Eyebrow threading...

Last Sunday, my mister needed to go to the mall.  Hmmmm...  do you think I could get my eyebrows threaded?

Sure, he says.  I know where they do that.

Really?  Who did I marry?

Anywho, we mosey on over to the mall, only almost getting hit by another car once.  We go inside, and right in front of Radio Shack (Tony's destination) is the eyebrow threading place.

I gathered myself and stopped over.

You could pick your eyebrow design, and it would only be $11, plus tip.

Ok.

I hope this doesn't hurt like waxing.  The worst thing about waxing is how the red iritated skin above, below, and around my eyebrows remains red and iritated for, like, a week after waxing.  Oh, and it hurts.

Time to try the threading.

The girl walks over to me, "Can I help you?"

Yeah - they bushey caterpillar between my hairline should be tamed, and there should be two small ones, not one fat one.

"Ok, sit down."

Alright, I sit down.

I take a look around.  This girl, is about 13 years old, 98 pounds soaking wet, 8 of those pounds in her glasses.  I think she was either Hispanic or Indian or White or Black or Asian or Pacific Islander.  I really don't know.  I'm pale and really can't tell what anyone else is, so I don't try.  Suffice it to say she was much more tan than me (not hard since I can put snow to shame), she had brown eyes, and dark brown hair.

Tiny, as I will now call her in my mind, comes over, and asks me to put my head back.  I try - and she pushes my head all the way back.

Sorry, Tiny.

She grabs some thread, I close my eyes, and she gets started.....

OH MY GOD!!  What the hell?  What did I ever do to you, Tiny?  Why are you hurting me?  I'm PAYING you to do this to me????  What kind of sadistic 13 year old does this to unsuspecting hairy headed women?  I'm sorry I tried to guess your ethnicity!  It won't happen, again, I PROMISE!!

Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW, OW!!!

OhmygodithurtssobadpleasestoppleaseohmygodwhyamIdoingthis?

Then, the pride steps in.

Don't cry.  Whatever you do, don't CRY!  Don't let that sadistic bee-otch know that this hurts.  Keep it together, Tara!  You had two kids, with two c-sections.  This is just eyebrows.  Keep it together!

Then, the first tear slips out.

Crap!  No more, I tell you, NO MORE!

I think I might have passed out a little.  I really don't remember the rest until it was over.

I opened my eyes, the tears ran out, and Tiny gave me a tissue.

I couldn't run out of there fast enough.  I didn't even look to see what my brows looked like!  Here's your $11, take another $3 for yourself (use it to seek some psychological help), and I'm out.

I ran to Radio Shack and while I resisted the urge to bury my face in Tony's chest and cry, mostly because my fiery brows my touch his shirt and cause more pain, I had to ask - how does it look?

He scrutinized my brow, and was like, hmmm, it's red?

Gee thanks.

My dresser...

Back in the day - you remember them, the '90's, I was living my teenage life.

My mom, being the nice mom that she sometimes morphed into was, bought my brother and I a set of dressers.  These were nice dressers.  Made of real wood that should last a long, long, long time.  Derrick got the tall dresser and I got the long short one.  Mine has 9 drawers - 3 up, 3 across.

This dresser has seen some hard times.  Being a teenage girl and all, I had make-up.  This make-up included nail polish that sometimes was just haphazardly thrown anywhere there was space.  One day, I noticed that one of these lovely polishes had spilled.  I Someone had thoughtlessly replaced the top incorrectly and the bottle, laying on it's side had spilled it's contents.

Being industrious and not wanting to get into trouble, I immediately picked up the polish remover to remove the stain.  Boy did it remove the stain - the nail polish and the wood stain on the dresser.

Oops.

Well, that stained dresser is still with me.  But, I have a decent sized house.  And yet, that dresser just did not fit anywhere.  It's so long that it basically takes up a whole wall.  With a bed, a closet and a window in each bedroom, that didn't leave a whole lot of area for this dresser.

So, like all of our other furniture that we don't know where to put, it ended up in the pit room that we let Jory use.  It kind of became his dresser for a bit.

Well, I had an idea (finally).  I have this large area across from the stairs.  It's the wall that is shared between my foyer and kitchen.  I have been trying to figure out what should go there for the 4 and 1/2 years we've been living in this house. 

THE DRESSER!

It hit me.  We could put the dresser there!  We could fill it with our downstairs blankets, and the photo albums I hope to one day fill.

Yes!

It fits!!!!

Then - miracle upon miracle, I had another idea.

You see, I have all these lovely fall/Halloween type decorations.  And Christmas too - but we're not there yet.  After the dresser had been in place for a couple of days, I figured out that I finally have a place for my decorations.

What do you think?



Too long for one photo



The full view - with a Mia sneaking in



Oddities, not of the space variety...

Some odd things have happened to me/in my life lately.

Odd #1:  I was home, during a storm, working while my little was napping away.  I decided that I would like a second cup of coffee - normally just a one a day girl.  I get my cup of coffee, and sit back down.  Then, a stupid housefly starts buzzing around.  I yell at my cat -"Mackles!  Get this damn, bug!"  He's too busy having a staring contest with the other cat to pay attention.  After waving the stupid fly away a couple times, I get back to work.  I go to drink my coffee and notice the fly has moved on.  I look in the cup, worried that I would find a fly.  Thankfully, no.  Then, someone chats me up, and I don't take a drink.  After the chat, I grab the cup and take a sip when I feel something small, solid, and not coffee try to come past my teeth.  I immediately spit it back into the cup and have now found that damn fly.  "What the hell kind of man-cat are you?  Not a very good one dammit!"

Odd #2:  I hadn't talked to my brother in quite some time, and I texted, he called and was like "Oh, I'm on my way to get my third pre-cancerous mole removed." 

What?  What?  What?  He goes on, "You should get yourself checked out." 

What?  What the? What do pre-cancerous moles look like?  "Like dark freckles." 

Like how dark?  Like Tony's hair, or like a dark brown?  "I don't know, like a dark brown.  You should get yourself checked out." 

But, I don't go to the doctor.  Yeah, I'm weird.  I'm tired of being told how fat I am, like I don't know and don't do anything but sit on my ass and eat donuts all day. Yeah - let's go get a full body check.  I DON'T THINK SO.

Where did all this mole talk come from anyway?  My skin issue is that I'm losing pigment on my hands and feet - not that my freckles are turning into moles.

Odd #3:  Mia, the other day runs upstairs when we are trying to leave the house.  Mia.  Mia!  MIA!!  Come down stairs.  Now, I'm getting mad - she is going to go into the corner now!  And she comes to the top of the stairs.  "I working, mommy."

She planted herself at the computer and started "typing."  I guess she does pay attention to me.