Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Things Need To Be A'Changin

So.

I'm alive. By the way.

Life in Nebraska hasn't managed to off me yet, even though it turns out I'm allergic to corn pollen and they have these wasps who've evolved to be so large that they can flap up and snatch CICADAS. And no one has tried to shoot me, even though I get the distinct and constant impression that my being an "Uppity Woman" is a serious danger to local social order.


It's really hard to be happy or hopeful here. We're both struggling with our jobs and everything surrounding farm communities is SO functional. People here must (well, do) wonder what the point of me is.


Not to mention that I didn't put Jon through two years of college so that he could wear a beard-net to his factory job everyday.


But the Huskers do play an hour away and Jon has managed to go to 6! Games! since the move sooooo...


In other "news"- we got our first smart phones, which I mostly use to google the plots of suspenseful movies while watching them to prevent afraid-ness and public squealing.

And a cat. His name is "Otto", which is what the shelter where he'd been for 3 years had called him. Possibly because he'd been run over by an "Auto" and broken his pelvis. Before the auto, he had a family that declawed him, taught him to like kids, and let him drink out of faucets. No one is sure where they are in this. They may have surrendered him because of the vet bills, or they may still think he's lost. If that's the case, they can have him back because he's very meowy and he's a morning person. If not, well, I'm a sucker for big shaggy mutts and I guess I don't mind the purring.


Vlad, our hedgehog, is still kicking too: kicking Otto's butt. He's really into chasing that poor guy whenever he gets a chance.
Inside that dark, prickly cavern, is his face. 

Anyway, I'm here and have nothing better to do than start blogging again.

Monday, August 19, 2013

10 Times Watson and Vlad Were Dopplegangers.



Vlad the Impaler is my hedgehog. Martin Freeman plays Watson on BBC's "Sherlock". They are dopplegangers. Adorable, endearingly grumpy, squishy-faced dopplegangers.      

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
 7.
8.
9.
10.




Thursday, July 25, 2013

For the Whovians. And Cumber..uh..Ladies.

This is an actual quotation of Jon and I's pillow talk Tuesday night:

Jon: "If Billie Piper is the next Doctor Who, I will go over there and end Moffat".

Lauren: "You can't! Not until he's done with ALL the Sherlocks!"

Jon: "All the Sherlocks?"

Lauren: "Yes. There's a season 4 at least. But, at the end of the very final episode, I give you permission to shove him off of a roof while he's on the phone with Gatiss."

This is what we're doing instead of giving my parent grand-babies y'all.

Yes. I know this sounds like a foreign language if you aren't a Doctor Who or BBC Sherlock fan. They are both on Netflix. Get schooled.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Obligatory Public Effusiveness.

Yesterday, I forgot to post the obligatory "Three years ago, I married my best friend" Facebook status. Not only am I woefully un-influenced by peer pressure into doing those sorts of meaningless, menial social media things that have become basic building blocks of digital life, BUT things were going on. Exciting, meaningful, real life things!

A.) We got a beautiful new niece for our Anniversary. Adalynn Sue Ritta, welcome to the planet. We don't expect you to "blinking, step into the sun" for a little while yet, but we can't wait to meet you as soon as we possibly can.



B.) DOMA/ Prop 8 went DOWN! Congrats to the LGBT community; and warm thoughts to the opposition, who haven't lost anything at all.



Three years ago, I met my wonderful fella, the only one in the world for me, in the park where our relationship started and promised that we would be each other's closest family. Lucky for us, Religion, Society, and Government approved and we were allowed to fully combine our separate lives. We became family, inseparable. LGBT spouses have been "seperable" by law, illness, employment, military service, the list goes on and on. Yesterday, the Supreme court affirmed what Jon and I have found to be true for the past three years: that "Family" is determined by love. On our anniversary, I am so, so, incredibly happy that my friends and family are closer to winning the right that Jon and I are celebrating- to be family.



There's still work to do, of course. Marriage is always about work, right?

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Hi. I'm Still in Nebraska.

I can't write about Nebraska, because my inlaws relate heavily to all Nebraska goings-on. And I mostly try not to offend them.

For instance, I can't write about how Jon's actual science teacher used THE LOCH NESS MONSTER as "proof" that the Earth is only 6,000 years old. Because Nessie is clearly a Plesiosaur, rock solid proof that dinos and humans can walk the earth together and so of course: they did, and all of history collapses into the past 6,000 years. I cannot make this up. The young earth theory- Nessie proves it.

- long parenthetical aside coming-

(All imaginary animals and geological, anthropological, historical, astrological, and archaeological ignored certainties, and the fact that HAROLD CAMPING of failed apocolypse prediction fame also did the math for the young earth theory aside, can  I just point out... "They can, so they must have"? I can run naked around our local Dairy Queen drive-thru, so apparently that's a thing I do: because Nebraska logic.)

Yes, that "science" teacher is long gone. But my inlaws paid tons of good money to send their children to that school for a Christian education.

So this post isn't funny. It's just awkward and socially isolating. This is me unsuccessfully not-writing-about-too-close-to-home-things.




Also- not all Nebraska is like our tiny rural town. Our actual town is just extra weird. It's like it freaky-fridayed with the isolated Arizona village that dreams up zany anti-immigration laws.





Thursday, March 14, 2013

Apparently Jesus Approves of My Hair Routine.

And he really doesn't want me to change anything.

I have difficult hair. Getting it to conform to societal norms of beauty requires time, heat, a minimum of 2 power tools, oil, and the shining likeness of Queen B (Beyonce herself, natch) whispering "it's worth it, it's going to be fierce" into my slightly singed ears.

So a few years ago I quit. I embraced my natural black-brown shade, started washing and conditioning my naturally curly (somehow that seems like a euphemism) locks at night, air drying them till morning, briefly running a straightening iron over them in the morning for a looser wavy do, and then rubbing some morroccan oil into the ends for softness and shine. Voila-Passably pretty, healthy hair that grows fast, feels nice, and only requires 5 minutes of styling. Livin the dream, y'all.

Unnnnnnntttttttiiiiiiil tonight.

Pinterest, that Devil's muse, convinced me that I was long overdue for a change. Particularly, that coloring my hair dark red/brown would be a brilliant lift for my boring, wavy, shoulder length coif. Basically the same style as "before" Laney in "She's All That".

And if you give a girl a dye-job, she's going to want a blow out. I hadn't blown out my hair for 2 years. I've blasted out stubbornly damp patches on the odd morning (yes, air drying overnight is not always enough), but not really fired up the 'ol heat ray to maximum and done the whole shebang sans diffuser. So I didn't know that my dryer had a short.

I burnt out a chunk of my hair. Not just burnt it. Melted it. Into a hunk of popcorn-scented frizz that broke off.

I'm not sure how long hair dryers are supposed to last, but I bought this one in 2007 to replace a totally different hair dryer that also shorted out and burnt out chunks of my hair.

And I wasn't filming it for Youtube EITHER time.

The color is nice though. On what's left of my hair.

In other news, I'm craving popcorn.