A Prelude to Hair Thursday

It’s coming! Hold your horses!

Last night, I was a tad over-served in the martini department (hence the delay). I was enjoying a few with a fabulous friend when I noticed an older, Tony Bennett clone and his colleagues staring at me from across the bar. Several times I remarked to my friend that this man was staring a hole through us, but of course, that she should not turn around and look. (Which actually sounded more like, “OMG DON’T LOOK NOW HE’S GONNA BUST YOU OMG!” Dude, I have NO game anymore.)

For some reason, he had a particularly nice, mellow stare and it didn’t really bother me too much. (I mean, for Christ’s sake, he was seventy. Or sixty, I don’t know. How old is Tony Bennett?)

After an hour had passed, I looked up and noticed he was gone. I mentioned to my friend that he must have left when all of the sudden, I saw him approaching. (OMG! HE’S COMING OVER, DON’T LOOK NOW! EEK!) However, he was absolutely pleasant, mentioning that he was on his way out, but that he and his friends had been been watching me (You don’t say?) and making guesses about my age and what I did for a living, and he just had to know if he was in the ball park.

I was beginning to think I was involved in one of the worst pick-up schemes ever, but I must admit, I was curious. I asked him what his guess was and he replied, “a hair model”. You’ve got to be kidding me. My friend and I looked at each other and just started laughing incredulously, as we had JUST finished talking about Hair Thursdays and the whole I-can’t-believe-people-actually-ask-MY-advice-about-their-hair thing. How did I get to this point? Seriously.

I told him, “No, but thank you for the compliment”, and he apologized for interrupting our conversation and went on his merry way. (Which, I must admit, was very refreshing. No attempt at cheesy small talk or buying us drinks, he just wanted an answer to his question and let us be.)

Oh! And if the hair compliment wasn’t enough, he thought I was 22. TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD. Unfortunately, for about 12 seconds, I couldn’t remember how old I was. Like I had to mentally subtract 1974 from 2007 in my head before telling him I was 33. Sadly, I don’t think my martini consumption was to blame.

Hello, I’m Whoorl and I occasionally forget how old I am.

(Dear Tony Bennett clone, call me. We can share the cost of our Alzheimer’s medication.)

Hair Thursday - Vol. 1.3

Polls are back up. If you didn’t get a chance to vote, please scroll down and add your vote in the boxes. (Like hell if I’m going to sort through your comments.)

I have a feeling y’all might know today’s participants. Let’s just call this one Attack of the Pretty Brunettes.

First off, we have the lovely Emily of Not That You Asked fame. (Now in TWO FLAVORS!)

Emily’s hair:

Natural color
Healthy - no split ends or damage
Thick
Curly
Uses a ceramic flat iron every day
Wants to go shorter

Emily and I have been email pals for quite some time, and recently had the chance to touch each other’s luscious locks in person at Blogher. (And maybe consume lots of sangria, wine, beer, cape cods, and martinis.) What I’m trying to say is, I CAN’T FUCK THIS ONE UP.

Emily had a general idea of her new cut - short, choppy bob with long sideswept bangs and a color change, and I agree wholeheartedly. (Except for the color change…it’s so warm and perfect for her skin tone! Like hot chocolate!) One of the best cuts for a heart-shaped face like Emily’s is a chin-length bob. For instance, Katie Holmes’ new bob, which is razored and choppy and super fun. However, since Emily is already proficient in using a flat iron every day (would you ever have guessed that? It’s so shiny and NON-damaged!), she could also pull off a chin-length, one-length bob. Let’s take a look.

First off, I have to apologize. I try my hardest to find hairstyles of the same color to help visualize the cut, but Jenny McCarthy’s bob was exactly what I was looking for in a one-length bob. So, just imagine it’s brunette.

(Oh, that reminds me. I really appreciate your tips regarding those online “hairstylers”, where you can try styles on your own photo, but I always find the final look in those programs to be unnatural and well, a tad hokey. I think I will stick with this for the time being, but thank you all the same!)

I equally love these two styles for Emily, and in essence, they are very similar. The only main difference is that Option #1 has the long sideswept bangs and some razored layers throughout. Here’s another photo showing her layers more clearly. This option could be great for Emily because she could use the flat iron, but also let a little of her curl come through on other days. And this look is definitely “choppier” than Option #2.

Option #2 is probably less versatile than Option #1 due to the same length all around, but this would look gorgeous on Emily. You have to rock some seriously shiny hair to pull this off. Think about it, if there are no layers to allow more of a messy look, you really have keep it straight and healthy. Obviously, Emily has the perfect hair for this and since she already uses the flat iron regularly, it wouldn’t be difficult for her to style. However, I would definitely recommend a thermal protectant before drying!

What do you all think?

The next participant is the lovely Miguelina (of the blog formerly known as Diary of a Reluctant Housewife).

Miguelina’s Hair:

Natural color
Straight and fine
Thick
Wants to keep it long (for ponytails)
Doesn’t do more than brush it twice a day (Uses a Mason Pearson! YAY!)
Loves products, but most make her hair feel heavy

Miguelina, just pipe down and brush your gorgeous hair. Sheesh.

Okay, okay. I know where you’re coming from. Although your hair is gorgeous (and your baby!), it does lack a “style”. Well, that’s easy to remedy! Feast your eyes on this!

Long layers! Long bangs! Big round brushes! CERAMIC CURLING IRONS!

Both of these options exhibit a similar style - Option #1 is just longer than Option #2. So, the question is should Miguelina add long layers only or should she add long layers and cut off 3 inches? Once she has the layers, she can blow-dry with a big round brush for Option #2’s look or use a certain person’s curling iron technique to duplicate Option #1.

(By the way, Miguelina confesses to being lazy in the hair department. I totally understand, but if you want a style, you need to STYLE it! See Hair Rule #2.)

As for the long face-framing layers, I would suggest blow-drying the top front section of the hair downwards into the face. That way, it will sweep downwards and to the side, instead of up and over, like it wants to do naturally. Just doing that will change the overall look dramatically. I think it could be exactly what Miguelina’s looking for in a style. Also, look into purchasing a light mousse for a little lift. Several hair brands have recently introduced new, lightweight mousses for natural-looking volume. They ain’t your momma’s old mousse, that’s for sure.

What do you all think?

Voting is closed.

A Date With Baby Bug

Are these two in baby love or what?

Ping Pong Sundays

My run this morning nearly killed me. Seriously, running at 7am with a margarita hangover is not smart. Not smart at all. I think I might have experienced a small coronary infarction about two miles in, not to mention the sun was beyond blinding and HOT. Despite all of these issues, I pushed through and feel 100% better. But don’t think I wasn’t cursing Ping Pong Sundays the entire time.

This summer, Casa Whoorl’s front yard has become ping pong central on Sundays. D is a great ping pong player and it just so happens that our neighbor played tennis in college and is quite the player himself. Mix in the family on the other side of us, who force us to eat things like tacos and homemade rice and beans, and I think it’s safe to say, Sunday is now officially my favorite day. The play continues for a couple of hours while the grand total of 6 children run (well, Wito crawls and cruises the side of the house) through the grassy lawns, kicking balls and laughing hysterically. And what do the non-pongers do? We keep our eyes on the children while sipping delicious margaritas. I like our job the best.

After the fierce competitors have had their fill, the gaming table becomes host for all of the delicious food. Last night it was homemade salsa, guacamole, carnitas, tortillas, rice and beans and all the fixins. I’m pretty sure I ate my body weight in pork last night. There’s just nothing like a juicy carnitas taco followed by a tart margarita. And so we eat and laugh and eat and laugh until the only light left is from the moon, straining to see each other’s faces across the lawn.

However, the very best part is listening to the unpredictable comments from the 4 and 5-year-olds. As we were discussing our neighborhood’s overactive security force, one neighbor joked that if you sneeze too loudly, the security helicopters will circle your home for 45 minutes. Without missing a beat, the 5-year-old looked up from his ice cream cone, completely exasperated, and said, “Well, YOU KNOW, a red dog and a sweater just won’t cut it anymore!”

Huh?

After we put Wito down and the other children had finished dinner, the remaining kids scurried inside our neighbor’s house to play. As we continued to chat outside, we heard the leader of the pack (a 4-year-old girl) yell from inside her room, “Now, let’s get this PARTY STARTED!”

I can’t wait to hear what comes out of Wito’s mouth in the upcoming years. I have a feeling we won’t be disappointed.

Disaster Pie

Since Wito has officially graced us with his presence for an entire year, I received the go-ahead from my pediatrician to feed him whatever we eat. (Except peanuts, I know. OHMYGAHDON’TLETHIMTOUCHAPEANUTI’MHYPERVENTILATING.)

This new piece of culinary information has literally thrown me into a tailspin. He’s supposed to eat what I eat? Like burritos? And Frankenberry cereal? Huh? This can’t be right- Wito eats Cheerios, cheese, fruit, English muffins and Earth’s Best baby food. End of story.

Well, I guess things must change. Except, we eat dinner after he’s asleep. How is that supposed to work? I’M LOOKING AT YOU FOR SOME ANSWERS, DR. HOT. Am I supposed to be this highly confused about the matter? You would think someone just requested me to explain why Danny didn’t win So You Think You Can Dance.

This is the part where you come in to save the day. What do/did you feed your 1-year olds? (Who go to bed at 6:30-7:00. Long before our dinner commences.)

Well, I’ll tell you what you SHOULD NOT feed toddlers or frankly, any adults on the planet Earth.

Olive Pie.

Darren and I really thought we were onto something with this whole Olive Pie idea. We had been emailing for weeks about our sinful love for green olives, and how our Olive Pie could possibly be the closest thing to God. Olive Pie Lovers Unite! I spent some time searching for recipes on various popular food websites, but couldn’t seem to find much more than a British recipe for an olive and anchovy pie.

(Note to self: If you can’t find a recipe online, it’s probably NOT because you’ve brilliantly come up with the next culinary delight to sweep the nation. Nope, it’s definitely because your idea SUCKS.)

Yet, Darren and I forged ahead, ignoring all of the naysayers and pie-hatas. We decided to use a variety of green olives, red onions, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese all mixed together in a flaky pie crust. (See? Sounds downright delish!)

Very special ingredients.

Very special pie crust.

How could this not be wonderful? I KNOW! Darren jumped right in…

I hope you don’t mind, I started chopping already.

Does it look like I mind? Could you hand me that bag of chips over there?

People don’t even know what’s about to hit them. We are the pie masters.

Now, you have to admit. This looks pretty good, right?

Here I am holding the pie and wondering why a faint putrid odor has invaded my nasal membrane. Actually, I’m wondering lots of things.

1. How is this pie going to stay together when we cut into it?
2. Why are the olives shriveled? And smelly?
3. Are sun-dried tomatoes supposed to look like that?
4. Do I really like olives as much as I previously thought?
5. OHMAHGAH, are some of these olives non-pitted?
6. What kind of an asshole would try to make an olive pie?

But wait! We were prepared for this! We saved half of the filling AND an extra pie crust, ready to improve our pie. We decided raw egg could be the glue for our misunderstood pie! YES! We mixed one raw egg with the remaining filling, took one whiff of the stinky cheese/olive/raw egg mixture and…

We all know where this is leading, yes?

Whoorl and Darren’s Olive Pie, Rest in Peace.

I can’t believe I’m related to this woman.

I Still Can’t Move My Right Ass Cheek

Who cares, though? It’s Friday! The weekend approaches!

Casa Whoorl has been inundated with contractors, plumbers and electricians this week. In fact, I still have the grating sound of sanders, electric saws and hammers whizzing in my ears. When will that stop, by the way? The termites are gone, thanks to many men working to remove and replace the infested wood (YAY, no pesticides!), the plumbing is updated, small electrical issues taken care of and we’re still here! YES.

We’re experiencing quite a heatwave here at the beach. In fact, it’s already 78 degrees inside our home at 10:30am. Poor Wito wakes up drenched in sweat, but who cares? It’s Friday! The weekend approaches!

Oh, and guess what else?! I graduated from the Couch to 5K program this morning. I can officially run a 5K. WITH A BRUISED GOOSE EGG IN MY ASS. (Although, I did stop early when the throbbing ass issue morphed into more of a stabbing/ripping/burning ass phenomenon. Hey. I’m motivated, not a masochist.) The running post/valedictorian speech coming soon, but who cares? It’s Friday! The weekend approaches!

Let’s review. All of the house issues have been fixed, I am a running champion, I can’t sit on my right ass cheek, and the beach heatwave has turned my living room into the surface of Mars.

What does the rest of the day hold in store for Whoorl?

Well, DUH.

After weeks of brainstorming, Darren is coming over to create our new culinary delight, the Green Olive Pie. It’s a very up-and-coming dish that is sure to captivate the nation. Maybe. It involves, well, um, I’m not sure what in the hell it involves, but it’s serious. So serious, in fact, that I’ve donned my Princess Leia buns for the event.

Top Chef, here I come. Have a great weekend!

The Birthday Boy

Wito experienced a 5-day birthday bonanza complete with 2 parties and grandparental coddling beyond belief. The child was spoiled ROTTEN- trust me, I’m still paying for it 6 days later.

Our typical day since we’ve been back home:

“Mamamamammaaaaa, mamamamaamaa. MAMAAMAMAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

He wants to be picked up, he wants down, no wait, he wants up, DAMMIT, HE WANTS DOWN. GAH. WHY CAN’T YOU READ MY MIND, WOMAN?

“Mamamamamaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

Thanks, mom and dad. Really.

I guess I’ll let them off the hook considering they hosted the greatest 1st birthday bash ever. Great food, people, and the Trinity of Sweets - cake, cupcakes AND cookies. Oh, and wine. LOTS of wine - 6 hours of wine consumption, to be exact.

First birthday parties usually don’t involve a terribly high level of alcohol consumption, but my parents were also hosting Blogher 2.0, Oklahoma-Style. I can’t tell you how surreal it was to open my parents’ front door and see Heather, Susan and Shana looking back at me. (Well, not so much Shana Banana. We’ve had our fair share of Okie vino.) All three were just lovely, especially standing in the midst of many, many strangers. I’m sure my mother put Heather at ease when she exclaimed, “Of course I know you! You’re from the Dunkin’ Donuts video!” However, the deal was sealed when they kept completely straight faces as I explained to my inlaws how we all met at a scrapbooking convention in Reno. It was true love from that point on.

The four of us laughed and sipped (okay, more like gulped) wine long after the last birthday guests trickled out of the door. 6 hours later, and less than 9 hours until Heather’s flight, we said our goodbyes. Such fun, those ladies!

Let’s get back to the man at hand, shall we? He had so much fun seeing all of his relatives and Okie friends. The best part was his birthday cake celebration - he just sat there staring at it for several minutes until my sister coaxed him into licking a little bit of icing. Then, it was ON. The boy ingested sinful amounts of frosting, but promptly gagged (in an extremely dramatic fashion, imagine that) when he tasted the actual chocolate cake. We’ll have to discuss that later, Wito.

I am still shocked that he didn’t experience much of a sugar high or have tummy troubles. What a little man.

A couple of days later, my aunts hosted a Sip-n-See party for 70 of my mother’s closest friends. These 2 photos tell the story better than I ever could.

Pssst. See those ladies over there? They are trying to hug me. They sure smell nice, but don’t they know I need my space? If you need me, I’ll be trying to escape out the window.

Dear God, when will this be OVER? I’M NOT A PUPPET, PEOPLE.

All in all, we had such a great time with all of our friends and family in Oklahoma. It’s hard to believe that Wito has graced us with his presence for an entire year. I truly can’t wait for all of the adventures to come.

You’ve come a long way, Wito. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Oh, and I will never tire of hearing you say, “Mamamama”. Even if it is the 412th time that day.

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