I'm interested in natural health and beauty. I've tried a few things - some stuck and some fell by the wayside. I've been making my own deodorant for about a year. I love it. I started off by switching from antiperspirant to plain deodorant. I tried about 5 different kinds of deodorant, from Tom's of Maine and other all naturally products to Old Spice (the least manly smelling option). NONE OF IT WORKED. I was stinky by the end of the day, every day. Yuck. I am not much of a sweater, so the real problem for me was that I wanted to not reek. That's not much to ask for, right? Well, apparently it was. Finally I gave up and was getting ready to go back to Dove, my first true deodorant love, when I decided to make my own. I'm so glad I tried it. I LOVE my homemade deodorant. I mix it up in my kitchen, store it in a baby food jar and I never smell bad anymore. Hooray!
My next foray into "damn the man" beauty products involved a few hair washing misfires. I tried the Curly Girl method, hoping it might coax my not-really-curly-anymore hair into ringlets again. Not so much. Conditioner only hair washing just left my hair really lank and greasy. Not to be put off, I moved along to baking soda and apple cider vinegar. That lasted a lot longer and was pretty successful. I never quite got the apple cider vinegar component figured out, though. SO after a while my hair would have a bunch of buildup and I gave up. I'm back to shampoo and conditioner. I might try the baking soda technique again, though.
This Christmas I went a little DIY crazy and made my first lip balm, bath salts and body scrubs. The lip balm was a hit - peppermint eucalyptus is a zinger of a combo. The bath salts have gotten good reviews and I'm a big fan of the scrubs.
Now I'm ready to up my natural beauty regimen. Tonight I'm going to try the Oil Cleansing Method. I don't do much to care for my face. I rarely wear makeup, so most nights I just splash water on my face before going to sleep. In the mornings I wash with Cetaphyl in the shower. I usually rub a little Clinique moisturizer on during the dry wintery months. The only thing I'm actually good at is wearing sunscreen. But I'm ready to put in a little more effort. Also, I want to try being nicer to my face. So, tonight I'm going to try a 70% castor oil, 30% olive oil combo massage. I'm not going to follow the directions in their entirety. (That's just not my bag) I'm gonna rub some oil in and rinse a few times until I don't feel it anymore.
I'll report back about how it goes...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
Whoops
Ok, one day missed. I have a tendency to do this kind of thing. Set a lofty goal, try to completely reinvent my life over night to live up to it, fail, and give up. Not this time, though.
Oh well. I didn't post anything yesterday. The world won't end.
I have to get accustomed to the idea of writing here. What the hell do I even want to write about? I don't freaking know.
Right now we're in the throes of reorganizing our apartment. We started things off with throwing a ton of shit out, getting in a few fights, and giving away our kitchen table and chairs last weekend. To begin with, we're focusing on the living room and kitchen. Next (starting this weekend) will be the bathroom. Pete and I don't always work well together. Especially not on projects wherein I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I want things to turn out and he hasn't. This is the sort of thing that we've been learning as we try to combine my zest for change with his desire for stability.
I have high hopes for accomplishing some exciting stuff this weekend. By Monday I hope to cross a few of these behemoths off the list:
-Scrub the shit out of our range. According to Pete it looks like a Jackson Pollock painting. Who knew melted wax was so hard to get off a stove?
-Do the same to our tub and bathroom sink. I'm going to do Shiny Sink 101 in both. This will require bleach. I am afraid of bleach, mostly because I like my clothes without blotchy stains. I shall persevere. Even if it means I'm scrubbing the tub in my skivvies.
-Get the kitchen shelves organized. This will require teamwork. Booooo.
-Hang the wooden shelf in the bathroom.
-Hang Pete's calendar and at least 2 other pretty things on the walls.
Wish me luck. Someday I hope to have more interesting things to write about than my adventures in being less of a slob, but this is what I'm thinking about on Friday afternoon. I need to get a life.
Oh well. I didn't post anything yesterday. The world won't end.
I have to get accustomed to the idea of writing here. What the hell do I even want to write about? I don't freaking know.
Right now we're in the throes of reorganizing our apartment. We started things off with throwing a ton of shit out, getting in a few fights, and giving away our kitchen table and chairs last weekend. To begin with, we're focusing on the living room and kitchen. Next (starting this weekend) will be the bathroom. Pete and I don't always work well together. Especially not on projects wherein I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I want things to turn out and he hasn't. This is the sort of thing that we've been learning as we try to combine my zest for change with his desire for stability.
I have high hopes for accomplishing some exciting stuff this weekend. By Monday I hope to cross a few of these behemoths off the list:
-Scrub the shit out of our range. According to Pete it looks like a Jackson Pollock painting. Who knew melted wax was so hard to get off a stove?
-Do the same to our tub and bathroom sink. I'm going to do Shiny Sink 101 in both. This will require bleach. I am afraid of bleach, mostly because I like my clothes without blotchy stains. I shall persevere. Even if it means I'm scrubbing the tub in my skivvies.
-Get the kitchen shelves organized. This will require teamwork. Booooo.
-Hang the wooden shelf in the bathroom.
-Hang Pete's calendar and at least 2 other pretty things on the walls.
Wish me luck. Someday I hope to have more interesting things to write about than my adventures in being less of a slob, but this is what I'm thinking about on Friday afternoon. I need to get a life.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
27 while 27
I'm totally into Life Lists. Mighty Life Lists, to be exact. I have one of those and I'll likely post it here eventually, but I'm more interested in starting smaller for right now.
Have you ever seen the 30 before 30 lists? I like the idea of those. I see them all over the place and think they're pretty rad. BUT. I'm newly 27. This is no time to be thinking about turning 30. No siree Bob. Instead, I'm going to make a list of things I want to do this year.
Behold, 27 Things to Do While I'm 27:
1. Get this blog off the ground
2. Write in my 5 year diary every day (or at least *most* days)
3. Join a CSAjavascript:void(0)
4. Use my food processor
5. Complete the Couch to 5K program and run a 5K
6. Bake bread once a month
7. Sew myself a garment that I can wear to work
8. Get a pair of tall brown boots with a small/flat heel
9. Finish planning and attend the Girl's Wine Weekend
10. Visit 3 cities I've never been to (Miami for Ali's Bachellorette!)
11. Read 50 books
12. Have a picnic party on the lawn at the apartment
13. Build a headboard for our bed
14. Learn to Hula Hoop and use both my hula DVDs. Make a new hoop for a friend!
15. Wear a 2 piece bathing suit and feel sexy doing it
16. Sell something on Etsy
17. Make deodorant for all my friends
18. Go to an antique fair/flea market and haggle over something
19. Go hiking in Ridley Creek (or somewhere new) by myself
20. Sew curtains and throw pillows for our place
21. Paint and hang my little brown mirror
22. Make a new jewelry hanging rack
23. Visit my sister in GA
24. Learn to snorkel
25. Go camping with just Pete
26. Frame the art I gave Pete for Christmas
27. Make and live by a budget. (Time to grow up financially!)
Have you ever seen the 30 before 30 lists? I like the idea of those. I see them all over the place and think they're pretty rad. BUT. I'm newly 27. This is no time to be thinking about turning 30. No siree Bob. Instead, I'm going to make a list of things I want to do this year.
Behold, 27 Things to Do While I'm 27:
1. Get this blog off the ground
2. Write in my 5 year diary every day (or at least *most* days)
3. Join a CSAjavascript:void(0)
4. Use my food processor
5. Complete the Couch to 5K program and run a 5K
6. Bake bread once a month
7. Sew myself a garment that I can wear to work
8. Get a pair of tall brown boots with a small/flat heel
9. Finish planning and attend the Girl's Wine Weekend
10. Visit 3 cities I've never been to (Miami for Ali's Bachellorette!)
11. Read 50 books
12. Have a picnic party on the lawn at the apartment
13. Build a headboard for our bed
14. Learn to Hula Hoop and use both my hula DVDs. Make a new hoop for a friend!
15. Wear a 2 piece bathing suit and feel sexy doing it
16. Sell something on Etsy
17. Make deodorant for all my friends
18. Go to an antique fair/flea market and haggle over something
19. Go hiking in Ridley Creek (or somewhere new) by myself
20. Sew curtains and throw pillows for our place
21. Paint and hang my little brown mirror
22. Make a new jewelry hanging rack
23. Visit my sister in GA
24. Learn to snorkel
25. Go camping with just Pete
26. Frame the art I gave Pete for Christmas
27. Make and live by a budget. (Time to grow up financially!)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Here we go again
It’s a propitious day – 1/11/11
A day for firsts.
This is my final "first" attempt at what I hope will be the first blog I actually stick with. I may as well begin it with a formal declaration of intention. This blog will become integral to my life. I’ll write in it a few times each week. I’ll stick with it and pretty it up with pictures. I’ll make a banner. I’ll solicit followers. I’ll try to be honest and interesting enough to keep them coming back.
Blogging is something I want to lay claim to. I read lots of blogs and admire the smart, funny, fascinating women who write them. They are all inspiring to me. I get good ideas from them. I steal their recipes. I chuckle at their exploits. I am jealous of their awesome houses.
I’m sick of it. I’m tired of blogs being a one-sided relationship. Sure, I could try to post more comments on great posts that I read. I could even shoot a few emails hither and yon and see what came back. Who knows, I could have friends just waiting for me to elbow my way into their lives.
But really, I want to do what they do. I want to carve out a spot for myself on the internet. Something I’d be proud to call my own. A place to look back on and cringe/laugh/smile at years from now.
I asked my sister for a 5 Year Diary for Christmas/my birthday. And she got me one! Sisters are the best! I haven’t really used it yet, though. I want to develop a habit of writing every night before I go to sleep. To give this habit a fighting chance I should really grab the diary, stick it next to the bed and stick a pen in it.
This blogging stuff is the same way. I want to do it, but with my track record that’s nowhere near enough. I need to integrate this shit into my daily life.
This is my start. My last first attempt. I will try writing every day for a month, just to see how it goes. I promise nothing. I won’t even be telling anybody but Pete that this little page exists until I have a month under my belt.
A day for firsts.
This is my final "first" attempt at what I hope will be the first blog I actually stick with. I may as well begin it with a formal declaration of intention. This blog will become integral to my life. I’ll write in it a few times each week. I’ll stick with it and pretty it up with pictures. I’ll make a banner. I’ll solicit followers. I’ll try to be honest and interesting enough to keep them coming back.
Blogging is something I want to lay claim to. I read lots of blogs and admire the smart, funny, fascinating women who write them. They are all inspiring to me. I get good ideas from them. I steal their recipes. I chuckle at their exploits. I am jealous of their awesome houses.
I’m sick of it. I’m tired of blogs being a one-sided relationship. Sure, I could try to post more comments on great posts that I read. I could even shoot a few emails hither and yon and see what came back. Who knows, I could have friends just waiting for me to elbow my way into their lives.
But really, I want to do what they do. I want to carve out a spot for myself on the internet. Something I’d be proud to call my own. A place to look back on and cringe/laugh/smile at years from now.
I asked my sister for a 5 Year Diary for Christmas/my birthday. And she got me one! Sisters are the best! I haven’t really used it yet, though. I want to develop a habit of writing every night before I go to sleep. To give this habit a fighting chance I should really grab the diary, stick it next to the bed and stick a pen in it.
This blogging stuff is the same way. I want to do it, but with my track record that’s nowhere near enough. I need to integrate this shit into my daily life.
This is my start. My last first attempt. I will try writing every day for a month, just to see how it goes. I promise nothing. I won’t even be telling anybody but Pete that this little page exists until I have a month under my belt.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Apartment re-Warming
All summer I've been fantasizing about moving. I've been obsessively scouring Craigslist, looking at apartments that want to rent immediately despite knowing we wouldn't be moving until late October. I couldn't help myself. The idea of imagining our lives in a new abode was too much for me.
I have a bit of an issue with being determinedly future-focused. I blame the American school system. They were constantly drilling into our heads what we were preparing for, what would be coming next. The next unit test, the next grade, the college we'd need good grades to get into, the college visits, the graduations, the so on and so on. THE FUTURE! "Don't forget about the future, kids! It'll be here before you know it." It's ruined me for living in the moment. All I care to do in the moment is entertain what I'll be doing next weekend. Or five years from now. Or when I have grandkids.
Being with Pete, Captain Right Now, has brought this future focused business into sharp relief. And it's sorta pointed out how exhausting it all is. I've been trying to take a break from planning and live more comfortably in the moment.
But apartment dreaming is a tough habit to break. And if you saw the state of our current apartment, you would hardly blame me.
See, there are a few reasons I want to move:
1. This is, has been, and always will be Pete's place. He moved in and established himself, then I came along. Most of the stuff is his. 90% of the furniture arrangement he decided upon. I love it here, but this is more his place than mine.
2. We have way too much goddamned stuff. This is a one-bedroom apartment. Pete is a pack-rat. I am a pack-rat. (Fine, yes, I admit it.) We have fat man in little pants syndrome around these parts.
3. We have no outside space. We have way too few outlets. We have no dishwasher. We have walls made of metal and concrete.
BUT. (Isn't there always a but?)
Last week our refrigerator broke. On a Sunday. It had already been a trying, emotionally exhausting weekend. Now we had to throw away the majority of the contents of our fridge and freezer? Thanks, Universe. Fuck you very much.
After a bunch of hijinks, which included a brief stint of two refrigerators in our small kitchen, we had a brand new fridge. Did you catch that? A BRAND NEW FRIDGE. Never before used. Lacking in any questionable stains or odors. White - not renter's beige.
Well, let me tell you. A new fridge is a game changer.
Pete was never as thrilled about moving as I was. He went along with me, even got a little excited about the prospect, but was never pumped. He hates moving, hates packing, hates getting rid of stuff, blah blah blah. So when he floated the "Well, what if we stayed here? There are so many things we do like about this place..." convo, he was a little surprised at how readily I jumped on the Not Moving bandwagon.
I had a few caveats, of course. I would be happy to stay if we put as much work into our current apartment as we would have put into moving. That means systematically going room by room and clearing things out. Moving stuff around. Re-evaluating every piece of art. Essentially, moving into our own place. Again. Together.
So, we're staying put. But things will be different around here. I think we should set a deadline and plan an Apartment re-Warming party. For May. We've got a lot of work to do.
I have a bit of an issue with being determinedly future-focused. I blame the American school system. They were constantly drilling into our heads what we were preparing for, what would be coming next. The next unit test, the next grade, the college we'd need good grades to get into, the college visits, the graduations, the so on and so on. THE FUTURE! "Don't forget about the future, kids! It'll be here before you know it." It's ruined me for living in the moment. All I care to do in the moment is entertain what I'll be doing next weekend. Or five years from now. Or when I have grandkids.
Being with Pete, Captain Right Now, has brought this future focused business into sharp relief. And it's sorta pointed out how exhausting it all is. I've been trying to take a break from planning and live more comfortably in the moment.
But apartment dreaming is a tough habit to break. And if you saw the state of our current apartment, you would hardly blame me.
See, there are a few reasons I want to move:
1. This is, has been, and always will be Pete's place. He moved in and established himself, then I came along. Most of the stuff is his. 90% of the furniture arrangement he decided upon. I love it here, but this is more his place than mine.
2. We have way too much goddamned stuff. This is a one-bedroom apartment. Pete is a pack-rat. I am a pack-rat. (Fine, yes, I admit it.) We have fat man in little pants syndrome around these parts.
3. We have no outside space. We have way too few outlets. We have no dishwasher. We have walls made of metal and concrete.
BUT. (Isn't there always a but?)
Last week our refrigerator broke. On a Sunday. It had already been a trying, emotionally exhausting weekend. Now we had to throw away the majority of the contents of our fridge and freezer? Thanks, Universe. Fuck you very much.
After a bunch of hijinks, which included a brief stint of two refrigerators in our small kitchen, we had a brand new fridge. Did you catch that? A BRAND NEW FRIDGE. Never before used. Lacking in any questionable stains or odors. White - not renter's beige.
Well, let me tell you. A new fridge is a game changer.
Pete was never as thrilled about moving as I was. He went along with me, even got a little excited about the prospect, but was never pumped. He hates moving, hates packing, hates getting rid of stuff, blah blah blah. So when he floated the "Well, what if we stayed here? There are so many things we do like about this place..." convo, he was a little surprised at how readily I jumped on the Not Moving bandwagon.
I had a few caveats, of course. I would be happy to stay if we put as much work into our current apartment as we would have put into moving. That means systematically going room by room and clearing things out. Moving stuff around. Re-evaluating every piece of art. Essentially, moving into our own place. Again. Together.
So, we're staying put. But things will be different around here. I think we should set a deadline and plan an Apartment re-Warming party. For May. We've got a lot of work to do.
I am a culinary genius
This week Pete got attacked by some kind of fly by night stomach bug. He woke up and tore out of bed around 4am on Sunday night, dashing to the bathroom. He made it, thankfully. A few rounds of puking followed. Since I happen to be an incredible human being, I hopped up to provide all my patented feel better remedies: a glass of cold water and some gentle back rubbing. We fell back asleep immediately and Pete felt alright on Monday, albeit a little left-over gross and sore-throaty.
Now, I figured this was a fluke. He got a little sick. Maybe something he ate? Except that we ate the same thing. Eh. Oh well. He was doing better already!
Then on Tuesday I was attacked by a similar awake-from-slumber-and-run-for-the-bathroom malady. Evidently Pete's system is more of a delicate flower than mine, because he tossed his cookies and evacuated the bug on Sunday. My iron stomach didn't put up the least complaint, but boy-oh-boy, my lower GI tract was NOT PLEASED!
Oh dear. I just realized I'd planned to write a post about food and began by recounting stories of stomach bugs, puking and poops of doom. Sorry about that.
Anyway, we were feeling a touch under the weather this week and cooking dinner just didn't really happen.
Enter my culinary masterpiece: The Gigantwich. The Gigantwich is a horrifying take on the harmless sandwich. It's a kissing-cousin of the Club Sandwich. The definition of a Gigantwhich is a triple layer sandwich, with both layers comprised of the same elements. This ain't no double-decker PB&J. No siree. The Gigantwich is when you are trying to make two sandwiches, but realize you have only 3 pieces of bread.
There you have it folks. Go forth and enjoy.
Now, I figured this was a fluke. He got a little sick. Maybe something he ate? Except that we ate the same thing. Eh. Oh well. He was doing better already!
Then on Tuesday I was attacked by a similar awake-from-slumber-and-run-for-the-bathroom malady. Evidently Pete's system is more of a delicate flower than mine, because he tossed his cookies and evacuated the bug on Sunday. My iron stomach didn't put up the least complaint, but boy-oh-boy, my lower GI tract was NOT PLEASED!
Oh dear. I just realized I'd planned to write a post about food and began by recounting stories of stomach bugs, puking and poops of doom. Sorry about that.
Anyway, we were feeling a touch under the weather this week and cooking dinner just didn't really happen.
Enter my culinary masterpiece: The Gigantwich. The Gigantwich is a horrifying take on the harmless sandwich. It's a kissing-cousin of the Club Sandwich. The definition of a Gigantwhich is a triple layer sandwich, with both layers comprised of the same elements. This ain't no double-decker PB&J. No siree. The Gigantwich is when you are trying to make two sandwiches, but realize you have only 3 pieces of bread.
There you have it folks. Go forth and enjoy.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Story idea
As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about a story wherein people's bodies became separated from their souls and they had to do something to get them back. Almost like indentured servitude for souls. The entity who protects people from the soul snatchers is actually the same entity as the soul snatchers! They get you coming and going.
It'd be a hero story with a young girl as the hero. She's not super pretty or super athletic or super anything. She's just a girl. She's a little chubby. She is shy around boys. She has a hard time controlling what comes out of her mouth sometimes. She has no idea that she has what it takes to bring down the entity that has her society firmly in its clutches. She's a reluctant, disbelieving hero. She has heard the legends of "haven't thought of a name for it yet" but she's 14 now and they're for kids. Sure she loved the old stories of triumph when she was little, but that was before (something terrible) happened. She's not quite cynical, but she had to grow up fast and has left childish fantasies behind her.
It'd be a hero story with a young girl as the hero. She's not super pretty or super athletic or super anything. She's just a girl. She's a little chubby. She is shy around boys. She has a hard time controlling what comes out of her mouth sometimes. She has no idea that she has what it takes to bring down the entity that has her society firmly in its clutches. She's a reluctant, disbelieving hero. She has heard the legends of "haven't thought of a name for it yet" but she's 14 now and they're for kids. Sure she loved the old stories of triumph when she was little, but that was before (something terrible) happened. She's not quite cynical, but she had to grow up fast and has left childish fantasies behind her.
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