TTD

Okay, first things first…meaning, I have to type it while it’s top of mind so I don’t forget once I get on with my ramblings…

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Mein Haar ist dunkel…ja, das ist gut!

Well, it’s official. I’m dark for winter. My hair, that is. Dark dark dark. Kinda shocking at first, but I’m getting used to it. Being a raven-haired beauty, that is. Actually, I’m more of a chestnut-haired beauty, but who’s nitpicking? Really, I think I just look even paler now. The dark hair is a great excuse, though, to wear “big” make-up. I have darker brows now, because no-brows combined with dark hair make one look like little orphan Annie in the black and white comic strip. Not very attractive. So, I put on my darker brows this morning (how come men never have to put on brows?!), and then played around with my lipstick. Turns out that I can now wear the brighter colors. Well, actually, I have to or my mouth disappears altogether. Also not attractive.

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Houston, we have a tooth coming in

Last night we went to the ballgame to celebrate Uncle Milt’s birthday. Dad/Grandpa Z bought us a whole group of bleacher seats and we all surprised Milt by meeting them there. It was a great time. Perfect night, and great to see the field from a different vantage point. Cardinals were hot, too, and we got to see yet another stellar game by Carp. Mom/Grandma Z even caught a ball tossed by the Astros centerfielder after he warmed up!

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Perhaps

It’s a rather gloomy Monday, which sorta fits my mood right now. No particular reason to be gloomy really, just feeling a bit Eeyore-ish.

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Oh…so THAT’S what she ate for dinner

There are many great things about family. But, two of the best things happened tonight. We went out to eat for Uncle Milt’s birthday and our baby, precious little girl, blew chunks at the table (that’s not the best thing that happened…stick with me…I’m getting to it). This tiny creature has the worst gag reflex I’ve ever seen, and that last little bit of pasta triggered it. Anyway, our whole family looked at us with sympathy, a collective “been there…cleaned that up” sort of look. Then the womenfolk kicked in and helped. There was no judging or looks of disgust or comments about how we must be idiot parents for shoveling that last spoonful of mostaccioli in her piehole. How cool is that?!

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One…two…three!

Well, things are looking up. I’m not despising my own work any more, and am back to being somewhat pleased with it and ready to hang it around the house. The only issue now is that my picture-hangin’ dude wiped himself out in the yard today and is in no state to drill into the walls of our house. That project will have to wait until another day.

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Shots in the arm and the ego

Date Night was good. Dinner at Brio, then off to the St. Louis Art Fair. M was disappointed, as his two favorite artists were not in attendance, those being “The Rollercoaster Ball Guy” and “The Curvy Furniture Guy.” I, however, got to see a few good photographers, two or three really great photographers, and a couple crappy ones. The other art media were well represented too, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that I tend to hone in on the photographic arts. We were home by a little after nine, and spent until midnight putzing around.

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Celebrate life, don’t mourn it

I’m really tired of funerals. Really. I’m tired of learning of the passing of loved ones and friends. I suppose I’m hitting the age where I will be learning of this more and more, and it sure does stink.

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