Liner Notes 6/18

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curls gone child
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Let me start by saying this. I'm a year older than I was on Friday so this post might read slightly more maturely than the last one. And these pictures might have more depth to them because of my more experienced eye. But first, can we talk about Bo's new signature stance?

I believe it's the greatest of all signature stances.

For the last year I have very much looked forward to thirty-one. Thirty seems like a fake age. Like twenty-one and one hundred. When someone turns one-hundred they probably feel weird about it because saying "I'm 100" almost sounds braggy. That's how I feel about thirty. Like I was supposed to be someone by the time I turned thirty. Or do thirty things before I turned thirty. Or take myself seriously and be a woman and grow up and act more thirty-ish. Also, round numbers have always freaked me out hence my fear of turning 100 someday. So tidy and contained and divisible. So perfectly in line. When I had night terrors as a child it was always the same dream that had me clawing at my parents and kicking the walls: little men in perfectly-pressed uniforms marching in a row. Even now, the only parades I can watch are sloppy ones. People marching in perfect order make me want to hide in a bush. We all have our weirds, right?

Anyway. All of this is to say, it feels really good to be thirty-one. Also thirty-one rhymes with wordy fun which is what I plan to do this year. Lots of wordplay, guys. Lots of good clean wordplay fun. 

Not only was yesterday my birthday, it was also Father's Day of course, which was awesome because I got to spend the day with my dad, who is as lovely as his W(ife)WWW and spent much of his/our day helping me shlep flea market finds into my van which was very kind of him. Also, dude is one ripped Papa. 

Operation Shop for New the House has officially kicked off. First purchases? A dresser for Archer and Fable's room and a giant old locker I plan to DIY out into a pillowed storage bench. All I need is a hacksaw, spray paint and some plush pillow action and BAM! Pew pew!

My birthday gift to myself was also the perfect father's day gift for Hal: a shiny new Paragard (NO MIRENA!) IUD, which somehow hurt zero going in and yielded no cramping in the hours afterward (My last IUD insertion experience was painful and very uncomfortable for several hours. This time around? Cakewalk. The only explanation I can think of is that my uterus is pretty down for things inside of it at this point. It spent the last nine months lonely and now it has a cool T-shaped roommate and a ten year lease!) You're welcome Ute!

Anyway. For those planning Father's Day Gift Guides for 2013, for your consideration, Paragard, an Intrauterine Device.

And while Sunday was lovely and Sunday night was fabulously condom-free, Saturday won the prize for thrilling(estest) day of the week. Our final approval from the bank came through along with our closing date. Which means? In two Mondays from now, I'll be blogging from the office in our new house. That is ours. THAT IS OUR NEW HOUSE!


Esteban, you can call us "Paragard" because WE ARE STAYING INSIDE OF YOU FOR TEN YEARS!  (Or more!)

Gird your loins, sir.

GGC