New shoes, yay!

I got new sneakers yesterday, because the new ones I got a month ago hurt my feet under heavy use. Yes, I should have figured that out when I picked them up.

Anyway! Ron & I hunted down a Payless, because we usually have luck there, and not only did I find the world’s most comfortable pair of walking sneakers, when we got the the checkout, the clerk informed me they were HALF OFF.

You can gaze at their awesomeness here - Payless Champion slip on walking sneakers.

They are like gloves for my feet, they are so comfy.

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When I am rich, part 2523

I recently upgraded the blgo software to WordPress 2.5. Yes, I know I said I hated the backend, but it kinda grew on me. I also wanted to use the Batch Categories plugin.

Only problem is, while I can filter entries by category, I can’t actually batch edit categories on entires, like you can in MovableType. I swear, that the only thing I miss about MT. If I am presented with a list of entries to edit, I should not have to go to each single entry and change one thing.

I also now have tags, but you don;t know it by reading the entires, but just by the inadequate sampling of some converted categories-to-tags in the sidebar tag cloud.

So. When I win a bajillion dollars, one thing I will do is hire myself a personal editor to read through my entire blog, correcting my spelling & grammer, categorize and tagging all my entries. Partly so I can find things later when I go looking for something. (Why yes, my blogs *is* my personal memory bank.)

I suspect I will make someone very wealthy.


Well twit this

I can’t say I’ve been completely quiet. I have to admit, much of my casual online conversation has been hapening over at my twitter account.

What’s twitter? Well.. it’s like a chat room. A really really big chat room. Linking you with your friends and people you want to socialize with. All in 140 characters or less. It’s all I have the brain & time for these days. Actually, I think it’s a great social networking tool, and if I can ever get a couple of my own sites launched I’ll have an instant viral push. I have even been networking with top people in different media, business & blogging circles.

I digress! And too much with the business-speak here, coming from my mouth. All to tell you I turned on some buttons and things, and you’ll now at least get a daily digest update of the things I have typed in over there at Twitter.

*whew*

(Oh, and pre-emptive apologies to those who follow me on twitter and will see them twice. It’s my mom, see. She has to know I’m alive and doing something somewhere.)


Pick your fave underwear, donate to cervical cancer research

I meant to write about this way sooner I did. I was all jazzed to and everything, because I thought that someone from HerRoom.com had hunted me down specifically becasue of my illness all last year.

Nope. They just googeled me on twitter. And then sent an automated email. I know this because I got a duplicate a few days later, but from someone else entirely.

While crushing to my ego, it doesn’t dim the fact that they are holding The Undies an “awards” ceremony for your favorite underwear. Each vote will be matched with a donation, up to $100,000. Last year they got 12,000 votes.

So for a small cancer that can actually be prevented, there’s still more work to be done. I know some people are on the fence about Gardasil, and this is one way that you can help bring more funds for more research.

Click away!


I can finally shut up about my hair

(although I probably won’t because I also want to color it. Anyway.)

Yesterday, after 13 long months, I finally got my hair cut. I figure you are just as relieved as I am. I walked into one of those strip-mall walk-in places - Magic Cuts I think, I keep calling it wrong and giving Sarah an anuerism. Meaghan & Emma wanted to wait in the car and look over the yard sale stuff we got at a previous stop. Yes, this area has Friday yard sales and we had hit a good one on the way in, first of the season.

At any rate, my butt had barely warmed the hard plastic chair and I was being ushered over to the cushy haircutting chair. Natasha, the sign informed me, was ready to serve me with her professionally made-up and styled self. I caught sight of her French manicure and felt decidedly frumpy.

“What would you like today?” she asked, and I was more than happy to give direction. Short back and sides, not quite enough for clippers this time, leave the top with a bit of bang and enough to run my fingers through.

Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm…” she said as she scrutinized my head. “Why don’t I start, and we’ll check as we go along?”

Okay then.

I chattered away as she made her initial cuts, stopping once in the back to check the length of the beauty-school T along the crown. “This good?” I told her we’d start there and if she had to trim a bit, that’d be fine. I continued to try and fill the silence and hopefully give her direction. Initially to me she seemed unsure, and that is not always a good sign. Least of all when someone is near your head with scissors.

Think eighties Madonna I said. She couldn’t remember. Okay then, how about Billy Idol but not as short and masculine? Besides, I been there done that. I resisted to the urge to try and convince her I really was not trying to relive my youth, just going for a cut I know works for me.

She snipped away, checking in every few steps with me. No wispys on the face, clean up around the ears, yes. Just like that. We verified bang length and as I was telling her about the Best Hairdresser I ever had (back in high school, again, not trying to relive anything I SWEAR) I realized her furrowed brow was not unsureness, but had along the way turned into a Personal Challenge for her. She was going to follow my directions and she was going to have fun with it, dangit.

Besides, when she got to the top, I had told her that aide from length here and here, she could do whatever she wanted to the top. Her eyes lit and she dug into my hair with comb and scissors as if she was competing for the title of Top Hairstylist in my mind.

Sarah had come in a couple times to see my progress and leave pithy comments. We were nearing the end. The thinning shears had come out for up top and the sculpting mud was going on. Last time I styled my hair I had two option: gel and hair spray. Sculpting mud? Okay then. Playdoh my head.

I enjoyed the fingers massaging my weary head. I enjoyed the *cough* grey *cough* hairs left on the floor, more than what was left on my head. I felt light-headed in a good way. I felt like spring.

“Wow, Mom you look younger!” I opened my eyes to Sarah’s grin. Natasha the hairdresser was triumphantly holding the mirror so I could see the back. My fuzzy vision reached for glasses and I looked in the mirrors.

“Oh,” I said, “this is *cute*!”

“It suits your personality,” she declared. I raised an eyebrow at Natasha’s reflection. “When I wasn’t talking, I was listening.”

Ahhh. And indeed it does and she did.

When she rung up my total ($13) I asked if they did tips, “Oh honey we sure do,” she replied.

“Make it fifteen then.” I’ll be back.

hair! cut! cropped!


Allergic to cleaning, for reals

I’m a little under the weather today. I cleaned the living room last night, inhaled the dust off the floor (not on purpose), and woke up at 3am with breathing issues. It has made for a somewhat cranky and brain-loopy day.

Sarah has tried to cheer my up by splitting a can of Pepsi with me. She has a secret stash in her room. I’m not sure if it’s working, but it tastes good.

I just remembered I have a chocolate stash here at my desk. Which I also cleaned off last night, just so I could work.

I’ve also just realized I am sitting here in a t-shirt, the stove is off, and I’m not cold. Methinks winter is probably over. (I’d also like to note I *am* wearing pants as well. Just in case you thought otherwise.)




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