Just Had to Share

...some new pictures of my little goofball.



These days he is always in a bib because of the torrent of drool that constantly issues from his cute little mouth. His Aunt Megan calls it his "signature accessory."


He loves to hug his teddy bear...but even more he loves to suck on its nose. So nipple-like!


Here he is pondering the meaning of the existence of his hands (like his mom, he is VERY deep.)


There is nothing cuter than the indignity of a baby in a striped knit cap.

I Heart Matt

I think one of the hardest things about moving to a new area is finding a new hairstylist. In my experience, a good stylist is even harder to find than a good date. In college I had a great one named Jace. He was Japanese and hardly spoke any English, but MAN could that guy do hair! His specialty was color and I've never been so pleased with my highlights as when he did them.

After moving back to the east, I found myself once again without a stylist. I went to several different places with no luck. Then my sister recommended a hair academy near us. I was skeptical, but after my first appointment I was sold. This place is fabulous. Working in the salon is the last thing the students do before graduating, so they really know their stuff, and they all leave to go work in upscale salons where they charge $100 for a haircut. The prices are amazing too - $16 for a cut and style, and around $40 for color, depending on how much they have to use. The only drawback is that you have to be willing to spend at least a couple of hours there, since they really take their time, but I think it's worth it, especially for the price.

I've been there a few times and have always been pleased with the results, but I'm pretty sure that last time I found my stylist, a totally cute guy named Matt. He's working on his master's degree. He is gayer than the day is long, which in itself is enough to recommend him; it's probably totally un-PC to say this, but I'm sorry - gay men make the best hairstylists. There's no comparison, really. When it comes to stylists, I feel like Homer Simpson: "I like my beer cold, my TV loud, and my homosexuals fuh-LAM-ing." To give you an idea of just how gay he is, he already has degrees in make-up application and color, and in his spare time he does pageant consulting for Miss America contestants. And - I'm not making this up - his last name is pronounced "Girlie." Matt knows more about hair than anyone I've ever met, and he's completely passionate about it, which is so cool to see. He told me that he used to be a clinical nurse but after 10 years "I needed to do something where I could let my spirits soar!" And soar they do. The whole time he was working on my hair he danced around my chair singing along to the songs that came on the salon's stereo - when Erasure's "Chains of Love" came on I had to hold on to the armrests. He gave me eyebrow advice and I wanted to take notes because he has the most beautifully shaped eyebrows I have ever seen. When he was finished with my hair I absolutely loved it and Matt was even more excited than I was about how it turned out. "Oh sweetie!" he kept saying, "you look GORGEOUS! Totally Jennifer Aniston!" How could that not make my day? I've been feeling so shlumpy lately and spending a couple of hours with Matt was exactly what I needed. Now I've found my stylist. At least, until he graduates.

DOH!

I did the dumbest thing today. I was on my way out the door to visit my sister in the hospital (she's 26 weeks pregnant now and her water broke prematurely so she's now on hospital bedrest for the duration of the pregnancy. Please keep her and baby Caroline in your prayers.) At the last minute I remembered that my purse was upstairs, so I set Sawyer down in his carseat and run up to get it. On my way down my right foot slipped out from under me and I fell onto my butt/back and bumped all the way down our 12 steep, hardwood stairs. OUCH!!! I'm all banged up and in serious pain now. I might go to the doctor tomorrow but my guess is all they can do for me is give me painkillers that aren't good to take while breastfeeding, so I'll probably just take extra strength Tylenol and deal with it. I am so mad at myself for 1) being such a clutz and 2) wearing stupid shoes that hardly have any traction for the sake of fashion. On the other hand, I'm SO glad I didn't have Sawyer in my arms when I fell. He saw the whole thing happen from his carseat and just looked at me like, "Geez mom, what did you do that for?"