Ode to the Dog Water

Ode to the Dog Water

by Michaela Byrd, age 12 months

Oh, Dog Water, your murky depths sing to me from across the linoleum.

How I long to splash with reckless, joyous, abandon

But Her restraining arms pull me away yet again.

From the confines of the high chair, I gaze at your cool, glassy surface.

She can place me in the playpen, strap me in a car seat, or banish you to the sideboard,

But She cannot take away our love.

Someday, sweet Dog Water, we shall be reunited...

When She is not looking.

Hairspray

My good friend H always looks so put together. Even at nine months pregnant and in labor she looked fabulous. It's not fair. So when she gave me a gift card to her favorite local salon, I was really excited, and planned an appointment (which I later had to cancel due to TheGreatSickness). That's when I chanced upon a real find: a new boutiquey salon so frou frou and sheshe that you just know you want to try it, even if they all speak French inside and look down their noses at you.

The proprietor, Miss Nollie, is a bit eccentric, but I've heard that she has exquisite taste. When I walked in, the salon was already humming with activity. Imagine my surprise when not only were my brother and my sister-in-law (J and Su-Su) there, but my mother (Mimi) as well! They heard the word on the street earlier about this new hot spot and wanted to get in before the rush. I guess they forgot to tell me. Sniff.


When she saw me, Miss Nollie, the salon owner, held up a hand. "You wait over 'dere." she told me. She has an odd way of speaking. Like I told you, she's eccentric. So I followed directions and sat down on the plush leather ottoman in the waiting area. (Didn't I say this place was posh?!) The hair dryer and all of the make-up had the Barbie brand and pictures of Barbies on them. Classy!

While I waited, I observed business in action. Miss Nollie, it turns out, is actually something of a tyrant. She rarely lets a client choose his/her own beauty regimen, but I suppose her creative vision is so grand that she couldn't possibly leave it to mere customer to decide what he or she would care for. She also keeps her money and tips in a small tupperware bowl on her counter. I secretly wonder if this is so she can catch thieves in the act and then chase them and beat them down with her hair dryer. Su-Su was the first client and politely asked how much Miss Nollie charged for some nail polish and how much to do her eyes.


"Um, hold on. I go check to see how much." Miss Nollie replied. She ran into the other room with the nail polish. Hmm...seems like Miss Nollie should know how much she charges for her services. Miss Nollie returned.

"Uh, a dollar one." she said with finality.

"Oh, okay," Su-Su agreed. "That sounds doable."

Except Miss Nollie only painted one of Su-Su's fingernails on one hand and then insisted that Su-Su have a blowout. Then she proceeded to charge her upwards of eight dollars for her services.

"But, wait!" Su-Su protested. "You said you'd only charge me a dollar one and now it's eight dollars and you only painted one nail."

Miss Nollie pretended not to hear her and moved on to her next customer: my brother, J, who I believe was only there to see if there was food being served. With the exception of Miss Nollie's special five dollar spa water, there was no food.

"What color you want?" Miss Nollie asked J, holding up her eye shadow/blush palette.

"Oh, uh, I guess blue." J answered.

"Nooo, you want pink and green." Miss Nollie told him and she proceeded to paint his wrist.

"Hold on a second!" cried Su-Su. "I told you that I wanted green." Her comment spurred a lengthy argument. I thought the customer is always right, right?

At this point, I had been waiting for quite some time. Frankly, I was beginning to think that Miss Nollie was just like many other business owners-just out to make money without a care for her clientele. When I asked Miss Nollie what the hold-up was, she told me to choose a nail polish.

"Well, I'd like hot pink." I decided.

"Dat's not hot pink." Miss Nollie retorted. I could see where this was headed. She charged me "firty dollars" to paint three finger nails and swipe some blush on my eyelids. She took a long look at my eyebrows. "Deez are messy. I'm gonna shave 'em off." she said with some finality, picking up what was actually an eyelash comb. What? I was not sure how to feel about this new, cutting edge, boutique salon experience.

In the gift shop, she charged Mimi eighteen dollars for a Tinkerbell doll I know for a fact she bought at a cost of zero dollars (Su-Su and J gave it to her for her birthday). She doesn't currently offer gift wrap for boutique purchases, and I have a feeling when she goes in the back to retrieve an item from her stock, she is secretly replacing the nailpolish with glue and Kool Aid.
The last straw came when I got up and realized that there was no beautician's licence to be found anywhere on the premises. What's worse, she is operating a pediatrician's office in the back. I am positive I saw her wipe her snotty nose on her sleeve before checking a baby's blood pressure.

I left the salon with an empty wallet and an unmade face. She insisted that I did not need "make-ups" on my face. Is this the new face of the salon experience? What do I know? I think I will put H's gift certificate to good use soon and see how it stacks up to the interesting little salon on L Avenue.

This is Miss Nollie's assistant, Byrdie. She speaks some strange European dialect-sounds like Hungarian gibberish. At any rate, she is very glamorous. They told me she wears a feather boa to work every day. Miss Nollie is not the most benevolent employer. She pays Byrdie in old crackers, and never lets her use the blow dryer.

I am pretty sure I saw Miss Nollie sell this exact same perfume bottle to a customer. Byrdie doesn't make enough at the salon to eat lunch at the local cafe, so she often sneaks things. This only fuels my suspicions that Miss Nollie replaces her stock with water and/or Kool Aid.

The illegal pediatrician's office Miss Nollie runs in the back room. That poor child has been left unattended!

Operating in such deplorable conditions?

Make Haste to Target!

My favorite "boutique" store, Target (pronounced "Tarzshay" for those of you who aren't in the know), has marked down their Christmas wares to 75% off! If your local Target hasn't ditched Christmas for Valentine's Day, head over because you can find some real steals for ChEaP!

StEaL # 1: 4 Christopher Radko soup bowls for a grand total of $4.00. They were originally $16.00. I've been collecting the CR Christmas patterned stuff for several years now. We use it once a year or so, usually because I forget that it's stored away in my sideboard. (Goal for 2009: Use it at least twice!) I never open the sideboard because I had to use some classy packing tape to secure the doors. Babyproofing devices don't work on cheapo IKEA pieces, and Michaela Byrd finds the clanking of the breakable items inside to be sweet music to her ears. Hence the packing tape and my forgetfulness.

STeAl # 2: 2 Christopher Radko cereal bowls for a total of $2. They were marked at $4 each, originally. When I can trust the girls to eat cereal out of bowls that do not have cartoon characters printed on them and are not plastic, they will be a cute addition to our Christmastime breakfast routines.

StEAl # 3: Adorable advent calendar with a snowman and Victorian farmhouse print on the front for only 75 cents! I'm not sure if there is a quote or picture on the inside of each flap, but for 75 cents I am willing to let Natalie and Michaela Byrd find out next December. This went at the top of my attic Christmas boxes so we don't forget about it next Christmas.

STeAL # 4: A box of tiny children's "antique" ornaments (rocking horse, snowman, gingerbread man, etc.) for $2. They are the kind we had on our "kid tree" when I was growing up, so this was a sentimental purchase. I can almost hear the screaming fits my sister and I had over whose ornaments were whose, while my brother stood by in complete oblivion....


I done good! Did you find anything worthy on your clearance trip?

Who Won the Gold Star for "Best Christmas Gift for Nannie"?

So many of you were amused by my Nannie's hilarious and true exploits, that I feel compelled to share some more with you. Sometimes when I remember that she is my grandmother, and thus related to me, I get a little nervous about what may be in store for me 70 years from now.

My sister wins the gold star this year with her choice of gifts for Nannie. (I'll make the big reveal later) Nannie is one of the most difficult people to shop for. She is 97 years old (98 this May!!). This means that she has most likely received every gift known to man over her lifetime. I have spent many a Christmas vacation scouring Macy's for the perfect brooch, the softest scarf and hat set, or the book with the best plot. Eh. Turns out she really likes stuffed animals, so for a few years we would just look for the cutest stuffed animal we could find. One year I found a stuffed Schnauzer that looked just like her evil dog, DeBe, who went to dog heaven (or hell??) when I was still a child. That elicited a slight favorable response--at least stuffed Debe has a home on Nannie's bed.

So what, you must be asking yourself, was Alison able to find to win the unofficial Christmas contest? First you must consider Nannie's varied interests and hobbies.

-Was it a bullet proof vest to protect her body when the Red Chinese inevitably cross the borders, conquer America, and turn us all Communist? NO
-Was it a pair of sequined square dancing shoes to adorn her tiny little feet when she goes line dancing every week? NO
-Was it a new make-up case to replace the magenta-pink one she has been using since before I was born? NO (The current one is "perfectly good" even though she uses an old dog leash for the handle. I guess this is how you view possessions when you have lived through the Great Depression. Everything, even a Styrofoam party cup, is fair game for reuse.)
-Was it a gift certificate to Sephora to choose some new make-up? NO (She has some eye shadows in that magenta-pink case that could very well be from the Nixon era)
-Was it a signed copy of Glenn Beck's The Christmas Sweater to mark her glorious conversion to conservatism? NO (This is completely unnecessary as the Clintons are planning on taking over the U.N. and dominating the world, in which case we are all going to hell in a handbasket anyways.)
-Was it a new time share in Acapulco? NO (Nannie collects time shares the way my dad's mother collected Hummel figurines. She is a sucker for a *good* sales pitch, and we have lost count of how many vacation spots she has in exotic places like Florida and Baja, California---rolls off the tough, doesn't it?)
-Did it have to do with her RecentDiscoveryofSpecialWater? Hmm...that could just be it!
I foolishly thought that a repeat of last year's favored photo calendars would do the trick. Not so. It was Alison's shrewd choice of special water accessorizing that won.

This is Nannie with her plastic water bottle for her "special water", lovingly chosen by my sister. Darn it. Next year, I am going to get her a lazy susan from the Dollar Store for the 60 year old spices hidden in the back of her cabinets and call it a day.

{OnE YeAr AGo ToDaY}

One year ago today, we welcomed our second daughter, Michaela Byrd, into this world. Her sweet disposition is such a blessing and joy in my life. She is living proof that sometimes God decides to bless you whether you are asking for it or not.

I can't believe that 365 days ago, I was riding next to T on the way to the hospital, crying silent tears. I was filled with anxiety. Getting pregnant with this little one had come as quite a surprise. Natalie wasn't exactly scheduled either, but we had both pretty much agreed that we had another year or two to go before we thought about having any more children. Apparently, God had some other plans.... I spent most of my pregnancy moaning over where to put the baby (the guest room, duh), how we would afford the next C-section (God provided!), and how could I possibly love another baby as much as Natalie (how could I not?)?

As I lay on the big table in the OR while the doctor cut and tugged and yanked, those same thoughts rushed through my head. Yet somehow when Dr. S pulled a screaming Michaela Byrd out from the incision (she was clearly unhappy to be introduced to the world two weeks early), those thoughts scattered like pebbles on a dirt road. God filled my heart with a love for her so big, my heart could almost burst these days.

She had a rough start with a week-long NICU stay due to some sort of infection, but she's healthy as a horse (or a very small pony) now. She is smiley, friendly, smart, and loves her family unconditionally. She can certainly hold her own. There are tales of her exploits from the MOPS nursery that involve her ganging up on a roomful of baby boys, and she always shows righteous indignation when a precious toy is snatched up by a bullying older sister. Her chatty, sunny personality is a delight to me.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this beautiful girl. I am most undeserving!

Gotta love that grin!

Happy Birthday, baby girl!

Hey, Good Lookin', Whatcha Got Cookin'?

I stumbled upon a neat newlywed'sblog tonight, and the blogger sent out a request for some menu planning advice. I have a loose plan...more of the kind of thoughts that you'd jot down on a restaurant napkin, really; but a plan nonetheless. I'm actually grateful to Melissa for posting because it reminded me to sit down and think about some goals for 2009.



One of my goals is to do a better job with more regular trips to the grocery, doing my best to make frugal choices, and making meals more regularly so that my husband doesn't have to eat Ramen noodles because the kids' screaming in Super Target was so unbearable that we had to leave without buying any chicken. In my defense, T works some odd hours, and it is hard to chase after the kids all day, put them to bed all by myself, and get him another hot meal on the table after 9 pm without falling asleep and burning my face on the stove. Not exactly the microdermabrasion treatment you'd get at the spa.



Regardless, I want to do a better job of having a nice meal for the family to eat together on the evenings he is home at dinner time.Melissa, if you are reading this, you might have an easier time with this if you start making a habit of it now. When children come along, they have a way of making grocery store runs and cooking long, complicated recipes-ah- a bit more time consuming. Now that we have a freezer, I plan on making use of tips from my friends L and Meri and doing some make-ahead meals that I can keep in the freezer and pop in the oven in time for dinner. I am pretty sure L recommends ThisBook for some freezer meal ideas.



I don't think I'll have time to make meals for an entire 30 days, but it would be nice to have meals for a week or so at a time.When I am better about being organized, I do try to make a menu for the week and then prepare my grocery list from that. I try not to be rigid about my menu ideas because you never know when something might pop up and throw a wrench in your plans...we might be invited to dinner with Mimi or T might run off to France with a beautiful, young sales rep. (Ha! That would never happen because there are never any beautiful, young sales reps. Besides, T hates France, and even if he did decide to go there then I wouldn't have to worry about my meal plans anymore)


I'd love to start sitting down on Saturday or Sunday evening and thumb through my collection of cookbooks for inspiration. I didn't realize how many I have and how my collection is growing! But for now, I'll settle for a quick list of daily meals jotted down while the girls scarf their breakfasts down. The Sneaky Chef looks like fun, but Better Homes & Garden's Dinnertime Express may get more of a workout in our house these days.
Sooo...thank you, Melissa, for sparking my memory. This is something I need to think about more often. Hope you found some ideas here!

Can You Hear Me Now?

I have some very bad news, ya'll, and it is a shame that it comes on the cusp of the New Year. My sister, Alison, has been diagnosed with Hyperverizonitis. The doctors at Seymore Butz Memorial Hospital told us that she will have to have her cell phone surgically removed from her right ear as soon as possible to save what little brain waves remain. The nerve endings in her fingers are damaged, and permanently crippled from all the texting she has subjected herself to.

We are hopeful for a positive outcome, but deeply saddened by this news. When Alison was home for Christmas this year, the little red phone rarely left her side. I felt like one of Pavlov's lab aides-whenever the phone rang or beeped with a new text message or voicemail, her demeanor visibly brightened. I think we should have set a place at the table for Christmas dinner for Phone.

At one point, I wrestled her for the Phone. She didn't like that. I lost. She is freakishly strong.


Alison's relationship with Phone goes back some years. One of the worst nights of my life involves Phone. I can't remember why I got stuck sharing a bed with her at my grandparents' house, but I did. I must have offended the gods in some way, because they really got back at me. Sharing a bed with Alison can be dicey to begin with. She is very particular about what side of the bed you can sleep in, how many covers you can have, how much you can talk to her, etc. She also usually requires her bedmate to get out of bed and turn the lights out. Why do I listen? You might be wondering. Because she is scaaaaaarey. Read on.

So I was all tucked in bed in one of the guest rooms at Granny and O'pa's house. So sleepy. I had just nodded off when a horrible, droning buzz shook the bedside table. I opened my eyes to see Alison grab her lit-up phone and flip it open. She proceeded to click away a response to the text she received. Click, click, click. Rapid fire--her fingers fly over the tiny keyboard like an Apache helicopter on the battlefield. (Sam, did you get the helicopter reference?) This only occurred about 17 more times, each time after I had just fallen back to sleep.

When I finally worked up the nerve to confront her, she hissed something so nasty at me (I honestly don't remember what it was-it must have been so horrible that I have blocked it from my memory) that I jumped up and ran out of the room...after stealing the comforter and turning the lights on for spite, of course. I spent the night on a makeshift bed of couch cushions on the family room floor, where my grandfather found me the next morning, so traumatized that I can only now speak of the incident.

Alison's ties with Phone run deep. I wonder if the Betty Ford Center offers some sort of rehab for people affected by Hyperverizonitis. If anyone knows, please leave word in the Comments section. My family is desperate to help her before her wedding in September. If she can't have the surgery and rehab, we might have to have the florist place Phone in her wedding bouquet so she can have quick access during the ceremony.