spinthemoon (spinthemoon) wrote,


OK, I've worn every sweater I own  - all four of them - at least twice, so now winter can be over. But Husband and I saw another robin this weekend, so I guess Spring won't be here for a while yet.


The Boy's new obsession is drawing instructions, like the pictographs that come with Ikea furniture or Playskool toys. He's actually pretty good at it. Tonight he drew instructions for how to use a fire hydrant. Which is pretty impressive, given that as far as I know, he's never actually seen anyone use a fire hydrant. He's also back in general drawing mode and is going through about 50 pages a night, mostly of monsters and sea creatures and sometimes of monsters fighting sea creatures. It's always a toss up as to who will win...Godzilla or the Killer Whale.


Annie blogged about watching The Family Stone and being distracted my SJP's chin-growth. Aside from making me feel relieved that I'm not the only one who noticed it, it reminded me of the time I went to the dermatologist to have a mole on my face removed. This was no Cindy-Crawford-cute-little-draw-attention-to-my-kissable-mouth mole, by the way. It was big and on my cheek and growing and would sometimes get infected and...well, I wanted it off. So anyway, we pull a name out of the phone book  to find a doctor, and I'm sitting in the exam room, and in walks this lady with a huge mole on the side of her nose. I mean, HUGE. Like put-a-hat-on-it-and-pretend-it's-your-twin-Skippy HUGE. And the first thing she says is, "Why do you want to have your mole removed?"

And I was stumped. I couldn't very well say, "Because it's ugly." I stammered for a second and then she snapped, "I don't think you want it removed - I think someone is pressuring you into it." And she proceeded to call my mom into the room and tell her that she wouldn't remove it because I didn't want it removed. and then she turned back to me and barked, "But you have acne...take this" and handed me a prescription.

So, we went back home and made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. He asked me what I wanted, took one look at the mole, and said, "Well, I can see why you want it removed...you don't want it to eat your face off!"


I still can't figure out why that tall chick on That 70's Show went blonde. I admit I might be a teeny bit biased when it comes to red hair, but sheesh. Although I do admit one downside to being a redhead is having to constantly put up with guys who think it's funny to lean in and smirk, "Are you really a redhead?" Granted, I don't have to put up with that as much these days (translated: ever) but I think I paid my dues.


I don't like commercials that make me think my food is sentient.

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