My Curling Iron Judges Me

I know I've been bad about posting photos lately, but The Teen Queen keeps stealing my camera for her teen-y purposes: posting a squillion photos on Facebook, per week.

Still winter here in Michigan.  We are busy searching for that dang groundhog so we can tar and feather him properly.  I wasn't really expecting spring to have sprung yet, but I was trying to be optimistic.

Moose had his second ENT appointment today, for his punctured eardrum.  It's healing nicely.  Next comes the filling of his cavities - oh joy and rapture.  He has been his usual goofy self, offering gum to strangers and calling me either "My love," or even stranger, "Mr Smee."  The child needs to be weaned off all electronics.  I'm thinking of dropping him off at an Amish house; we have quite a few 'round these parts.  It's embarrassing enough when he brings up Battlefront in front of the pastor, but it's even worse when he plays Battlefront with the pastor and the pastor comes away saying,
'Dude....that kid is freaky good for a toddler.'

Watched The Oscars last night.  Is it weird that my favorite part is always the In Memoriam section?  Does that make me morbid? Other than that it was a pretty dull show.  Cate Blanchett looked like she was wearing a paper doll dress and I kept wanting to fold down the flaps.  Jude Law needs a toupee.

Know what I recently discovered?  The red Skittles are not cherry flavored.  They're strawberry.  I thought they were that disgusting cherry flavor just like Starburst, but no, no, no!  How many years have I wasted picking out the red Skittles for no reason?  How many?  It saddens me.

My curling iron judges me.  I turn it on and it heats up in a handy dandy 30 seconds, but it shuts itself off if I don't use it soon enough.  This is a problem for me because rarely do I have the patience to sit there and wait 30 seconds and then use it right then and there.  I am woman, see me multi-task.  I can make a phone call, grade a paper, chop onions, drive to the store, and nurse a babe all at once (sorta).  I am not going to just stand there at my bathroom mirror and contemplate my appearance when I could be reheating my coffee or checking my emails.  The problem arises when whatever I am doing to fill my 30 seconds takes longer than 30 seconds and I get distracted by something shiny and forget to come back.  Then the darn things shuts off.  What's the problem, you say?  Turn it back on, you say?  Cuz it only takes 30 seconds, you say?  Are you not paying attention??  If I turn it back on then I'll remember something else I need to do for those 30 seconds and I wander off to do it and then I come back half an hour later and - I hope you see my point.  My appointment with my curling iron is never punctual.  And I am pretty sure it judges me.

My  psyche  suffers.
My hair suffers.

Lastly, I feel bad for saying Jude Law needs a toupee.  He can do whatever he wants.  Actually, it's refreshing to see a flawed celebrity if you think about it.  Rock that receding hairline, Jude!  Be proud!  You can borrow my curling iron for what little hair you have left!  I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know some thirty-something soccer mom in Michigan judges his hair the same way my beauty apparatus' judge me.