Am I the only one to have ever noticed the disparity between how people are supposed to act (happy, full of good cheer) according to all the happy Christmas music constantly piped in everywhere you go and how people really act this time of year? Merry Christmas (Happy Hanukkah, Happy (Merry?) Kwanzah, A Good Festivus to you) to you too, pal!
I survived finals, barely. By the time I stop doing the reflexive, ‘must do homework-what’s due-oh right-I’m FREE’, it will once again be time to once again strap on the backpack and be mired in homework. Didn’t I already do this once in my life? Oh wait, that’s right–this is what happens when you end up with a BA in History and don’t want to go on to law school. Kids, take note.
Onto happier things. So I went to the day spa and had my brows done. It wasn’t as bad as I remembered from my previous experience with the wax of doom. My gift card even showed the entire full balance, so I made an appointment to go back and have my brows done again as well as have my lashes tinted (I have funky eyelashes that start out a nice normal deep brown color, but then about halfway change to light light blonde, so unless I wear mascara, my lashes don’t really stand out. I’m pretty fair-skinned, but my hair isn’t as light as you would imagine with my coloring. Thank you Scandinavian ancestors.) and use up the rest of my gift card balance. The only thing that I would change about the whole experience is that I would like to have more arch put in next time. That and the technician telling me that I have sparse brows (which was not a surprise…exactly. They aren’t really super sparse, it’s just that some of the hair grows in really really blonde and makes it look like there’s a bald spot) so hello future involving some sort of an eyebrow pencil. Lucky me. No kids, grandma isn’t really surprised to see you all the time, she’s just not handy with the eyebrow pencil.
In other exciting news, Owen managed to lock himself in our bedroom while my mother-in-law was watching him on Friday (and I was off taking an exceedingly long final). I figured this day was coming and had meant to buy an ice pick (it will pop the lock from the other side with the type of doorlocks we have) and kept forgetting. Apparently Owen was none too pleased about the situation (serves him right) and my MIL was panicked and had to ask the neighbors for a screwdriver to undo the doorknob and open the door. Heh. Is it wrong that all I see in this situation is humorous?
Don’t forget about my fabulous contest for my Rachel Ray cookbooks that ends this week. At this point, just tell me something about your kitchen (I have a garlic press. It is white and squishes the garlic cloves) and I’ll count it as an entry.
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