Friday, January 27, 2012

Laser Hair Removal, The Musical

I told you back at my birthday that I had purchased six sessions of laser hair removal as one of my gifts, and I promised you I would let you know about the experience.

So, I am keeping my word and giving you the downlow on the whole thing.  And when I say "DL", I mean "DL" because it was bikini line hair removal.

Don't worry.  There are no pictures.  I wouldn't want you to have to gouge your eyes out or anything.

I have to tell you I was nervous about this.  First off, I don't like being NAKED in front of complete strangers.  Second, "people" told me that it is painful. And third, NAKED, NAKED, NAKED.

Sometimes I think I should be over the naked thing because of all the people who saw me birth children, but I am not.  You will not see me running around naked at the spa.  Ever.  It's just not necessary.  By all means, if you like it, go for it.  For me, a bikini is naked enough.

At any rate, I found the joint and went inside not entirely sure what to expect. 


And I was greeted by a man.

Crap.  This was going downhill quickly. 

He asked me to have a seat in the waiting area out front.  And momentarily, he escorted me to another room with chairs and a computer.  He asked me to sit down again and handed me some paperwork to fill out. 

And then a beautiful woman came in and started talking to me about the procedure. 

Phew!

Crisis averted.  And now I didn't have to worry about how I was going to get my money back because I was not taking my pants off for a man that did not have M.D. behind his name.

I was taken to a small procedure room where I was handed a small square plastic package and some baby wipes.

I puzzled at the little square, and the beautiful woman must have read my face.  She told me I was going to need to take my panties off and put those panties on.  The baby wipes were for wiping the areas that would be lasered in case I had applied any medication or lotion.

After she exited, I opened up the package, changed into its contents, and climbed onto the table. And felt the breeze. Which was chilly.

Lying on an examination table sans pants waiting for the beautiful woman to enter, the thought that enters my mind is how exactly do I get comfortable lying here in paper panties.

I feel stiff and awkward lying there with my hands by my side.  But it seems TOO comfortable  to reach back and put my hands behind my head.  Like, "Hi!  I'm just chillin' in my new panties.  You wanna hang for awhile."

Yeah, weird awkward turtle-type stuff like that goes through my head all the time.  It's a problem.

So, I settle on folding my hands over my stomach and focus on trying to relax my shoulders.  They are always so tense lately.  I probably need to go see my friend Fluffy for a massage, but I have massage neurosis as well.  Someday...

I'm lying there as comfortable as I am going to get without pants, and then, I stupidly decided to turn my head and look toward the window.

Big mistake.  HUGE mistake.

The blinds are turned so that one standing on the street could look up and into the room.  And I'm lying on a table that is higher than the bottom of the window.

Oh. My. Quad.  (translation for non roller derby types: Oh my super cool, non-inline, four-wheeled skate!)

So, of course, I'm instantly uncomfortable again.  I wonder how to proceed.  It's been a few minutes since the beautiful lady left the room.  If I jump up and run across the room to turn the blinds, will I be standing there by the window with my paper-covered backside at full exposure when she enters the room OR will I be attempting to scramble back onto the table with one leg up as she returns OR do I have enough time to complete the task, return to the table, and look like I never got up?

It takes me about .0001 seconds to decide that the risk of having a complete stranger on the ground floor peer up and into the room while I am lying there in disposable undergarments is far less humiliating than the risk of having the beautiful woman return just as I am hiking my paper-clad bottom back onto the table. 

So, I lie there in all my glory until she returns SECONDS later.  I had made a VERY good call.

She briefly explains the basics of what she is about to do and turns some dials.  I'm handed some doltish looking goggles to complete my supermodel look and protect my eyes from being blinded for life.  Then, she begins.

Zap, zap, zap.  Pause.  Wipe.  Zap, zap, zap. Pause.  Wipe.

And so it goes for the next few minutes.

As she finishes, I tell her how relieved I am that there was no pain.  Much less pain than waxing.  I hand her the rockstar goggles, and she tells me that she is glad that I am able to tolerate the laser so well.  We smile.  It's all quite touching.

Then, she hands me a tube of Desitin and tells me to apply it to the areas that have just received treatment.  I take the tube from her hand, squeeze a dab into my hand, and look at her.  She tells me to just daub it on.  She stands there.

I realize that she is not going to leave the room.  More awkwardness.  I begin to dot the Desitin on myself and she praises me like a puppy.  "That's right!  All over!"

She tells me to get dressed and come out of the room when I am ready.

I immediately toss those disposable unmentionables into the trash can and gratefully pull on my jeans.

I schedule my second appointment, leave, and head over to the mall.  After that much stress, a girl can stand to unwind by checking out the latest spring fashions at Nordstrom. 

Results?  For me, the pain at the first appointment was negligible.  I won't see actual results for around three weeks.  The laser strength will be increased at the next appointment. We'll see.




I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Have You Ever Seen Four Cuter Eyes?

Bonus had asked to go to the eye doctor for...well, it's been awhile.  Pretty much since he went to Kindergarten.

But, he passed the vision screening at school, so I wasn't in any hurry to get him there.

I thought he just wanted glasses because he has a couple of buddies at school who wear glasses.  I even made that comment to a couple of my friends.

I took him to the eye doctor on Monday, and guess what?

He actually needs glasses for reading and schoolwork.  He is farsighted, which surprised me because both Mr. Incredible and I are nearsighted.  Turns out my dad was farsighted, too, but I never realized that because he always talked about his severe astigmatism instead of the farsightedness.  I'm going to have to check with my mother-in-law regarding the far or nearsightedness of Mr. Incredible's side of the family.

Of couse, I sat in the room while Bonus had his exam, and I felt guilty for putting off his appointment when I heard him try to read the line that was three lines above 20/20.  He was mixing up "o" with "c" and "c" with "o." 

No wonder he has been struggling so much with his school work.

So, now my little man is a four eyed cutie.  He picked out his own frames, and I think they look very handsome on him. In the frame-picking process, I learned that my son has impeccable (read: expensive) taste just like his mama.

He is taking pretty good care of his specs, too!  Five days later he has only lost them in the house four times...  :) 

His teacher said she noticed an improvement the very first day he wore them.  Poor little buddy.  I'm sorry I didn't run straight to the eye doctor.

Unfortunately, he still hates school and begged not to go every morning this week.  Do they have a doctor for that? 

"Mom, you have to stop taking pictures of me so I can do my work.  I already know I have cute eyes."


Wednesday, January 18, 2012

RNR Explains It All

My little Rock N Roll Princess pops out with some great thoughts and words all the time.

But these were especially precious...

When sitting at the kitchen table talking about the close of a large business and the state of the economy,

"Then it went out of business and crashed a bunch of rich people's dreams."

I couldn't have explained it better myself.


And just because she could after a comment Mr. Incredible made,

"   A sigh of evaporation."

  glance from me...

"I know it's not right, I just wanted to say evaporation."

She can't stand not using her new vocab. 

Both of these made me smile and giggle.  I love this kid.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Only at Derby Practice...

would you hear snickers when someone said,

"If you see a hole anywhere, go jump in it."  (regarding a jammer making her way through a pack)

or

"We are going to go outside to eat tuna." (when people are really going outside to eat their lunches)

or

"That doesn't look like it's deep enough for a helmet." (a skate bag)


You know those innocent comments were all followed by a whisper of, "That's what she said."

And only in derby would one girl ask another girl about short sizing...

and the other girl immediately drop her shorts to her ankles, step out of them and hand them to the other girl.  And casually stand there in a pair of tights.

And the injury comparisons were like fishing stories last night...  You know, the big one that got away. 

It continues to be a real eye-opener.

Oh, the things I see and hear in the places we roll...


Thursday, January 12, 2012

Doing You A Favor

Some of you can't seem to remember the blogspot part of the url, and some of you haven't learned how to bookmark.  My typical suggestion for you has been to follow my blog or sign up to get it on your email.

I realize some of you do not want to publically follow me and have your sweet little face show up on my blog.  I don't blame you.  Your mom might see that you are following me, and that would be awkward (What's your mom doing at my website?  That's my question...).

BUT...

You can remember my name.

SO...

I'm making it easier on you.

You can now get to me more easily.

That doesn't mean I've suddenly become too sensitive (I already am too sensitive, but let's not quibble over this.).  It means I'm considerate of a couple of you who are apparently a little on the lazy side.

You can still get to me the same old way you used to.  I'm not asking you to change your ways.  Heaven forbid you move forward or grow or anything of the sort.  However, you can now also get to me with just

www.recklesshousewife.com !!!

Isn't that convenient?

It's taken nearly three years for the old owners to release the url, but they released it.

I'll probably get all kinds of additional hits from people looking for porn in addition to the hits I already get for people looking for porn. 

Goody.


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I'm Your Pusher. I Got Something Special. Golden Crack.

I've created a few addicts out there...  Just like my father created addicts out of me and my family.

I even had someone else's derby wife saying she *might* be coerced into leaving her wife for me if I would hook her up with a supply of my Golden Crack.

Miss Noteworthy keeps telling me it's inappropriate to call it Golden Crack, but it's hard for almost anyone to walk by the bowl without getting another handful.  I think it's funny, and we already know I'm not appropriate, so...

Here's your fix:

GOLDEN CRACK

6 cups  graham cereal (like Golden Grahams)
1 cup honey roasted peanuts
1 cup pecan pieces
2 cups pretzels (whatever shape you like)
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup light corn syrup (yeah,yeah... find your own substitute. It's a 1/4 cup to 10 cups of dry stuff.)
1 cup M&Ms (whatever variety you like... I've used both pretzel and peanut)

Preheat oven to 350.  Cover large cookie pan with aluminum foil, and spray with non-stick spray.

Mix first four ingredients together in a huge bowl.

Melt the butter over medium-low heat. Stir in the brown sugar & corn syrup.  Bring to a boil over medium heat, and boil for two minutes.

Pour sugary, buttery goodness over cereal mixture.  Stir to coat.  Spread mixture in a single layer into prepared pan and bake for 10 minutes.  Cool for ten minutes, and then break into small chunks. Mix in candy. 

Store in an airtight container.  Best in first five days, but actually keeps longer.

I wouldn't worry about it being around for more than five days unless you are making vast quantities.

You've been warned!        



Tuesday, January 3, 2012

If You Let It Snow Again, Mommy's Going to Jail

Tuesday, December 6, 2011.

A bad day.

A day I hope to forget in the near future.

It was the day that Bonus almost did not make it to his next birthday.


I was feeling a little down already for reasons I'm not going to get into.  Plus, Mr. Incredible was in Denver for business, so I was feeling a little lonely.  It was overcast all day, and the sun never poked its head through the clouds.  I think the high was around 23. 

In addition, the explosion called Christmas decorating was strewn all over my house.  I wanted and needed to complete the decorating madness and get all the bins and boxes put back in the attic, but I knew that even if I did finish covering our world with tinsel, the boxes and bins would have to sit there until Mr. Incredible returned home and delivered them into the attic.  After I finished unloading each bin or box, I would place the empty container up in the kids' playroom.   

Mr. Incredible's father started sending us nutcrackers for Christmas many moons ago, and last Christmas he sent an extra large one.  It was packed in a huge box with seven hundred million packing peanuts, and when it came time to put Mr. Nutcracker up in the attic, I put him back in the peanuts he came in.

And that was my first mistake...

Yes, in fact, my forehead and my sign do say STUPID.  It also says RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, I'M A WALKING DISASTER and varied other messages of doom.

Packing peanuts. Styrofoam.  The bane of mothers everywhere.  Only second in horror to the dreaded plastic Easter grass.

I hate packing peanuts.  I made do with them last year because I was OVER the Christmas decorations, we didn't have any more newspaper, and the Christmas decorations had to be put away THAT day (I know I'm not the only one who gets like this.).  I could not wait for a trip to Lowes for an extra large bin and some bubble wrap.  Mr. Nutcracker had to go in the attic that very minute, and up he went bathed in styrofoam nuts.

When I pulled Mr. Nutcracker from his resting place, Bonus, of course, immediately noticed the styrofoam and scooped out a handful to investigate it.

"Mama, what is this stuff?"

"It's packing material."

"It's cool."

And that should have been my clue to not walk directly into Mistake #2.  The distraction of Christmas decorations were screaming too loudly.  I did not hear the little voice in my head saying, "Get that box and those packing peanuts into the recycling bin immediately or pay the price for your ignorant mistake."  You don't hear voices?  Hmpf. Moving along.

I put the box in the playroom and forgot about it.

Until two days later...

I was down in the kitchen decorating and making a test batch of Golden Crack (more on this to later), when I heard Bonus' excited voice from upstairs.

"It's snowing!"

And I thought nothing about it at first because it was cold enough, it had looked like a snowy sky earlier, and I was stirring a caramel sauce that I did not want to burn.  Then, when my attention could be moved from the pot of sugary, buttery goodness to the window, I saw no snowflakes.

Uh oh.        
  
I moved from the kitchen toward the stairs.  As I emerged from the kitchen, I looked at the foyer and nearly cried.  Apparently, the "snow" was Bonus dropping packing peanuts from the overlook to the foyer. When I got to the top of the stairs, I named the foyer small potatoes.
I couldn't quite capture the blizzard.   You can't see the full scope of the storm, but, trust me, we will be talking about this particular round of frozen precipitate for a long time around these parts.

Christmas decorating?