Hey Jakey,

I managed to successfully avoid the computer for three whole days.

Ever notice (well, probably not, cuz you're not old enough to blog yet...) that as things happen in life, they seem soooooo blog-worthy. Then, the next day, not so much.

Anyway. Here's the last few days in a nutshell:

Monday Woke up early-ish this morning, feeling pretty good about myself. Ready to face another work week. Opened the bedroom door, caught a whiff of something weird, did not have enough time to high-tail it to my bathroom, managed to puke in the kitchen sink. It was downhill from there.

Got to work, opened my email to find photos of myself from the parade on Saturday. I have become, without one iota of exageration, as big as a house. Spun into a deep depression for the rest of the day.

Sunday Father's Day! Called my daddy and talked a little bit, and was later coerced into talking to your other grandpa (daddy's stepdad) for a little bit. Your daddy called his "real" daddy, which put him in a bad mood. Other than that, not a bad day. We had pizza, played in the hose, watched some DVDs and just tried to stay cool, spending lots of quality time under the air conditioner in the back room.

Saturday Went to the rodeo parade downtown. Thought I was cute. But apparently not (see above). I was decked out in a cowboy hat and western-style shirt. Why-oh-why didn't someone tell me I looked like the StaPuft Marshmallow Man (in a jaunty cowboy hat)?!?!?!?

Couldn't waste a trip all the way to Reno, so afterwards, went to Best Buy to get your daddy's Father's Day present (season one of Scrubs) and to Toys R Us to get you bubbles and blocks.

Friday My alcoholic-convict-chronically late hairdresser did my hair. What a fiasco. I love her to death, but sometimes she can be such a trial.

I kinda played hooky Friday, and took an early appt to get my hair done, which was waaaaay overdue. I looked like a shaggy dog.

The appt was for 9 am. She got there at 10:30. Okay, any sane woman would've left at least an hour before that. At least. But my hairdresser is on the north side of the lake, a little over an hour's drive when there's no traffic or road construction. When there *is* traffic and road construction, like there was on Friday, it takes an hour and 45 minutes. Regardless, I was there on time. Now, knowing K (my lovely hairdresser), I expected her to be a little late. When she had suggested a 9 am appointment, I scoffed at her, knowing that she couldn't POSSIBLE drag her ass out of bed before 10. But she insisted.

So of course she's late. The receptionist (who's a dead-ringer for Jaime Pressly, and quite intimidating) keeps asking me if I want to re-schedule. Of course I don't. I just drove two hours to be there, and I don't want to drive two hours *again* at a later date. So I wait. And wait. Thinking to myself that I've GOT to find another hair dresser. It's not like this is the first time she's done this to me.

But you know why I don't? Because she's that good. And because I'm terrified of anyone else. See, before I found K, about 4 years or so ago, I cut my own hair, or had your daddy do it, for about 10 years. I had straight-across bangs, and blunt-cut, bra-strap length in the back. Very boring. And then a friend recommended K, who introduced me to layers and colors and conditioners, and feeling good about myself and my hair. So, basically, I'm trapped. But she's so darn cute, and so darn talented, that I'm loathe to look elsewhere.

But K was having an off day on Friday. The first round of color turned out to be kind of an electric blue. She claimed it was purple, like I usually get, but it wasn't. ELECTRIC blue. So I freaked and had her re-do the color. Then while I'm sitting there, I realize that I didn't like the cut at all either, so I had her re-do that. Now I am normally NOT a problem customer, but her lateness had emboldened me to speak up instead of smile and nod and say that I liked it. At any rate, we're still friends, even though I managed to see three hours more of her than I would've liked to last Friday.

But my hair looks great.

So that was our weekend. You saw your SLP today, and she invited us to a picnic on Thursday with all her other Early Intervention kids and their parents. That should be fun! Daddy's got to stop making jokes, though. He says it's going to be a 'tard convention, and that there's going to be a Dumbest Kid contest. Ahhhh... ya gotta make jokes, or ya gotta start cryin'.... Anyway, do you want to slap him, or shall I? Both momma and daddy are quite excited to go and meet the other parents. We're supposed to pack a lunch, though, so I'm kinda bummed that it's not catered, with wine and cheese beforehand. Heh.

I realized today how brown you're getting. You're tanning up nicely. I love looking at you, cuz you're so compact and perfect and pretty. How did I manage to produce such a delightful-looking creature? Love you, sleep tight.