Miscellany Monday

 Booty

Friday, the hubs walked into my cubicle wearing the grin of a Viking conquerer bearing loot.
"I have corn!" He announces proudly, holding the plastic bag stuffed with goodness.
Ah, the benefits of working for an agricultural company: free sweet corn.

And it was DARN GOOD CORN, thank you very much.

Saturday, I heard those words no one ever wants to hear in a salon . . .

“Ok, I have a confession: this is my first real haircut.”
Hold the phone. What?
“I mean, I’ve cut hair TONS of times on a mannequin, but I mean, you’re my first paying client.”
Doll Hair vs. My Hair: the doll doesn’t have to go out in public afterwards . . .
“So, I’m really nervous . . . but I know I’ll do a great job.”
Oh, please, please, PLEASE let that be a self-fulfilling prophecy . . .
“No worries, it’s just hair,” I say, calmly and smile.

And, yes, she did do a great job.
Bless her heart.

I should have won a free shirt or something: “I survived an Aveda student’s First Living Hair Cut . . . and I still look fabulous.”
Or something . . . I mean, really, wouldn’t that be a great way to promote the school? Or not so much?

We leave Florida (temporarily) in one week

Seriously, by this time next Monday, I will be on California soil.
Too right.

And, um, we’re actually landing in LA.
Who has two thumbs and going to be wearing the cutest airport outfit ever?
This gal.

Or, you know, make an attempt at stylish. “Cutest ever” and “stylish” aren't really phrases peeps use for my clothes . . . So long as the hubs and I don't match accidentally (per the usual . . . doggone it), I think I'll be happy.

Still, you know, I have to be ready to run into, oh, I dunno . . . Robert Downey, Jr. or something . . .

Or not.

Um, good sir, could you BE any more dashing? I think NOT.

Is this our first Married Vacation?

For reals.
Those anniversary weekends in Sanibel don’t count because . . . well, it’s a weekend . . . it’s not really a vacation unless you get out of work.

We’ll be spending five days in Cali, previewing the area and Chris’s new job in preparation for the big move in seven months.

Could we call it a career, now, maybe? Are we grown up enough to do that?
Egads, stop the presses! Hippie boy has career! This is big news, folks!

But we’re not going alone . . .

Nope, in-laws are coming along.
But we like the in-laws, so this is cool.
Right?

Anyone else get nervous when leaving the pups?

It’s not that I’m nervous she’ll be mistreated . . . it’s that I’m nervous she won’t be a pleasant house-guest for my sis-in-law and her hubs, even though, really, for us, I think she’s pretty darn near perfect.

But I’m not biased in the least.

Shasta hasn’t been a day without us since we brought her home in October . . . and, that first night, she WAILED and WHINED and SCREECHED like we were skinning her alive.
I am so hoping that her first night away is not a dreadful repeat.
How to lose friends and alienate people? Scream relentlessly on a weeknight.

No kidding.