Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 9

Friday Faff: Birthdays and Burgers and Beets Edition

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So, uhh, this is awkward. It turns out that Wolfgang's birthday isn't until next Tuesday. Yet another reason why I should stick to fur-babies.

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Thank you for all your road trip suggestions! I am kind of ridiculously excited to eat at In-n-Out Burger. Shawn and I ate dinner at Fatburger the night we got engaged. We served burgers at our wedding. We are burger people, is what I'm saying. All the other road trip stuff is great too, don't get me wrong, but what I'm really looking forward to is the food. I'm going to shop at Trader Joe's! I'm going to drink lemonade at Sonic!! I am lame, I know.

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So I ate my stupid September beets. Enough people suggested pickled beets that I figured they must be something special. Pickled beets are ... fine. The vinegar taste was quite strong, which masked the taste of the beets nicely. The problem was the cleanliness (and my craziness.) I bought a jar of pickled whole baby beets, which I assumed would be peeled. They were not peeled. I could see beet skin on some of the beets and they all had the top rooty bit attached. It was too much for me to handle so I used a paring knife to peel off the entire outer skin. I ended up with tiny little beet nuggets:


I served the beets on a salad, with a side of barbecued chicken and grilled zucchini. Who's in denial that summer is over? Not I.

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Have a great weekend, peeps!

I Smell Like I Sound I'm Lost And I'm Found And I'm Hungry Like The Wolf

Happy birthday to Wolfgang, my little buddy, my monkey man, the tyrant, the terror, the rebel, the pest from the west, the babe of our family.

It doesn't seem like that long ago that he was a tiny little ball of fluff.

Happy first birthday, dude!

PS: Stop eating your bed or I will turn you into fuzzy slippers. I mean it.

Just Shots Of Light And Broken Bike To Stimulate Your Busy Head

I was fretting about the motorcycle to a very wise lady yesterday and she told me that I am only making myself feel bad and that I should trust the universe. Which is a very simple concept, right? I mean, I can fret and worry and work myself into a tizzy, but at the end of the day, what's going to happen is going to happen. Zen people tend to freak me the fuck out so it was a bit odd that I was so accepting of her attitude. But I'm trying. I will try to trust the universe. I will try to trust Shawn. He has been as supportive of my crazy as he can be, without agreeing to give up the motorcycle (which, let's face it, is the only thing that will make the crazy disappear) so I will try to be supportive of his stupidity. (Hey, I said I'm trying.)

Instead of focusing on the things that are making me blue, I'm trying to focus on the things that make me happy. You know what makes me happy? Bullet points!

- How I Met Your Mother. I love this show. I love that Shawn loves this show. Our taste in television differs widely so I'm very glad to have found a show that we both enjoy. Last night's episode was hilarious. Tuxedo night? Classic.

- Road trips. In two weeks, Shawn and I will be embarking on a road trip with another couple. We are going to drive from Vancouver to Magic Mountain in California. The details are a little fuzzy right now but I have been promised a drive through the redwoods and at least half a day in San Francisco. So, Californians: is there anything we need to do, any restaurants we need to eat at (we're talking burgers and tacos here, nothing fancy), anything we'll be kicking ourselves if we miss? This road trip will be quick and dirty. We leave Wednesday night and have to be back by Monday night.

- Puppies. Stella will be finished her medication tonight and by tomorrow she will (hopefully) be back to normal. She has been so lethargic and grumpy while on this medication but it does seem to be helping her ear. I'm going to be very happy to not have a drugged-up puppy tomorrow.

What's making you happy today?

Now My Feet Won't Touch The Ground Now My Head Won't Stop

I do karate barefoot on mats that are covered in sweat daily and cleaned not so daily. The mats are sticky in places and smell bad, is what I'm saying. I try not to think about the mats when I'm standing on them.

I get home from karate and I go straight to the bathroom to clean my feet. First I douse them with rubbing alcohol. Then I have a shower and spend a few minutes scrubbing my feet with soap. Then I dry off and do another round of rubbing alcohol.

It's not the germs I worry about. It's not the sweat of strangers lingering on my feet that makes me clenchy. I've never had any sort of foot disease that has scared me senseless. It's just ... why not clean my feet? It takes five minutes. It seems logical to me to spend five minutes cleaning my feet to prevent any sort of foot mushrooms or toe plague or whatever it is I could contract from standing on scummy flooring. It doesn't seem abnormal to me.

But ... Shawn doesn't clean his feet after karate. He comes home and has a shower and cracks open a beer or checks his email or plays with the pups. He doesn't think about what could be growing on his feet. He doesn't worry that his toenails are going to fall out.

It makes me mistrust my brain. It makes me worry that maybe I'm reacting too strongly to other situations. Like the motorcycle.

Shawn took a professional motorcycle safety course that provided ten hours of classroom training and twenty hours of road training. He bought a jacket with armour in it, gloves, boots, and a full helmet with a face shield. He bought a motorcycle with an engine that matches his skill level. And yet ... I worry. I worry about things that I can't articulate because writing them down makes them more real.

At the same time, I'm concerned that my anxiety is an overreaction. Like the karate feet. I'm worried about my worry. Feel free to sympathize with Shawn; the internal drama has made me a very unpleasant person to live with lately. Which is frustrating because I don't want to be mad about this. I don't want to be the shrewish wife who doesn't let her husband have any fun. But I kind of don't want him to have any fun if his idea of fun could result in him getting smushed.

You’re Falling Out Something Ain’t Here

I'm not here today but if you head on over to Hair Thursday, I'm there showing off my hair (I know, I KNOW. More hair.)

Or you could visit Mermanda's blog to answer a very important question that I couldn't post on my own blog.

I Think You're Stubborn 'Cept You're Always Softening

I am obstinate and pertinacious and every other synonym for stubborn that you can think of. When I am trying to fool myself, I say that I am fortitudinous, but that is a lie. My tenacity does not stem from courage or determination. It comes from feeling like I constantly need to prove myself. I need to be just as good as you, if not better.

I have been taking karate for six weeks. When I joined, I was told that other women would also be joining. I have yet to see another woman at karate. Which is fine when all we're doing is drills and stretches and learning technique. It's not fine when we're doing punches and kicks. I morph into Super! Hillary! who can fight with the boys and walk away unscathed. Except that I can't walk away unscathed. One cracked rib later, I am very hurty.

I wish that I could just relax and enjoy karate for what it is: a brutal workout that leaves me sweaty and breathless and grinning after an hour and a half. I wish that I didn't turn it into a competition of me against the boys.

And Now You Wanna Be My Friend on Facebook

This makes me very happy:

Now I Don't Really Give A....Ugh!

I would like to win some Ugg Boots. I have never owned a pair of Uggs; the trendiness has always turned me off. They look so warm and comfy, though! Head over here to find out how you can win a free pair (open to all countries! Whoo!)

Black Eyes Brown Hair But She Don't Care

So I got my hair cut again tonight and because clearly I do not talk about my hair enough, I give you this: My New! Hair!

Whoa, I just realized how tired I look. Please excuse the bags under my eyes; it's been a rough week.

New! Hair! From three angles!

I promise this is the last you'll hear of my hair forever. Okay maybe not forever but for a long time. Pinky swear.

I love my new hair. Robin recommended her stylist and I am so glad I got over myself and went to the fancy out-of-my-league salon. The stylist was amazing. She knew exactly what I hated about my old cut and was the first stylist I have ever been to who was able to translate my "I want darker hair!" into "I want rich colour" (which was what have wanted for YEARS but have been unable to articulate.)

If anyone in the Vancouver area is looking for a new stylist, shoot me an email and I'll give you the salon details.

Bob That Head Every Friday Night

I have an appointment to get my hair fixed tomorrow night. It's at a fancy-sounding salon in Yaletown (the one part of downtown I tend to avoid due to my not being hip enough or cocaine-y enough to fit in.) Robin assures me this particular salon isn't too hip or exclusive, though, and I'll be fine with all my bumbling awkwardness.

I'm kind of at a loss as far as length goes. My colour plan is to go darker with a few lighter strands around the face. I don't know what to do about the cut, though. Do I keep the side swept bangs or do I go for something more blunt (and truly become Kyla's hair twin?) Is it pathetic for a grown woman to use a photo of a toddler for hair inspiration?

Specifically this toddler:



So many questions. Suggestions are welcome; I've made it quite clear that I have no idea what I'm doing.

Lift The Bad Weight Off Your Mullet And Let The Thoughts Fall Off Your Tongue

I am between stylists right now, which is probably a bad time for me to decide to do something drastic to my hair. I'm not a huge fan of rationality or logic though, so Saturday morning I went to the mall and got my hair cut. I know, right? The mall. I haven't had a mall haircut since ... I don't even know. Which is snobby. I mean, whose to say that you can't get a fabulous haircut at the mall? Maybe I would discover a hidden gem who gives amazing haircuts and only charges $30. Or maybe I would end up paying $50 for a mullet.

This is my hair before the mulletization.

And this is my mullet.

Not too mullety, right? However, it took about half an hour of intense styling with three different styling tools and many hair products to get it to look like this. Mullet camouflage is time consuming.

I asked for very little layering because my hair is fine and goes a bit wonky with layers. My "mall gem" interpreted this to mean that I wanted many layers. Many short layers. Many mullety layers. And I don't even know what to say about the bangs.

Let's just say I will be wearing a ponytail until the mullet grows out.

I'll Stop The World And Melt With You

. . . and then my heart melted.

Got A Lock Got A Key Got Some Kind Of Vice-like Grip On Me

It's a funny kind of day today. The sky is equal parts ominous grey and summer blue and even though it's raining, the raindrops are hefty and warm and lazy.

The puppies and I walked through the rain until we were thoroughly soaked and Wolfgang, poor Wolfgang, was even more bedraggled than usual, which prompted a man on the street to shout at me to feed my poor, starving rat.

When we got home, I locked the three of us in the bathroom and gave Stella a bath. The mud-pit at the dog park is fun but the pups seem to forget that if they partake in it, they're headed straight for the bath when we get home.

I got Stella out of the tub and managed to wrestle her out of the bathroom without letting her out of my grasp (once out of the tub, the pups' favourite place to roll is on our clean sheets.) I kicked the door shut behind me, to keep muddy Wolfgang contained the bathroom while I put Stel in her crate.

Only to realize, moments later, that the door was locked.

I phoned my Dad and told him in a shaky voice that I had locked Wolfgang in the bathroom and I couldn't open the door. He walked me through finding a wire hanger and straightening the end enough to fit it in the emergency-release hole in the door. It was only after I hung up the phone that I realized that he never asked me why Wolfgang was locked in the bathroom. I guess he's used to this sort of thing.

This is why I have furbabies instead of human babies. You lock your puppy in the bathroom and everyone laughs. You lock your kid in the bathroom and all of a sudden you're a bad parent. Though if emergency-release holes are standard on doors, I'm clearly not the only idiot who needs one.

I Run A Comb Across My Head I Wish My Hair Would Settle Down

Things are getting much too serious around these parts so obviously we need to talk about my hair.

A while back, the lovely Whoorl featured me on Hair Thursday. She came up with two options and asked her readers to vote. Which is great because I am indecisive and clearly have no idea what to do with my hair. The problem? Fifty percent of the people who voted like option #1


... and fifty percent like option #2.
So I'm leaving it up to you. What should I do with my hair? Cut it short or grow it long? This is my hair as of this morning:


A few things to note:

This picture was taken pre-coffee so be gentle.

I have hideous split ends right now because I have refused to have my hair cut since my $20 monstrosity of a haircut. Also, since then I have worn my hair in a ponytail pretty much every day because I don't want to deal with it.

I like Patricia Arquette's bangs and am trying to convince myself to go for it. I'm hesitant because I feel like bangs are a lot of work. Thoughts?

I have not had my hair coloured since July 2008 because I was really tired of fighting with my stylist (who I have now broken up with, so it's no longer a problem) about how blonde I should be (his opinion? Blonde! my opinion? not so blonde.) I'm interested in colouring my hair again but am unsure what direction to take. My hair is naturally a light brown/dark blonde so it's very easy to go lighter. But I'm intrigued by the thought of having dark hair. Is dark hair too much for my light complexion?

This is what I usually go for when I colour my hair:



But I was thinking something more along the lines of this:



I'm overwhelmed by the possibilities.