Hairapy

You know that SunSilk shampoo slogan, “Get Hairapy?” I need it... but not in a bottle.

I have always been fickle with my hair. I change the style and color pretty often, but for the last five years or so I have been in a rut. My stylist, with whom I have a 20 year relationship, has always enjoyed the fact that I like change and as a result of our rapport I have had very few bad hair incidents. Usually bad things happen when I ask her to do something that she tells me my hair won’t do... and I tell her to try anyway.

So on with my story. Last week I decided to change my style and color for spring/summer. I meticulously found pictures of Reese Witherspoon from the movie “Sweet Home Alabama” (it was on TV all this week) online and decided to brighten up my naturally dark brunette hair with chunky gold highlights.

I strolled in bearing my pictures (my stylist has an inch thick stack of my picture requests from the last 20 years) and she started to cut. The cut went well, lopping off a good 4 inches or so in the back. I liked it. Then came the color. The regular highlights in the back and sides were fine, but the chunky ones on top turned... *shudder* orange. Yes, the “O” word. A word no woman wants to hear from her hairdresser’s mouth during coloring. Not Lucy orange, mind you, traffic cone orange. So she reapplied the solution and I sat, eyes watering, under the dryer. When I emerged, the orange had turned white. Not good. My stylist then continued through 4 more procedures, ending with my highlights not only still white, but breaking off in chunks. This led to the other “O” word no woman wants to hear at a salon: Overprocessed. After five hours at the salon, I did not handle this well. I insisted on handing her a check and I left, crying.

I have notoriously low self esteem and my hair is the one thing that I actually like about myself, so this was a real blow. I fretted and sulked and considered my options. I could don a red string bracelet and shave my head a la Britney; Buy some lovely robes, shave my head and declare Hare Krishna in the local airport; Fake cancer (okay, so I couldn’t really sink that low, but it did cross my mind) and lament the side effects of chemo. In the end, I headed to the store and purchased $40 worth of moisturizing and repairing hair products. I knew my problem was well beyond the scope of these mere mortal treatments, but I had to try.

As I sat in my bedroom, my head slathered with “revitalizing damage reversing” goop and ensconced in a lovely plastic shower cap, my stylist called. She was very upset. She apologized profusely, swore she would return my check and offered twice weekly deep conditioning treatments for free. She felt horrible. I, of course, felt worse because the evidence of the incident was currently pasted to my scalp. But we verbally kissed and made up, amidst numerous apologies from her and comforting yet still slightly stunned about my hair remarks from me.

I have spent the last few days conditioning twice daily and perfecting an art of deception that would make "Mata Hairi" proud. I purchased ten pair of decorative bobby pins for swooping the unaffected hair over the stubbly remains of my highlights. A wide headband works wonders for covering that nasty broken area. Thank God for whoever decided that zigzag parts were a good idea...

And when all is said and done, I am facing weeks of continuing counterfeit hairdos, all designed to conceal the shame of the previously orange, overprocessed, remains of my highlights. So, does anyone out there know a good hairapist?

Lucy

Poll from the Verge

I have a question....

I noticed that we have quite a bit of traffic from dial up connections as well as dsl and broadband. I was concerned about the slow loading of our page due to the leopard background behind the page (it only showed in the narrow border since I expanded to 3 columns). I recently removed that background and I am wondering:

Does our blog load faster for you now?

Thanks for your input... and watch for my entry later this week about my need for extreme Hairapy!

Lucy

Parenting... sort of...

Last spring, slogging through the mire of required courses for my high school age son, we discovered that every student is required to take a half credit parenting class. Trying to be proactive, we decided to get it out of the way during the second semester of this, his freshman year. We were presented with two options: Child Psychology and Parenting. We knew that in one of the courses, a weekend with a computerized baby was required. Logic dictated that the baby would be part of the Parenting class, so my son signed up for Child Psychology.

Apparently logic has nothing to do with high school courses, because my son was assigned a weekend in April with “Wing Lee”, his Asian baby. In preparation for our guest, my son cancelled all of his plans. He ditched the movie with his friends, declined to sing in the choir at church, and planned to stay inside with Wing Lee all weekend. There was no way in hell he was dragging a baby doll out anywhere with him.

On Friday, I drove to school to pick Sam up. He trudged out of the school with a blanket covered lump in a car seat, a diaper bag, and grim expression. The entire trip home he fiddled with the sensor bracelet that he would have to scan over the baby’s stomach or back before dealing with it, to confirm that he was the caregiver. We got home, unloaded, and waited for the “activation”. His teacher had refused to give any inkling as to time of launch.

Wing Lee's arrival

Around 4:00pm Wing Lee began to cry. He had 4 cries: Feeding, Changing, Burping, and Rocking. The student was required to “chime” the infant with his wrist band, determine the baby’s need and meet it, and then record the time and his comments. The first few hours were basically uneventful, with feedings and changings and miscellaneous cooing sounds in between.

The feeding and changing cries became easy to identify. The burping and rocking were indistinguishable and were increasingly grating. It took between fifteen and thirty minutes to satisfy the burping or rocking cry. Apparently Wing Lee had colic... or rust on his microchip... either way he was one unhappy electronic infant.

Wing Lee being unhappy

Sam had planned to just forgo sleep for the weekend, but we convinced him that he needed to try to sleep when the baby did. He shut his door for the night, Wing Lee tucked safely in his car seat.

Saturday morning found Sam up early with Wing Lee. The night wasn’t too bad, but knowing what his friends had gone through, he knew that Saturday night was bound to be horrible. The weather was gorgeous, but taking Wing Lee outside would be risky. If anyone bumped the seat or jostled him wrong it could cost points. If Wing Lee was picked up without perfect head support, he would wail for what felt like an hour. We took him in the back yard for a short while, feeding, changing, burping and rocking and generally not enjoying the day.

By afternoon we were getting sick of Wing Nut’s whining. He had no schedule at all. The teacher told the students that he had varying schedules, but I have had three children and ten nieces and nephews and none of them had any “schedule” like Wing Nut. He would cry to be fed, take the bottle for 10 minutes, be quiet for 5 minutes and want to be fed again. Once he ate 4 times in one hour with no burping. The burping was completely random and unrelated to feeding. As a teaching tool, this thing was ridiculous. If it had a learning curve, where the student could begin to anticipate the baby’s needs, maybe it would have made sense, but the random absurd demands taught nothing.

Saturday night, Sam was up with Wong Fu 12 times. He was exhausted. We found him on the couch in the morning, baby next to him apparently sleeping. “Sure, sleep now, Stupid!” my son glared at it. Wing Nut demanded Sam’s full attention Saturday and by nightfall he was a mess. He dreaded going to bed because he was certain that the baby would cry every five minutes.

We put an air mattress next to our bed and kept Sam and Wong Fu company for the night. He wasn’t up as often, but Monday morning, we were all ready for Wing Nut to go back to school.

With relish I completed my parent portion of the baby packet. I stated that the tool was foolish and useless. I do not think it will deter teens from having sex. I do not think that in the heat of the moment, a teen will stop and say, “Oh no! Remember Wing Nut! We should stop!” The experience did not kick off any conversations about parenting because we have already had them. I ranted about the lack of schedule and the horror of keeping a fifteen year old up all night with a guessing game. C’mon, at night it couldn’t be programmed to change, eat, burp and go back to sleep? I made clear the fact that this was a parenting activity and had no place in a Child Psych class. Luckily my pages did not count as part of his grade. He managed to get a 90% all on his own. With one unsupported head pick up and one cry that went unanswered because we couldn’t figure out what the hell Wing Nut wanted, he passed with flying colors.

Wing Lee by the end of his visit (We had all aged)

What did we learn from this wonderful experience? I’m making sure my other sons sign up for Parenting Class.

Lucy

Bill Maher 05/04/07 - GOP Presidential Debate

GRRRRRRR!!

I have tried posting a video for the past 24 hours and I am FRUSTRATED!!!!!!! Rather than continue beating my head against the wall, please go to youtube and type in "Bill Maher May 4 GOP Debate". The clip is about 38 seconds and my text was...

" All they're missing are the multiple references to September 11th set to scary music."

Who knows, maybe a week from now it'll actually get posted.


Ethel

An Open Letter To Congress

Since our fearless leader broke out his shiny new veto pen to use on the Iraq Accountablity Act, there has been much debate as to what to do next. My question is WHY?? You are engaged in the ultimate game of "Chicken" with a tyrant. You were placed in that position by an overwhelming majority of the people you work for, THE AMERICAN PEOPLE. You are there acting on OUR behalf. For God's sake, don't blink!!!!

Let's not forget that this man was not only given everything he asked for in terms of funding, but was actually given MORE than he requested. The only caveat was a non-binding timetable for withdrawl from the gaping maw of death and destruction that is Iraq. NON-BINDING!!!!

An analogy may be in order. Let's say my 12 year old daughter presents me with a proposal for a birthday party. I tell her that I'd like to try to keep the costs as close to $100 as possible. If she looks at me with complete and utter disdain, telling me that she can't possibly be expected to plan a party with with any kind of financial limits placed upon her, I do what any parent worth their salt would do. I tell her that if she does not accept my offer, she will need to find a way to fund it herself... NEXT YEAR because this year she'll be doing community service on her special day.

What's my point? This president is acting like an ill-behaved adolescent. Send the same bill back to him and let him continue to hold his breath. So what if he doesn't like it??? Too bad!!! Trust me, he'll have to take a breath sooner or later. Under no circumstances should you give in to him. HE is the one responsible now for cutting funds for the troops, not you. The American people know that. Do not cave under his threats and foot-stomping. Rescind his authority because if he can't play nicely, he shouldn't be allowed to play at all. This man needs boundaries set. GIVE THEM TO HIM!!!

Ethel

New Universal Gas Sign

As I head out to spend a large portion of the day driving, I thought this would be an appropriate time to share this sign since misery loves company. How bad is the oil company's raping and pillaging where you are???

E

Standing By His Man : The Story of Dubya and Gonzo

Dubya and Gonzo were breaking camp under a blazing Texas sunrise, preparing for another long day of clearing brush. Peeking out at Dubya from under lowered lashes Gonzo quietly asked,"You still angry?"

Dubya strolled over to Gonzo gently cuffing him on the chin."You know I can't stay mad at you for long. There aren't very many who truly understand me the way that you do. Not even Laura."

Reassured for the moment, Gonzo began to pack the bedroll with the rest of his gear. Turning slightly away as he strapped his supplies to his pony, Gonzo inquired hesitatingly,"But what are you going to do if they keep pushing for you to fire me?"

Dubya threw an arm around Gonzo, "Don't you worry 'bout that", he drawled. "You know I can't quit you!"

The men quickly finished their packing, eager to get on with the day's work. They swung on to their mounts, Dubya's a golden palomino and Gonzo's a sprightly paint, and began the long ride to the next area of brush to be cleared. Lulled by the gentle swaying beneath him, Gonzo asked,"But what if HE wants me to go?"

Just then Cowboy Karl appeared on the horizon astride his faithful mule, Sugarplum. Dubya began to smile,"Don't you fret Gonzo, you're doing a heckuva job!" He gazed fondly at Karl as he continued his approach. "You know Gonzo, like him or not, you've gotta admit, Karl's got one mighty fine ass."




Special thanks to Lucy for working a bit of Photo-shop magic in the creation of the graphic for this post!


Ethel

Ah-ha!!!

Suddenly it's all begun to make sense to me how Dubya could have managed to ignore all those warnings of a possible attack...

E

Blogger Feeds Broken

Hacks broken; Blogger working on a fix

Hackosphere reports (per phydeaux3)that Blogger feeds are broken. Feeds are what power most of the hacks. You may find that hacks like Recent Posts/comments and Neo will be broken. So if something on your blog looks strange or is missing, hang in there. Blogger is working on it!



Phew! And I thought I messed something up on our template!

Lucy

Straight-Talk Express:

McCain implodes on "The Daily Show". As an inadvertent public service John McCain went on to prove once and for all that he's not just "losing it" but that he's officially lost his mind. That train pulled out of the station a looooong time ago and no one even stuck around to turn off the lights.

E

In Case You Weren't Paying Attention

Spring Fever: The Tale of the Mutant Frog

This past weekend was the first warm bout of weather we've had after a seemingly endless winter in upstate New York. My daughters, along with a small cadre of other children, armed with buckets and nets spent both days capturing and releasing bullfrogs, leopard frogs, assorted tadpoles, painted turtles and blandings turtles. At one point, after hearing frantic shrieking, I made a mad dash to the pond to release a snapping turtle that had been inadvertently netted.

Unlike most of the nearby moms, I love watching the kids knee-deep in muck. No doubt my love of nature was inherited from my father and nurtured by growing up in a rural area and watching Hodge Podge Lodge on PBS until I was bleary-eyed.

Known to my immediate neighbors as "The Environmentalist", I am the mom who will pick up a snake, wade in the creek to catch crayfish, compare and contrast the characteristics of toads and frogs, and will explain to the children that the giant bird they spotted by the edge of the creek was a great blue heron, not a crane.

Needless to say, when I heard cries of "mutant frog" coming from the creek I was concerned. If there were frogs in the creek displaying genetic mutations I wanted to know about it for obvious reasons. Bordering on hysteria, the children ran up to me speaking over one another about the frog they'd seen with two heads. Urging me to hurry, they grabbed my hand eager to show me the spot where the beast had last been seen.

On our way a mom called out to ask me if the kids were showing me the mutated frog. She shuddered as she described a frog with a head that appeared to have grown another head above it. With growing horror I began to wonder what toxins the kids had been exposed to during their explorations of the creek and adjacent pond. I began to mentally review the list of authorities who would need to be contacted in order to determine how contaminated our previously pristine creek water had become.

We quickly reached the spot and the children pointed at a large rock inhabited by what appeared to be a two-headed toad, not frog. Jumping across the creek boulders, I knelt to examine the creature. It appeared that rather than having two heads, it was as if two toads had been melded together. As I picked it up the children gave shouts of horrified disgust. I turned the toad over and began gently moving its legs. Sure enough, I found small feet tightly gripping underneath the leg joints of the bottom toad. I smiled and carefully placed the breeding pair back onto their boulder. After assuring the kids that the toads were not mutated but were instead making baby toads, I began to walk home.

On the way back I passed by the mom I'd seen a few minutes earlier. She called out to ask if I'd seen the mutated monstrosity. "Yep", I answered. " My guess is that it was caused by spring fever. It'll be just fine if it gets a bottle of wine, a bit of privacy, and a heart-shaped bed in the Poconos."



Ethel

A Very Disturbing Coincidence

On occasion I read novels by Jodi Picoult. She fancies herself an author unafraid to tackle controversial subjects. Most of her works do indeed deal with dangerous ground. Unfortunately many of these books end with a lackluster, noncommital conclusion (Don't even bother with My Sister's Keeper).

Last week I finished reading her latest: Nineteen Minutes. The subject, if you can believe it, is a school shooting. The victim of bullying fights back with guns in a terrible incident that has some disturbing parallels to the Virginia Tech incident in the news this week. I am not intimating that Ms. Picoult's book has anything to do with Virginia Tech at all... My concern lies in what the author, publisher, and media might do with this coincidence.

Often when tragedy strikes, anyone and everyone is called by the media to comment. So-called experts can be anyone the media feels can extend their coverage and ratings. Here's my concern... Ms. Picoult's book was released in March and is on the NY Times Bestseller List. How long will it take the media to glom onto the parallels and try to thrust the author into the spotlight? That much is expected, but it is her response and the response of her publisher that most worries me. If Simon and Schuster and Jodi Picoult in any way promote her book by riding the coattails of this disaster, I will be seriously pissed off.

I hope that the publisher and author will show integrity and decline to exploit the events in Virginia to hype Nineteen Minutes. We have seen authors take advantage of the celebrity afforded to them as CNN, MSNBC, and others scramble for knowledgeable guests to fill the time between investigation revelations and other "real news". Should Jodi Picoult show the poor taste to presume herself an expert and show up on my screen with her book in hand... well, I guess it will be a Boycott from the Verge. She will lose me as a reader, as well as anyone else I can reach personally and through this blog.

I truly hope that all of my concern is in vain and that no one is even considering the similarities as far as personal gain but, call me a cynic, I can hear Jodi's phone ringing right now.

Lucy

Prayers From the Verge

While I expect that I will be compelled to voice my opinion about senseless violence at a later date, right now I would just like to pray for all of those lost in the Virginia Tech shootings and would ask you to do the same.

Lucy

Imus Mess

I planned to sit here and rant about Don Imus and his racist debacle, but I found the entire mess way to repulsive. That, in itself, says it all.
Lucy

LOST: BACK ON TRACK

The last two episodes of LOST have been much improved. They have returned to the formula that made LOST a hit for the first two seasons. A mix of answers and new questions, no new characters suddenly appearing from nowhere and juicy flashbacks have me on the edge of my seat.

Click Read More for discussion that includes spoiler information from the last two weeks.
Last week found Kate and Juliet handcuffed together in the jungle, apparently abandoned there by the Others. After rescuing Jack and Sayid, and realizing that Locke had joined the Others, they began their journey back towards the camp. Kate flashbacks linked her to Sawyer through his jilted lover, Cassidy. It was an interesting episode and it is definitely setting the stage for further conflict between the survivors. Jack’s trust of Juliet is causing Kate and Sayid to question his judgment.

This week was amazing. An offhand remark from Juliet to Jack indicating that she handcuffed herself to Kate and dragged her into the jungle and lied to her about it calls Jack’s loyalties into question… at least for me. The twisted ending that showed us that Juliet is infiltrating the survivors’ camp to spy for Ben, and that they purposely made Claire sick (that they have implanted her with something that gives them that power!) was a great twist. But the question in my mind still remains: Does Jack know that Juliet is there for the Others? Is he protecting her for them? Does he have another agenda? And WHY?

I don’t know the answers, but I am loving the questions….

Lucy

Ethel in Quarantine

Spoke to Ethel on the telephone yesterday and she sounded positively green. The flu has claimed its latest victim. Apparently her computer contracted a virus last week and Ethel, kind soul that she is, contracted a sympathy virus that evolved into a full blown bout of the flu. Hopefully she will be on her feet and in full rant very very soon...

Lucy

Happy Easter From the Verge

House - Does He Care?

In this week's episode, Fetal Position, House finds himself performing surgery on a fetus in order to save his patient and her unborn child. Despite his earlier claims that the "fetus" is NOT a "baby" he seems touched during this moment... Just a little peek at House's human side.

Lucy