Lessons Learned: Loud Music, Expensive Tators, Angry Dogs and Two-Toned Hair

Hello everyone! We're back from our Mini-Moon. Considering this was our first foray into the Land of Couple's Who Get Away Together, let me just say that it was every bit as unsatisfying as Murphy's Law would dictate it could be. lol It started out well (famous last words, eh?). We took the boys to my dad's, visited for a few minutes and then headed downtown to our hotel. We wanted to stay at one of the many, lovely Marriott's dotted around that area, but....we're stupid people and brought Sydney the Wonder Dog with us on our Mini-Moon because we couldn't bear the thought of leaving him at home. This sort of thinking basically translates into "We're really bad pet parents!" and here's why: A) Two's company, three's a crowd! (there's a reason that's such a well-known cliche'), and B) What idiot (besides us!) thinks a dog would be happier cooped up in a hotel room all day long instead of lounging in the familiar comfort of his own home? Since we were dumb enough to bring the dog, we ended up staying at a Best Western (and why is it that Randey thinks a Best Western is A-Okay, I wonder???) instead of a Marriott because of the pet deposit. So anywho, we get to the hotel, drop all our stuff off, get Sydney settled (we thought) and decided to try out Toby Keith's restaurant, I Love This Bar and Grill. But first we had to go to Bass Pro Shops. Can't even begin to tell you what a thrill that was for me! (That's sarcasm speaking). Randey was very considerate, though and we were probably only in there for less than half an hour. He was looking at a particular pair of shoes - they didn't have them in his size, but the salesman assured him they would be receiving a shipment the very next day and would have his size then (they didn't). So anyway, we left Randey's Mecca (aka Bass Pro Shops) and wandered on down the canal walk. This is one of the first views we saw: And here's Tobe's place, from the rear (which is how we entered):
Tobe's place was packed, but what the heck. We were on a Mini-Moon, right? What's the rush? So we got ourselves put on the waiting list and headed to the bar. After a few minutes, I noticed a gift shop along one wall and went to check it out. Desiree', our daughter, is a Toby Keith Freak (that's her official title - she even named her dog after him!). I found her a cute little t-shirt as well as a picture of Toby. The t-shirt says "high maintenance" on the front which I guess means something to those in TobyLand - I didn't get it, but it does suit Des and that's all that mattered to me. I took my purchases and back to the bar I went. Where we proceeded to wait some more. And some more. And then yet even more. Just as it looked like we had to be coming up on the list soon, the band started up. Now when I say the band started up, I don't mean they launched into a pleasant rendition of a soothing little ditty. No, no, no. It was more like...well, you know how it is if you happen to get into a car after a teenager has been driving it and you turn the key and this weird, discordant music immediately blasts you out of the seat? Yeah, it was more like that. I don't know what or who that band was but I think Toby should seriously look a little harder into getting a better sound for his place! We tried going out to the patio, but the music was still grating loud enough to register on the Richter scale so we decided to heck with it. There was no point in eating at a place where we couldn't even hear each other talking from a foot away. So we headed down to Mickey Mantle's Steakhouse, across from the ballpark. Anybody else ever been there? It's quite nice. And quite expensive. An appetizer of Fried Asparagus went for $17.95 an order. A ribeye was $39.95, a New York Strip was $37.95...you get the picture, right? But again, we're on our Mini-Moon. Things like sticker-shock don't apply! And besides, it was fairly quiet and after the noise pollution and pain over at Toby's place, it seemed like heaven to us. I ordered a filet mignon in pepper sauce. I swear, it was probably the most tender steak I've ever eaten in all my born days. The flavor wasn't the best I've ever had, but it was good nevertheless. Randey had a sirloin, I think. We both decided against a baked potato because, well heck...I've never eaten a baked potato that was worth the $5.95 Mickey's people were charging. I mean really - unless that potato was laced with fine wine or Godiva chocolate, it couldn't possibly have contained anything making it worth that kind of jack. We did order onion rings and fresh fried okra, both of which were fabulous! Those were, without a doubt, the best onion rings I've ever eaten in my whole entire life! But who goes to a steakhouse just to eat onion rings? So, while Mickey Mantle's Steakhouse was a very pleasant experience, I must admit I prefer the fun atmosphere of McGuire's in Destin and Pensacola. I prefer their peppercorn steak, too!
Anyway....we ate our dinner, stopped for a latte' afterwards and then headed back to the hotel. We got off the elevator, laughing and talking - ahhhh, life's just grand - and about halfway down the hall, we heard him. Syndey the Wonder Dog. Barking and whining and yapping and howling. What the heck????? He's never done that before. We've left him in hotel rooms before. But come to think of it, that was almost 3 years ago....And sure, he's a yapper, but not like this! So we run/walk down to our room and get the door open and there he is...looking like an abandoned little orphan dog. With an attitude. It was obvious that Sydney the Wonder Dog was not going to tolerate sitting in a hotel room the rest of the weekend while we honeymooned our little touristy hearts out. So much for the plans we'd made! Here's the thing, though. After pouting for awhile and after thinking the situation over, we realized that we were pretty much torturing Sydney every time we took him with us whenever we went out of town. Every time we've taken him to my dad's house, we've stressed him out (he has to be either held, put in his carrier or locked outside due to the circumstances). Every time we've taken him to Florida, we've tortured him because he has to sit in a car for hours on end, he's limited in what he can do whenever he gets where we're going and he's generally miserable because of that. All this time, we've been so worried about "hurting his feelings" and making him feel abandoned when we leave town that we've been causing him more harm than good! So, we decided that A) we're getting a doggy door installed and B) the next time we go out of town, we'll pay the dog watcher to come over everyday, twice a day if need be, to give him some human interaction and check to see that's he's happy and comfortable...in his own home! We always have her come over for Blu, anyway. Geez. I can't believe we've been so stupid. I can't believe we became those kind of people....one's who think they're doing the best thing for their pets without really thinking about the pet! But, the important thing is, we've learned from our mistake. And tomorrow I'll tell you more about our visit to Bricktown. Including the limitations imposed by having a dog with you. And all of you out there saying "well, duh!" about our little revelation on pet parenting, zip it! I'm feeling stupid enough as it is. Don't need your help on this one! lol
Now I'll leave you with this:
See my two-toned hair? As I've mentioned in the past, I've decided to just "go gray". For those of you who have ever done this, you know how hard the "transition" period is. I actually went about 6 weeks ago and had low-lights put in to help blend the old with the new. I think it's time to have that done again. lol I've worked so hard at ignoring the difference between the hair coming in and the hair growing out that it just doesn't phase me much anymore. Until I see a picture, that is. Or until someone says something. Like my dad. This was so funny...as we were sitting around visiting Friday evening, I noticed Dad kind of looking at me funny. Finally he said, "Did you add that white stuff to your hair on purpose?". LOLOLOLOL I think he thinks neither he nor I are old enough for me to be that gray naturally. Dad, Dad, Dad. I wasn't sure if I should be offended or flattered. Either way, it was funny. I'm still laughing about the look on his face! :)

The New 'Do

I forgot all about posting a picture of my new hair-do during my emotional freak out of last week. But here it is...should have fixed it a little to give the full effect but that's kind of what I like about it - I don't feel like I have to do something with it every time I step out the door. Randey says he likes it, although he sort of ruined that by adding "I just have to get used to it" in a rather forlorn voice. Then he redeemed himself by saying I seemed "bubblier" with my hair shorter. (Good thing he wasn't here Friday, huh?) Now I'm thinking a make over at a terribly posh cosmetics place and then maybe I'll even look into joining Weight Watchers. Oh, wait a minute. That's just crazy talk. I could probably deal with the make-up bit - maybe - but I know perfectly well Weight Watchers will try to take away my whipped cream on my latte's not to mention my stash of chocolate. And that just ain't gonna work for me.

It's Over and Done With...the Hair Thing, That Is

Okay. It's done. The big hair-cutting moment is done, gone and over. And guess what? I am so flippin' thrilled over my new 'do, I can't even begin to tell you! I am such a dork, though...I had worked myself up into such a frenzy over this that I woke up with hives yesterday morning. I have a habit of doing that when I'm pretty sure I'm fixing to make a HUGE mistake. Case in point...my first marriage. The day of the wedding, I woke up with great big angry red blotches all over my chest and face. (Talk about a bad omen!). Those hives were bad enough, but they did at least serve to highlight the enormous fever blister that had developed on my upper lip over night. Yeah, that marriage didn't last. How could it, with all those pre-warning signs, right? Anywho, I woke up yesterday to a hive infested face but I had bigger problems to worry about - like my hair being wrapped around my own throat choking the living daylights out of me. Considering the consequences of dying by hair strangulation (and by that I mean, how embarrassing would it be for my loved ones to have to explain to people that I died accidentally because I forgot to sleep with my hair braided one night and my hair got tangled around my neck . Who could say that with a straight face? Certainly not my peeps.), those ugly hives weren't enough to stop me from keeping my hair appointment. This had now become a matter of life or death (read earlier posts to grasp my propensity for exaggeration). I unwound the hair from my neck, squinted my eyes every time I looked in the mirror so the hives looked sort of like a sunburn instead of an affliction and braced myself for the coming trauma. Half an hour before my appointment time, I set off. A quick stop at Starbucks for an unsweet Passion Shaken Iced Tea Lemonade and a Toffee Almond Bar (yeah - real helpful to that problem I'm having with my growing backside, but I NEEDED IT!). I parked, I got out of my car and I walked into that salon like I was heading to my own execution. I thought I was being extremely dignified in the face of this certain disaster, but in retrospect, I was probably being more like extremely dorky. Maegen, the twelve year old who was scheduled to cut my hair, came out to greet me. Okay, so she wasn't really twelve. But she sure did look like it. I asked her, just to be sure. (She's 23). I told her what I wanted, sort of. I showed her 3 pictures and said things like "see this one? I like how it kind of flips here, but I don't want it sticking way out like that. And this one...I think this is very cute, but it's probably too flippy, what do you think? And this one - love it, but that's just way too short". All in all, I'm sure I was very helpful to Maegen. (HA.HA.HA)She listened to me without rolling her eyes one single time (I took this to be a very good sign), then she gathered my hair into a ponytail and said "are you sure?" WHAT??? I go through all this talking and you want to give me one more chance to back out? What kind of monster are you??? Luckily, I said none of this out loud and it wouldn't have mattered anyway because, as I was formulating a reply, she chopped about 8 inches of hair off and threw it in the trash can. I damn near fainted. Well. Okay then. No going back now, right? I sat there for a moment - too stunned to move. Then Maegen says "now that we've gotten some of that hair out of the way, let's go shampoo it" and off she walks. I got up to follow her, still with my mouth hanging open. Luckily, the place was packed or I might have picked her 98 pound self up and broken her like a twig for the shock she had just put me through. She was soooo tiny, I'm pretty sure I could have taken her. But again, the crowd was there so I meekly followed her to the shampoo station. I think Maegen sensed my turmoil. When we returned to her chair, she kept me faced away from the mirror until she was completely done. Then she spun me around and...well, my gosh...I liked it. For the first time in my whole entire life, I have short(er) hair and I love it. It's still touching my shoulders, but barely. I'll have to take pictures soon - I really haven't mastered the "taking pictures of myself" thing yet so I'll have to lasso Jacob to help me (easier said than done). Randey and Kaleb are out of town this week so they're no help, either. But whenever I get one, I'll post it. I want to thank some of you guys out there for your help and advice. I got everything from "please don't do a Britney Spears" which was hilarious (and oddly terrifying at the same time!) to "hey - put on a pair of earrings and slap on some lipstick and no one will mistake you for a man then!". And by the way, that's exactly what I did this morning before I headed out to run errands - dug out some earrings and even dug underneath the bathroom sink for my dusty make-up bag. I can't remember the last time I felt like wearing earrings and lipstick! This new hairdo feels that good!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

This post is nothing more than a testament to my own insecurity and fear. No, not the blogging/belonging fear I talked about a couple of posts ago, but an even more crippling fear...the Fear of Looking Like a Man. Whenever I get my hair chopped off, I feel like I should change my name to Bart and start hanging out down at the local pool hall (they do still have those, don't they?). I see women all the time who are just as cute as they can be with short hair. Cute, cute, cute. Oooohh, just makes me want to be as cute. as. them. Uh-huh. I convince myself it's possible, too. And there I go...off to the beauty salon, lookin' for some outer beauty to perk up my inner beauty (good grief - that's stretching it, even for me, but what do you want me to say? "I'm going to the beauty salon hoping for a miracle transformation"? What - you want me to sound delusional?). Anywho, back to the problem of the day. I've once again come to that time in my life where I feel the need to get cute. Experience has taught me to not do this. But here I sit. On the Eve of Disaster. I have an appointment to get my hair cut tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I have great hair now. It's not that I've ever really had great hair. I've got okay hair - especially compared to the rest of my family. We females on my mom's side of the family tree generally have thick, thick hair. Even mine is thick. But compared to others in the family, not so much. I was in my 20's before I realized that my hair actually really is thick. Most of the family kind of pitied me when I was a kid. "Poor thing...got the stringiest hair of all of us, didn't she?". Yeah, well, come to find out, I'm the normal one. The rest of them had freakishly thick hair. But I digress. Once again, back to the point at hand. Where was I? Oh yeah, it's not that I have great hair. It's not that I even like how my hair looks when it's long. It's more a deep-seated fear of not looking feminine. I don't want to be mistaken for a...man! This is fairly ironic when you consider that my entire beauty routine these days consists of brushing my teeth, scraping my hair back into a ponytail and giving my face a good scrubbing. I'm almost positive I still have some make-up laying around somewhere and I know for a fact that I have a set or two of hot rollers and a really awesome straightener, but to get to them, I have to bend over and dig underneath the bathroom sink and well, most of the time, that effort doesn't really seem worth the results I'd end up with. So I've been practicing my "Mother Earth" look (no offense to any actual Mother Earths out there - I'm basing my version of "Mother Earth Style" on a totally uninformed and almost certainly biased opinion as to what a Mother Earth would look like. And I'll just leave it at that). But the "cute" people have been out and about again. I've spotted them. They're luring me back into thinking I, too, can be c-u-t-e. Tomorrow, after my appointment, I'll know the truth. Again. Some people never learn.