I Heart My Combs

"It's called ratting daddy, and our

first lady Jacki O does it!"

Traci Turnblad, "Hairspray"

You may recall last week I posted about my 13 year old stealing my favorite comb (bottom comb in the picture) and taking it to girls camp (she also took my mirror--and broke it--of course she did).

I must admit--I never knew how much I hearted that trusty (albeit rusty) comb until I was without it. That was one LONG week--with some bad hair karma.

Now, I'm no beautician (although I've tried to marry off each of my brothers to one--see item #71), but I have to say the key to good hair is a good ratting comb (unless you have thick hair--lucky!). I suppose I should add--for really good hair, you also need a good roundbrush, a flat iron--and lots of hairspray.

The top comb in the picture is a pin comb and is great for ratting because it gives you the volume without that fuzzy, ratted look. They sell them at Sally's for around $20. It is a must have.

My most beloved comb cost only $3 (the comb on the bottom--and I have searched high and low for another one--to no avail). I call it my dream team comb. I totally heart it. It gives me serious air for my hair. This comb (note the missing pieces) has been with me for many years--it may very well be as old as my teenager who stole it last week.

So what's your favorite all-time-must-have-hair-do product?

If My Life Were a Movie...Part Two

The Cast of Characters

Protagonist: Killer T

Antagonist: Antibiotic Ointment

Cheesy Sidekick/Victim #1: Sassy Mama

Victim #2: Ripped PJs

Victim #3: A spilled can of

Diet Coke

Victim #4: Cold Dinner {or as the kids now call it--

Chicken ala Trophy}.

...to be continued

If My Life Were a Movie...Part One

The Prologue

If my life were a movie, I'd be cast as the clumsy, inept

girl with bad karma. The Wile E. Coyote of the big screen. The Lucy in the I love.

If my life were a movie, I'd be cast as the kooky, but loveable character--who couldn't keep a secret--even if it involved something so embarrassing {about herself} that she vowed never to tell another living soul EVER {And then she'd spill her guts to the first available listener}.

{Let's face it, if my life were a movie--I'd be rich and famous and would avoid airing my dirty laundry at all costs unless I were Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears--then I'd obviously be missing the part of my brain that encourages decorum.}

But, for some reason, instead of guarding my embarrassing moment--like a mama hen guards her chicks--I have let my secret slip. Like 4 times. I have become that annoying sidekick who doesn' t have the good sense to zip her lips shut. Tight.

First, I told my good friend and neighbor, Rosie--because, well you'll see why soon enough. She laughed. Although, I think she tried not to {at first}.

Then, seeking some sympathy, I told my BFF, Jolene. She laughed. And laughed. {I'm pretty sure she is still laughing.}

Next, I sought absolution from my daughters-bike-riding-activity-days-leader {I had to explain why I was experiencing such discomfort in the bike seat didn't I?} Did she laugh? Yup. A lot.

Finally, Jay decided it would be funny to share my tender experience with her book club girlfriends today. {I mean, only 3 of them had actually read the book, so what else were they going to talk about?}. Seeing as I had a reputation to uphold with their mothers--I took it upon myself to tell the story instead--and made a bigger rufus out of myself than my own daughter would have.

And so now, loyal readers. I've come to the realization, that I need to share my embarrassing moment. Because, I too, am missing that part of my brain that encourages decorum the way I see it, this blog should be a place where we can share in one anothers burdens. Provide closure. Lift each other up. Give support to one another.

Don't you agree?

to be continued

Friday Gems

President Howard W. Hunter said,

“True greatness, always requires regular consistent, small and sometimes ordinary steps over a long period of time.”

I Heart July 24th!

Living in Utah, the 24th of July means one thing--celebration. It's the anniversary of when Mormon pioneers first arrived into the Salt Lake Valley. It's the day we rejoice in our pioneer heritage.

I heart everything about the 24th...the parades (including the small little bike parade we went to in our neighborhood--Savvy and Aussie were decked out like there was no tomorrow)...

...the fireworks (we're heading over to my sissies around 830 tonight to watch my bro-in-law's Costco inspired delight)...

...the part-ay (me & the kids, mom, dad, Ange and his cute fiancee had a little impromptu party today with pizza and rootbeer floats -- in honor of my Bro Z--who ran his first marathon--unfortunately, the guest of honor wasn't able to attend his own soiree as he was sufferin' from some fierce marathon aftermath)...

Yes, I am one of those heathen Mormons who hearts all of the fluff that surrounds pioneer day--but judge me not because I also heart the stuff behind the celebration...

...I heart the pioneers who walked and walked and walked as they faithfully trekked those many miles to follow the Lord's counsel...

...the pioneers who lost loved ones in the process...

...the pioneers who sacrificed their earthly belongings because they simply believed in the true gospel of Jesus Christ...

...and the pioneers who through righteous desires helped build up the kingdom of God.

Click HERE to read my favorite pioneer story.

Happy Pioneer Day!

Tales from the Old and Decrepit

Last night, I sent a cute birthday e-card to my fun friend Leslie. Les is in my ward, my craft night buddy, and a reader of my blog--I figured she deserved something extra special.

So, I painstakingly okay so it took 5 minutes picked out a card that I felt exuded humor yet let her know that I thought she was fab (click here to view it.)

In the card, it has a crazy scientist who has created the amazing age reverser in which you push a button and it makes you 10 years younger. I thought it was pretty funny--I mean who wouldn't want to be 10 years younger right?

Ummm. Maybe a 28 year old?

I got an email back from my much, much younger friend, Leslie, saying, "Hehehehehe--of course I really wouldn't want to be 18 again--but still. You make me laugh! Thanks."

Sheesh.

I remember 28 fondly. It was a good year. Actually, it was a good couple of years. For two whole years I thought I was 28. People would ask my age (at 29)--I'd automatically say 28.

Then, all of a sudden I was 30. Man, did I feel old. Of course, I didn't feel as old as some of my 36 year old friends--now THEY were old.

Life Lesson #28: *I am 36 years old and I am that old lady.

*This lesson is not endorsed nor approved by the makers of Shenanigans by Nicole.

My Not-so-Uplifting Girls Camp Experience

It is summer. And if you are serving in the YW's program then you know that summer=Girl's Camp. I have had the chance to read numerous blogs about the glorious and uplifting experiences of gals who have been able to attend G-Camp this summer.

If you'd like to read their love and inspiration for Girl's Camp click here, here, here & here.

If you'd like to read my lack of love for Girl's Camp...read on.

Jay left for G-Camp on Monday. The night before she couldn't go to sleep till like 1 am because of her excitement. I was happy and excited for her to be going. I knew that this would be a great experience for her because we have fabulous leaders in our ward--and some fun girls.

Then I attempted to do my hair.

Now, I'm cursing her and her glamorous G-Camp experience.

Let's rewind to Sunday night. According to my DH, Jay had the absolute biggest bag out of ALL the YW. It was enormous.

Apparently it was filled with:

1) My mirror (so if you see the back of my hair looking like a rat's nest --you'll know why).

2) My hairspray (why she needs hairspray for a ponytail or braids I'll never know).

3) My ratting comb (Jay has super thick hair--unlike her mother. She does not-I repeat-does not- need to be ratting her hair to the sky whilst she camps--where does she think she is from? Texas? No offense to the Lone Star State or anything.)

4) My favorite Bath and Body Works body wash (at least their will be one Sweet Pea smellin' girl in the wilderness--let's just hope the mosquitoes don't eat her alive).

Grrr.

So much for my uplifting experience at Girl's Camp. Now I have to go through the week--with bad hair. Next year, I'm hiding the big duffel bag--and my hair stuff.

The G-Camp Funnies

(true story)

This morning, Savvy asked, "Mom, do you miss Jay yet?"

I answered, "Ummm. Sure. She has all my hair stuff."

She sighed, "I've missed her since yesterday."

Aussie added, "I'll miss her being gone when she gets home."

Ba-da-bump.