tobermory's Diaryland Diary

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True bliss is breathing unimpeded through your nose

Jay-sus. I hab a code. And PMS. Best be stayiní away from me for the remainder of the week while I get over my case of the crankies and do my best to boot the phlegm troll out of my nose. I had a feeling this was coming on when I went running on Monday with Megan (thatís Day 2 of this yearís running program for those of you counting) and I was making ample use of the (pick your favorite): army blow, farmerís hankie, or snot rocket. Go me. Luckily some shred of my body must have sensed the onslaught because for once in my life I have enough food in my house to feed Steve, myself, and any horde of maraudering Vikings that happen to storm the hovel. I made a cauldron of stew on Saturday afternoon, I have a vat of Bolognese sauce from my mom, I have jambalaya fixinís, Steve brought home a tub of split pea soup last night, the fridge is stocked with loads of veggies to make my diet fiberlicious, and enough fruit to keep me hepped up on vitamin C for the duration. Grocery foresight of this magnitude does not often happen at Chez Hovel. Normal operating procedure is to stop at the grocery store every other day to pick whatever lunch and dinner ingredients are lacking or have gone bad in the deep recesses of the refrigerator and been reduced to frightening mossy lumps that snarl and snap when you peer into their Tupperware containers. I should enjoy it while it lasts since as we all know grocery shopping is a never ending process and next week it will have to start all over again.

So, Iím on a quest to grow out my eyebrows again. Yes, you read that right, my eyebrows. I have an ugly secret to confess. I am an obsessive plucker. Iím not sure exactly how it started. I looked at a few pictures of me in my grade school days and somewhere around 5th grade I went from having what I would call Ďstrong browsí to a mild monobrow. Now weíre not talking scary out of control wiry old-man eyebrows or anything, just a bit thicker and closer together than was the beauty standard of the time. At some point I think I remember having my eyebrows waxed Ė maybe for 8th grade graduation? After that I took up the torch, or should I say tweezers, and ran. And ran. Donít get me wrong, I donít have Joan Crawford teensy little arched deelies, but theyíre not as natural as I would like and I have to do a fair amount of contouring with various products to make them appear more full and lush. I have been known to get so frenzied in my attempts to get THAT ONE FREAKING HAIR that I have created craters of nastyness that take a make-up artistís talent to hide. So anyway, as part of my order from BlissLabs I bought some sort of eyebrow lipocil stuff that is supposed to stimulate growth. If this doesnít work Iíve heard that dabbing Rogaine on the area where eyebrows once were can make them rejuvenate. Iíve also ĖGASP- put down the tweezers and backed away. For now. I figure I can let everything go au natural and then go to a pro and have them shaped for real and then let someone do the maintenance for me. This is going to be worse than trying to stop biting my nails. Iíll be sure to keep you posted on the progress.

The Demeter perfume people have cheesed off Megan and I to no end. They had a sale recently and it was much blogged about by all the biggest journalers and bloggers and Megan and I had to get in on the low-cost girlie action. Apparently so did everyone. Demeter must have been totally overwhelmed by all the orders and their puny shipping department has not caught up with the backlog. Our stuff has not arrived and it supposedly shipped two weeks ago. There are a few scenarios of what happened to the box oífine smelling goodness. Perhaps it did not ship yet. Perhaps it was stolen off of Meganís porch. Perhaps the Postal Service has taken it hostage, thinking that the rattle of many bottles sounds suspiciously terrorist-esque. If itís the latter theyíre in for a big surprise when they blow up that package and all the scents that smell fabulous and intriguing when they are used separately commingle into one giant stink bomb. Laundromat and angel food cake and martini all mixed together Ė P-U!

Tonight is an archery range night and for once Iím not looking forward to it. Iím achy from the cold and I feel cranky and weak and the prospect of pulling 60 arrows for this weekís 600 round are just not thrilling me. Blah. I think I can get Megan to drive so at least I can zone out in the car, and we can eat at Mama Thai after. Yes, it is a sin to eat out with all the good food I have at my house right now, but shaddup because I need the Tom Yum spicyness to clear out my nasal passages. Stew may be comforting, but its snot dissolving properties are few.

Iíll be back tomorrow as long as I donít drown in my own phlegm in my sleep.

3:36 p.m. - 2004-03-24

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