Another bad hair day

One of the things I miss the most about DC is Dragan. Dragan and I found each other too late because I was only with him about six months before we left - despite years of recommendations from Kate and Melissa that I give him a try. He's one of those stylists who was friendly yet confident and just gave a great cut. Now he's out of my life and I'm still searching for his replacement in Portland....two years later.

I went through a couple of stylists very quickly before finding one that I've been with for more than a year now. But last Friday, I fired her. Well, not exactly fired her - but I did cancel my appointment. I decided that after multiple tries I'm not sure she's the one for me. At first I really liked her and even got one cut I really liked - but I have to say that the last three or so cuts have been inconsistent. And I started pulling my hair back almost immediately after the cut, which is never a good sign. So, on a whim last week I made an appointment with someone new.

Now, this is a good time to point out that I don't do anything in my life without researching it to death and generally spending way too much time overanalyzing it before I take action. But, I like to think that's what makes me, me. So of course I have been doing weeks of research on who this new individual might be. Based on several "credible" sources (is citysearch credible?), I chose Fred at a salon that shall be unamed, but I will say it is on one of the fancier streets in Portland.

I called the salon last Friday - actually excited to begin my new hair adventure - and got a very friendly receptionist who easily fits me in for this Friday morning (as in, today). Warning sign #1? Perhaps. So I walk up to the salon door this morning and there is a big sign out front that says "walk-ins welcome." Warning sign #2? Perhaps. But I go up and am eagerly greeted inside this cute little townhouse with a nice paint color on the walls. I immediately wonder what color and brand it is. (Always have to keep my eyes open since repainting our entire interior is #800 on the home improvement list.) But, I digress.

I walk up the cute little stairway and am greeted at the top by Fred. (By the way, I've changed his name to protect the innocent since I'm still a little nervous about this whole Internet journal thing). The first thing I notice about Fred is that it looks like he could use a few value meals from Micky D's to get a little more meat on his bones. Or if I'm speaking in true Portlander mode, I'd say Burgerville because Portlanders are very into promoting local businesses who support sustainability versus big corporate giants. But at any rate - know what I'm saying?

But body type aside, Fred seems very nice and I wasted no time launching into my hair's life story with him. "Well, you see, it all started when I was about five years old and I decided to get a Dorothy Hamill haircut..." When I finished, Fred looked a bit perplexed and confused. Warning sign #3? Perhaps. He stepped back, looked. Stepped back, looked. After a bit of chit chat back and forth he says, "I'd like to get a second opinion on your hair." Huh? Ummm, okay. Naturally, I'm wondering who he's going to call in to consult on my hair with him. And, it's safe to say that by this point, I'm not feeling completely comfortable with Fred making even one snip. But apparently he wasn't either, because he told me so. "I'm just afraid I'm going to do something you won't like, so I'd like you to talk with our other curly hair expert woman here." Ummm, okay.

Unfortunately, other random curly hair expert woman is not there on Fridays, so we made an appointment for me to go back on Sunday afternoon for a consult and potentially a cut if I'm comfortable. Fred said no big deal at all if I decide I want to bag the haircut after speaking with her. "She'll just take a long lunch!," he said. Ummm, okay. Oh, and curly hair expert woman had several appt. times open both tomorrow and Sunday. Warning sign #4? Perhaps.

So now heck if I know what to do, but I have to say that I'm just darn tempted to cancel the whole Sunday thing and go crawling back to my original lady. At least I won't have actually gotten my hair cut by anyone else when I crawl back. I'll just have pretended like I was going to. Sigh. Why do relationships have to be so difficult?

Until I write again.

Grilled cheeeese, peeeease!

One of the things I've discovered about having a toddler (Or is he a preschooler yet? I get confused.) is that they help you see the world through a whole new lense. Things that might seem boring or even tedious to an adult are actually really interesting and fun for a kid. They seem to appreciate and find excitement in the smallest things.

Take a grilled cheese sandwich, for example. Now, first of all, don't get me wrong because no one appreciates a good grilled cheese more than I do. In fact, in my humble opinion the best grilled cheese can be found at Luna Grill in Arlington (or downtown DC location) and I think I have a few people that would back me up on that. But Ian loves grilled cheese sandwiches. He goes into a complete frenzy of excitement when I announce that we are having grilled cheese for lunch (because that's what we do on Thursdays - that's grilled cheese day). Recently, I realized that it's not perhaps as much the actual eating of the grilled cheese as it is the whole process of making it. Which is understandable when you have a gourmet chef such as myself on the job.

The other day I upped the ante by letting him start to sit on the counter while I make it so he can see the entire procedure from start to finish. And I describe it to him step by step - much like Rachael Ray would do. First, we take out the pan and apply a slow heat. Then we take out the bread (whole wheat, of course). Then we slather a bunch of "I can't believe it's not butter!!!" (insert accent here) on each piece of bread. Then it goes onto the grill pan. Then, we carefully tear up exactly two cheddar cheese slices so that it sits perfectly on top of the bread. Then we slap the second piece on top. Wait.

About now is when the arm flapping of excitement really begins. "Can I see the cheeeeese, peeease??, Can I see the cheeeese, peeeease?" So we take a peek at the cheese in the middle. Yep, still melting. And then comes the critical point - The Flip - which is preceded by, "Mommy, are you gonna flip it? Are you gonna flip it?" Yes, Ian, I'm going to flip it. "Okay!!!!! You're gonnna flip the grilled cheeeese. Yay!!!!"

A few more seconds of melting and we are ready for the grand finale of removing it from the pan to the plate and cutting - and which point he is bursting with even more excitement and ready and willing to go grab his placemat for the final presentation at the table. Another gourmet meal is complete. Now if only it came with bacon, french fries and ranch dressing for dipping like it does at Luna Grill. Yum.

Until I write again.

So I Guess We're Starting a Blog...

Greetings from Portland! So, I've been thinking about this blog thing for a while. First of all, a few of my friends have blogs and I really enjoy reading them as a way to keep up with what they are doing. (You know, since pretty much everyone I know lives somewhere other than where I live.) Second, which really gets back to the first reason, is that - let's face it - I'll probably be talking a lot about my two - almost three - year old here, partly because he's my full time job right now and partly just because he's one of my favorite people. And since all of our family lives elsewhere, I thought they/you might particularly enjoy a place where they/you could go to read about the latest Ian happenings and other family adventures. So, I guess you could say this blog is especially dedicated to the Texas, Georgia and California contingents out there (you know who you are)!

So why today, you might ask? Well, I'm not sure, but here's how my day afternoon has gone so far: As some of you know, Ian is now in preschool on Mon, Wed and Fri mornings. So that means I have from approximately 8:30 am to 12:15pm of free time three days a week. And I'm pretty sure that on those days that three hours and 45 minutes of time goes by at light speed. But, I digress. So today I picked him up at 12:30 and he was his usual exuberant self - tripping over things on the playground running to me yelling, "Mommy, mommy!" when he saw me walk up. (Which, by the way is one of those things that makes up for all the frustrating parts of parenting.) That's all good until we get home and the nap wars begin.

You see, Ian has been in the unfortunate process of transitioning out of his naps. While this might be acceptable for him, I am fighting it every step of the way. So everyday we go through this ritual of going up to his room around 2pm for "rest time". If I'm lucky, I'll get a nap out of it. If I'm not (which seems more often than not these days), I get an hour of jumping up and down in his crib, doing dive bombs, taking off his clothes (including his diaper two days ago which is a new and unfortunate development) and throwing everything out of his crib - including Froggy, Grover and Kitty Cat. Just tossed out like a gallon of old ice cream. So sad.

But today - I got lucky! After an half hour or so of wild child - it was the sound I love to hear...NOTHING! So while doing some work on the computer (trying to cram for filling out my Oregon ballot - which is a post for another day), I of course had to go check out the latest postings on DCUM (still a source of constant entertainment and sometimes useful information). There I saw someone asking about how they could easily share photos with friends and family online and several people mentioned they had created blogs for their families. Well, I thought I'd just check out the site for a minute. And then before I knew it, one thing led to another and I was selecting formats, giving our blog a name and writing this post.

Alrighty then, I guess I've officially joined the blogging world. I'd like to be able to say that Jeff will also be frequently participating in providing updates - but probably not. So, I'll most likely be representing the family. Now, will this turn out to be like my gym membership last January? Possibly. But what the heck, I'll give it my best shot.

Until I write again.