kickass piggies

So, after a rough afternoon (part of which involved a certain teenager and the dentist, which I will expound on tomorrow), I decided to treat myself to a pedicure. And since I knew it might be the last pedi before my little piggies are tucked away for the winter, I decided to go full tilt gonzo.



The photo doesn't do them justice.
The sheer awesomeness of them has enveloped my entire being.

I am now invincible.


follicular intensity

My hair is VERY big today. I washed it today and, as is customary with Day One of my Hair Cycle, the result is RIDICULOUS volume... but not the kind of volume you see in a Pantene Pro-V television commercial.

More like the kind of volume you'd see if Peter Frampton and Rosanne Roseannadanna had a baby.

Or if you combined a 1984 Poison music video with the Jersey Turnpike.

Or if I stuck my head into a cotton-candy making machine for an hour.

Or a poodle on meth.

Day Two of the Hair Cycle -- clean, but slept on and significantly less voluminous -- is always better, so tomorrow I won't be nearly as self-conscious.

I better run... I'm due to straddle a Trans-Am in acid washed cut-offs in an hour.



He kicked...

And chased...

And charged...

And wrestled...

And wrangled...

And it just wasn't enough.

But it's a new day, a new week... And a new opportunity for victory.



Tyler's working very hard at football this year, and it's starting to pay off in increased playing time. (And increased scrapes, cuts and bruises... he could probably be mistaken for someone who got hit by a car while riding his bike. But hey, it's good for him!)

Saturday his team lost, but they played great... Ty had more playing time than he's ever had, which was fun for us to watch. I was able to snag this photo of him during the second half, when he was playing left tight end (which, according to Ty, is like a lineman/receiver hybrid) and was thrown a long pass:

I know! Awesome, right?
It would've been even more awesome if he had caught it.

But hey, it's still a cool picture.

Next time, son! You're doing great.


my FEYvorite

I'm not particularly starstruck by celebrities. I think it's a function of age, combined with the fact that I'm really too busy to care about who the Kardashians are tripping into bed with or that Lohan has failed a drug test and violated her parole. Again. (Would anyone be surprised by that at this point? I mean really, aren't we just expecting it every 28 days or so?)

Sometimes at the beauty salon I pick up one of those gossip mags and, as I flip through it, I realize that I don't know who ANYBODY is anymore, unless they're a major pop culture icon (like, say, Jennifer Aniston) or they're close to my age (like... uh... Jennifer Aniston). Except for the gentle reminder that I am no longer all that young and apparently not very hip or cool, this does not bother me. I don't have any hopes, dreams or fantasies about being BFF's with Megan Fox or hooking up with Josh Hartnett. (And yes, I had to Google "hot twentysomethings" to find names to plug in here. I'm pathetic!)

But I must admit: I often think it would be super cool to have a slice of pizza with Tina Fey.

I'm not enamored with her in a president-of-the-fan-club-who-bought-an-old-pair-of-her-socks-on-ebay kind of way. I just think she's incredibly clever and smart; she's a talented writer who has worked very hard and channeled her abilities into a pretty amazing existence. She's done everything I would have done if I'd chosen a different path... and, frankly, if I'd had enough guts... and for that, she rocks. (I guess, technically, she 30 Rocks.)

I watched her interview with Matt Lauer on Today yesterday, and I thought the same thing I think every time I watch a Tina Fey interview: She and I could totally be friends. Yes, I'm serious! I think we have a lot in common... she's a writer, she's funny, she's not afraid to be exactly who she is... she's even avoided hopping on the Facebook and Twitter bandwagons for the same reasons I have (finally, someone who would relate to my resistance!).

And also, there's this little gem of a comment she once made about herself:

"I like to crack the jokes now and again, but it's only because I struggle with math."

This statement actually makes me wonder if we're twins who were separated at birth... so because of all that, I'm just gonna put this out there:

Tina: If you decide you're in the market for a smart-ass writer-friend from Utah who's willing to fly to NYC for lunch on a moment's notice, just tell me when and where.

And if Amy Poehler is available, bring her along.


three rings outta nowhere

Today I had to run to The Gateway (a plaza-like mall in SLC) to return something. I was already downtown because I had just submitted a proposal for work, and we had another proposal we were working on today that I needed to help with... so I gave myself about 13 minutes to get there, park, return my item and hurry back to the office.

When I got to the Gateway, they had completely blocked off the "main drag" -- a road down the middle of the shops where once in a while, if Karma is smiling on you, find can a parking spot. And finding parking anywhere else was proving to be a small nightmare because there were also cars EVERYWHERE. I couldn't imagine what all the fuss was about on a Wednesday afternoon. By the time I parked in the bowels of the underground garage and come up on the elevator, I had already wasted eight of my 13 minutes... so naturally, I was feeling annoyed and more rushed with each passing second.

The elevator doors opened, and I was hit by a barrage of kids... preschoolers, toddlers and babies... all accompanied by their moms, and a sprinkling of dads and grandmas. (It was the largest fleet of strollers I think I've ever seen.) My first thought was that Gymboree and Old Navy were going out of business and giving away their remaining inventory for free... I couldn't imagine another reason why this many Utah moms would be here at the same time.

But there was, in fact, another reason: They were all there to see the Ringling Bros. "officially" come to town in the form of a parade. Balloons and acrobats, clowns and stiltwalkers, miniature horses with feathery headdresses -- "and elephants, elephants even!!" a little girl told me, her big blue eyes all happy and sparkling -- all making their grand entrance down The Gateway ANY. MINUTE. NOW.

I was well past my 13 minutes, but I was no longer annoyed and rushed. In fact, I felt just the opposite. After all...

The circus has come to town!


option #2

There are times when my job has an adverse... dare I say devastating... impact on my family. That time was at 6:12 this morning.

"Ty... I have to leave, honey. I need to be at work by 7 today."

His eyes shoot open. "What??? You're leaving right now?"

"Yes. I have a noon deadline so I've got to get a jump on things."

"Why didn't you tell me last night?? Who's going to do my hair???"

Hm... the Follicular Ecosystem is endangered. Definitely a crisis.

In an effort to avoid future catastrophies like this one, the options are:

1. Mom quits her job, which guarantees her presence at RIDICULOUS o'clock in the morning for any and all teenage grooming emergencies.

2. Someone needs to learn how to use the flat iron by themselves.

I'm thinking Option #2 is the ticket.



Last night we had our friends over for the U of U's first away game against New Mexico. In an effort to be entertained by watching our offspring do something strenuous (isn't that one of the perks of having kids?), the parents decided that the kids had to do push-ups for every point scored, just like the cheerleaders do at the home games.

Some kids are in fine form. Others might need some upper body work. You be the judge.

After they're done, two-year-old Taylor -- sporting a crimson tutu for the big occasion -- decides that she wants to do some "push-ups" like the big kids... which, as you will see, is hysterical. (Please ignore my counting of Tay Tay's push-ups, I got a little distracted by the cuteness.)

Final score of the game: Utes 56, Lobos 14.

Final outcome at the party: Tired kids with aching arms, Grown-ups openly pleased by the discomfort.



I'm pretty sure our tailgating shindig tomorrow won't look anything like this...
and it's totally unfair that all these boys have nicer legs than me.

Here's to a toe-tappin', knee-slappin', high-falootin' weekend!


molar dilemma

I went to the dentist this morning, and two of my teeth have been assigned an "Official Watch."

Is that like a tornado watch? Or a tordando warning? (What's the difference between those two, anyway?) I guess it means that these two teeth are looking sketchy and, if I'm not uber-brushing and hyper-flossing, are in danger of succumbing to The Black Hole... you know, the one that involves a drill and some filling.

The teeth in question are #12 and #20. I have no idea which teeth these are... I think #20 is a molar. #12 might be a bicuspid... or is it a bicarbonate? A biathalon? (I'm not especially dialed in to dental vernacular.)

At any rate, it was made very clear to me that this is not casual observation. As of today, the entire staff at Genesis Dental is on high alert regarding my #12 and #20.

Maybe in a couple months I'll get a voice mail:

"Hello, Kareen... this is Genesis Dental calling. Just wanted to let you know that we're still watching your teeth with avid interest. Please let us know immediately if there's something we need to be concerned about; otherwise, we'll continue to hold vigil over #12 and #20 until your return in March. Until then... be safe, brush regularly, and know that we're watching."

That would totally make me feel like Jason Bourne. Or James Bond. Or that dude from The Fugitive.

Or... maybe it would just make me feel like a chick with a couple of schlocky choppers and a semi-creepy dentist.

P.S. Attention Tooele County: Flouride is not... I repeat, IS NOT... a communist plot to undermine public health, so could you consider throwing a splash or two into our water? Of course, to take such a measure might mark the beginning of the end of the Hillbilly Nation out there... but believe me, that would not break my city-slicker heart in the least. Seriously, GET WITH THE FLOURIDE PROGRAM!!


ELLE. oh. vee. ee.

Today's blurb is dedicated to one of the most captivating cherubs I know.

Everyone, this is Elle.
Elle Kennedy Johnson.

Elle lives in Las Vegas with her
equally captivating twin brother, Liam, her super cool daddy, Jeff,
and her most awesome mommy, Suzanne, who is one of my dearest BFFs.

Yesterday I was having one of the crappiest days ever. As in
kind of crappy... so I went to Suz's blog for some relief.

This is the photo that turned it around for me:

Her chubby arms. Her chipmunk cheeks.
(Suz, is that a dimple in her chin? Or drool?)
Her funny little grin as she makes herself at home
in a pile of clean blankies and burp cloths.

How can I possibly stay at DEFCON ONE
with this level of cuteness smacking me between the eyes??
It's preposterous.
It's reedeekyoulaaahs.
It cannot be done, I tell you.

So I relaxed, took some deep breaths...
Took in a little more Elle-ness...
and I felt better.

I mean, seriously. How could I not?

Elle Belle, you charmed me right out of my funk...
and for that, baby girl, you rock!

I owe you big hugs and kisses...
And that pony I promised you when you were still in the womb.

Lots of lovesies,
Auntie K-Fraud


17 blurbs

On my way to work this morning I decided I needed a goal. So here it is: I'm going to blog about something EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. for the rest of the month.

This is an exercise in motivation and discipline... my attempt to keep the creative juices flowing a little better than they have been of late. I can't guarantee that every post will runneth over with awesomeness, but for some reason I'm thinking I need to give it a shot.

Heaven knows I need something else to fill my day.

So, this counts for today. One (boring and benign) blurb down, 16 to go.