I Like My Haircut, I Really Like My Haircut

Whenever I sit in a salon, the 9 year old in me starts singing this song:



("I like my haircut, I really like my haircut...") Cue my entire family to start singing this song out loud.

Carlie gave me that look the other day, and I knew it was time.



("Mommy, your hair is embarrassing us in front of the other dogs...")

Steven had been gently recommending a trip to the salon as well, and he thought it would be fun to show you some before-and-after pictures. (You've seen our home renovation, now see our hair renovation...)

Here's the before. I think my last cut/color was maybe 6 months ago (or longer).



"Hi, we are some embarassingly long roots..."



Yep, I'm struggling.



And here's the after:



Purty!



I kinda wish it was more stacked in the back (quit laughing and get your mind out of the gutter), but I can always ask for that next time.



Now that I'm out of school (when will I stop using that excuse for not previously taking care of myself? Probably forever...), I think I'll keep up with the cut/color on a more regular basis. Like maybe every 2 months instead of every 2 years.

In other news, Steven and I have declared this week to be "Recession Eating Week." This does not mean we are eating our 401K's (the government and the markets are taking care of that! Ha! Oh, I crack myself up. Also, neither of us has a 401K, so really, not that funny...)

Recession Eating Week is something like this: buy groceries on Sunday, and your challenge is to not spend a single dime on food for the entire week. You have to eat from the groceries you bought on Sunday for the whole week, including brown bag lunches during the workday and dinners at home each night.

You would think this would be a piece of cake (and for most of you, it is probably your regular practice), but for us (for me, anyway), its really tough -- it means making brown bag lunches for me and Steven by no later than 7 AM (Steven leaves for work right around 7 - 7:30), and then getting home and making dinner by around 7:30 PM (much later and Steven will start looking hungrily at Pringles....) and then convincing myself (and Steven) that we don't need to hit up the DQ after a chicken noodle soup night that was disappointing at best....

We're going strong on Day 4, and tomorrow night is our one freebie night, meaning we can have a Friday night out (and probably a weekend breakfast out, too), but then its back to the grind. I'm going to keep it going as long as we can stand it, and then check the budget at the end of the month to see how much we've managed to save.

And it turns out, I'm not the only one planning a Victory Garden this year. I am looking forward to seeing how this turns out for them -- I wonder if the White House lawn has good dirt?

Gardening Within the Confines of the Law

When we moved into our house, there was a rather suspicious-looking florescent light rigged up on one of the walls in the basement. We made a few jokes about the former owners "growing things" down there, and then I promptly forgot about the existence of that light. Steven set up his guitar stuff in the basement, and (since its chilly down there), I haven't been down there for quite a while.



Last weekend, I bought some seed starting peat moss and planted seeds for spinach, brussles sprouts, carrots and two varieties of mesclun lettuce. And this weekend, the seeds sprouted. I read the directions on my seed-starting mix, and it says to "place under lights or in a sunny window. I tried to prop the seeds up in a sunny window, but our sunniest spots are directly behind the house, and there aren't any windows facing that direction with a good solid ledge to hold the seedlings.



Which brought me to my lightbulb-over-the-head moment, when I realized that the light in the basement could be put to good use after all. (Go ahead, get all your pot jokes out of the way now.... I know what it looks like but its spinach, people. Spinach!)



The last day of frost here in my neck of the woods is May 3, according to my obsessive researching and Google-fu. Most of my seed packets say "plant indoors 6-8 weeks before last frost date."



And that just so happens to be (somewhere around) this weekend. (Right? I never trust my own math...)



After I realized that my lighting system could really work wonders for seed starting, I sort of went crazy and started a few seeds of everything. I think the sprouts here are the spinach and mesclun lettuce (the red ones are definitely the mesclun lettuce, and the green ones look rather spinach-y to me, don't you think?). This weekend, I also planted seeds for:

Brandywine Pink heirloom tomato
Roma (paste) tomato
Garlic chives
Italian Oregano
Sweet Basil
Thyme
Parsley
Cilantro/Coriander



I'm planning to keep the herbs in a container on the porch, and the tomatoes will go into the actual garden (along with the spinach, carrots, brussles sprouts, lettuce, and oh so much more.)

I know I'm being overly ambitious and setting myself up for a complete disaster. But I can't help it. Its so exciting to think I could grow a whole garden full of veggies in a mere 3-4 months from now! I also bought seeds for okra and green beans, but the seed packets say to plant them right in the ground after danger of frost has passed. So I'm waiting till May for those. (Did I mention this is just the plan for the spring garden? I haven't even considered what I might grow when full-on summer gets here.... Peppers, pole beans, corn, watermelon, more tomatoes? The possibilities are endless...)

Cross your fingers, everybody!

Would you read it?

An interesting discussion cropped up at work today. As with any group of overly opinionated people, when you get a group of lawyers together and ask them a question, you will likely never get a consensus.

And so it was with today's topic. I was extolling the virtues of having a Facebook account, especially if you have teenage or preteen kids. You want to know what they're posting for the world to see, right?

And this discussion inevitably led to the diary discussion; namely, would you read your kid's diary?

My opinion is that there are some additional factors to weigh here. For instance, did the kid tell you about the diary? Did the kid hide the diary somewhere? Was the diary locked?

A couple people at work talked about needing probable cause (that lawyer thing popping up again). I think (to the shock and awe of my teenage self, who would be horrified that I've reached this point) that I'd probably read it no matter what.

I kept a diary when I was young, filled with all the maudlin and angst you'd expect from a teenage girl pouring her heart out (in pink gel pen, of course). I have no idea if my parents read it at any point (Mom and Dad, feel free to enlighten us in the comments if you want), but I imagine they already had a pretty clear idea what I was thinking and feeling back then. (The 16 year old me probably would have spilled her deepest ambitions and heartbreaks to a telephone pole; I was quite the talker.)

So now I wan to know what you folks think. Would you read it? Would you refrain? What are the rules for this type of thing? (Am I overthinking this?)

Just a Bit More...

Every few weeks, as we start to forget what it feels like to spend hours at a time perched precariously on the ladder, we try to hit another room.



Yes. It really is that teal. With an inexplicable green stripe under the (completely non-matching) wallpaper border.

Steven is the king of removing wallpaper. See him roar.



Earlier, he'd stayed up half the night to transform what we'd dubbed the "Minnie Mouse Room" into something a bit less, well, Disney.

Here's how you might remember it looking...



Pink-o-rama.



And after a few coats of "Barnwood" (which I still think is too dark but Steven absolutely loves:)



Its a bit greener than it appears in these pictures. Also, I think the trim needs another coat of white to really pop.



Pringles tried to help us paint, but he was too distracted by the snow outside. (I don't blame him, it was gorgeous.)



Only two more rooms to go (and then the basement). Oh, and the upstairs bathrooms. Oh, and pressure washing the siding. Oh, and then there's all that trim....

Springing Forward

I got up this morning at 8:30 AM, only all of a sudden it was 9:30 AM. And then I did the dishes, and instead of only being 9:00 AM, it was suddenly 10:00 AM.

My morning is missing, and I'd like it back, please.

(However, when the sun is still up at 6:30 PM tonight, I imagine I won't be complaining nearly this much.)

My brother Matt is visiting for the weekend, and we have pretty much worn him out in the last three days.

We bombarded him with papparazzi pictures (during which I could not seem to keep my eyes open for the flash).



Steven was much better at it.



Matt and I gallavanted around Alexandria on Friday (while Steven had to work, ha ha). We saw the Torpedo Factory, which was actually quite cool, even though all the art is way over priced. I get that its original, but is your 4" by 4" canvas painting really worth $165, lady? Really? I'd give you $25 for it, maybe.

After the overpriced art, we wandered along the waterfront for a bit and then met Steven for lunch at Dixie Bones. Now, I know Steven and I are creatures of habit, but I just happened to browse through my photos from March 2008, and guess where we were?

That's right:



Just like clockwork, folks.

Saturday morning was more of our endearing habitual routines: breakfast at our Saturday favorite, followed by a car wash. I forgot what color my car actually was. Turns out, its white. Who knew.



And then, a twist. Steven leans to Matt and says dramatically, "Have you ever seen a Lambourghini? Up close?"



The answer to that question is now, definitively, yes.

(Ferraris are also, now, Matt-approved.)



Then we traversed up to Georgetown University (and I mean UP -- the entire school is perched vertically on the side of a cliff).



Steven tried to play it cool, like could have possibly been a student there.



Me, on the other hand? Well, I played the part of "Doting-Mom-With-Camera," replete with embarrassing stops of passers-by: "Excuse me, do you know where the English Department is?" (They didn't. They were visiting, too. Steven and Matt were mortified, and decided to stand about 200 feet away from me as this was occurring.)



We never did find the English department, but we did find the Graduate School. Also, Steven found a brass ballerina. He may have a new calling, folks.



The campus is as beautiful as I'd expected. Lots of old, interesting buildings and architecture.



And, most importantly, gutterspouts shaped like dragons. How could you go to a school without a dragon for a gutterspout?



I think we all left the place, inspired. Matt also managed to leave with a new album cover for his next project.



Today we're going to sit around and do nothing. I think we've earned it.

Lasagna Garden!

A few weekends ago (before we got doused with snow again), I hit up the garden and laid down my first few layers of the lasagna garden. (Note to the gardeners among us -- I really have no idea what I'm doing here. I'm blindly following the book and hoping for the best.)

(PS - the book is so super fabulous. I love it.)

Okay, so here we go:

Rocky, weedy ground. Needs to be tilled and de-rocked, and generally just looks like a lot of work.



Wet newspaper, in thick pads, laid over the rocky, weedy ground.



Layers of dead leaves and kitchen compost laid over the wet newspaper.



What used to be my coffee grounds and banana peels, now beautiful rich soil.



Put it all together, and you have my very first little backyard garden. It still needs several more layers of peat moss or hay and compost, with a few bags of potting soil on top, just for good measure.



Meanwhile, in the non-lasagna half of the yard, ghosts of gardeners' past are springing up.



I think they are daffodils. (But I am no expert.)



And, for those of you who haven't yet heard about the Weed Heard Round The World, may I introduce you to what's left of it:



During the first week we moved into our house, we had no less than 12 neighbors walk by our yard and make comments about "the big weed." One lady even said she gave directions to her house by it. "Turn left at the big weed."

Well, lady, I'm real sorry, but I will not be the neighborhood landmark for bad lawncare. Another neighbor said (in a snarkier tone than I had anticipated) that we'd probably need a chainsaw to cut it down.

Nope, it came down with the strength of Steven Steele (and a hacksaw). But I can't figure out how to get it down any shorter than that. Any ideas? (Fire is not an option, as it appears to be growing right out of my deck.)

With all of the yard work, it was inevitable we'd step on something. Apparently it was the second set of daffodils. Whoops.



My little bro (who is 6'4" and ergo, not little) is visiting this weekend and we are excited to host him. Matt, I promise not to make you spread bags of compost or anything while you're here.

Well, maybe just a few bags...Come on, rotting food and dirt are so totally Spring Break!

Burgoo (or, Houseboat Food)

When I was young, my family spent (what felt like) an entire summer on a houseboat on Dale Hollow Lake in Tennessee. I'll never forget that trip -- jumping from the roof of the houseboat down into the clearest lake water you've ever seen, spending all day in a swimsuit, waterskiing until my legs were sore, and (to betray my true redneck soul) bathing in the lake with Ivory soap. (Why Ivory? Because it floats, of course. Have you people never bathed in a lake before...? No? Oh..... right.)

That whole summer, all I remember having for meals were copious amounts of a summer stew we simply referred to as "burgoo."



The recipe wasn't really even a recipe -- more just a conglomeration of ingredients with the instructions to "pour off water, serve with sour cream."

Which basically left me in the dark as to how I should prepare it. So I naturally did what anyone sitting in front of a computer all day would do: I googled burgoo.

Bad idea. Turns out the dish has its roots in deep Kentucky fokelore, where it was (allegedly) first made with squirrel, possum or whatever else was in season (or recently run over by a car).

Ew. That was not what I wanted to hear. The burgoo recipe from our houseboat summer has chicken and stew beef, along with several cans of whatever veggies you happen to like in a stew. I swear my family didn't ever put roadkill in it. Honest.

After a bit more googling, I figured I could just cook it in my arch-nemesis, the Crock Pot. I layered all the meats and veggies, topped the whole pile with a few packets of beef bouillion, and said a quick prayer over the whole thing. ("Dear Lord, please let this be edible tonight when I get home...")

On the way home that night, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a loaf of bread to go with it, because bread makes everything taste better.



After a good 8 hours in the Crock, the meats were falling apart and the canned veggies still resembled their vegetable shapes, which was good. I wish I'd put more seasoning into it, though -- it was a bit bland.



Overall, I would rate the dish a success, although it still didn't resemble the delicious dish we ate that summer on the houseboat. I might try the recipe again in the summer, with less water and more seasoning next time. I was hoping for a stew consistency, and this was more soup-like. I'm thinking some cornstarch with the beef bouillion, no? Oui? Eh, whatever. :)

Burgoo
1 lb. Boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 lb. Stew beef
2 tbsp. oil (to brown meats)
whole onion, chopped
4 cans chicken broth (or 10 boullion cubes with 4 c. water)
2 16 oz cans of stewed tomatoes
1 can of summer squash (I couldn't find this -- clearly, because it was February and I'm trying to make a summer stew. I am so seasonally appropriate, no?)
2 cans whole potatoes
1 can cooked carrots
1 can peas
1 can kernel corn
1 can okra, corn, and tomatoes

Cut chicken breasts into small pieces. Season chicken and beef, then brown meats with chopped onion in oil. Combine meats with veggies and broth in stockpot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until you are ready to eat it. Pour off any extra water and top with grated cheddar and sour cream. Season with salt and pepper.

(Disclaimer -- in writing out this recipe, I have added what I believe would be a better way to go about it -- instead of my Crock Pot version. If you sear the seasoned meat beforehand in oil with the chopped onion, I would imagine its much more flavorful. If you still wanted to make it in the Crock Pot, I would just sear the meats briefly to lock in the flavor, then combine all the ingredients (except for the peas, they will turn to mush) and cook as usual in the Crock Pot. You can stir in the peas at the end, right before serving.)