💖💚🪄Oh baby, baby, it's a witchy world.💖💚🪄

Dev and me live a *very* simple life... we do the minimum outside errands that life requires us to... and then we're back at our house together and having fun. When you're married to your bestie and surrounded by people who don't care or are terrible, you tend to be more than ok staying in your little hobbit hole and hanging out.

We laugh... binge watch our favorite shows and movies... tattoo... have self-care days... take care of our pups... paint random murals... do laundry... try new recipes... dream of our future life.

This past weekend? My baby went all out and proved that he is a f*cking BEAST. How? Well... just look at my hair. That's right, he gave me the ultimate SEA WITCH HAIR and I am OBSESSED. 

Y'all... it's been so long since I've done anything to my hair other than let it grow. I haven't colored, bleached, highlighted, cut, styled... basically anything to my hair in years. In fact, I think that last time I got my hair dyed/cut was the week of our wedding... and it was such a dramatic change that I think it shocked me into pause or something.

So... it's been a good five years. And since I had my hair chopped off up to above my chin and buzzed in the back.... guess who had virgin hair?! That's right... been a minute but that shit does reestablish. Bless Dev's heart... he could care less how I actually wear my hair... but... like anybody else, the man does have a preference. And that preference happens to not be a super short cut involving a razor. So here he's been the last five years... watching my hair grow out of my head... watching with bated breath everytime I decide to trim it myself... and I know he's just been hoping I won't have another snap and CHOP.

No worries on the chopping... I love having this shit long. Feels like a mane. But... I did want SOMETHING. And that something was purple and/or pink hair. I couldn't decide. So... off to the land of misfit toys (Sally's Beauty) to pick up some supplies.

And after debating between purple and pink... we settled on green. BECAUSE COME ON I am forever living my best little witchy life and I deserve to show it. 

Also... when I say I planned to do this and then quickly established I was WAY in over my head... well.

In my defense, I used to do my hair ALL the time. I started experimenting with it when I was like twelve years old and had a damn good run. Sure, I've been to salons throughout my life, but the majority of it? Me, myself, and I... you know... after Momma stopped cutting my hair and giving my 1983 bangs. I DIGRESS. The point is, this ain't my first rodeo.

However... I haven't had this much hair since I was a little girl (maybe not ever?) and it is ALOT thicker than what I thought. It always has been... but it's thinned throughout the years and with age. Nice to know... I still got plenty. 

I literally unloaded the Sally's bag onto our table and immediately became overwhelmed. Not to be discouraged... my Gatorbaby stepped right up and was like, I got this. Mind you... he has never before dealt with bleach or dye. I mean... I've dyed his hair, but him taking the reigns? Not so much.

I explained what needed to happen and with no hesitation he jumped in. Were we nervous and unsure? Sure. Did that stop us? Absolutely not. The part that pissed him off the most? When I explained that bleach does not lather and he had to regroup and reform his gameplan. After that though? Smooth sailing.

He strapped me right into his tattoo chair, hung my hair off the back and went to town. 

NO HESITATION. NO SURRENDER. NO MAN LEFT BEHIND. #THUNDERGUN

And now... now I have magical hair that makes me feel like a whole new version of me. Dev says it suits me very well because I'm the little witch that put and kept a spell on him and now my hair just reflects that. Personally, I'm in love and may have some form of green hair until I can no longer dye it at all. Lucky for me, I married a damned ole artist that knows no bounds.

Last thing...now that we've established I have amazing green hair and Dev has amazing pink hair (because don't think for one second we didn't refresh that shit and make it POP)... how much we remind y'all of Cosmo and Wanda? 

Was it on purpose? No. Are we happy about the coincidence? Absofuckinglutely.

Once 3:30PM Friday hits... we're on vacay time... until Monday at 5:00AM.

While me and Dev don't live a "crazy" life... we do live a fun life. No... we don't party or run amuck... in fact, y'all would probably think we're boring as homemade sin.

But, I digress... because I think we live a fun life. Not your kind of fun, but ours.

And sure, once we get our lives aligned with how we really want to live them (#thatrvlifeoutofthecitytho) we'll be happier... but for now... we do what we can to make ourselves happy and enjoy ourselves in the now.

One of the things I've always loved doing was having sort of... "maintenance" days. I think most people will know what I'm talking about. You know... everything showers, nails, hair, maybe a hair mask or something, that kind of thing. Nothing fancy, but definitely relaxing and fun. Afterall, nothing makes you relax more than being all clean and rubbed down in your soothing fancy oils, right? RIGHT?!!?!

I like how I say fancy like it's not just coconut/vanilla oil... but whatever.

Anyways... Dev totally jumps in on this with me for some of my nonsense because not only is he my husband, but he's also my bestie and we like to do things that the other enjoys with them.

This weekend? We were both in desperate need of toenail day (and yes... my amazing hubby lets me paint his toenails and he doesn't give a shit what anybody thinks about it) and while I've been wanting to do something different and fun with my hair... Dev actually let me have some fun with his.

It was a regular ole day of neon orange toenails... and fetish pink hair. F*cking love it.

The only problem with him having pink hair is... now I want pink f*cking hair too. Actually, I've been wanting pink hair and still dyed his pink before mine, so really this is my fault BUT HUSH.

And honestly, can we all just take a minute to appreciate how f*cking baller Splat hair dye still is? I used to use this shit back in my hayday and was wondering if it still worked and guess what? Sure as shit does. Most people hate it because it literally dyes ANY and EVERY thing it comes in contact with (and it's probably horrible for your hair health?)... but honestly it may be the messy trash child in me... I f*cking love that. It ain't a fun hair day if there ain't a mess.

Also... can we just take another minute to appreciate the fact that we're all adults and the majority of us are perfectly comfortable with how we all choose to look? Sure... Dev and me get some strange looks when we go out in public... I mean, we're usually in pjs, covered in tattoos, and have wild hair... and no one seems to bat an eye except older people who have nothing better to do. The Karens and Kraigs of the world, if you will. The rest of us? You do you, BooBoo. We don't give a shit. You want a bullring? Get a f*cking bullring.

Things are crazy and life is insane and the economy is shit and things keep piling up and there's always a million things you wish could be different... but at the end of the day... at least I have my person that makes me happy and chooses me every single day. No matter what. And that? That gets me through it all. 

Now if you'll excuse us... we have many more crazy plans and dreams to live. With pink hair.

A few pieces of aimless nonsense for the day (involving my husband).

With Fall approaching, and me doing my happy dance because of it, we've been decorating and spending more time out on our back porch. Say what you will, but my vampire ass isn't a fan of the heat, sun, or bright lighting in general, so the fact that my husband convinces me to wander out of the cave on occasion is really impressive.

While I was working yesterday, D decided to cut our grass, put out some Fall decorations, make beef jerky and pumpkin seeds, and prep dinner. The man was truly on it and he makes me look like a little bitch on my days off. Seriously, when I have a day off and I'm home by myself, I usually clean the house, do laundry, and make supper, but other than that, my bitch ass tends to not do much else. 

No regrets, motherf*ckers.

I've been really thinking about getting a gym membership. Now, hear me out. I know that I go back and forth quite a bit on things like this, but I think that it may be a good way to get a little healthier and maybe look a bit better. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I look terrible or anything, and my husband assures me that I'm beautiful, but I just feel like if I maybe did something like this, that I would feel much better and in turn, look like I feel better. Does that make sense? Either way, the jury is still out on that one and I'm thinking it through.

Apparently, scary movies are only a weekend thing at our house? Like, I tried to get D to watch one last night and his exact words were, "seriously?! another one!!?! I thought that was only a weekend thing!" Obviously, I have not helped my husband's phobia quite as much as I thought I had and progress is at a minimum. Update to come.

Speaking of my husband, (seriously? when am I not?), I took this picture of him holding our first pumpkin for this year on my lunchbreak yesterday. Isn't he sssoooo adorable? Yeah, and when I got home from work he was completely bald. Like, shaved his whole head and starting from square one again. So much for my Viking braid ideas. He asked if I didn't like him with a shaved head and I informed him that of course I did, I'm just used to seeing him with hair so he's gonna have to give me a minute to adjust to the change. And then I threatened to cut all my hair off and he begged me not to. Ugh, men.

What else? Oh! Another reason for me wanting to get into better shape? A tattoo. I know, I know, that's a dumb reason to do it, but whatever it takes, right? Anyway, I found this shoulder/back tattoo that I really, really want, but I think it would look funny on me if I'm built like I am now (ie: a baby linebacker). Now, I am all for body positivity and loving your true self, but I believe that applies for when you are truly comfortable in your body. I'm not. In all fairness, I never have been, but I'm trying. Who knows. Maybe one of these days I'll just be covered in ink. Why not? As long as I'm happy (and I still get my husbands motor revving), I don't see a reason not to.

How is it only Tuesday? And why am I rambling? Oh yeah, I just wanted to show everyone a picture of D holding our pumpkin.

I went blonde(ish) and now I think I want pink hair.

I've been talking about switching my hair up for quite some time now. Sure, I've chopped it off quite a bit, but now that I'm letting it grow out again I wanted something different.

I'm letting it grow out, because D and I made the agreement that I can't cut my hair (only trims and it isn't allowed past my midback.... my stipulation) and he can't cut his mustache. And let's be honest, momma needs her a good mustache for.... activities. So, here I am letting my hair grow out.

I went last Friday and had blonde put into my hair. I haven't have blonde in my hair since I was around thirteen/fourteen, but I wanted to see if I liked it better now that I'm older and feel less like I need dark hair to match my soul.

I like the blonde, I do.... but, now that I have it I can't help but want to keep going to the extreme and now I think I want.... pink hair. Not insane neon pink hair, but soft pink hair. It may sound strange, but I seriously want to feel like I have cotton candy on my head. 

Hear me out, who doesn't want to feel like a sweet little treat that people are fond of? Come on, even if you don't like sweets, the chances of you having some kind of nostalgic memory of candy floss is highly likely. And even of you don't, you have to admit, it feels nostalgic even just thinking about it.

I just want something.... different, I guess. I'm trying to figure out what works for me and be myself. After the last few years, you could say that I've not really let myself go, but I don't do the things that I used to like to do, because they seemed low on my priority list. But, now, I've been thinking and I think that in order for me to feel normal again, I need to try and do the things that used to be fun to me.

And a big part of that was experimenting with my look. I want to find something that suits me and my personality and just makes me feel more.... me. Call me insane, but with some of the changes that I've made so far, it seems to be bringing me more out of myself and becoming me again.

D has been a big part of helping me throughout all of this craziness and I don't know what I would do without him. And he agrees, if I feel like I need to do something, or I simply want to do something that may help me be happier, then he is all for it. 

So, here I sit, contemplating pink hair.... you know what? F*ck it. I'm making an appointment.

I have just always felt better when my hair is dark. 🖤

Don't ask me why, but I have always felt more like myself with black hair. Sure, my natural color is somewhere between a mouse brown/sandy blonde color, but nothing speaks to my soul quite like black. Black to match my soul, eyeliner, personality and sense of humor.

A couple of years ago, I decided to quit dying my hair. Not because my hair was unhealthy or anything, I just honestly didn't feel like doing anything in general, especially taking care of myself and/or appearance. Therefore, things such as hair, makeup, and clothing pretty much fell by the wayside. I just simply didn't care.

And in a way, I still don't. But, I'm trying. 

I still don't wear makeup often, or even fix my hair everyday.... and I'm usually in pajamas or some form of sweatpants. However, I found that once I dyed my hair black again (after three glasses of wine, a few shots of whisky, and some other not to be named *shhh*) I began to feel more like myself. Not the old me, just the me in general.

More like the carefree girl that while she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, was also carefree and completely and utterly just herself. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It doesn't matter if I'm not 100% or if everybody else thinks I look like a pale trainwreck walking. All that matters is that I'm a little more confident in myself and that I feel better, even if it's just a miniscule amount.

While that seems a little bit much to get from a small hair change, it is also something that I needed to do for myself to get back to myself. And honestly, there's no substitution for that. So, here I stand, trying and pushing through every single day. The small changes, the big decisions, and everything in between.

Happy New Year and let's try not to let 2021 be such a f*cking shitshow.

I've been absent, but I've been doing alot of things and stuff.

Dude. I was NOT prepared for how much work and/or effort went into planning a wedding. Don't get me wrong, it's been mostly fun and I feel like it will all be worth it in the end, but our wedding is small and I just don't know how people have these large/grand weddings. 

It's expensive, tiresome, and quite frankly, frustrating. I got lucky in the sense that I have had alot of support and help, but for all of those people out there that do it all by themselves? I want to buy them a drink. 

I've learned from this experience and I'm very excited. Well, more nervous than anything if I'm being completely honest. I have a million thoughts roaming through my head at varying times (ie: what if I trip? what if D runs away? what if no one dances? what if, what if, what if?). But, I try to push all of those negative thoughts away and focus on all of the other things that make me anxious and overwhelmed. 

Because I wouldn't be me unless I was riddled with anxiety and panic attacks. Good times. 

With all of that being said, I should say that almost everything is now taken care of. The people are invited, the things are ordered and arranged, and so on/so forth. I did finally submit our paperwork online for our license and I completed the paperwork to officially change my last name (HALLELUJAH!!), so all we have to do is go into the clerk's office to pick up the license and I'll have to drop off my paperwork at the social security office when all is said and done.

Also, I still need to get my dress hemmed (although, let's be honest, I don't really care if it's too long) and make our centerpieces. That should all be done in the next couple of weeks. I go this Saturday to my last hair appointment before the wedding (I'm getting extensions, and yes I know I just cut all of my hair off, but this is just who I am as a person) and by this time next month (+2 days), we'll be married. 

So, if y'all need me, I'll currently be over here living my normal life, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and trying to keep my anxiety in check. HA!....HA!!!.... hahahahahahaha...... haha!!

I made an appointment to chop even more of my hair off.

I'm not sure what's happening to me these days, but I find myself with more and more less effort to put forth. I used to push myself and feel guilty when I didn't do the things that I thought I was supposed to do. And now? I feel no guilt or effort for it.

If I don't want to do something, I simply don't do it. Yard work, house work, activities. I just can't seem to find the enthusiasm for it all. I used to never pass up on helping do all of these things or just doing them myself, because I always felt that I was a bad or lazy person, because of it. And sure, I still do have days where I force myself to do things like clean the house and do laundry. I still go to work every day and I still make sure my pups are taken care of. Aside from that though, the pickens are slim.

Example: D: Do you want to help me stain this porch? Me: No, not really.

I also used to make sure I did a little something to my hair and applied a tad of makeup every single day. Whether I was working or just hanging out around the house, it was part of my daily routine. I even kept my hair long so I could straighten it and make it look presentable to some standard.

Now, I'm at the point that I could care less what people think about my appearance. Don't like it? Don't look at it. And whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I don't know. Honestly, I don't care. I don't even have the effort to care. If I want to slap on a little makeup and curl my hair, I do it. If not, well.... little ole gypsy from Drag Me To Hell, here I come.

It's also come to my attention that the shorter my hair is, the better I seem to feel. I used to have a borderline nervous breakdown if my hair was short, because I always thought that "the prettiest girls have long hair." I've come to realize that's ridiculous and I was dumb for thinking that. Plenty of woman have short hair, or no hair at all and rock that shit.

Now, I teeter on the line of a nervous breakdown daily, so trivial things like hair don't even register on my wavelength. Therefore, I called Lia and scheduled to have more chopped off this coming Wednesday. Yes, even shorter with our wedding almost two months away. Because that's who I am as a person.

I have decided to chop all of my hair off.... again.

I've been letting my hair grow out since last years May in the thought that it would be long enough to "style" for our wedding this coming October. It seemed like a legitimate thought at the time, and to be honest, getting all of your hair chopped off is always risky, because who even knows if the hairdresser is going to f*ck it up or not.

But, as I get older, I enjoy my hair shorter. Actually, I've always switched back and forth on the length of my hair and have ranged from hair to my hips to hair just below my chin. And a couple of years ago, I had my favorite short hairstyle.

D enjoys my hair longer (maybe that's a guy thing?), but has also made the comment, "you're the one who has to deal with it and wear it, so you do whatever your little heart desires." (He knew that I was going to do whatever I want anyways).

I've been debating on this for awhile, but have always waivered, because I can't find the woman who originally gave me my favorite haircut and I was worried somebody else would f*ck up my life. Insert Dani. I was explaining all of this to her last week and she gave me the number to her hair gal. After about an hour of going back and forth, I text the woman and set up an appointment for this Thursday. And I think.... I'm just going to have her chop it all off.

I haven't told anybody about this other than Dani, and I'm just going to surprise D when he gets home on Thursday. Like, surprise honey! I chopped all of my hair off, BUT at least I didn't do it myself in the bathroom.... again! I guess we'll see if this is a good idea or not. *fingers crossed*

I may or may not be having a bit of a nervous breakdown.

D: “What’s that post-it on the bathroom mirror?” Me: “It’s a guide to cut my hair.” D: “You’re gonna cut your own hair?!” Me: “Of course not.” D: “Oh ok, good.” Me: “I already cut it when nobody was home to talk me off the ledge.” D: “Shit.... let me see it.” 🤣 I mean, it was only the dead ends, so at least I didn't have a full on Britney?!!?!

I finally sucked it up and chopped it off.... and I may do more next time.

What is hair to me?!!?! To you?!!?! To all of us?!!?!

I've always kind of believed that there was "power" in hair. And I know that sounds about as stupid as something can, but it was almost like if a woman had beautiful hair than she had a firm grasp on everything in her life. And if you're anything like me, you were taught that "long" hair meant "beautiful" hair.

Seriously.... when was the last time that you heard a story about a conqueress or sorceress or even "wanton" maiden in a cheap romance novel have short hair? It just wasn't a thing. Everytime I thought about cutting my hair, that's what I would think. I would think, well.... a woman can't be attractive without long hair, right?! People just relegate her to "ordinary."

And that's when I realized, that I was being 100% ridiculous and buying into a stereotype that I don't buy into for any single other thing. Why does a woman have to have long hair to feel beautiful.... or empowered.... or feminine?!!?!

The answer is simple.... they don't. And it's time we all stop thinking that they should.

Besides, Kelly Ripa has had short hair for the better part of the last twenty years AND SHIT HAS BEEN WORKING OUT REALLY WELL FOR KELLY RIPA.

I've been talking about chopping my hair off for the better part of two years, even going so far as to make pro/con lists and constantly reminding myself why I wanted to chop it all off. But, I would talk about all of the cute "short" hairstyles and think about it.... and then chicken out. I would make the decision to chop it all off immediately.... and then back out about ten minutes later. Almost a year ago, I had a teeny bit cut off and then instantly let it go crazy again, because I felt so "exposed." Honestly, I've talked about the love/hate relationship that I have with my hair pretty regularly.... mishaps and all.

But, on Sunday I finally had enough. And I went to get my haircut immediately so I couldn't back out of it. Do you ever get knots in your stomach and you don't know why? That totally happened to me. The nice lady who cut my hair (her name was Joyce and I should probably just go back to her for the rest of my hairstyling life) let me know about a inch would have to come off to get it to a healthy point. An inch.... not too much, right? It's true, an inch isn't that much. It's basically nothing at all in the grand scheme of things.... which is why I told her to cut it off this much (and I pointed to where I wanted my hair to fall). She confirmed that I was in fact not on LSD and knew how much hair I would be "losing" and I confirmed that's what I wanted. Y'all, I had her cut ten inches of my hair off.

TEN. F*CKING. INCHES. OF. HAIR. GOOONNNNNNEEEEEEE.

That's not counting the layers that are now roaming free on my head. I can't even stress to you how much better it feels. It's still kind of weird, because I keep grabbing for it when I wash it and stuff, but I don't regret chopping it off one bit. It's just a little bit past my shoulders, which is not as short as I have previously discussed, but I figured ten inches gone (it was touching my butt) was a hell of a start and if I continue to like it I could always have a little more taken off each time I go back.

Sure, at first I had all of those insane/unfabricated fears creep into my head, like does a dude like to run his fingers through short hair? Do you know how many guys run their fingers through my hair? I'll go ahead and let you know the answer is.... NONE. Dude, even when I was dating or in a relationship (days that I certainly don't miss, but people keep liking to bring up on occasion) guys couldn't run their fingers through my hair. Seriously, have you ever seen my hair?!!?!

We're talking Monica Geller circa 2003 The One in Barbados Part I.

You know what? I'm fine with that. Why I have stopped taking a man's opinion into account for every other aspect of my life, but not this one, I'll never know.... yet, here we are. I would say "living the dream" but that feels a little bit dramatic even for me.

Yes, it's a learning curve as far as styling, but I'm getting the hang of it more and more each time. I've decided I have to put a little more effort into my appearance.... for no one other than myself. Because it makes me feel a little better to look a little better. Or, if not better, at least like there was some sort of effort. Besides, Dani is officially trusting me with more responsibilities (and money) at work (she has been for quite awhile), so I should probably try to not look homeless or like I'm coming off of a four-day bender at least two or three days a week.

To this end I say, if you want long hair- have long hair. If you want short hair- have short hair. If you want to shave your head- then shave your damn head and rock that shit, because you got this. And if you're me, you'll try to get out of your own head and know that hair doesn't mean shit and you're you no matter what's on top of your f*cking head.

To say that I've been slacking would be an understatement. *exasperation*

Y'all, it's been so long since I've wrote anything down. Well.... anything aside from grocery lists and sixteen thousand notebooks full of work stuff. (shoot. me. now. oomph.)

Being an adult is hard.

With that being said, I couldn't tell you how many times I've opened my blogger on a spare tab and attempted to write something down. Basically, just anything down. I now live by the term "the struggle is real" and that's probably what's going to have to be written on my tombstone.

I'm going to try and catch up.... at least, hit some things that I may elaborate on later on down the road.

-Thanks to Danielle, I learned that I've been using a can opener wrong my entire life.
A couple of weeks back, Danielle watched a video on FB (isn't that where most evil things start these days?) of Djswauvea (no, I don't know if that's his legit name or just a youtube name) reacting to finding out that he had been using a can opener wrong his entire life. Thinking that this was one of those "you can't believe everything on the internet, especially FB" moments, I gave it a go.... and apparently, I've just been using one wrong for twenty-eight years. You wouldn't believe how irrationally angry it made me (and Danielle by extension, because OF COURSE I had to text her immediately afterwards). Sometimes it really is the little things.

-I went and seen my amazing "lady doctor" last week and we're trying something new (Kyleena.... to be continued).
I've had a love/hate relationship with my "lady doctor" for around four (five?) years now. You know what, let me correct that.... I've had a love/hate relationship with my "lady bits" for around four (five?) years now, but I LOVE my "lady doctor." She is quite literally the best. Around four (five?) years ago, I gained a significant amount of weight and felt HORRIBLE at all times. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, but assumed that it might have something to do with my "lady bits" because I had a Mirena and it was almost time to have it removed (I've heard they can cause weird side effects when it's almost time to have it removed as your body's way of reminding you). Come to find out, it was my "lady bits" that were the problem, but not my IUD. Long story short, I've struggled with it and everything surrounding it since. But, after four (five?) years of being on the pill (for hormonal reasons), my "lady doctor" told me she thought it would be best to try out Kyleena, as it's designed with women who've never had children in mind. She thinks it will really help some of my issues and since I trust her and her opinion she put the order in and I go back to have it placed once her office receives it.

-It rained for four days straight.... and now it's officially "that time" of year.
Ah, it's officially "that time" of the year.... the time where you have the heat (defroster) on on the way to work, the AC cranked on the way home at the end of the day, storms and rain are always in the forecast, and you've taken so many allergy meds you don't know how to be a functional adult (please, like I've ever known that). Welcome to the Midwest!! (Also, I take allergy meds around the clock/year, so this part is not an adjustment for me). PS: my grass desperately needs mowed and I'm like eh.

-You can officially say that I've watched an entire season of American Horror Story.
Last year in September/October I started watching the third season of American Horror Story.... one of my favorite parts of that show is the fact that each season is a different subject than all the others, but they all seem to still meld together. I decided to start with Coven, because as most people know, I love all things witches (you can blame the Sanderson sisters and the fact that I want to go to Salem). With the move and my short attention span, I never finished.... UNTIL NOW. Once it was done, I went back and started season one.

-And five whole seasons of Shameless.
My cousin, J, told me I needed to check out the show and since it has been on my Netflix queue for months I decided that I should give it a go. I more or less loved and binge-watched the first five seasons, but have lost steam since my favorite character (Mickey Milkovich) is no longer on there. Oh, and since Momma officially hates it, because both of her favorites (Sheila and Jimmy/Steve/Jack) are gone. I want to continue with it, but whether or not I get to is to be determined.

-Spart won't quit growing like he's a damn weed.
It's been a long while since we've had a big dog. Tayder is my little guy and has been with me for YEARS, but he was the first "little" dog that I've ever personally had. We always had bigger dogs, but got pretty used to it just being my little man. Then Spart joined the family and even though he was pretty puny when we brought him home, he is a GIANT now. That doesn't stop him from thinking he's a lapdog and trying to hide behind Tayder when he's scared though. (Side note: Happy International Dog Day!! Did y'all know that was thing? If not, you do now!)

-Tayder still isn't 100% onboard with having a baby brother.... but he's adjusting.
Speaking of my little buddy and Spart.... remember how I said Tayder has been with me for years? Well, after Momma's pup, Dixie, passed away, it's been only Tayder. He got pretty accustomed to being in a one dog household and having a giant little brother has been quite the adjustment for everyone. He's probably still not real happy about it, but he's used to him at this point.

-We got new windows put in our house in the living room and kitchen.
When we moved into our house last year, we knew that there were going to be things we needed to get done. It's an older house and while it was pretty decent, it's not brand new. Lucky for us, I don't mind having to put in some work and it's really exciting to have our own house (again!) and knowing that we can do it anyway that we want, because we're never moving again (because I'm tired of f*cking moving and plan to just die there now). While I do know how to do quite a few things when it comes to remodeling/fixing things/building a house (we literally built my childhood home from the giant ass open field up and I help Uncle D with everything from installing countertops to fire pit building), there are certain things I think pros should do. Windows are one of those things. We couldn't afford to have them all replaced, but the only ones that needed it "right now" were the ones in the living room and kitchen, because they leaked HORRIBLY. Now that they're replaced, you can 100% tell the difference even within the AC itself.

-Got Hulu back (and kept Netflix).
I love Netflix. The fact that I can binge-watch to my little heart's content is no secret (even though I don't always get to). We tried out Hulu last year, but decided we should probably cut at least one of them out. I was pretty sad that Netflix had removed It's Always Sunny, but real happy to know Hulu now offers it. So, we got Hulu back. And they have some pretty good stuff.

-Had to deal with the entire world and their "Kiki Challenges."
I know y'all have see these "Kiki Challenges" and I want to punch Drake in his face for it. While I think it's completely stupid for someone to jump out of their moving vehicle to dance (y'all, I locked my keys in my parked, but running car once and felt like a giant dumbass then), and record it (why would you want evidence of you doing something illegal and/or dangerous to everyone in your vicinity), I have so say.... the "Kiki Challenge Fails" are what I'm here for.

-Prepared a bunch of green tomatoes for freezing for winter.... then lost them all.
Fried Green Tomatoes isn't just a fabulous movie.... it's also a delicious meal within itself. If being raised in the sticks doesn't teach you that it's perfectly acceptable to deep fry all of your veggies for consumption, then nothing ever will. Our tomato plants went insane this year and while they're gone now, they left us with quite a few green tomatoes to freeze for consumption in the winter. So, I spent three hours one day preparing them all and freezing them.... and then our freezer wet out. *eye roll*

-Watched my big brother turn 32 years old.
My brother love to tell me that I'm "creeping up on thirty" and gets real offended when I counter with "yeah, but once I'm there, you'll be in your mid-thirties." His birthday is in July and we was the big 3-2 this year. His last few birthdays have been real special to him now that he's a father. We fight and argue constantly and have for our entire lives, but it's so surreal to me that he's so grown up. Big brother or not, he'll always be a scrawny little kid to me.

-My hair is dark brown.... again.
I've been talking about making a "drastic" change to my hair for a couple of years now. I debated on whether or not to chop it all off and I even started using Sun-In to enhance the natural blonde in my hair (which is apparently alot), and swore that I was done dying it, because I didn't want to deal with it anymore. Well.... then I decided that I wanted my dark brown hair back. Call it the forever fifteen year old girl in me, but I just prefer my dark hair. And if I have to get it from a bottle, so be it. I guess that's what I get for dying it starting at twelve years old.

-I repainted our bathroom and now I'm almost 100% sure they should give me my own show on HGTV.
Eventually, I would like to redo our bathroom and take out the tub and install a walk-in shower (I hate taking baths, but LOVE taking showers), but until that day comes (which will probably be years from now), we gotta make the most of what we've got. For some reason the people we bought the house from had painted the bathroom a really dark brown/grey color, put in a giant dark brown mirror, and a wood vanity. Nothing matched and with the navy blue tiles that takes up half of the whole room, it looked pretty wonky. This past weekend I painted it white, put on new hinges, put up a medicine cabinet instead of plain mirror, and when I get home today I have to clean and do touch-ups. You wouldn't believe how much better it already looks.

I started using Sun-In.... even though I read a million scary reviews. *gasps*

First things first.... I used to dye my hair black every chance I got. And I'm not talking a little darker than my natural color. I'm talking full on jet black for YEARS. Sure, with my pale skin it made me look borderline Morticia Addams (and also, like I was maybe a sick person?), but I LOVED it and would probably still do it if my hair would hold any form of color. But it won't (probably from the fact that I consistently dyed it from the age of twelve through twenty-two without missing a beat).

So, here I am living my mousey natural hair color existence.

And you know, I never quite realized how much blonde my hair naturally had in it (again, because I hadn't seen my natural color since I was twelve), but here we are.

I figured that if I was going to have light hair for the rest of my life, I might as well have it a sandy blonde.... right?! The best way I could figure out how to do that (again, without dye/bleach, etc.) was to try Sun-In.

I've been thinking about trying this product since I was a young teen and my friend Amanda used it religiously (even though her natural hair color is already kind of a light bleach blonde?), but never did.

For years I had forgotten about it even existing, and honestly figured they had quit making it years ago, because as I said I remember it from when I was super young! But, then I saw it on the shelf at the store one day and decided to give it a go.

Before I did anything that "drastic" though, I decided to read up on some of the reviews and to say that there were a million "bad/questionable" reviews would be an understatement. Sure, there were a couple of good ones out there, but the bad almost had me running for the hills, clutching my hair with both hands like Buffalo Bill was chasing after me. And then I read a review from xoJane and she was honest in saying that it did dry her hair out/give her split ends, but that she got the color she wanted and was relatively pleased with her results (you can always use a shit ton of conditioner, hot oil, hair masks, leave in conditioner, etc. to help with the drying out!), so I thought what I usually think in situations where it could either go ok or end up in utter disaster....

WHAT THE HELL. LET'S DO THIS.

This past Friday when Momma and I ran errands and stopped into the grocery store (aka, Walmart) I picked up a bottle of Sun-In (in the pink bottle- tropical breeze?) and so far I've used it twice. I also picked up a bottle of leave-in conditioner and a "hair treatment" (that I hate and am going to find something different), because of all the "dries your hair out" reviews out there. I didn't really notice that my hair was dryer, but once I re-washed it I did notice it was harder to brush out. I haven't noticed an overall difference in the color, but I have noticed there are a few spots that are really coming through blonder (since I have a lot of blonde in my hair to begin with).

But, like I said, I've only used it twice (and gave my hair a rest/treatment last night), so I'm sure I'll notice more soon.

And on a side note: I decided recently that it may be a good idea to "work out" my body a little bit, not for any purpose other than just to feel better, and I would like to go on the record of saying that my legs hurt SO F*CKING BAD. Seriously, it's only my thighs, but I feel like I may in fact kill over at any given moment. Can that happen?!

I may very well fall over dead from a variety of possibilities.

Y'all, remember when I mentioned that I had been doing a shit ton of yard work? Yeah well, yesterday may have killed me.

And not to be dramatic or anything (yeah, ok), but I'm pretty sure that this is never gonna end and I may or may not join the Witness Protection Program (ala Joyce and Crabman).

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing maintenance yard work (I don't particularly like it, but I don't hate it either), but whoever lived in our house before us was a real asshole when it came to "keeping things up" in the yard department (ie: they didn't).

The house was ok (I'm assuming whoever was selling it probably had to fix a few things when their tenants moved out?), but the yard is (or I guess, was?) a damn disaster zone.

I did our front flower bed when I got home from work yesterday (the big one that I removed bushes from on Sunday) and the side of our house and in the process dug up a ridiculous amount of shit. I actually dug up four wire brushes. FOUR. Who in the hell buys four wire brushes in their entire lifetime let alone within a small amount of time just to bury in a flower bed? Is there some kind of urban legend or superstition that I don't know about?!

Also, I think I may have pulled something in my right shoulder/neck (so.... schneck?!), because it hurts and burns, but it could also be because my entire body is sore and I feel like I've been hit by a truck. A really big one at that. There's also a ton more to do and while I know it has to be done and I want it done, I have absolutely no desire to do any of it. Especially today, because I am tired. And I know that's not an excuse and things "still have to be done even though you're tired" and I'm not the only one that gets tired, I really ain't feeling it today.

My feet are swollen and my body hurts. Basically, I want to go home, put on comfy clothes, drink booze, and watch tv. Will I get to? Probably not. Do I really want to? Hell yes.

Side note: This humidity is killing me and my hair (and I want to chop it ALL off BAD). Tayder understands me.

When you start getting gray hair at twenty-seven.

The other day (Sunday maybe?) Aunt Poot looked at the top of my head and informed me that my roots have grown out.... I was forced to tell her that I don't have any dye or anything else in my hair and haven't in a very long time (like, years), so everything that's showing in my hair is in fact just natural.

She took another look and said, "oh my, Katie you're getting gray hair." I think she thought I was going to freak out or be mad, but since I'm very aware that I have some gray hair (and have had it coming in for a long while), I was good with it.

You see, I used to do all kinds of things with my hair. I'm talking dye, bleach, cut, pull, yank, twist.... in fact, it's kind of a miracle that I have any hair left (and that I'm lucky enough that it's healthy).

I never dyed my hair, because I was embarrassed by it. I used to do all kinds of things to it, because it was fun and I was curious to see what I would look like with something different. You know, kind of how some people get piercings or tattoos.... except I wanted to do something that wasn't quite so permanent. So, I went crazy with my hair.

Momma was never one to get all looney-tunes about me changing my hair and I started messing with it when I was around twelve. With dying my hair from twelve until I was in my early twenties, I hadn't seen my natural color in YEARS and kind of forgot what it actually was. (I had no recollection of having kind of strawberry blonde hair, but apparently it was always there underneath the dark dye).

But now my hair won't hold color anymore (it's probably damn tired of trying to keep up) and honestly, I'm pretty much over dying it. I say leave it be and let the chips fall where they may. Alot of the women in my family have started to get gray hair young, most of them in their twenties just like me and I'm good with it. Besides, women are rocking that shit these days.

Aside from getting it cut (did I mention how much I love having my medium/kind of short hair again?), I think my "hair experimenting" days are over.

Side note: I had to have the most ridiculous argument with my cousin over her hair, because I asked her who did hers and she tried to tell me the color that was on her head was all her natural color.... and I had to tell her she was full of shit, because NOBODY is born with burgundy hair. 

*insert exasperated emoji here*

When you decide to cut "all" of your hair off (or in my case, a few inches).

Ok, maybe "all of" your hair is a little dramatic when it comes to me, because I still have a shit ton of hair left.... BUT I did get over a foot of it cut off, so that has to count for something, right?!

See, what happened was I've been talking about getting my hair cut for MONTHS, if not a couple of years. And while I didn't get the dramatic cut that I kept talking about, because I'm a giant puss, I did get quite a bit of it chopped.

How much? Well.... over a foot. And more than four pounds (and I know this, because she weighed it at four pounds and she had already swept some of it up).

Count it. FOUR. POUNDS.

Who would've thought it would be so easy to lose some weight? Just get a pretty big haircut and it apparently does the trick. And it's so hilarious, because I had so much hair chopped off and there's still SO much of it. Usually this is what people look like in the "before" photos when they're going to get a bunch of hair chopped off.

But you know what? It feel better, it's not as hard to brush as it was, I use 3/10 of the shampoo and conditioner that I was using, I have less hair to wrangle and clean up (I shed like a German Shepard), and it just seems generally easier to deal with (which is my favorite part).

And sure, it was cool having really long hair and it made me feel fancy (only in my head, never in everyday life), because society has kind of always grinded the fact that "women should have long hair" into our brains, but this is the length that I always used to wear my hair and I like it.

Next time I go for a trim I might even go shorter.

Because it's just too good not to share.

I've We've talked about my ongoing battle with my hair a time or two.... right?! I always say that I'm going to grow it long and when it's long I hate it and want it short, but then I cut it short I hate it and want it to grow and.... do you see where I'm going with this? Do you see that I'm never satisfied with my hair? (Except one time when I was like, eighteen and had my favorite hairstyle that I've ever had.... another story for another day).

It's an ongoing battle that I've been fighting my entire life.... ever since my arch nemesis cut off one of my pigtails (yes, just one, and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE). And honestly I can trace it back to that exact moment (and the little asshole that did it), but it only got increasingly worse as I got older and always toed the line between Wtf and #JeffFoxworthyHairDontCare. And while it's long now and I like the way it looks when I put effort into it, the truth is, I don't put effort in nearly enough (because eff that) and I end up with it piled on top of my head.

And that opens the door for a myriad of things including, but not limited to: headaches, pain, agony, and defeat (not to be dramatic or anything). Plus, I sometimes get my hair shut in my car door.... more often than I care to admit. And while it's curly and has a mind of it's own, I think I would miss it if I was to cut it short. Why?!

Well, I have a tendency to live more in my imagination then I do in actual reality, and I "feel" like I should have long hair. You know, because in all of the legendary love stories/books and movies that I insist on reading/watching, you never hear of the "long lost love" or "woman of the dreams" or "heroine of her own destiny" having short hair. You just don't. The only one that I can think of off the top of my head is Maggie Greene-Rhee and let's be honest, she's such a badass that you can't argue with her.

And while my sensibility tells me that's ridiculous and my inner "warrior woman" says that's foolish, I can't seem to compute that to my actual brain. I always think of cutting my hair and end up at, "what if?!" I know that shouldn't bother me, but it does. And if you think I'm as crazy as what I do, I get it, but just know.... EXPLAIN IT TO MY BRAIN AND MAKE IT UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE IT'S A JERK (and that's probably why that makes up at least 87% of my personality).

Also, doesn't society.... and your family/friends kind of make you feel like if you're female you should have long hair?!

I say all of this, because I don't know how to not ramble feel the need to tell you that when you have a lifetime full of "hair woes" you're bound to have some real "gems" hidden away in old pictures. (And so do your family and friends). And when I run across a really good one.... I have to share. So, without further ado, I give to you.... Katie and Amanda (and our friend from back in the day- Devo) at ten.... eleven? (twelve?). Something like that. We are truly the epitome of 90s kids.

This simply could not wait until Thursday.... Manda, there's no one else I would have rather survived my 1983 bangs and high waisted "mom" jeans with. 😂 9/4.

A post shared by Katie Hopwood (@kdhopwood) on Sep 4, 2017 at 4:45pm PDT

When I was twelve years old.

I had horrible hair (look at the picture if you need to see just how bad it is.). A friend of mine (kind of friend? I haven't seen her in years and we weren't really close or anything) was going through some old drawers and photos a week or so ago and she found it. And by it, I mean look at this picture.

The girl who's photo it is is the gal wearing the orange shirt and glasses.... the guy is my friend Liz's big brother (and by big brother, I mean BIG.... I once seen a truck hit him and he stood up and moved the truck by hand).

He was real nice and I'm pretty sure it was Liz that took this picture (even though I totally forgot that it existed). The other gal is his girlfriend. But, while I think this picture is great (there's nothing like old photos), the most hilarious part to me is.... my hair.

Because #JeffFoxworthyHairDontCare .

Do y'all see why I am always talking about going through a hair crisis?! I have very clearly had a problem with this mop that I call hair FOR YEARS. You know how you find the people that for real love you and the ones that you should keep in your life?! You look like this and they stick around and still think you look ok. THAT'S HOW. All of the people that I consider my "true friends" have pretty much either seen me with this exact haircut or something equally as atrocious and THEY LOVE ME ANYWAYS. How, I don't know, but they do.

Can you believe that I actually had a boyfriend when I had this hair? I mean, not at twelve, but my hair wasn't much different at fifteen than it is right here (except my bangs were- thankfully- longer) and I had a boyfriend when we moved to Florida.

Do you see why I don't wear bangs AT ALL anymore? I had huge bangs when I was in elementary school (thanks, mom) and I had these bangs until I was almost sixteen (again, thanks mom) and from sixteen to about twenty-four, I had side bangs. Now that I've finally gotten them to grow out (#thankful) I try to avoid any hairstyle that has bangs or could accidentally turn into them (I know you don't think that could happen, but trust me, it can).

Pale skin and Jeff Foxworthy hair (with a ginger hue). Clearly, I've always been quite the catch.

If. If. If. If. If.

There could be some kind of motivational quote for "if".... but I can't find it (just "what if" quotes), so I'm just going to spew random things that I probably need to do (or have done), but I have limited motivation for the day.... be gentle.

If cable doesn't quit being so expensive: we're going to have to turn all of it off and live like it's 1986 (i.e. no cable, wifi, or telephone).... oh, wait! We've already done that. Momma told them to turn our service off (without warning) and like I said, it's 1986. Except we have a blu-ray player.... but no wifi, so you can't stream anything. We can watch blu-rays/dvds, and I own Blue Collar Comedy, so.... win? Hopefully we'll find a service with cheap wifi and get it hooked back up, so we can stream Netflix and such again, but cable? That's a negatory, Ghost Rider.

If I weren't such a chicken shit: I would chop every single bit of my hair off and start rocking one of those short little pixie cuts (I think?) like Lauren Cohan. Say what you want about The Walking Dead (or her character on Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries.... apparently people have a whole lot to say about those?), but that girl can rock some short hair. Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful gal and can pull of long tresses too, but short hair? She owns that shit.

If today were a friend of mine's birthday: (it is), I would leave said friend a birthday message along the lines of this: Happy Birthday!! You should be told that you're special every single day.... but on this day especially. I could never tell you what it is I actually want to tell you, because even I don't know what it would be, but I just wanted to let you know that you're thought of on this day.... one day of many. It's so very comforting to know that no matter how old I get, and however many old age habits hit me in the face, that you will reach them all just a little bit before me. I hope you have the most fantastic day that you could ever have and that it's full of love, fun, laughter, friends, and family. You deserve it all, wish you were here.... Happy Birthday. (P.s. Momma says Happy Birthday, she loves you, and she misses you too.).

If I remembered anything about my banking system: (I don't unless I look about a million things up) I would do my taxes just so they would be done and over with. Dani taught me how to do my own taxes three or four years ago and needless to say it's saved me $200+ a year doing them myself. Just call me Han, because I'm Solo(ing) it on this one. Did that sound as strange to read as it did when I said it n my head?

If it was later in the week: I wouldn't currently be calling Tuesday "day two of the hostage situation." Somehow it's been an incredibly long week.... and it's only Tuesday. I want it to be later, but what I want doesn't really seem to help.... therefore, here we are. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning and I almost fell back asleep after I turned my alarm off. I was trying to will myself awake.... and had very little to no "will."

I'm not actually going to do it.

You guys ever have one of those moments that you think to yourself- "if I wasn't such a puss, I'd totally do that"? I am currently having one of those moments and even though I know I won't be giving into it anytime soon (if ever in my lifetime), it's still a random thought that crosses my mind.

It plagues every woman's mind at one point or another.... or continuously. And that thought?

......... maybe I should just cut my hair.

But, I don't just think "maybe I should cut my hair".... I always take it a step further by thinking "maybe I should cut my hair.... REALLY SHORT." What's the worse that could happen.... right?!

I'll tell you what the worse that could happen is, I could end up looking like some weird combo of Sméagol and Lloyd Christmas, that's what. And if we're totally honest with each other, we would just admit that the chance of that happening are pretty high.

Besides, every time I do cut my hair, I end up hating it. Like, on a whole new horizon of hate. We're talking Ursula the Sea Witch up in here. The last time my hair was long and I cut it shorter, I hated it. Legit hated it. I actually cried once; not because I hated it to the brink of tears, but once I realized I couldn't pull it up into a proper ponytail, the eye water just flowed.

And my hair is WAY longer now and I'm talking about cutting it FAR shorter than it has ever been.

I'm not actually going to do it (one, because I'm fairly certain that I'd hate it, my hair is afterall, down to the far middle of my back right now and two, because you know, Lloyd), but Momma and I were talking the other night and I told her that if I ever cut my hair "short" again, I was just gonna go all out and pixie that shit. She decided that would be the way to do it.

But for now, I'll keep my long hair (I'm still in my twenties and can relatively still "maintain" my mop.... contrary to popular belief and the fact that I regularly look like a hobo), and think about the haircut that could have been.

....And I'll leave this picture as a dare to do it.... and the other as a reminder of why I don't.

My arch nemesis.

(Just because I forgot for a minute doesn't make it less true).

Momma and I were talking yesterday evening on our way home and I remembered something pretty hilarious. I mean, it wasn't hilarious then (yes it was, I was just very mad), but it is thinking back on it now. It all started when Momma mentioned- "It's been so long since I've seen your hair as long as it is, how long has it been?" And of course I was all- "How am I supposed to remember? I can't even remember what I did Tuesday" She said- "It is Tuesday" And I was like- "SEE?!"

But I digress.

Because after we got home and I was cleaning our living room, I remembered. I remembered when the last time my hair was this long. I immediately ran to her and exclaimed- "I remember!!" She was way less enthused than I was (it usually happens like this), but decided to pacify me by asking- "Ok, when?"

Here's my recollection of events:

When I was in third grade there was a boy in my class, that shall remain nameless (but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, SIR), that was in every way my arch nemesis. Quit laughing, it's true. He was the Joker to my Batman, the Kripke to my Cooper, the Sobriety to my Courtney Love, you get the point. The boy was PURE EVIL. Everyone thought that we were always bickering back and forth, because we had a crush on each other (the whole "boys pick on you when they like you" thing- dumb), but that was entirely untrue. We bickered all of the time, because he was a buttface. And yes, that is what third grade me told him. That he was a buttface. Because I know how to throw a real zinger when it comes to insults (wait until I watched That 70s Show a few years later and first heard the insult- dilhole, and after that made up the phrase- douche canoe).

The point is, that boy was always tormenting me. ALWAYS. I let it go forever, but eventually got fed up with it and one day when he was playing with my pigtails (I always wore pigtails) I turned around and yanked/twisted his ear until he screamed like a girl. Things only went from there, because the next day he cut off one of my pigtails. Yes, just one. ONE PIGTAIL. I had to carry my detached pigtail home, with a note from my teacher for Momma, to tell her that I hadn't done it myself. Of course I hadn't done it myself, I already had feathered bangs and a lisp, how much more ridiculous did I need to look?!

That was the last time my hair was that long, because Momma in turn had to cut the rest of my hair to match and my hair went from almost to my waist to up past my shoulders. I was sad.

BUT not as sad as I was angry. Even though Momma raised me very much to be "don't start fights" "don't provoke" "just walk away" all I could hear when she was talking about "being the bigger person" while cutting my hair was- "blah, blah, blah". Obviously because I was in the middle of plotting my revenge. I didn't want to be the bigger person that time, once again I had had enough. I went to school the next day (with my very short hair) and as soon as I got to my classroom he started laughing and pointing and being mean (I know, you're shocked at this point). I sat down in my desk and tried to ignore him..... for awhile. And then he pulled my hair and the fight was on. And not just that day, but every single day after that. He continued to pick and I continued to fight back.

Eventually our teacher separated us (she had sat us next to each other thinking it was a crush- it wasn't) after he bit me on my leg and then punched me in the eye and I stabbed him in the hand with a pair of scissors and kicked him in the throat (obviously, I kicked his ass and won that fight). Now that I think back on it, I have a hard time believing that they didn't kick us both out of school, but that was before the whole "No Tolerance" policy (damn, I'm glad they've put that in schools).

We learned to deal with each other over the years and as we grew up (and he admitted in junior high that he did have a crush on me), but to this day (almost twenty years later) I am still convinced that he was and is- my arch nemesis.