My wonderful aunt and uncle (“Cabin Aunt” from the comments, if you’ve been reading for a while) came through town tonight, on the way from PA to pick up their daughter at Dulles airport. My cousin’s returning from nearly a year with her boyfriend in New Zealand… he’s from there, but they met in Korea when they went there to teach English. He’s finishing up a teaching course there, and she’s taking one here this summer.
So, her flight doesn’t land till after midnight, so the relatives dropped in and brought dinner – and dessert! That’s fun on a Monday, I tell ya.
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On tonight’s dog walk, which I volunteered to do because I am all about the exercise now, I observed the first fireflies of the season. May seems early to me – it seems it hasn’t been warm enough for long enough yet, but there they were in all their blinky glory. I also heard the chirpy singing of the frogs that live in the neighbors’ back yards – another sure sign of springtime in our neighborhood.
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Last week, I started the 30-day Shred. I’ve only done it twice, and I’m fixin’ to do it tomorrow morning. I’d forgotten how much better I feel when I start my day with exercise first thing. It’s just super-hard to overcome the inherent gravity of my comfy bed. Anyway, it’s not all that interesting, but I started a separate page where I’ll track my progress with each installment. Until I get bored of it. Meaning bored of the tracking, not the Shred. Unless I get bored of that, too…
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Tomorrow morning I’m having this giant, hideous goiter tumor skin tag removed from my neck. It appeared at some point when I was in the midst of my childbearing years. It wasn’t all that bad until my necklaces started catching on it. Also, babies like to touch it, and that skeeves me out. DON’T TOUCH.
So last week I went to get my hair done and mentioned to my stylist that I was going to have it removed. She said she removed one from someone’s eyelid simply by tying a hair around it, which cut off the blood flow, causing the growth to dry up and fall off. I threw up in my mouth a little bit, then assured her I felt its size warranted professional intervention by a trained medical practitioner.
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While I was at the salon, I was waiting for my shampoo. The customer before me in line sat down and announced to the Shampoo Lady, “I’m one of those people who doesn’t like to have their hair washed.” (I have never heard of “those people.” Have you?) Shampoo Lady silently pursed her lips, mostly (I’m guessing) owing to the fact that her Spanish was way better than her English. Then the customer continued, “I can do it all right by myself… but I have a very sensitive scalp.”
The customer suffered through the horrible torture, which the Shampoo Lady brought to a swift and merciful end. Then Shampoo Lady beckoned me to her chair at the sink.
“I loooooove a good shampoo,” I said to her. “My scalp is not sensitive at all!” I winked at her to make sure she understood that I had overheard the exchange with Mrs. Sensitive Scalp.
As Shampoo Lady rolled her eyes and shook her head, she replied, simply, “NO IS CLEAN,” in reference to the previous occupant of her chair. Then she lathered, rinsed, repeated, and gave me a nice scalp massage with the conditioner.
“Thank you,” I gushed. “That was a GREAT shampoo,” I told her, winking again.