Saturday, February 26, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Ilsa is very proud of her big girl bike with REAL BLACK TIRES, because "only little girl bikes have white tires."
She had also outgrown her helmet, which was a hand-me-down from a 2 year old Ingrid if you can believe it. We found one with....LADYBUGS!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Yesterday I took the girls to see Disney on Ice, Princess Dreams. It was a bunch of hoo-haa about "if you wish it, it can come true". Truly don't think they caught onto the silly storyline about wishing and dreams, etc...they just wanted to see Ariel and the gang spin and jump on the ice -- and they ate it up. It was a pretty great show, especially the portions with The Little Mermaid...none of those pictures turned out though.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Last night Ingrid dreamed I had 200,000 babies, well toddlers because they could talk a bit. They were all being mean to her, so she told them to, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" They didn't stop, so she hid them in the closet. That must've been a big closet.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Oh brother, here's just another reason this Anglophile wishes I was living in England. The Royal Mail is releasing a set of stamps commorating six iconic images in celebration of 50 years of the Company's charter. These are just COOL.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Barbie: Oh yes, Barbara, I did. I felt used, humiliated, less than...plastic. It was the most horrible experience of my of my entire life. (Dabbing her eyes...) There I was sitting on that horrid fondant-covered cake. Not even frosting! It was hard and smooth. No cush for my bony tush.
And then, all of these little 7 year old girls just started...STARING. It was humiliating. And then this woman with really short hair came and placed these flaming torches right next to my flipper. I...I...I thought my hair was going to catch on fire. I was TERRIFYING. (Breaks down sobbing...) And then, finally, she pulled me off of the cake, just cast me aside without even a thank you.
Just a thank you. That's all I wanted.
Just...a...thank you... (Voice trailing off, eyes cast downward...)
Interviewer: I'm so, so sorry that you had to suffer this humiliation, Barbie.
And to all of you watching this story. Maybe Barbie's bravery in the telling of her tale of humiliation will be a wake-up call about the serious topic of birthday-cake abuse.
Mr. T/Hamlet/The Doctor has died. T-H-D was the last of the original four fish purchased Thanksgiving weekend. (T-H-D is the fish on the left with the black tail.)
I decorated this cake at 5:00 am. I am SOOO tired. And there are going to be 12 screaming 7 year old girls in our home in 4 hours...I need a long hot bath right about now, but I have too much to do in the meantime. I need to get off of the computer!!! And no, I'm not a Barbie fan all of a sudden. Ingrid bought her with her very own hard-earned money because I wouldn't buy her one. Mean Mommy.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
First I got my haircut -- it was much needed. In talking to my stylist, I learned that her husband used to be a Secret Service agent on President Obama's detail. Apparently the job is very, very stressful and the attrition rate is very high. He no longer is in the SS, but has an equally interesting and very top secret job which I won't divulge...I will say it is very "Lie to Me"-ish. The salon I frequent is rather posh.
In contrast to my salon, Mr. BikeMan took Ilsa to "The Beauty Salon" for a much-needed haircut. While not posh, it is very friendly but an anachronism harkening back to a much slower time. The salon has been in the same location for 47 years. The woman who cut her hair had been working there the entire time. Ilsa must have lowered the average age of the customers by 70 years the second she walked through the door, but the blue-haired ladies getting their once-a-week sets absolutely LOVED her.
The salon furniture was exactly as you would imagine: white cabinets with gold 1960's filagree detailing, combs in tall jars filled with that blue chemical...and someone was getting a real perm -- I haven't smelled perm solution in a beauty salon that I have frequented in years.
The beautician used old-fashioned aerosol hairspray in a can to set her hair. Mr. BikeMan said she smelled like an old lady whose name would be "Hazel," so now we have dubbed the haircut Hazel-Hair.