Friday, April 25, 2014

Let it go.

I’m pretty good about getting rid of things when I’m done with them. Not great, but pretty good.

Like I love selling/donating clothes that I don't wear anymore that have been stuffed into my closet, making glorious room so I can actually slide the hangers back and forth -- such a novelty!

And I'll gladly toss away food-encrusted cookie sheets from the drawer under the stove and stained towels from hair dye from my linen closet. 

But you guys, some things are hard for me to get rid of. I’m not talking about things like dairies or photo albums -- those stay. I’m talking about things like this:

Simple clogs.

These were purchase in the ‘90s right out of college after realizing I was not a Birkenstock kind of a girl –- perhaps I could pull off these hippie clogs? I wore these everywhere. To death. The lining is torn out and the leather is pretty worn and they don’t smell the greatest. But they are SO COMFORTABLE. Now they sit by the sliding glass door off the kitchen and everyone in the family wears them if they need to run the recycling out or walk the dog around the block. They are the family clogs, and I will never throw them away.

Gap t-shirts.

Again, purchased loooong ago, basic t-shirts in black and white. These are stretched out, stained and friggin' huge but comfortable. I would get rid of these before the clogs but I really hope I don’t have to ever make that choice.

This "salad."

OK, this is from last Sunday and was served with our Easter dinner. It's something my mom made that involves a packet of orange Jello mix, cottage cheese, mayonnaise and canned mandarins/pineapple (don't judge it, because you haven't tried it.) It's one of those weird concoctions that when served on a holiday it is deemed "salad." I refuse to throw this away, I will finish every last bite. And with the mayo/cottage cheese combo I better get busy on this delicious SALAD (that tastes like a creamsicle) before it spoils.

Pretty in Pink cassette tape.

I no longer own a cassette player and my car doesn't have one. I keep this on my bookshelf –- it’s the last thing I see before I go to sleep/first thing I see when I wake up. I will most likely be buried with this. That's not weird, right? 

Oh, and this:

Cheerleader lamp.

My childhood lamp that sat on my nightstand -- Mom made it for me in her '70s ceramics class. It was supposed to look like me, with the brown hair and eyes and, um, enthusiasm for cheerleading? No...I never had that. There must not have been a lamp shaped like a candy bar or Carvel soft serve cone for her to paint, so I got the cheerleader. 

Like I said I don't really hang onto things so I don't know how this bulky, fragile lamp managed to make the cut moving from New York, to Florida to my garage here in Portland. But it did. 

And I'm glad it did. I really don't mind seeing that smiling face a few feet in front of me when I open up the door off the living room that leads into my highly disorganized garage. 

I have two boys who are not at all interested in my old "young-mom-as-a-cheerleader-if-she enjoyed cheerleading" lamp. But it's been with me almost my whole life, and I'm not getting rid of it.

To conclude; I would choose the lamp over the clogs, t-shirts, the creamsicle salad and (gulp) the cassette tape. 

Friday, April 11, 2014

Can o' color.

Mondays are my day off of work and if you know me, you know I cherish them to pieces. 

You said it, Garfield.
I don't have to go to work. I don't ever have to hear anyone say "Somebody's got a case of the Mondays" or have un-funny Monday office-related banter with anyone.

Some Mondays I get nothing done. I watch three hours of the Today Show and start daydreaming about what I'm going to make for dinner. 

Some are super productive, like today. Here's what I did after I dropped the boys off at school/before I picking them up at 2:00:

Worked out 
Cleaned two bathrooms 
Wrote two blog posts
Called Grandma ("Looorri...How's my beautiful baby girl?")
Took a shower/shaved my legs (This is huge.)
Walked to the grocery store and bought groceries (Dinner! Tacos!)
Colored my hair

Well...I kind of colored my hair. 
Not really. It didn't work.

Nice? Sure. Easy? Absolutely.
100% Gray Coverage? NO WAY JOSE.

I don't know if this is possible but I think it made my hair more gray than it was before.


I was mad! I know it was like a $5.99 box of root touch up 
but it took time...precious Monday/day off/I-could-be-watching-Hoda-and-Kathie-Lee-time.

Thank goodness I keep this little can on hand:

Rita Hazan Root Concealer is awesome. And weird. When I use it I always feel like I'm using spray paint and tagging my head. Or using the worlds tiniest fire extinguisher. 

It truly covers the grays; what was once used as a touch up between hair color appointments has now become a staple. 

A little spritz on my part and I say, "Gray?!? What gray?!?
I don't really say that but I totally will if you want me to...

It's not cheap, $25 for a small can of it at Sephora but I only need a tiny bit to cover up the offensive area, it really lasts a long time. And unlike the boxed stuff I know it works.

Rita Hazan, I don't know who the hell you are, but thank you. 

And box of color, I'm off to Fred Meyer with my receipt in hand like a crazy lady, attempting to return an empty box and get my money back.