I want the Five Dots font from Atomic Media in the worst way. Just don’t have $39 right this second…
When I grow up and keep this site on a real server I can do PHP on, I might try out WordPress. Not because there’s anything wrong with Movabletype, but because it’s no longer free with the release of their latest version. The bastages.
The week before last, I got bit by something – a mosquito, or a spider perhaps – on the left eyebrow.
Naturally I had to pick at it. The fact that I did it unconsciously because it itched doesn’t reduce the outcome one bit. First I scratched it, then I scratched off the scab and the one after that. The skin’s all healed up now (despite my best efforts), but there’s a problem.
I have a little bald spot in the middle of my left eyebrow!
It looked stupid. I decided it had been awhile since I’d last plucked my eyebrows, and I thought a little shaping would reduce the obviousness of the hole. Yes, yes – cleaning up the whole shebang will fix this little problem admirably!
Monday I took my great grandmother’s silver hand mirror and my best pair of tweezers, and sat at the picnic table in broad daylight to pluck my eyebrows.
Fabulous! Perfect. Shaped and thinned and just plain lovely. All a pair of eyebrows should be!
Yesterday I looked at my reflection in LISCO’s not-so-brightly-lit bathroom, and it’s as if half my left eyebrow is gone! Argh! The fine hairs I can see up close are too thin to be seen from a distance! I’ve been walking around in public all day with half an eyebrow missing!
This morning I used a bit of eyebrow pencil, just enough to fill it in. It looks normal enough. But still! I can hardly wait until these baby hairs grow in properly.
That’ll teach me to leave well enough alone, won’t it! Our mothers were right: don’t pick at it!
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I got stung by a bee yesterday! Right on the big toe. Three strides from my back door and the poor bug collided with my unexpected foot and gave up his life to poison me. I pulled out the stinger right away. Brett immediately slapped some cooling Iowa mud on the area, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t work great – the redness didn’t spread the way I’d expected it to. But today, it hurts! Bee stings. No good.
My hubby, as you may know from reading my blog, has been noticeably unhappy for the past while. I knew he was tired and that it seemed like he felt trapped or burdened, festering beyond mere fatigue. I thought he really needed a break.
Then his vacation finally came, and I was so glad to see him go off for some much-needed down time with friends he loves in a place away from home. I was secretly a little worried that he’d come back having realized that he was truly unsatisfied, or that he actually hated something… I figured that for him to be so unhappy he either hated his life in general or – God forbid – me in particular.
He came back Monday, and he had realized he was unhappy, and it was because he hated something.
It turns out he’s decided that he hates living in Iowa.
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Brett’s home and I’m so stoked to see his cute freckled face. He smelled terrible from being on the train for half a million years, but nothing a quick shower didn’t fix. He had a great time, and half the muscles in his body are sore from all the bike riding he did. He had Ron’s Harley for cruising around, and then a group of ’em went out dirt biking two days in a row and clocked a couple hundred miles. He had so much fun he’s almost gidddy.
But back to normal: Jimbo’s out here now and they’re sitting at the picnic table drinking cans of Budweiser and going over plans for their next gig. The house, believe it or not, is a Stapathya-vedic number called (you’re not going to believe this) THE SUNFLOWER. It’s an ugly box like all the S-V house plans I’ve ever seen, utterly absurd looking in rural Iowa. When Brett pointed out the house’s name to me I said, “Why not call it THE GAY ANAL SEX? Or how about THE FAG’S FEATHER BOA?” Jimbo chuckled and Brett gave me a look that spoke volumes – one of those ‘oh it’s such typical roo bullshit I can’t even be bothered to say anything out loud fer Chrissakes’ looks. Snort!
The train was due in at 10:31 AM but didn’t arrive until 2:38 PM. It was a few hours late departing, too. I’m amazed any business can stay in business when everything they do is late. Even I try to stick to my standard twenty minutes of tardiness; I rarely venture into the four hours late category!
It was great to pick my hubby up, it was great to be hugged and kissed, it was great to see Stella – who I’d taken with me – notice Brett as he pulled his suitcase toward us as we sat in the grass by the platform.
After hearing about all the fun he had, I secretly want to move to Colorado. The houses Ron and Josha have are apparently on great properties with killer views, and there’s the great weather and the beautiful vistas and the sage and the pine… I love pine. I miss pine. I love mountain weather, all cool and clear. I want to go out there with him next time!
My baby’s back. I’m so glad.
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His train was four and a half hours late, but my baby’s back after a swell vacation! Yay!
His train was four and a half hours late, but my baby’s back after a swell vacation! Yay!
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It’s Thursday, which means my ‘official’ work week is done. Which basically makes it my weekend already! Whee!
It’s Thursday, which means my ‘official’ work week is done. Which basically makes it my weekend already! Whee!
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