And then some other stuff happened.

I just want to make sure none of you ask me to cut your hair, because I will freaking buzz your brains out.  I make haircuts hurt.  And I smile when I do it.  And I don't wear make-up.

please oh Please Oh PLEASE

Natalie's dress rehearsal found me flanked with Thing 1 and Thing 2 who wanted nothing more than to ask me loud questions about the music and ask me louder questions about the Fruit Loops.

(I like to keep generic Fruit Loops in my bag for such occasions as ballets, operas, and that time of day when snack time hits but your window is broken so the Taco Bell drive-thru isn't an option.  I probably did lose a few pounds thanks to that window until I just started opening up my door and hanging out to catch my chalupas.)

HAPR B DAY

When Natalie said she wanted to have a sleepover for her birthday I was like AWW, YEAH BUDDY.  A few seven-year-olds is much harmless than twenty of them ganging up on me.  I could handle twenty six-year-old boys; I would just throw them in the backyard with some hot dogs and water guns and let them go to town, only to reappear when they run out of ketchup or good-naturedly break an arm while deck diving .  Twenty seven-year-old GIRLS is like Baby Melrose Place and I don't take no baby drama from no baby mamas.  And by "baby mama" I mean a little girl, not like the way men mean it when they are talking about who they haven't been paying child support to.

While you were gone...

My husband went to China for two weeks.  I was going to post about what we had been up to while he was gone so he could experience it with my award-winning pictures and colorful vocabulary but then I remembered that the Chinese Internet Police probably wouldn't allow for the transmission of this blog to his laptop.

The Eve Show

What a difference two years off-treatment makes.  (I mean, besides not having cancer.)  I'm talking about hair long enough to put up in a ballerina bun.  And when you compare that to cancer, it sounds pretty shallow.  But dude, have you ever tried to put the last three strands of hair that your daughter didn't lose into a bun?  Trust me, buns are serious business.  My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun.

The only thing less useful than a comprehensive overview of the Franco-American War.

With quiet threats muttered under Daniel's breath the days leading up to his birthday celebration (Don't ruin my day), I did my best to come up with something that would pass as a Pac-Man party.  And believe it or not, there's not a lot of Pac-Man themed items in the party aisles.  It's almost like we were throwing this particular party thirty years too late or something.

He begged for a pinata.  The closest I could find looked like a nine-year-old girl's fantasy: Smiley face!  Rainbow!  Hibiscus!  OMG, all in one!  Fortunately for me, we were dealing with a character who is pixelated enough to be rendered fairly accurately with cut-up napkins.

Yolks: bane or boon for mankind?

Scene:

INT. KITCHEN - MORNING, FOUR DAYS BEFORE BIRTHDAY

Daniel paces around Christy as she tirelessly scrubs the dishes in the sink.  He waves a brightly colored piece of paper in her face, determined to give a paper cut in the eye.