Hope We'll Be Ready for Our Do-Over

Family photo shoot scheduled for last Friday morning got derailed by two of us projectile vomiting.

And do you know why I am sort of grateful for all of that yuck and goo?  (Well, not for Mad's.  That's just sad.)  Because my eyebrows started growing long.

Not just long.  Curly and long.

And I, style maven that I am (not), decided to trim them myself.

Pawing my way through the beauty supply drawer in my lair bedroom that is pretty much all hair bands of varying sizes, a face file, the crappy nail clippers (what happened to the good ones?!) and a few brushes and combs.

Eyebrow brush?  Not on your life.

Special clippers or scissors or whatever the hell people use to accomplish this task?  Bah.  Ha.  Ha.

Just me, the scissors that Tom recently used for some nefarious purpose that apparently dulled the blades (a fact I didn't realize until trying to trim Mad's bangs last night), my eyebrows-gone-wild and a lot of tension.

What could go wrong?

Yeah, no.  I'm not including any photos.  I suck.  Whatever.

I will say that there are no unruly or long hairs on my face at this moment.

Okay, yes, there might be a shocking lack of hair in the middle of my right brow.  I'm telling myself that people will think I have a cool scar.

It's hard to maintain the delusion, though, when my Nancy saw it and laughed out loud this morning.  She tried to hold it in.  Couldn't.  Kind of loud.  May have created a different type of scar.

House of Yuck

Yesterday evening Corey went from being tired (which is his usual excuse/attempt to get out of many things) to, in rapid-fire succession, getting one symptom of the flu after another.


Last night I headed upstairs to go to bed sometime around midnight.  Tom was in bed with a wet cloth on his neck and clearly not sleeping well.  I grabbed a couple of pillows and headed back down to the couch to (hopefully) avoid being the last one to be "it" in this horrible game of tag.


At 3:00 this morning I was awakened with the most awful sound.  Turns out it was Tom vomiting.  Upstairs.  With our bedroom door and the bathroom door shut.


Part of me wants to grab Mad and head for the hills, but the fact is there seems to be a 1-3 day incubation period for whatever we're dealing with here.  I could already have it.  I hope not.  After listening to Tom, I think I'd be afraid to get it even if I weren't pregnant.