Let's get down to brass tacks folks:
I stink at blogging.
I am aware.
Allow me to catch you up.
First, we enjoyed a nice visit from Pepaw & Grandma Cindy.
We were out and about all week, experiencing the sites and sounds of Monterey.
Like the sunset over the Pacific.
...and two trips to the aquarium, the Fisherman's Wharf, Carmel, Point Lobos, Pebble Beach, parks, Cannery Row...
I'm going to need to hermit for several weeks to make up for all of the out-and-about-ness.
This is what every morning looked like:
Poor Pepaw couldn't get any personal space. And he didn't even like Busytown Mysteries.
Derek is still dumbfounded by that fact, as there is nothing more interesting to him than the mystery that Huckle and Lowly are investigating.
Speaking of Derek.
He is almost unbearably loveable.
It is a fact.
Even when he's dressed like a tiny-infant-baby, preppy dork.
I don't know from whence this outfit came, but it takes a special kid to pull off a tie-sweatervest-shorts combo. I think he gave it a fair shake.
This outfit kind of says to me that I'm more likely to be sporting a "My kid's on the honor roll" bumper sticker, than a "My kid beat up your honor roll student" sticker.
I wont make him wear it to school.
And no, my bed is not made. Who do you take me for? Holly Homemaker?
Also. The Spanish subjunctive. It's a mood, not a tense.
But it's making me tense and moody, so if any of you understand it feel free to give me tutelage.
Did you know that my children start school in 5 weeks and 3 days? 'Tis true.
Alex and I finished A Little Princess, and have moved on to The Ordinary Princess.
I'm beginning to sense a theme to our reading.
So Friday evening was not my finest hour.
I had just about had it with my hair. I've needed a haircut for several weeks and kept forgetting to ask around for recommendations for salons. I googled a few in the area, and then promptly weeded them out because I'm too cheap to pay 60 dollars for a haircut.
My hair is really not that complicated.
So when Josh got home from work, I decided that I was just going to walk to a family haircut place around the corner. What's the worst that could happen, right?
I would provide you with a picture of the worst that could happen but my vanity prevents me.
I have never cried after a haircut before, but I was wee close on Friday.
People, I look like a mushroom.
And I like that tasty fungus as much as the next guy, but I don't want to look like it.
Oh, and guess who has a passport appointment coming up?
It's going to be 10 years before I can live down my mushroom 'do.
I realize that there are real problems in the world, and so after I take another moment of silence for the small-scale tragedy that has befallen my follicles, I will move on.
This is me moving on. To bed.