zird is the word (lizardek) wrote,
zird is the word

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Nothing much happens in Sweden. Which I'm grateful for today when reading what's going on in California. The wildfires have destroyed an area the size of Chicago, one paper said. Chicago!? The mind boggles.

Things to be grateful we don't have here: earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, wildfires that eat entire states, gigantic mudslides, drought, famine, military juntas, Richard Simmons.

I had a 2-minute intense mindcramp this morning when I was thisclose to staying in bed and blowing off EVERYTHING for the next few days. I'm pretty close to crashing and burning and am having to run a little refrain in the back of my head "just get through Saturday and you can rest on the Sabbath" every few minutes or so to keep me going.

My babysitter called me yesterday a few hours before choir, and told me she had a sore throat, so I ended up taking the kids with me to choir practice. They were very well-behaved, thank goodness, even with the attraction of 2 other little boys that were there for about an hour. Any longer and they would have been racing around like maniacs and climbing the walls, but the other boys got picked up by their grandparents, whew!

Got to call my MIL in a little bit and see if she's up to picking up the kids this afternoon and watching them for a few hours, as I've got a hair appointment scheduled in Malmö. If I have to cancel it, my hair may actually BECOME a poodle and begin leading a little doggy life of its own.

I gave up on my hair several years ago and decided it wasn't worth the agony. It lives its own life on my head and I try to keep it collared with one of those spiky circles that I can't recall the name of. I used to really like my hair, it was wavy and chestnut and soft. Then I made the mistake of coloring it for the first time, and then moved to Sweden and got pregnant twice and old. Okay, older. Sweden isn't nice to hair like mine. All these Swedes with their stick-straight hair have no idea the sacrifice I made when my hair moved here. I can spend half an hour carefully styling and curling Dr. Jekyll in preparation for an evening out, and 5 seconds after I've gone out the door, Mr. Hyde has appeared on my head. In the form of a poodle.
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