2nd annual gift card giveaway

Since y’all have been such a  faithfully, fenomenal audience … sorry, THEY ALL HAD TO START WITH AN ‘F’ … or it wouldn’t be phair, now would it?

Okay, folks it’s early and I wanted to get this blog posted lickety split. Y’all get what ya get from me this morning.

Anyhoo.

My blog stats this year tell me that for whatever reason, y’all are still here and reading.  And I’m grateful. 

Really, REALLY grateful. 

And.  Not to mention a wee bit shocked.  So.  In honor of your kindness and overwhelming indulgence of my little, shall we say … hobby … I’m again holding a gift card giveway this year.  Just my little way of saying thank you so awfully much.

Last year the winner received a Starbucks gift card.  This year I’m giving away a $15 Barnes & Noble gift card (just so ya’ll can buy some real literature).

RULES
(yeah … sorry, but it wouldn’t be life without rules)

1.   Contest begins right now.  Well, after I hit submit and this blog posts so y’all know what the heck we’re doing. 

2.  Contest ends Wednesday, 12/16 @ 12:00 midnight EST.  For all you West Coasters, that would be 9:00 pm Wednesday evening.

3.  To enter all you have to do is post a comment on my Facebook and count off.  For example:  First person posts ‘#1’, second person posts ‘#2’ … and so on, each taking the next sequential number.

IMPORTANT:  SO THE COMMENTS DON’T GET STREWN ALL OVER HELL’S HALF ACRE, PLEASE POST YOUR NUMBER ONLY UNDER THE (1) THREAD I’M STARTING ON FACEBOOK.

4.  Each person gets one number per day.

5.  I will select a random number at the end of the contest and announce the winner Thursday morning.

Any questions, please message me on Facebook.

I dig y’all.  And I’m WAY appreciative of your support. 

Mwwwaah.

PS:  For the record, I know phenomenal doesn’t
start with an ‘F’, my phriends.

hair-oics

Got my hair trimmed this weekend.     

PLEASE ALERT THE MEDIA.

And before Anderson Cooper breaks the riveting story on CNN tomorrow, I’m gonna give y’all the inside scoop.  My life has become an ongoing, circular struggle to be stoicly patient as my hair proceeds to lengthen in a natural fashion versus having to make an emergency visit with my stylist because I’ve taken shears to my own hair.  With somewhat less than stellar results.

Hard to believe, I KNOW.  After all those years I spent in cosmetology school, studying my guts out?  All for naught.

AHEM.

In my defense, I find it unfathomable that I carry the singular distinction of being the one and only woman on the planet that gets frustrated with her hair and decides to do a little, shall we say, self improvement outside the confines of a professional salon.  The definition of ‘improvement’, of course, being measured on a rather slippery scale.

I REFUSE TO CARRY THIS BURDEN ALONE, LADIES.

But.  I generally have issues with The Bangs.  Having super thick hair with a wee bit o’wave, the bangs are generally the first to get a bit unruly.  A little thick, a little chunky. 

AND A WHOLE LOT ANNOYING.

Being a Get ‘Er Done Kinda Gal, it would be completely out of character for me not to take some sort of action to set things to right.  Yes, I am well aware my first line of defense should be to pick up the phone and make a hair appointment.  But often said Hair Dilema occurs at 6:30 am during the course of getting ready for work.   And really, who can I call at that hour of dawn for a Little Bit O’Help?  

Wow.

That sounded awfully defensive, didn’t it?  My apologies for Snarky Comment to Cover Embarrassment. 

Sadly with a wealth of experience in Bad Home Hair Trimming y’all would think I would have a better handle on such impulsivity.  But I don’t.  And I can’t remember a single time when I would have won an award for my scissoring efforts.  Oh sure, the first day it looks okay.  The next morning … oddly not so much.  Which then requires me to trim a little more.  And so on.  Umm. 

AND SO ON AGAIN.

Now. You’re talking about a woman who grew up with the 1970’s pixie haircuts.   Pixie haircuts are about as short as you can get without being regarded as a boy. I recall wearing alot of culottes and dresses during my childhood, whether it had anything to do with warding off mistaken identity or not, I can’t recall.  However, I am pleased to report that never once as a young girl did I ever take scissors to my hair because of unruly bangs. 

NOT ONCE.

I think my mom was onto Something Big there.

Ultimately after my Experiments in the Realm of Things I Know Nothing About I have to face my stylist.  Sometimes I go to a different stylist.

JUST BECAUSE IT’S WAY TOO PAINFUL TO SEE THE PUZZLEMENT
ON HER FACE AS SHE EXAMINES MY HAIR. 

Ya’ll think I’m kidding?

I can tell the poor girl is thinking, ‘OH MY GOODNESS, DID I DO THIS?!  Did I really charge her?!’  Sometimes I pretend like my hair naturally grew out all weird and terribly uneven from the time I saw her last.  ‘Genetics, Allison.  My great-grandmother had the same issues. She was lucky she wore bonnets.’  The more solemn you are when you say this, I think the more believable it makes it.

The bright side to my foibles is that when I leave the salon with a fashionable haircut, it must make my stylist feel like a Super Hero. 

Saving me from myself … one haircut at a time.

these boots are made for walkin’

Every now and then I get a bee in my bonnet about the whole, ya know …
Issue of Exercise.  I can’t emphasize this strongly enough, folks.  Therefore.  Let me repeat myself. 

EVERY NOW AND THEN.

So.  When the weather began to turn cooler The Husband and I began a Discourse on Outdoor Exercising.  I realize this statement would imply that I actually have an indoor exercise plan which would be … well … a Big Fat Lie.  The Husband, who’s mightily focused, has such an Indoor Plan.  Me?  Not so much.  I believe I’ve told y’all before … I HATE TO SWEAT.

However.  As summer waned and the mercury slithered ever downward I sensed my House of Excuses was beginning to crumble.  Now that it’s December, I GOT NUTTIN’. 

So.  I am pleased to report that, as of yesterday, I have officially completed a third day of  walking.

THIRD DAY OF WALKING.

Did y’all get that?  THIRD DAY … Okay. I’ll stop.

Anyhooo.

Lest you be of the misguided belief that walking is not considered Real Exercise, please note that I am a very uncoordinated individual.  Walking is a relatively safe mode of movement that requires no particular skills.  I am of the firm opinion that the bi-pedal adaptation of humans coupled with a slow gait was designed specifically with yours truly in mind.

THANKYOUANDAMEN.

Now.  I’d say you can’t get hurt walking, however, I’ve actually hoofed it right into a pick-up truck on one of my excursions.  A parked pick-up truck.  I wish I could say I was kidding. 

STOP LAUGHING.

About a year or so ago I was traipsing down the street, engrossed in babbling to The Husband and gesticulating wildly like the Italian I am not.  Dadgum it if the fender wasn’t right there for the taking. 

Mark the experience down as VERY STARTLING.

Alright.

After that insanely Bad Experience that buggered up my knee for a few days, I haven’t exercised.  Yes.  It really doesn’t take much to derail me.  But.  This weekend we committed to Outdoor Exercising and oh gosh, what fun we’ve had.

Winter walking presents a bevy of considerations, not the least of which is the issue of  keeping warm.  Having not worn a hat of any sort in let’s say a gatrillion years plus one, I was rather less than enthused to begin the barbaric practice.

IT MESSES UP MY HAIR.

And when I put it on Youngest Son laughed and said … OUT LOUD … ‘Mom, you look like a dork!’.  Wow.  Thank you for your continued support.  This from a kid who wears odd color clothing together unless directed to the contrary.  Geesh.

Yeah.  That was mean. 

BUT HE STARTED IT.

Directly following the Hat that Makes Mom look like a dork statement, there came a commentary about the shoes.  I have a very white, very new, very-much-not-used pair of white running shoes.   Let’s pause for a moment and imagine yours truly buying pair of running shoes.  Y’all can’t, can you?  It was quite a momentous day, I assure you.  A day filled with Promise and Good Intentions.

However.  I am not a lace-up shoes kinda gal.  My closet is full of shoes sans laces.  Running shoes with laces tend to bother me.  I’m either tying them too tight so they don’t slip or not tying them tight enough and I get blisters.  And.  If I tie them too tight, which is the way I tend to roll, after about 3 miles my feet are numb. 

I SWEAR I’M NOT BEING DRAMATIC HERE.

Completely numb.  It’s difficult, if not entirely impossible, to walk when you can’t feel your extremities.  Try it sometime.  Then please take a moment to drop me a postcard with your observations. 

So in lieu of the laced shoes, I opt for a nifty pair of Dr. Scholls suede slip-on athletic shoes.  Being a color one would describe as taupe, Color Stupid Son, thought they were hysterically funny with my walking outfit.  Bad Hat.  Bad Shoes.

OHMYGAWD.

My fervent hope is that it rains and/or snows alot this season thereby rendering  the continuation of my Walking Endeavors utterly futile.

But.  That’s a secret.