Random Friday

Yes, I know I'm writing this on Sunday, and really it's only going to be Sunday for one more minute, so maybe this will show up as Monday. But that helps this become more of a Random Friday, right? Because it's random. You expected it on Friday, and instead you get it now. It's random.

Justification works sometimes.

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I am sending out Christmas cards this year. I don't get to it every year, but I'm bound and determined to do it this year. SO... email me your addresses, my friends. You are on my list. If you are family, well, 10 bucks says I already have your address. If I don't, I'll call you.

Included in the Christmas card may or may not be a family picture (depends on if I can get all of us to look decent and sit still long enough for the timer to go off on the camera!), and will most likely have the Dreaded Yearly Update Letter.

I know most people complain about these letters and how they just brag and brag. However, I actually enjoy reading them from other people. Yes, I do get a bit envious at other people's lives, but I enjoy knowing about the good things in their lives. I enjoy hearing that little Bobby Joe was on the honor roll for the third year in a row as well as achieving a record number of Boy Scout badges and winning the little elementary school track meet. Really I do. Because I know I am sending YOU a letter bragging about Aiden's amazing reading skills, Dallin's amazing verbal skills, and Parker's amazing head-lifting and smiling skills. We all take pride in our kids. It's allowed.

Of course, all of you already know what's been going on because you read this blog. So you can toss the letter and just enjoy the card and (maybe) the picture.

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When I was in college, I started dying my hair dark colors (because I think the natural color of my hair is just a plain, boring brown with nothing to it). Mostly I went with a dark auburn, but sometimes just a dark brown. I really like the red in my hair, but it doesn't look very natural on me if I go too carrot-y. So I stick with the auburn. I would often get compliments and, in the same breath, I was asked, "Is that your natural color?"

I wondered how much of a compliment it really is when people are questioning you on something as personal as your natural hair color. I could be wrong about that. It may not be personal at all.

Anyway, so they would compliment and ask, and I would answer with, "It's the color I was born with!"

Hey, it was honest! I was born with lots and lots of dark, auburn hair. When I was a preschooler it was bleach blonde. It went to a mousey brown in elementary school, and that's pretty much where it stayed. Although when I got my hair cut this summer and the blonde highlights were finally all cut out, I found my mousey brown hair had gotten darker. I like it darker. But it was still a boring brown.

Last week I got my hair trimmed a bit (got rid of most of the layers that were growing out horribly, so now it's slightly layered and more of a long-ish bob) and colored. It is a dark auburn again, and I love it.

Sure enough, I have gotten many compliments and questions: "I love your hair! It's so pretty! Is that your natural color?"

I'm back to my standby answer. "It's the color I was born with."

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Christmas is approaching. Which means... my birthday is coming! Do you know how old I'm gonna be this year? Thirty. That's right. The big 3-0. Will I now finally be treated more as an adult? Not some twenty-something punk who doesn't know what being an adult really is? Not some teenager who has yet to grow up? I doubt it. Because they are saying things about how people live longer, and 40 is the new 25 or something. Who is "they" anyway? Where do we get these things from?

So anyway, I guess I'm still just a kid. Or, as Ches likes to say, a spring chicken. Or maybe he says chick. I haven't heard him use the phrase in a few years, so I suddenly don't remember.

I should delete that last paragraph because that is just verbal vomit.

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I'm trying so hard to get Eragon read for the Book Club, but things just keep happening at our house! I pick up the book and seriously only read abouttwo paragraphs when Parker needs a diaper change. Or Aiden is screaming at Dallin to get off his bed and go away. Or the phone rings with a call for Haseem Muhommad yet again. I am normally a freakishly fast reader, but I just can't seem to get this thing read. Hopefully in the next couple of days it will get better. Because I'm actually starting to enjoy it. I wasn't sure what to expect because it's fantasy, and that isn't normally what I enjoy reading. That's Ches' thing. However, if it's a well-written, just plain good plot, I'll read anything.

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It got up to 88 degrees today. Yes, you read that right. 88. Eighty-freaking-eight. Thanksgiving is this week, and I'm still wearing shorts and sandals. Crazy go nuts.

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Parker is such a happy baby. He smiles a lot now. I mean, he smiles a LOT. And it's postitively adorable. My boys have inherited their father's extremely long and beautiful eyelashes (yes, you are allowed to complain about the fairness of all these males getting such great eyelashes). As babies, whenever they would smile I would notice the same thing that is happening now with Parker. I swear that when Parker smiles, his eyelashes grow an inch. It's just beautiful. Also, his whole face lights up, and you can't help but smile back at the wide open grin he has. I think he's going to have dimples, like his brothers. SO CUTE.

I have to say, Ches and I make the cutest, most adorable babies in the entire world, hands down.

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Quote of the day:
We are often mistaken about art. Art is not emotion. Art is the medium in which emotion is expressed.
--Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979)