Tebow Love
I’m not one for the religious types but I read this article on ESPN and the only thing I could think of is that the world seriously needs more Tebow(s).
” Here you are, about to play a game that the world says is the most important thing in the world. Win and they praise you. Lose and they crush you. And here I have a chance to talk to the coolest, most courageous people. It puts it all into perspective. ” – Tim Tebow
Monday Night
He’s eating pizza and I made myself a Quesadilla.
I had the brilliant thought of buying salsa some weeks ago when it was on sale, knowing it just had to be in stock for when this magical night arrived. I should have put the pizza actually on the pizza pan but instead went straight to the racks and things ended messily. Spent a lot of time hacking off pieces of crust from the bottom of the oven and the rack itself. Then karma got me and my dinner took slightly longer than expected because there was an incident involving Coyote and is microwave.
It was love…sparks flew. And then just like a woman she got comfortable and stopped working.
So my dinner was baked instead of nuked.
We may not replace the Microwave. Currently crushing hard on this ‘hippie-love-and-eliminate-all-toxins-and-put-the-cats-on-a-raw-diet’ kind of phase. As I get older I get more granola. This comes naturally and genetically from my mother who has been ahead of the curve environmentally for years.
I may need to get the cats a fishing boat to catch their own food.
We also need to move to a lake then.
Just last week we stumbled upon terrifying facts regarding Blistex and we all immediately ditched our medicated lip balms for their natural counterparts. This then snowballed in to a ban of parabens, petro products and sulfates. In times like these kids…read the labels. And google incessantly. And watch your recycle bin fill up with toxic castaways.
I have to get an x-ray tomorrow…chest congestion. I make art everytime I cough.
Isn’t that a nice romantic way of looking at it?
How was your Monday night?
Weave + Me = Friends #firstworldproblems
First World Problems. Sorry. I’m a brat.
I have been a bathroom chemist now for months, all in the name of preserving and proper parenting of my weave/hair extensions. I have saran wrapped my head and blown multiple weekly spending allowances on hair products more times than I will ever admit. Mesmerized by the promises of smoothing, damage reversal…miracle claims in their own right.
All in the name of vanity.
And writing this article specifically. No no really, I do this all for you and vanity, first world problems to the point where I need to begin a weekly monetary charitable donation to offset my karma and make up for all this drivel.
So without further adieu, things my scalp and I have recently learned;
1.) Moroccan Oil, Macadamia Oil and Argan Oil, serums our weave saviours. I douse my weave at least once a day, usually before bed and brush through thoroughly. The only downfall is getting this on my already grease-prone hair so I concentrate exclusively on the weave itself top to bottom and the ends.
2.) Brush, brush, brush, brush, brush. What are you doing later? (You better answer brushing.) Brush that hair ten times a day, I use a paddle brush and flip my head upside down to ensure I am getting the hair under the weave, beside the weave, on top of the weave and so forth. I find also wearing some collars, hoods and hats and wind damage to really take the life out of lengths so brush every chance you get.
3.) Satin scarves and pillowcase = good thing. Make like a Baba and babushka overnight to avoid any friction between weave and pillowcases of the non-slippery variety.
4.) The evening before the wash. This is a big one, a very integral time in the saga that is weave ownership. Block off a good half hour just before slithering in to beddies and arm yourself with deep conditioners. Apply generously to lengths of hair and work through with fingers. Your hair should be saturated. Tie that mess of greased up tresses with coated no-metal hair wraps and spend some quality time heating up your melon with the blow-dryer. Quickly now after the dryer has warmed up your noodle, saran wrap your head. Add a terry cloth turban for even more help (the heat generated from your big throbbing brain will help this process) and get in to the sack. Start counting sheep and sleep.
5.) Washing; Shampoo as usual. I lather up twice a week, sometimes only even once with just a conditioning rinse halfway through the week to freshen everything up. Again, conditioning is everything, in my experience the best way to get these puppies all conditioned up is run the conditioner through the length of the extensions with your fingers, no brush, no comb, just meticulous application of conditioner from root to tip using pinched fingers.
6.) Once out of the shower squeeze as much water out of your hair as possible somewhat gently. I then apply my oil, concentrating on the ends and then wrap in a microfiber towel to dry as much as possible before blow-drying. The more it air drys the better, the less heat styling and your weave will thank you.
Some products I reco, a lot of these are great too for severely damaged hair;
Moroccan Oil, I find the regular (not light) variety to be best for the extensions.
Living Proof Restore Shampoo and Conditioner as well as the mask treatment which is worth it’s weight in gold, the perfect thing to use before bed.
A super good paddle brush, there is nothing better to assist in blow-drying that weave of yours in to full lengthy glory.
So there you have it, instant vain gratification all wrapped in a pretty oily babushka.
I’m The Boss!
I know I am not alone in this. But I may be the first who is going to put my foot down on this issue once and for all.
Crystalee and Chili, my furkids, adore curling up with me at night, ready for a good solid ten minutes of under the chin scratching and general adoration before sleeptime. The feeling is certainly mutual, I look forward to this time each day we set aside for feline-human interaction and snuggling. I may be slightly biased but I think my little furpants snugglebunnies are the cutest furbuckets around.
But after the ten minutes…
This is not comfortable. And instead of being an adult and telling those two to take a hike I lay there like an idiot all boxed in, sweating from all the body heat. But I can’t get myself to move…because I actually feel bad for them having to move. Why? This is craziness! What am I a doormat?
I feed them! I fish out their bowel movements from sand boxes I put in the house for them! I only buy all natural litter because I worry about toxins! I buy holistic cat food! I buy the best treats, freeze dried shrimp, smoked salmon jerky! Am I an employee or are we equals here?
Gone are the mornings where I will awake with a neck bent on a 90 degree angle. I will no longer suffer from some mystical nocturnal traction due to sleeping in an ‘S’ shape. I will stop contorting myself and putting up with early morning toe attacks. No, we cannot make a pillow cave every night I don’t have that kind of time.
I will disturb those two furballs without question from now on.
This is one of my new years resolutions.
An Apple A Day
I switched teams.
I did it.
A little birthday gift to myself, a treat ironically of not being in debt.
Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce Ipaddington. An Apple product of small proportions that encompasses the greatest technology known to Tinka O’Curry.
Mr. I. Paddington travelled a long, arduous journey from China to allow me to remote blog and play Bejewelled Blitz before bed every evening. Productivity, which was supposed to increase by leaps and bounds, temporarily plummeted thanks to the free Sims app. What a marvellous town, full of simmy eccentrics all requiring babysitting and food and employment and a town hall and I don’t have time for a life, a job and to be mayor of a fictional town. Who does? I had to be a big girl and delete that application for the good of blog stats and production.
Next is the Iphone.
I was instantly pleased in my dealings with I ordered the Ipad during the only sale day on the Apple calender, not a huge discount but that $61.00 I saved will come in handy around Christmas time. So I order the Ipad and almost pee from excitement, I get a thank you page. I feel like I made the right decision, I chose the best quote to engrave thanks to Bob Dylan – “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” Hello contentment.
Email confirmation to follow shortly.
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Nothing.
It’s been 32 minutes, surely this isn’t right.
Being a spaz and a ball of hormones I of course have to call customer support. No wait time on hold I might add and I explain to the very nice southern gentleman that I have not received an order confirmation and because the sale is only one day I really would like to ensure I have purchased the Ipad and saved myself all of $60.00 which I will likely spend thricefold at my local Apple Store. And I know it’s Black Friday and very busy but still because of the automated system this confirmation should be easy peasy… don’t you think? Surely tired of this inquiry he asks when I placed my order, I respond, 38 minutes ago.
Immediately feel stupid. Stoopid.
In typical southern gentleman fashion the nice man who gets paid by Apple politely reassures me that on Black Friday, the sheer amount of orders can slightly delay my order confirmation. But as long as I see the Thank You screen after order placement my Ipad is in the queue. And to relax. And congratulations on my new Ipad!
It makes me warm and fuzzy that level of customer service it does.
I adore you Ipaddington. You have taken me from mousing to touch screen. From tethered to an outlet to completely portable. I’m a convert, something I said I would never but here we are. Thanks Steve, you have changed the internetting for me.
Hare
Pulling a rabbit out of a hat:
a.) To preform magic.
b.) To provide a surprising solution to a problem.
c.) A tattoo by Paul Wolk on the thigh (like what what what) of Christinka O’Curry.
Based upon the illustration by Bill Brown in a book called Swell by Cynthia Rowley and Ilene Rosenzweig.
Armed with way too many sour candies to count Coyote and I headed to the big city to see Paul. Upon reading the insert and side effects carefully listed in the Emla cream package I decided against using it, why complicate things further? In saying that however the pictures of me clutching Paul with a pained look on my face have been deleted.
It was my first tattoo and I’m not going to be a hero. It hurt. It wasn’t unbearable and I became quite fine with it a couple of minutes in. Paul and Coyote did a hell of a job talking to me about other things to stop concentrating on the pain.
I was fine with just black and white but Paul is the artists and even though I really don’t like red I love what he added to it.
I adore it. Had to get one before I turned 30. A little monumental memory from my 20′s…magical!












