Random Thursday: A Hairy Week

Sunny, who sports a gorgeous head of riotous, dark blonde curls that had my MIL looking at me askance for a short time before she remembered her own uncle’s unruly locks, begged me to straighten her hair yesterday with my wand-thing.***

She asked so nicely, my four-year old grifter-child, that I caved just this once.

I used the lowest setting and sprayed some stuff on her that supposedly keeps hair from being fried by the heat, and slowly, reluctantly, removed all the bounce and boingy-ness.

She loved it, which I suppose is what’s important. But she just didn’t look like my kid.

Usually, no matter how much she brushes or how much detangler she sprays (the bottle has been placed on the highest shelf), her curls reassert themselves the moment she leaves the house. This time, because of the stuff I used on it, her hair was no more than slightly wavy when she came home.

“Will you make my hair smooth tomorrow, Mommy?” she asked at dinner.

“No. Not for a long time,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not good for your hair—and I miss my Curly-Q.”

“You can call me Straight-Q,” she said, without missing a beat or a bite.

We all cracked up . . . but the kid was serious.

Oh, boy.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Required Weekly Geek Bit:

Peter Jackson is doing a vblog of the filming of The Hobbit!

It’s fascinating to see the prep work involved by costumers and carpenters and writers and stunt coordinators and location scouts.

And it’s so much fun to watch the initial uncostumed blocking of the opening scene at Bag End and see all these six-foot “dwarves”** parade into Bilbo’s kitchen (about 5:26—duck!) as Martin Freeman scurries behind with an unexpected armload of weaponry, baffled as only he can baffle.***

There are three of these so far!  I can’t wait for the next one.^

oooooOOOOOooooo

Have you seen Despair.com’s collection of demotivational posters?

They’ll lift your spirits, or at least satisfy your cynicism.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Remember the windfall promised to me by that fortune cookie this past Sunday?

Tuesday morning, I discovered my bank card was missing.

I knew the last time I’d used it was at the gas station near the branch library Monday morning, so when the very nice man at the bank asked me if that was my last purchase, I said, “Oh, thank heavens, yes!”

There was a pause, and he said . . . “Did you buy two tanks of gas there? About twenty minutes apart?”

Oh, $#!%.

Luckily that’s all the person bought—at least, that showed up at that point—and because s/he had to use it as a credit card, I’m not responsible for the purchase.

You know, I thought Janie’s take on “windfall” was funny. But having a bank card fall out of your pocket? C’mon, now.

Then again, my horoscope has been telling me all this week not to go on any spending sprees, so at least one oracular system has my back . . .

oooooOOOOOooooo

Leftover Night at the Wessons:

Me:  What do you want for dinner tonight?

Jane: That pasta from last night, but without all the cheese.

Me:  Yeah.  I’ll get right on that.

My husband:  What does Janie want?

Me:  She wants me to squeeze the filling out of the tortellini.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Speaking of hair, here’s a new favorite commercial:

Now there’s a role-model.

___

* I have mentioned that my hair is all cowlicks, right? My goal is to get them all going in approximately the same direction before I leave the house. After that, meh . . .

** Who include Richard Armitage as Thorin, which makes this movie an official requirement, even if my love of the source material, Martin Freeman, and Benedict Cumberbatch hadn’t already made it so.

*** Actually, that pale blue jacket and tie ensemble he’s sporting a little further on is also baffling.

^ Yes, I am waiting for Benedict Cumberbatch to show up in one (or more) of these vids—however did you guess? I figure it’s a good bet, since he’s the voice of Smaug and is also playing “the necromancer,” whom I suspect may end up being Sauron . . . But even if he doesn’t, necromancy isn’t exactly cuddles and fluff, so he must be having a blast being two kinds of evil in one picture—and when Mr. Cumberbatch is having a blast, he shares. Thus endeth the weekly meeting of the Society of Defiantly Post-Pubescent Admirers of Benedict Cumberbatch (SDPPABC)