Did you think I would crumble?

Yesterday I ended a terrible relationship. It wasn't easy, but I know now that I'm better for it.
The cerulean nail polish was on sale for $1.00 and I'm a sucker, so obviously I was all over that. Within an hour of applying the polish it began to chip. I should have removed it immediately. I knew the chipping situation would only get worse. But I rationalized like we all do. "It's not that bad," I thought. "It's kind of edy," I said, knowing full well that my fingers looked like they were dipped in Smurf puke. I ignored the problem for weeks, hoping it would work itself out. Maybe enough hand washing and showers would simply make it go away. Maybe the trend would become chipped, faded, scraggly manicures. No dice. And so, on Sunday, September 9, I finally came to my senses and ended it. I'd had enough and I knew I could do better. But when I pulled out the remover and cotton swabs, suddenly it was "No, don't make me go, I love you , I'll be better..." and would not let go. It took a good ten minutes and half a bottle of the rubbing alcohol to get rid of what was left of our broken life together. But now I'm free, and eyeing a Wet N' Wild hot pink on sale at Target.

Gone tomorrow

I did this to my hair.

I'm the one on the right.

Multiple choice

This is  me:
a) winking flirtatiously
b) celebrating Pirate Day
c) trying to get dust out of my eye

It was supposed  to be a., which might explain my batting average when I was in my dating years.
Anyway, the point is SHORT HAIR! WOOHOO!

Here's another picture just in case you were wondering how many freckles I have on my nose.

I'm obviously a master at camera phone photography,

On breaking up.

Dear Long Hair,

Listen. I've been thinking, and I decided it might be time for us to go our separate ways.
We've had some good months, right? That time I pulled you back in a ponytail, that other time I pulled you back in a ponytail, that time I tried to wear you down and then  pulled you back in a ponytail...I'll  always cherish those memories. But it's time to move on. No, please don't cry.  It's not you, it's me. Honestly. You need someone who  will treat you right. Someone who knows how to work a curling iron. Someone who owns hair spray. I'm just not ready for the commitment that you need.

Take care of yourself, ok?

-Meg

i asked her her name

Kelly, my pedicurist, asked what we plan to name our baby. When I told her Ivy, she said "All of my friends named Ivy are very pretty and very wild. They like to go to the bars and are very sexy." I find it incredible that she has more than one friend named Ivy and that they are all sexy drinkers. Seriously, guys, this name is turning out to pack a serious punch. Not only was it revealed on Gossip Girl (Spoiler alert) that Serena's "cousin" is actually the evil Ivy from Florida, who maybe isn't really evil but is at least deceptive, but also apparently, according to these reliable sources (click) I.V.Y. stands for Illuminati's Very Youngest. If I learned anything from the DaVinci code, besides, you know THE FACTS, it's that the Illuminati is sketchy. So are we, by naming our daughter after what we thought was a plant, dooming her to a life of Beyonce baby overshadowment, cultdom and wild partying? I don't know any more.

The good news is that I got my hair did, my toe nails are lovely, and I even splurged for a manicure. Because what's more important than being well polished while giving birth?
The bad news is that I'm still pregnant. 

Prairie winds

Yesterday someone found my blog by googling "Million dollar cars and hot girls."

To that surely disappointed teenage boy, I'm sorry. You were misled.

To that boy's mother, you're welcome.

There may not be an abundance of hot girls and fast cars on this spot of blog, but I want to do whatever I can to keep the internet happy, so here's a boy with pretty hair.

Stephen's about two months overdue for a haircut. In Boulder terms this means he could go another four months. Boulder is many things, but well-groomed is not one of them. However in a few days we'll trek home to the motherland, and the Beehive State isn't quite so accepting of long, flowing, shiny hair on males.So the appointment is set.

Now's the time to pay your respects.

i bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you boy?

I'm trying to be more womanly. I'm also trying to be more frugal. The combination of the two led to yesterday's decision to wax my own eyebrows. I was suprisingly successful in removing stray eyebrow hairs. I was also successful in removing forehead. As in the skin. So today there is a rather unsightly red line over my right eye. It will probably fade, but if it doesn't it won't be the worst thing. In fact I think it might be advantageous in the future. In my later years I plan on turning crazy. Depending on my place of residence at that time, it's possible that I won't be the only cooky old bat in town, so a minor facial deformation will help set me apart. That way when the scared residents holding pitchforks speak in hushed tones of That Woman, they can modify and clarify by saying That Woman With The EyeBrow Waxing Scar, as to differentiate between That Woman With All The Cats or That Woman Who Thinks Corn Stalks Are People. Though I guess it is possible that I'll be all three of those women at once.