Give Me a Head with Hair

Secret (ok not so secret now) confession: I've always thought dreadlocks were dirty. In high school, one of my friends had them. He had such lovely thick curly hair. I on the other hand, have fine, stick straight hair. I always wondered why he would want dreads when his hair was so wonderful. Dreads look unkempt, dirty and unsanitary. I don't think I'll ever care for them.
I know quite a few women who tie their self worth to their hair. I really don't claim to understand that. I suppose in high school I allowed my hair to dictate my mood and worth. That was eons ago. EONS. I was so much different back then.
One of my favortie hair subjects is the Flammable Wall of Bangs. I perfected my FWB in high school. Oh there were the girls with super high bangs but theirs always had holes. Sometimes the bangs just stopped. My FWB continued with a carefully crafted reverse ski slope down toward the back of my skull. I used the only type of hair spray allowed in this competition; Aqua Net. My personal favorite was the pink can. Sometimes I used the white can.
Another favorite: the mullet. party in the back, business up front.
Need I say more?
Scary thought: Some people still have mullets and think they are fashionable.

There's no such thing

What are the attributes of a "functional" family? Kindness, caring, genuine concern for one another, teamwork, honesty, integrity? What about putting the toilet seat down and rinsing out the sink after you're done brushing your teeth? Does it only take one kooky member of the family to make the whole family dysfunctional? When the rest of the family revolves around one member is that dysfunction? Who makes the rules? Who writes the list of what function and dysfunction is? Does that person have a family and is it dysfunctional?
Every family is at least a little functional and a little dysfunctional. Some are more functional than others. But I believe that each family has it's own dysfunction. My family got a sprinkling of the dysfunction. My best girl friend got a truck load full of it. I can still smell the rot of her house. Her room was the only clean, bright, organized room in the house. When she shut the door the stench didn't come in as much. I see the holes in the floor of her living room. She was paper thin, controlling the only aspect of her life she thought she could. She let me come into her house, she trusted me. She tried to hide at my house one time but I didn't see it that way. Now that I'm older, I see it for what it really was.
I didn't see the constant sores on her knuckles, smell the acid on her breath or even get that she was sick. My world at 15 didn't see or even know about those things. Her world was those things. Which one of us lived in reality? Her mother, father, sisters and brother helped creater her reality, as did mine. I couldn't or maybe wouldn't see the bad things in life. My slightly dysfunctional family helped me be that way. Was it better? I got to play with dolls and kittens at the age of seven and my friend was busy worrying if she would have to worry about rodents in her bed. That's not fair or even right. But that's reality and you get what you get.
  

Things I've learned this week...

Here are some things I learned this week, some the hard way, some the not-so-hard way.

• I sound like a dork when I speak Spanish. I never imagined that Spanish with a "Fargo" accent would be so hilarious. Oh my goodness. "Si, you betcha."
• Learning to record things on my computer is not nearly as hard as I thought it would be.
• Expo markers are sometimes the right answer.
• One shouldn't leave the laundry room door open when peanut butter is used to remove the mystery stickiness from oldest child's clothing. Especially when the dog is about. On the bright side, she licked off the stickiness, too.
• Bandaids make imaginary boo boos all better, or at least they make the crying stop.
• Microscopic black biting "no-see-ums" can ruin a perfect 80 degree October afternoon. 
• So can homework.
• It is possible to have an evil lady beetle home invasion with all your doors and windows locked down tight.
• Even three-year-olds will talk baby-talk if given the chance.
• Boxelder bugs are creepy.
• Seven-year-old whine does not go good with cheese.
• Sometimes there are just too many rules.
• When I have a good idea for a paper, I need to write it down or it will run away and I will never find it again. What I will be left with is a sorry excuse for a paper.
• There's almost nothing that the smell of a new baby can't fix.
• Four-year-old little boys can sit through a two hour long musical production of Pippi Longstocking.
• When a four-year-old boy asks, "Mom, when is the movie gonna start?" 15 minutes into a two hour musical production of "Pippi Longstocking," it's going to be an interesting afternoon. 
• God sends me money when I need it. Not like Western Union or anything, but He sends me money-really. He rocks!
• Four-year-olds don't have volume control.
• Boys can make a fort out of nothing and some sticks.
• Seaweed salad from Byerly's is yummy.
• Being a seven-year-old girl is difficult.
• "Grilled Cheesus" made me cry.
• Each child has his own lever that controls behavior. Find it and you are GOLDEN!
• I have the best three kids in the world and I am so proud of them.

I'm not half bad either. My week was interesting again. There were wins and losses. I made it through another one and will wake up tomorrow and do it all over again. Another day, another list. I wouldn't have it any other way.

My love-hate relationship with Facebook

Welcome to another tirade. I hate Facebook. I love Facebook. Currently I have been on a Facebook fast for about three weeks. I don't miss it. I used to allow hours upon hours of my life become sucked into the vortex known as Facebook. Now I don't. Facebook doesn't need me. It never did. I needed it. Or so I thought. My children and I often talk about want versus need. I know logically I didn't need Facebook, I wanted Facebook. I wanted to accumulate "friends" and see (stalk) what others were doing. I have a Facebook friend that posts concerning her morning goings-on everyday. "I walked five miles, did seven loads of laundry, washed two sinks full of dishes, found a cure for cancer and ended world hunger, now it's 8:00am and I need to get my four kids to school so I can get back home to strip and refinish all the furniture in our home by dinner tonight. We're having co co van." REALLY? Does someone need external validation or what? Don't get me wrong, she's a great woman but let's be honest. Are you tooting your own horn a little too much or are you trying to make everyone else feel inferior? It's not working here. I can feel inferior all on my own. (Not really.) Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." It makes me sad that so many people need to be validated by others to feel worthy. Regardless of my number of Facebook friends, I am a good person. I don't need 300 people I haven't seen in years to tell me I am. I have three excellent most cherished girlfriends and they know I am worthy because I show them I am everyday. 
Facebook is contributing to the downfall of today's society. It perpetuates the impersonal nature of communication that is texting and emailing. No need to have a real grown-up relationship with inimate talks when I can text you. OMG! One sentence emailed or texted can be read any number of ways. Hearing the intonation in my voice as it leaves my lips is the sure way of understanding my intent for the words I choose.
I haven't the time today to expound on my feelings concerning Facebook and marriage. Let's just say I have many feelings and they aren't nice ones. Is Facebook necessary? No. Is it fun? Sometimes. Is it dangerous? Yes it can be. Is it going to go away? The Magic Eight Ball says: signs point to "no." It's scary to think of how one digital venue has changed our society in such a profound manner.