Who Needs Rudolph, When You've Got Hair Like This?

Hello to my new friend Michelle (please email me, I have a million questions) and hello to you, my little Blog, oh how I have missed you! My computer has gone kaput at home and we have a brand new policy that states we are not allowed to go online, (except to check email) at work anymore. We have a secure “intranet” and some Spyware that records keystrokes got in some how. This is very bad because we deal with a lot of confidential info here. I am having internet withdrawals. How, you may ask yourself did I post this? Well, I emailed myself this post, then on my lunch break, I will go out into the lobby of the police station, where there is a computer for the public and then cut and paste this onto my Blog. If, that is, that computer is working, which is about a 50/50 chance. Honestly, since I can be in and out in one minute or less, if it is not working, I will very quickly jump on and off the internet to cut/paste/post. But just this once. Really. No I mean it. {Written after the fact: Lobby computer worked.}

A lot has happened, recently. If you are as into my cycle as I am, and come on, who wouldn’t be, you may remember December is a very important TTC milestone. Two reasons, because it is the first post-lap attempt and because my Doc was optimistic, for the first time, about me getting pregnant. He thinks he fixed me. Though I am skeptical for my own emotional protection, I am going all out, this month. We are talking BBTs, Robitussin, OPKs, headstands, the whole nine months. I mean yards. Nine yards, whoo-wee, my Freudian Slip is showing, how embarrassing. Continuing on, I have a doctor’s appt. with Dr. H tomorrow when I get off of work at 8am. My period this time was especially painful. I needed to take six Advil on and off for three days! It hurt worse than any of the days after my surgery. Also, when I called for this appt., they said I was supposed to go in 2 weeks post-op for a check up. Maybe they should have called and reminded me, instead of assuming that I would remember what they told me all doped up in the recovery room… Either way, whoops. As for this difficult cycle, I am guessing it was because things were still healing on the inside. Also, it lasted 5 days instead of my normal 2, so this very well may have been my first “real” period in years. OK, enough about my bodily functions, you can’t possibly find them as fascinating as I do…and if so, get help, fast. Speaking of bodily functions, did you know I have fecal-a-phobia? (Yes, I made that term up) I can’t stand poo. When South Park’s Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo comes on, I run screaming from the room. Every time. Chris loves to watch S.P. and he thinks it’s hilarious. I can’t clean the toilet either, without heaving. Chris usually has to do that too. Strange thing is, picking up after the dogs doesn’t bother me at all, so I think I will be OK, with diaper changes. I hope, for Chris’ sake! How did that come up? Did I have a point, or was I just in the mood to talk about poo….? Oh yeah, I am watching CSI, which I love, and they had a prison fight where the inmates flung poo and I just about puked up my popcorn. They could have at least warned the viewers. Both me and my dispatcher friend have had 911 calls where the guy had, “explosive diarrhea" and proceeded to explain this medical problem in great, expressive detail. Loved that call, so much. Ok, enough about poo, (but by the way, I know poo has an “h” on the end, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was afraid of yellow bears in red t-shirts, ‘cause that would be weird…)

So, let me tell you about the CHP Christmas dance and why the title of my Post is “Who Needs Rudolph When You’ve got Hair Like This?” I dyed the front of my hair blonde, just two one inch strips in the front, and my intention was to dye them red. Like a sultry deep, crimson red—my favorite color. I always do stuff with my hair, my motto is--it’s only hair, and it will grow back. So ON THE DAY OF my husband’s office party, I think, hey today is as good as any to dye my hair! This is the hair equivalent for you, right now, as watching a scary movie where the person is about to go alone into the basement. Of course, from your comfortable chair, you are thinking, “Oh, bad idea. No…no…Oh man she went and did it anyway. Stupid! I never would have done that.” Yeah. Where were you and why didn’t you call and warn me? So, as I stood crying in front of the mirror, staring at my (I swear, no exaggeration) florescent, day glow, fuchsia hair, all I could think of was what my husband’s co-workers would think or say at the party that night:

*Hey Chris, my left rear tail light is out, can I strap your wife to my bumper?
*Oh man, there was an accident out front and we don’t have enough road flares, would your wife mind standing out there for a while?
*Who needs Rudolph the Red nosed reindeer? Chris’ wife can guide Santa’s sleigh!
*Who does your wife work for? Crayola? Bozo the Clown? Ronald McDonald?
*Hey, Chris some of the lights went out on the Christmas tree, do you think your wife would mind standing by it while we take our pictures?

It was sooooo bad! [Yes, Sannorah, give me your email and I will send you the picture, and darn your evil laughter!] When my friend Sean saw me, he loved it, he thought it was amazing. He, however, is three and probably thought it was his birthday and I was the entertainment. I didn’t take his love for my hair, as a good sign. Chris came home and said it was fine. It wasn’t. Thank God I had a spare box of Soft Black hair dye. It now looks fabulous and I looked pretty good at the party. Hose me off, and put on a little make up, and I usually clean up alright. I looked a little tired because I hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but not scary in the least. If I ever get the internet back at home I will try so hard to put the pictures on here.

And now, I end with yet another dog story. Today we took our family Christmas pictures. Riley, (AKA Fat Ass) wore the Santa suit, the other three dogs Santa hats, Chris and I, Reindeer antlers. The Santa suit was great; you put the dog’s front legs into Santa’s legs then there are fake arms attached. It was hilarious, it took at least 20 shots to get one or two good ones. Some, a dog is all blurry and running out of the frame, others two or more of the dogs look drunk—Santa hats askew. At one point the Alpha dog, Xena just sighed, laid down and refused to get up again. She is in the pictures but she is obviously pissed off. All and all, there will be at least one good enough to put in our Christmas cards. Speaking of Fat Ass/Riley, we tied a jingle bell to her collar and now we can hear every time she starts eating. We are now trying to “distract and redirect” her towards more constructive/thinning activities. Like fetch… or water polo. It’s really not working too great. Ok, well I think we are all caught up. Did this take you like an hour to read? Did you drop your internet connection a bunch of times because your computer thought you’d walked away? What can I say I am nothing if not verbose. What do they call it? Oh yeah, verbal diarrhea…wait…EWWWWW!!!!