The Misadventures of Cheri

Mortifying my kids one swimsuit at a time

Hair Meltdown

I am 39 years old and I am in the process of LOSING it over my hair today. You would think I was 16. At least I’m having a meltdown on the inside and not actually acting like a teenager for my children to see.

My hair is puffy and unruly. I think it might be humid out . . . . okay, well I know it is. That’s probably part of the problem. That and I can’t seem to find anything that makes my hair do exactly what I want it to do. And what do I want? More definition to my curls. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

So I’m frustrated, ticked off, in the middle of pms and have a whole heck of a lot to do before Sunday. So what am I doing? Sitting here and blogging . . . . . hoping the rage will subside at least for a bit. I just took my Nature’s Way PMS so hopefully the rage will die down in the next hour or so. Just in time to take Austin to his robotics club and take Amber to a park while we wait for him.

I thought part of the problem was I hated the way I looked today without makeup. So I’m about half way through getting all of that slapped on . . . . and yet here I sit. And from the looks of it, my goal today is to put as many of these . . . . . . . things in each paragraph as possible. Hopefully no one is grading my grammar.

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I am NOT going to blog about this

Oh boy did I get mad today. Mad, mad, mad. So mad that I cried out to the world in general that what happened was NOT funny and I was NOT going to blog about it. Of course I kept this all inside and I really don’t know to whom I was railing against. But I was mad. Good and mad.

I got up this morning and did a little shopping. I had stopped at a couple of stores, had a couple of bags and still had one more stop to make. The last stop was to Trader Joe’s and the Dollar Tree. These happen to be side by side and the parking lot is completely inadequate for the throngs that congregate there. Usually just entering the parking lot makes my blood pressure raise dangerously high. It wasn’t too bad today.

I pulled into my parking space and realized I didn’t want to leave my purchases laying about in the car for anyone to see. Yes, I’m married to a cop and if I leave things out for common thugs to see and the car gets broken in to . . . . . well, it wouldn’t be good on the home front. Of course, nothing was organized or where it belonged so I popped the trunk (where my Trader Joe’s grocery bag is because I’m such an environmentalist and all) and proceeded to get out of the car with two shopping bags, my purse, my cell phone in one of my hands and the keys in the other. Don’t ask me why I didn’t put the phone and keys in the purse. That’s just how I roll.

Upon exiting the car, I dropped my cell phone. Hard to believe, isn’t it? It hit the ground and was at just the right trajectory to bounce wildly and land under the car next to me. Way under. So far under that I couldn’t see it. All I could picture was me having to lay on my stomach in my white and yellow shirt to shimmy under the car. I put everything down on the nasty, dirty, stinky parking lot ground, got on my hands and knees to see if I could see the phone. Thankfully, it was within arms reach. At this time I did utter a word of thanks to God that the weather was beautiful and not raining like it usually is this time of year.

I turned around on my knees, grabbed my things with as much decorum as I could and hoped the people driving and walking by didn’t see what was going on. Then I stood up. I stood up quickly and with much force because I was, afterall, embarrassed. Somehow, I ended up right under my rearview mirror. So guess what hit the mirror as I was standing up quickly and with much force? Yep, my head.

It hurt so, so, so, so bad. That would be about the time I got mad. I stood up, put my stuff in the trunk, slammed said trunk and took off to the Dollar Tree. The keys and cell phone still weren’t in the purse, the TJ’s shopping bag was under my arm and I was holding my head. I decided to go to the Dollar Tree because you really don’t have to be very impressive to shop there. And nothing says impressive less than a fuming woman who was having a bad hair day (did I mention that?), carrying way more than one arm/hand could allow all the while rubbing the top of her head.

It continued to hurt all the way through the store. And I continued to rub my head, pushing my cart with only one hand. I momentarily laughed at myself, but quit quickly because my self was seriously ticked off. And I think it would be that moment that my self proclaimed to no one but herself, “This is NOT funny and I am NOT going to blog about it!”

So there ya go. I’m nothing if not true to my word.

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Wait, Wait Mr. Postman . . . . .an open letter to my mail carrier

Dear Mr. Postman,

There comes a time in every relationship where it must be evaluated. One must truthfully look at what’s right and what’s wrong. Then one must weigh those two together and see what outweighs what. I’m afraid the bad outweighs the good in this situation. I have been patient, I have been kind . . . . in fact, I’ve bent over backwards to make this relationship work. And I’m afraid I’m losing myself in the process. I need to be me and this relationship isn’t letting it happen.

Yesterday was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. But if I give that one event as the only proof that we need to go our separate ways, it will fall short. So let me give a brief overview of some of the events that have precipitated this decision.

About a year into this relationship, our neighbors went on a six week vacation. Upon their return, we got a key in our mailbox to the parcel locker. I opened up said locker and found all six weeks of my neighbor’s held mail. Are you kidding me?? I’m sure there were credit card bills, bank statements . . . . enough for me to do some serious damage. I shut the locker, took the key to them and heard, “Oh yeah, he’s awful.” I didn’t want to believe it. I optimistically thought I could change you.

Another time I got a large envelope that was almost an inch thick. It wasn’t for me . . . . of course it wasn’t. It was from the IRS. THE IRS!!! So I dutifully took it down to my neighbor’s house. He answered the door with no shirt on. That was not something I needed to see. And certainly not up close.

There were other mix ups along the way. We’ve had to call the actual post office because you don’t seem to understand that if you cram something in our box, we can’t necessarily get it out. We have a little lip all around the opening on our box that you seem to not know exists.

This summer we had to call and ask for ANOTHER jammed in item to be removed. That very week our church decided to do “Servant Festival.” One of the days was “Serve a Servant.” The entire middle school department wrote loving and glowing letters to their mail carriers, complete with a candy bar to show their appreciation. The hubs and I just looked at each other as our son happily left the letter for you to find. Then you somewhat redeemed yourself by bringing a thank you note by to my son complete with a Reese’s peanut butter cup.

But yesterday was the end all. I opened up the postal locker again to find a package that didn’t belong to me. As I was carting it down to yet another neighbor’s house, the return address caught my eye. It was “Sexy Secrets by Sarah.” I so didn’t need to see that. Of course when I rang the doorbell, the wife didn’t answer, her husband did. Did I mention this is the man who works with my husband? I can’t ignore this person for the rest of my life and secretly blush on the inside knowing what I hand delivered him. I have to wave. I have to make conversation. I freakin’ HAVE to give him a Christmas card.

Sadly, this relationship cannot end. It’s a type of indentured servitude I must bear with you. I’ll admit, over the years I’ve wanted you to cease to exist happily retire. So on I go, stuck in a relationship I can’t get out of. Just do me a favor, mmm ‘kay? DON’T deliver my “Sexy Secrets by Sarah” to one of my neighbors.

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Stayin’ Alive

Well, over the weekend I took a bit of a bloggy break. And it bled over into Monday! But I’ve enjoyed not being attached to my laptop. I’m a bit too addicted to Google Reader and I highly suggest it if you try to keep up with more than a few blogs. I read a lot of blogs that aren’t on Multiply and I like having them all in one place. GR is super, super easy to use and it’s free!

My new Beth Moore bible study group started on Sunday night. We’re doing Daniel this time around and I can’t wait. We had 13 women there!! That’s waaaay up from our usual 7 or 8.

I’ll try to come up with something more exciting tomorrow. As for now, here’s a picture of two of our foster kitties. Palin looks like he’s holding Ash hostage. I picture him saying, “Hand over the tuna or it’s lights out for the little kitty here.”

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The New ‘Do

Sooooooo, I really like my hair. The gal who cut it is the BEST! She knows all the “curly girl” rules and they even carry a couple of the top notch curly hair product lines that are very hard to find unless you order them online.

So here the pictures be. I think I need a tad more curl cream in my hair in the morning to define the curls a little better. She took a lot off the back, but it will grow back. Or not – I’m kinda digging the look in the back.

I never know how to smile in a picture I take of myself.

You can’t really see how the back kinda goes up in a wedge-like fashion. I love it so much.

Here’s a side/back shot.

Again, the girl who did my hair was amazing. She has curly hair herself. Did I mention in her off time she’s part of the Portland Roller Derby? She’s an absolute riot. And, believe it or not, I’m thinking about going to a . . . . game? . . . . . match? . . . . . derby? . . . . sometime. Why not walk on the wild side every now and then? That and I used to have a friend who left her husband to pursue her roller derby career a couple of years ago. Yes, really.

Guess I’d better help the man-child pack. The youth group is having a “guys getaway” overnight tonight. I hear there’s going to be paintball, midnight swimming, and a hike. They sure do put a lot into 24 hours!! And I’m making a new pork roast recipe . . . . it smells so yummy!

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‘Fro Me To You – Worst Haircut

In honor of the awesome haircut I’m SURE I’ll be getting on Thursday, I offer this blog. A bit of background . . . . Yes, I’m getting my haircut. This has been a day three weeks in the making. I’m pretty sure I have found THE place in Portland to get your hair cut if it’s curly. And, supposedly, I have found THE stylist for curly girls in THE salon. Gasp. Let me collect myself.

I have been in the throes of “growing out” for over a year . . . . 14 months to be exact. At times it has been distressing. At times, harrowing. Other times I have been rendered speechless by the condition of my tresses. Apparently it got so bad last week it prompted my daughter to abruptly announce she wished I’d hurry and get my hair cut. Sadly, I thought I was having a great hair day.

So in celebration of the AMAZING haircut I will be receiving on Thursday, let me post a picture of my worst haircut ever. It was 1993; Tyler and I had been married about eight months. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I went uber-short and got highlights. My husband affectionately named this style “bird head.” To this day he still mentions ol’ bird head now and again. What a guy.

Please try not to notice how my “blazer” matches the hotel bedspread a little too perfectly (and in return I’ll try not to mention that I had a matching skirt). And yes, I was wearing stirrup pants. Just in case you can’t tell from the severely pegged way they taper off the edge of the photo.

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A – Z About Me

I was tagged by Whitney at Baby Tunnel Exodus to do an A-Z About Me! I remember distinctly coming out of my “baby tunnel.” Amber had just gotten potty trained and I felt like I had my life back. I actually read a book that had nothing to do with parenting, marriage or potty training. What a day!!

Attached or Single? Attached

Best Friend(s)? I have more than one, but Jesus tops the list.

Cake or Pie? Cake

Day of Choice? Wednesdays – the kids are out of the house, there’s nothing to do Wednesday nights therefore I usually don’t shower 🙂

Essential Item? Moisturizer – I have terribly dry skin.

Flavor of Ice Cream? Tillamook Mountain Huckleberry

Gummy Bears or Worms? Bears

Hometown? Born in Anchorage, Alaska but I’m much more at home in my little hamlet in Washington state.

Indulgences? Starbucks and pedicures

January or July? July – mama loooooooves summer

Kids? Austin (almost 13 – Lord help a mom), Amber (10 1/2)

Last Movie I Saw In The Theater? Probably Wall-E.

Middle Name? Dawn

Number of Siblings? Uno

Oranges or Apples? Either, they both work for me.

Phobia or Fear? I have an irrational fear of birds. Don’t get me started.

Quote? Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest. Mark Twain

Reason to Smile? The two kittens cuddling in my lap as I type this.

Season? Summer all the way!

Tag 5 More: It’s too late and I’m too tired.

Unknown Fact About Me? I once voted for a mayor because I cared about my husband’s job (the hubs was a city employee) and pretty much deserted my values in the process. I felt horrible. He won, thankfully not by one vote – lol.

Vegetarian or Carnivore? Carnivore all the way. One of the biggest reasons I couldn’t be and orthodox Jew – well BESIDES denying Christ as the Messiah – is the whole “no shellfish” dealio. I was born and raised in Alaska. Seafood is one of the food groups, don’t ya know?

Worst Habit? Sucking air through a teeny, tiny space between my two front teeth. Drives my husband crazy . . . . . and not in the sexy way.

Xrays or Ultrasounds? Well, I don’t get them for happy reasons anymore so I vote “neither.”

Your Favorite Food? Mama loves her some Chinese.

Zodiac? Leo – before my family became Christians, my mom had books on astrology. It’s kinda scary how very Leo I am. But I don’t think about it anymore.

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Why We Left Alaska

I’ve been “running into” a lot of old friends on Facebook lately and they all seem shocked that we’re no longer living in Alaska. Well, no one is as shocked as I am that we’re not living there anymore!! We happily and willingly left Alaska in January of 2004 . . . . . here’s the story why.

The kids and I went to San Diego for 2 1/2 weeks with my parents to visit my brother and his lovely family in August of 2002. It was a last minute trip and Tyler couldn’t get the time off, plus he had a huge moose/caribou fly-in hunt scheduled with his dad during that time. It was the first real vacation outside of Alaska for us since the kids had been born and let’s just say my eyes were opened.

I remember riding a commuter train through San Diego and thinking, “You have got to be kidding me. ALL of this is out here and we’re just sitting up there in Alaska?” There were just things to do everywhere . . . . . . it was amazing. I came home and told Tyler we were moving. He laughed and said that’s what every Alaskan says when they come home from vacation. He was right on that point! He told me to wait 30 days and see if I still felt strongly about it. In 30 days I was nothing if not more determined to leave Alaska.

For those of you who don’t know, at that point Tyler had been a cop with the Anchorage Police Department for five years. The department was 93 officers short which meant we never saw him. The overtime he worked was insane, if not dangerous. Yeah, the paychecks rocked, but at what price? I searched every police department on the west coast for months.

Tyler had been wanting to leave Alaska since the day I met him, but, well, I wasn’t convinced. We had a good life in Alaska, tons of family and friends and I figured if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.

After a few months nothing seemed to be working so I had given up my hopes of leaving . . . . . . . . until I talked to his sister one day. She had recently been to Richland, WA and said it wasn’t as bad as she remembered and she’d actually like it there. I immediately searched out that department and found out they were hiring! To make a long story short, Tyler just couldn’t get the time off to go down and test. We were content, thinking God wanted us to stay in Alaska. I had accepted my reality until one night Tyler called me from work and said, “What do you think about Vancouver, WA?” Huh? Where did this come from? Two officers he knew from Anchorage were working for VPD and a good friend of his was in the process of applying.

So to make a long story short, about 8 or 9 months after the fateful call about Vancouver, we were living here. Can I tell you how much I love it? There are no words. God has blessed us here beyond our wildest imaginations. All of us have thrived physically, mentally, spiritually . . . . you name it. Tyler has been home for the past 4 1/2 years like a normal person. Oh sure, overtime is synonymous with law enforcement, but it’s NOTHING like Anchorage.

We’re able to travel more, do more as a family and not be so constricted by the weather Alaska offers. Deep down inside I’ll always be a girl from Alaska . . . . . Sarah Palin has affirmed that for me – lol. But now I happily claim Vancouver, Washington as my home.

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Too Beautiful to Blog

The weather here has been unbelievably gorgeous. In the 80’s and 90’s and should be for the rest of the week. Tyler’s off this weekend and we’re planning on spending lots of time outside. I don’t know how much I’ll be around this weekend. I hope all is well where you are!

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Fro Me To You

The year was 1995. I had just been hit by a Mack truck . . . . or so it seemed. Actually, I had just given birth to my 9′ 4″ son via a somewhat emergency c-section. After they induced me and broke my water, Austin decided to do some acrobatics. He ended up head up (he was originally in the correct position) with one foot over his head and the other down the birth canal. He needed to get out and get out quick.

After he was born, the fun didn’t end there. He cried non-stop unless I was holding him. This lasted roughly 14 months. I had NO CLUE what I was in for in this picture, which was taken in the hospital three days after he was born. We went home at some point this day and I did manage to get dressed.

What I remember from this picture is that I thought I looked good. Not just good, I’m talking celebrity photo shoot good. As I was doing my required laps around the maternity ward, I honestly remember thinking that I looked so fantastic that the other moms were probably jealous. Oh to be 26 again. When I got these pictures back (long before the day of digital cameras) I was shocked at how washed out and exhausted I looked. I’m naturally very pale, but I look downright anemic in this picture. But hey, at least I had done my hair!

I’ll also mention that this was the last time Austin took a pacifier until he was 10 months old. I was his pacifier until I weaned him at 9 months. I did it in celebration of my birthday that year. I woke up one morning and proclaimed that the Cheri Dairy was closed for business. Austin was not thrilled.

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