited / disinherited (?) from Koby and me. No more pictures, I promise.
Things Knox inherited from Koby:
A love for the outdoors
Extreme grumpiness that sets in during hunger/sleepiness
Absolute denial about being sleepy (oh, do you see an inconvenience here, too?)
Things Knox inherited from me:
My lips and over-large eyes
Social nature
My ears (I'll just have to take Koby's word on this, as his very first words after Knox was born were 'He has your EXACT ears!")
Things that make us think "What??"
Knox doesn't like fruit
Knox wakes up happy
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
On Being Lazy at Being Girly
 |
| Lately I've been trying extra-hard (read: actually
trying) to avoid the oft-achieved frump-tastic style of the new mother.
Auto-correct is hating me right now. Let me clarify a little bit: I've always been the girl for whom the 'bare minimum' would totally cut it in regards to hair, makeup, style... so if you're like me and you're a new mom, I've put together some of the things that are making this goal a little bit easier for me in the present. If you're not like me, you probably discovered all these things or their equivalent when you were fifteen or before you learned the true value of 7 hours of consecutive sleep. To me, sleep > looking good, but when you're a new mom, you're playing a dangerous game if that's your system of operation and you're expected to appear publicly. I'm trying this new stuff and lo! apparently, when you look good, you feel good too. Or maybe vice versa. I don't know. Hmmm. Maybe Mom was onto something in high school when she repeatedly begged me to stop buying t-shirts with writing on them and to indefinitely boycott the Sun-In brand. |
- Revlon 'Just Bitten' Lipstain I own this in the shade of Frenzy, whatever that means. I like lip stain because it's not messy, doesn't smudge, and instantly makes one look as if she's really put some makeup on. I really like this wand's gloss end, too. Buy it here for $6.74
- Coppertone Gradual Tan Stop tanning. Stop it now, it's soooooo bad for you. Now that we've got that out of the way, let's be honest: there's really no substitute for the true Vitamin D's glowing effect on your poor, baked skin. But this is close. I'm working on about 3-4 days of applying it, and I don't look like I visited [insert sunny place here] or anything, but I am a color that isn't orange, and I like it. Buy it here for $9.49.
- Origins Facial Brush Despite my obsessive tendencies, I'm not very good at long-term habits; i.e. face-washing, vitamin-taking, resolution-keeping. But this brush makes me excited to wash my face. Only $4 at Dillards!
- Skinny Belts OMG if you don't own one yet, who are you? Even I own one, and it took me two years to figure out who Ke$ha is. Every morning it seems like I'm stopping myself from adding a skinny belt to my outfit. They really help to cinch your outfit in and after childbirth, it's a glorious thing to behold. Go crazy.
- A Weekend Away As a new mom, this one is clutch. A girl needs to feel like a girl, and that might just mean sitting around with peers who enjoy to an equal extent the literature of J.K. Rowling. So do it - drive yourself somewhere for a weekend or an afternoon, and leave the tot with your (willing) husband. Go ahead, plan on it.
- Recycle Don't keep things in your closet that don't look good on you. Seriously. If they're in there and you're not wearing them, donate them to someone else. If clothes don't fit properly but you can't bear to let them go, have them altered. It's better than wearing things that you don't feel happy in, and it's much better than having clothes collect dust in your closet. I sort of realized that recently and even though my closet is slimmer, I always know I'm going to feel good in what I choose to wear.
- Get Yo Herr Did Spend some money and have your hair cut and, if coloring is your thing, colored. I've found that spending $80 on my hair is a MEGAFAST way to get me up earlier in the mornings to actually style my costly coiffure.
- Maybelline Stiletto Liquid Eyeliner I put this product on my list, but I'm still really bad at using it. You'd think as an artist I'd be adept at makeup application, but you'd be wrong. Therefore I don't know if this eyeliner is the best - it's simply the first I've used. I don't like that it's super easy to smudge off after I finally get it put on right (mine is not waterproof) but it is a nice feature the first six times I try to apply it most mornings. $5.99 on this website.
- Got 2B Fat-tastic Mousse I don't usually like hair products (sooooo much effort bla bla whine whine), but I like this one. If your hair has some natural body, use a small amount to secure the waves after your hair has completely air-dried. If it doesn't, use some while your hair is wet and then style it to bring out some volume. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Also, I don't know why the "9" is backwards.
Calling on my fellow clueless women, exhausted mommies - what did I forget? Any drug-store discoveries I ought to know about? What are your favorite things?
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Things Lately
Koby turned 24 and visited a Starbucks for the first time (separately), we celebrated Lovie's birthday in Abilene, we got some ice and snow, Knox experiments with solid foods (bananas are bad, squash is delicious), Koby lost a Prank War, and I started "running" (and still have chest pains).
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