I *heart* mini-albums

I also heart Daisy D's fun vintage-y stuff. I just posted this one on eBay, working toward the goal of raising money to pay for the scrapping cruise I'm going on in January 2009. If it doesn't sell I will give it to my Mom for Mother's Day.

After saying many times that I wouldn't do a scrapping cruise because I wouldn't be able to decide whether to crop or enjoy the cruise, I am really excited about this one because of the amazing instructors. Well, and the whole getting away from the family (my bff Mary Beth is going with me) and sailing the Caribbean thing, but mostly the instructors. I have taken classes with Donna Downey in the past, and she's lots of fun. But Heidi Swapp will also be teaching! And Margie Romney-Aslett from Making Memories, and the most personally exciting to me, the fabulous Karen Russell! I am a serious stalker of Karen's blog, I love her Narratives products, and her photos just blow me away.

Next month I am attending Scrap Etc. in Nashville with my superfly friend Michele, and I'm stressing a bit about the experience because (please don't tell anyone!) I haven't exactly been keeping up with the homework assignments they've been sending for months. OK, I haven't exactly done ANY of it. They say it's optional, but I was mostly a straight A student and I just don't know if I can show up to class without my homework done. I want extra credit, dammit! I want to be the teacher's pet!

Did I say that out loud?

My last post was obviously too great a temptation for fate. Remember my question about the wisdom of coloring my hair during a week where everything has gone wrong? Yesterday I decided to treat myself to a long overdue color touch up at an actual salon instead of taking the risk of doing it myself. I will not post the tedious details of the young stylist turning my previously dark blonde hair first platinum (I looked dismayingly like Billy Idol for a frightening half hour), then orange, then a blotchy sort of tan/orange/yellow/grey. Here's a photo:

Of course that's not an actual photo of me--I was too depressed to take one--but it was closer to that than you might imagine. FIVE HOURS after entering the salon I had to leave to meet Annamarie's bus, still looking like a tabby cat. There might have been tears shed in the car, but I was determined to remain positive for the kids' sake. I picked Annamarie up, collected Thomas from school and Ruby from doggy daycare, and went home to hide for the weekend.

When I sat down at my computer to check email, it refused to boot up. Twenty-four hours later it still won't start. I'm posting from Ron's computer. You don't believe me, do you? All of this can't possibly have really happened in one week. Oh, please please let me wake up and discover that it's been a dream I can laugh about.

The good news is that the lovely manager of the salon worked on my hair today and got it to a more natural looking shade, although much more blonde than my usual color and still pretty fried. Huge thanks to my friend Sandy for taking the kids out for ice cream while I went to the salon today.

Holy cow, I just realized what caused all of this. It's those emails that my Aunt Betty sends me every day. I was warned that bad things would happen if I didn't forward them to 12 people within a half hour. And I must have ignored dozens of them! The madness may NEVER end!

Balance seemingly restored to the Universe

In contrast to the rest of the week, today totally rocked. My house is sparkly clean, including my scrapping area, which never happens. Both kids went to school, and I got the dreaded grocery store visit over with before 10:00am. I DESPISE the grocery store. Evidence of that fact: we ran out of toilet paper yesterday and I dragged out some tiny rolls of camping toilet paper rather than making a run to the store which is three quarters of a mile from my house. I did the dog's daily training using potato chips. But now we are totally stocked with Charmin Ultra, dog treats, tampons and cheese, so life is good.

I really should use my good camera and try to get some better photos of my scrap space tomorrow. But this is where I spend the bulk of my "me" time and it's rarely ever this tidy so this photo will do for now.

OK Universe, it's not funny anymore

Ron left on Saturday for a week of research in England, which is great because he so seldom takes any time for himself. Ordinarily things run very smoothly in his absence, or despite his absence, but this week (and it's only Tuesday), that has not been the case.

On Sunday the garage door malfunctioned and wouldn't close. We had to leave it open while we were gone to church and lunch for 4 hours, but thankfully the rest seems to have healed it. Later on, while the kids and I were playing a game, the dog escaped from the fenced backyard and spent an hour or so out in the dark doing who knows what, probably hanging with the wrong crowd and smoking clove cigarettes, before scratching at the front door. Annamarie's cold turned into an awful deep chest cough. I kept her home from school to take her to the doctor, where she was diagnosed with pneumonia. We went off to the pharmacy with two prescriptions for her and one for Thomas' ADHD meds. We only had two of those pills left, and seriously, we'd rather run out of air to breathe. After waiting a hundred years or so at CVS, they informed us that they couldn't fill the ADHD prescription because the doctor hadn't signed it. (Controlled narcotic substance, blah blah blah.) We made the 40-minute round trip back to the pediatrician and yet another visit to CVS.

I kept Annamarie home again today, although her cough is much improved. Anyone who knows me knows how deeply I adore Annamarie, but spending 24 hours a day with her is just exhausting. She talks nonstop and asks the same questions over and over. And over. When she takes a bath, she talks to her imaginary friends Stephanie and Isabel, telling them the same things she's told me all day.

So 4:30 rolled around and I decided to leave a little early to get Thomas at soccer practice because I am always screeching in 5 minutes late. On the way, I tried to call Ron in London from my cell phone but apparently you have to spend 20 minutes with customer service to get your phone set up to make international calls. I was able to do that without driving unsafely because of the accident that had me completely trapped at a standstill for the next 45 minutes. I was within 100 yards of my exit, naturally, but couldn't get there. When I picked Thomas up half an hour late, his ears were "killing him". After a stop at Wendy's, we spent 90 minutes at the Urgent Care Center and another 45 at CVS, where they now recognize me.

We finally got home at 8:45 and in my usual patient and nurturing style, I hollered at Thomas because the constant whining for three hours had drilled all the way through my skull. But they're in bed now, all dosed up, and they're going to school tomorrow unless blood is shooting out of someone's eyes. Crap, I shouldn't have said that.

So now my question is, do you think it's a bad week to try to color my own hair?