The New 'do Review

This is me doing what I am usually doing for unusual amounts of time.* oh and Hi Kat!

*All of you (okay, a whole two of you ) wanted to see my new 'do'. You have no idea how long it took me to get this shot. I had to hide the piles of crap on my desk. Hide the fire hazzard of wires behind the computer. Hide the dark circles under my eyes. Hide the red eyes. Hide the scar and age spots. Oy Vey!

** it is soooo weird to post a picture of yourself. you must think I have quite an ego, no?

*** it has occurred to me that seeing the new 'do without seeing the old 'do gives you no point of reference. I think my new 'do is rather That Girl....(not the Madonna -Who's that Girl, but the Marlo Thomas as Ann Marie That Girl)

**** and, no I didn't get my hair done specifically for vacation or for my upcoming Malibu lunch with Insane Mama and Mrs. R. Although I may go out and get a new outfit for that and drop a quick 15 lbs by next weekend. What color goes well with Mojitos in Malibu?

Wednesday Rumblings....er, Ramblings

"Irv , clean up on aisle 5!"


Today I did something I have never done before...I got rid of my grey. And not by pulling it out as I have been doing for years. I never had a lot of grey, but it is a different texture than the rest of my mess of fur, so it is much more noticeable. I don't know about you, but since the 40's- my hair has gone from beautiful curls to wirey fuzz....almost pubic in nature. Ick.


Today I got a haircut for the first time in 18 months....yeah, I swear. Eighteen months. I also got more brunetter, just enough to cover the greys, and some much needed conditioning and lots of shine.


And all only for 3 1/2 hours and $120.00 which for WLV (the toney city north of LA), that's a good deal!


I also think I had a celebrity sighting....although I don't know what this Real Housewife of NYC was doing in LA...Ramona? Was that you?? Do you have to come all the out here to get your hair done in shorts, flip flops and no makeup? Feel free to let your roots grow out in sunny California! We won't take out an ad in Variety..unless you don't tip the shampoo girl!

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We had an earthquake yesterday. About 25 miles east of LA. I felt it here. Truth be known, I was more concerned that the kids would be sent home early from camp....that would have totally screwed up my day. What's a little rattling, anyway. There was funny picture (well, not so funny) of a clerk in a Walmart in Chino (the epicenter of said quake) cleaning up all the deodorant that fell off the shelves. When I first saw the picture I thought he was a looter, not the stock clerk. I bet he was happy that they stock the shelves by color, size and popularity rather than by brand. And, only in California...the dude on the right with the blackberry. "Gotta text my boyeez about this one fo'shizzle!" Pulitzer , schmulitzer.....



Still, after living in and through umpteen blizzards (grew up in Boston) , several hurricanes (lived in FL) and the 17 year cicadas (metro DC) I wouldn't trade Southern California weather for a few rolls of the tectonic plates.

PS - mom, you didn't even call? whazzup with that!
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The little one has been talking about Poppy a lot lately. She seems to end every sentence with "and Poppy" or "not Poppy cuz he's dead". I had a dream about him last night. A dream of him and I from December when he told me he wasn't ready to say goodbye to me yet....he was young and had hair and wasn't sick...he was sorry that he couldn't be there for me when I was sick - although I am so glad he wasn't. I had a tough time re-dialing out of that dream and into another one. A fitfull. restless night of sleep , too.

Rachel asked if rainbows were Poppy talking to us from heaven when he was happy and thunder was him when he was mad. (this was a real conversation not my dream). I assured her that he was up 'there' watching us and he let's us know he's there with weather. She said "I guess since we don't get much rain here, and they gots lots in Florida - he must talk to Grammy all the time!!!" Precious little one, just precious.

Cat Scratch Fever

The Cat-Tastrophe Close Up

So I like to think of myself as a good neighbor. Go on vacation, I'll take in your mail, your newspapers, water your plants, wheel your trash barrels back to behind the gate, and feed your fish. Just don't ask me take care of your cat. Ever again.

I did all those things for my neighbors....with pleasure. And, I did offer to take care of the cat. At their house, of course. My kids are allergic (thank god) and I , well I just can't stand them (cats not kids ) So after a brief lesson -on the phone- in cat-sitting...I promised to go the neighbors house (you have to feed them every day?) for 9 days to do my neighborly thing. Let me preface this by saying that I always thought cats were aloof and didn't need people to do anything for them other than use a can opener. If they had opposable thumbs, they wouldn't need us at all. And, I also thought cats who stayed in the house all the time were de-clawed so they wouldn't scratch up the upholstery. WRONG on both counts.

So- day one I go in the house, and I feel bad for the thing. So I pet it and scratch it behind the ears listening for the tell tale 'purrrr' that cats are supposed to do. I go upstairs to the kids' bath where the cat box is. It's following me in a sort of playful yet sort of 'watch cat' kind of way.

I take care of business (who knew cat poo was the size of a small shetland pony? ick) fill the water and top off the Little Friskies for it. Whew! That was easy. I can DO this! It. Likes. Me. WRONG on both counts.

Day two: I go to the house. I put the mail in the little basket and proceed to pet the cat. This time, he is purring, but has a wild look in his cat's eyes. I get the requisite purr and he rubs his cat self up against my leg. He is lonely and I start to feel sorry for him. I take an extra minute to scratch his little cat ears and fluff up his furry cat body. I go upstairs. He follows closely almost tripping me up as he sidewinds up the stairs. "go away cat" (maybe that was my downfall) . "Show me your shit" Cats don't respond to commands like a dog or a 4 year old.

I reach the cat box (why would someone want this in their house anyway?) and bend down to retrieve a bag and the pooper scooper. The fucking thing jumps on my back. You'da thought it was a frickin' lion the way I let out a wail! "Get off cat!" I don't want to hit it 'cuz it's not mine. He starts nipping at my hand and ankles. I am working furiously to get this over with. I bag up the remains (of the litter box, not the cat) and get the hell out of there.

Days 3-8: Pretty much the same as before. Toward the end of the week, I am thinking he doesn't like me either. He knows I am not sticking around for some kitty love and he's pissed and wants me to know it. That's when he bit me. Full on fangs on flesh. That Darn Cat bit me!

I took a photo so you could see the two little red dots (not the brown freckly sun damage spots) are where he drew blood! I screamed at him and really wanted to backhand him (using a bat)

He left me extra large gifts in the litter box and kicked the litter shit all over the room. This time. I am smart and close the door while I'm cleaning up the crap. He's outside the door "meowing" and sticks his paw as far under the door as possible reaching open pawed like a scene from a teen horror flick. I am scared to death...how am I gonna get out now! (deep cleansing breath now Swirl Girl, you can DO this)I open the door and bolt with my bag of poo. Hubby said if it were him, it woulda been the last meal that cat would have ever eaten. I think I left blood droplets on the floor for the CSI guys, in case there was any questions.

Day 9: I am dreading this. I decide I will wear jeans with soccer shin guards underneath. I walk in - no rubby dubby lovey kitty bum bum this time. I tell it to "GO AWAY!" It's nipping at my feet. I keep walking fast so it can't sink it's fangs into me again. "GO AWAY you frickin' cat!" This time he left me litter all over the floor, cat food kicked all around, Lincoln Logs in the catbox and what I can only surmise is a hairball in his food dish. EEeww! I've only heard of those things and saw one in Shrek II, but just eeewww.

Needless to say, I am glad neighbors are home. Their fish was a dream to take care of. Nary a whimper or a nip. The cat? Never again.

Did I tell you his name is Nova? Not as in the smoked fish or as in Scotia, but as in the pain blocker. The neighbors last name is Cain. Seriously.

I hate cats.