this again in my life (warning: link will make you cry. Hard.)
(Link from Whitters)
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A couple of people emailed me, and also one or two of you left comments yesterday and today reminding me not to invest too much money in jeans or any clothes, since I’ll be shrinking out of them. Oh trust me, I know! The jeans in yesterday’s picture were a gift from Awesome! Reader! Bobbie! (who rocks), and with someone’s advice I bid on jeans over on eBay. I ended up with two pair of Old Navy jeans for $13 and a lot of Lane Bryant jeans (and capris) for $20. Once I’ve shrunk out of them, I’ll find a good home for them. And I think the smaller I get, the better luck I’ll have with finding my size in the thrift stores around here.
Hopefully, anyway!
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I went this morning to have my hair cut and colored. I mentioned previously that I was going to go shorter and lighter (to which Fred responded “You’re going to come home with a platinum blond crew cut, aren’t you?” Heh.), but when I told my HairChick that I wanted to go lighter, she suggested going with highlights.
And since I am as malleable as Play-Dough, I agreed, and I’ve gotta say – I like it! The highlights probably aren’t noticeable to anyone but me, but I don’t care. I notice ’em, and I like ’em!
(Don’t expect to see my hair styled like this ever again, since I don’t go for the whole styling thing, really. Spray in some gel, blow the top partly dry, and that’s about it!)
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I didn’t sleep worth a shit last night. First of all, Fred and I went on a three mile hike last night, and by the time we went to bed, I was dead on my feet. So I didn’t even try to stay up and read after he went to bed, just went immediately to bed myself.
And do you suppose I could fall asleep? Of COURSE not. I must have tossed and turned for an hour or more before I finally drifted off to sleep. Then I kept waking up, because my legs and hips were aching like hell (due to the hike), and every time I woke up, Sugarbutt came bouncing up on the bed to knead on me (he’s a strong little fucker) and licklickLICK my neck. Finally, I made like a turtle (pulling my shoulders up so he couldn’t get to my neck), and he’d settle down next to me. And I’d juuuuuuust about fall back to sleep, when he’d decide that his paw needed to be on my face, or his nose needed to be on my cheek, or he needed to hook his neck over my head. Which is cute and all, except for the tenth time it happens, and all you freakin’ want to do is SLEEP, only your legs and hips ache so badly that you can’t find a comfortable position.
At one point Sugarbutt was kneading and licking, Tommy was rubbing his nose on my hand, hoping for a pet, Miz Poo was sitting on the pillow right by my head, cleaning herself, and Mister Boogers was curled up in the crook of my knee, growling at me if I dared to so much as move, and I said “Oh you have fucking GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”, and I grabbed the can of compressed air and they all immediately scattered.
For about two minutes, when the whole game started over again.
Add to that that I needed to get up at 6:00 to get my (4 mile!) walk in before I had my hair appointment*, and I kept waking up thinking I’d overslept, and it just wasn’t a good night for me.
Not to mention that I woke up three separate times with my tongue COMPLETELY DRY. Not just a bit dry, not just “Oh, I should drink some water.” No, completely DRY TO THE TOUCH. This is something I’ve dealt with ever since surgery, and it can’t be a dehydration thing, since I drank 4 liters of water yesterday and a couple of Diet Snapples. I’m sure it’s because I sleep with my mouth open, but I’ve always slept with my mouth open, and if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to leave ’em in the comments, because a dry tongue? A very gross feeling.
*6:00: Wake up.
6:00 – 6:30: Putter around the house, use the bathroom, put contacts in, take morning medication, get dressed, make bed, clean out litter box, check email, put sunblock on, put socks and shoes on, get BobPod, leave the house.
6:30 – just before 7:45 (I’ve knocked about five minutes off my 4.16 mile walk! Woot!): Walk.
7:45 – 8:15: Fuck around in front of the computer, answer email, get water, goof off.
8:15 – 8:45: Shower, fold laundry, read a little bit.
8:45: Wake up spud, leave for hair appointment.
In case you were wondering why I’d need to get up so early for a 9:00 appointment.
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Speaking of that hike last night, as Fred described it to me, it was one mile going downhill, one mile going uphill, and one mile flat. Now, I know I’ve told y’all that I am so very NOT crazy about the uphill stuff, but may I say? It really wasn’t that bad. Fred asked me to rate the hike on a scale of 1 to 10, and I decided it was a 5 (though my first thought was that it was a 4, really). I mean, there was uphill stuff and I sweated a lot and breathed awfully hard sometimes, but how many times did I ask to stop and rest?
ONCE. Just once, and just because I thought I was going to pass out.
I finally had to lay down the law for future hikes with Fred, though, because he tends – when we’re going uphill – to turn to me every minute and say “Do you need to stop?”, because he doesn’t know the two fundamental rules of Robyn Hiking, which are (1) If I stop, I’m not going to want to start again, and (2) If we stop, it just takes that much longer to get to the fucking top of the fucking hill.
This hike wasn’t bad because while there were uphill parts, they mostly had plateaus for a little bit after each hill, which allowed me to catch my breath.
I wish I’d taken a camera with me, because Fred actually SWEATED this time. Of course, I was soaked in sweat and he just had the slightest film of sweat, but still. Sweat!
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I got this Father’s Day card for Fred’s father. It cracks me UP.
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“What the hell was I going to do? Why’d I come in here? Did one of the boys need a bitch-slap? I just don’t REMEMBER.”
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Previously
2005: Due to Poop Watch version 2.0, there is no entry for today.
2004: Damn weather!
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: It’s the wild monkey sex, I must confess.
2000: “It’s NOT a cult, Mom!”]]>