Okay, to clarify, I neither exfoliate, nor pore cleanse, nor Max Factor (now there's a verb for you!). I am strictly the wash-and-wear, drip-dry, au natural type. I do use a face soap on my face but that's pretty much the extent of my beauty regimen. And it's hardly anything special since you can pick it up at the local Fred Meyer store. We do not in fact own a blow-dryer and there are no hidden caches of mascara and rouge hidden behind the toilet tank. Not that I am anti-makeup, I just stopped wearing it years ago when I worked at the public library. I shelved books in the popular library (fiction) and the ventilation system wasn't what it could be; the open stacks were hot and miserable and dusty and not really conducive to maintaining that Cover Girl fresh 'n sassy appearance. Besides, there just wasn't any point in wasting valuable morning time primping when the only people to see me were mainly old ladies and transients. And isn't wearing makeup anti-lesbian? -- Hahaha, got you there, trick question: lesbians are not required to adhere to a dress code and that includes makeup. Though I know very few of them anymore, and of those, I think none of them wears any. Maybe one. A little mascara and maybe some lip gloss. But she's kind of weird.
My wife is the best. Last night I was having a hard time: baby was awake, I was really tired, everything off kilter. We listen to this lullaby cd before bed and naptimes, and I really like it a lot except that it features that "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" or whatever from "The Nutcracker." OK, I grew up on tv specials like Rudolph and Charlie Brown, I never saw "The Nutcracker" until I was a grown person, in fact over 30, and I can't say I cared for it that much. But as little as I care for the entire production, I care even less for that particular cut from the soundtrack as it were. So as I sat emitting little daggers from my eyes toward the cd player, in sprints BH and skids over to the stereo, punching frantically at the skip button and rescuing me from having to listen to one more blessed second of that annoying prancy music. Honestly, that's love.
In other news, Aladdin finally came out today on DVD. Okay, before you all shudder and wince and write me off as some kind of Disney freak, I'll tell you a little story. That movie came out when I was sort of lonely and sad, kind of estranged from pretty much my entire immediate family, in the middle of coming out, and for some reason I ended up going to see Aladdin in the theater. I don't know what it is about it, maybe that he's alone and fending for himself and it all turns out all right, but somehow that movie comforted me. Pitiful, yes, but there it is. I saw it five times. I like the songs and the colors, I like Robin Williams, I like the monkey... Then when it came out on video I got it. Now we don't even have a VCR set up, it's all about the DVD's these days, and I have been waiting and waiting... And today I went out and got it and brought it home and I'd be watching it right this very moment except the baby's sleeping.
Well back to the salt mines. No walk today, Peggy's step dad's birthday so she's busy. Horse blanket must be taken to Sherwood to The Blanket Lady for cleaning (that's honest to Pete what she's called, she's listed that way in the phone book) and then can be put up for sale at the tack show. And if it doesn't sell, The Blanket Lady does consignment. It may not sell, it's huge even for a horse blanket -- Beau is a big horse. So it's nice to have a backup plan.