My family is visiting this weekend! They’ll be here in about five hours. No stress. None whatsoever. . . .
Ever noticed that J. Crew’s models tend to look like really tall, twelve-year-old boys? Or, at best, thirteen-year-old girls? And their clothes are fit for the models (though some will disagree with me here)? Perhaps because their creative director, you know, the one who oversees the clothes’ design, likes to go for ten days at a time without eating.
Pat and I just watched the Queen of Versailles documentary on Netflix. Rather garish, but it was an interesting insight into the financial meltdown of 2008, as well as a frightening/ fascinating look at extreme wealth at its trashiest. Also, the “King of Versailles,” David Siegel, claims he single-handedly got George W. Bush elected president. God help us all.
I love reading Simcha Fisher’s articles, but I have lost hours and hours of my life reading the comments thereto, with no corresponding benefit whatsoever.
(**Update** I really do not mean to deride all people who leave comments on Simcha’s blog. A lot of them raise good points, and I’m sure most of the commenters are perfectly pleasant people. I just get frustrated with myself for spending so much time reading them, when it doesn’t do me any good. And I was pressed for time when coming up for a title to this post. 😉
It’s been a rough week, starting with the baby puking for a few days, followed by her wanting to be held all day every day, and screaming until she got her way. Then my back was killing me. Then Girl 1 got a ‘tude the size of . . . I don’t know . . . bison. By 4:30, I was counting down the minutes (120) to the time Pat would be done with work. I then handed the girls off to him and went to sleep at 7:30.
[Wah wah wah.]
My sweet husband hung a curtain rod for me after I went to bed. I no longer have to look at this and die a little inside every time I go into our bathroom.
Here’s a fascinating little video in which an FBI-trained sketch artist draws portraits of women–without seeing them–based only on their own self-descriptions. He then draws the same women based on a stranger’s description of them. We women think that we’re ugly So sad. (So I just realized everyone has seen this already. Grace has a link to a funnier one. Go watch that.)
Girl 2 got this toy in lieu of candy for Easter.
The girls play the music and dance around together like the kids on Charlie Brown’s Christmas (my girls haven’t seen the movie; it just comes naturally). It’s been a bright spot in a rough week.
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