Updated Hair Saga.

For the 1.2 people who read my blog and care about hair/growinghair/notcuttinghairoffinafitoffrustration, etc.

THIS product:


No lie.

If there has been one hair product I have used in my WHOLE LIFE that I could describe as miraculous... this is it.

In pretty much one week I've gone from wanting to chop my dry, frizzy hair all off a'la Britney to frankly not being able to keep my hands from running through my locks cause they are silky soft and shiny. I'm using my straightener about only half as much as before. And I actually LIKE my hair.


Whoever this Coppola guy is, he's a genius. I would totally have his babies. Now, if that isn't a line for an infomercial, I just don't know what is. :)


Once Bitten, Twice Shy.

Over two years ago I served a term on my League's Board of Directors.

Sweet merciful crap.

Now, I may not be the smartest person, but I am bright enough to know that I didn't want to do that again. Ever. In the years since, I have served on many committees in the league -- more than my share, the truth be told -- but have simply declined any nominations that come my way each term for a BOD position. I have no interest stepping in that arena (and I chose that word carefully and deliberately) again.

So, would someone please tell me how it is that I find myself this morning prepping for my first Board of Directors meeting for this upcoming term?



This morning -- after a solid week of springtime temperatures and winter thaw -- I woke up to a fresh blanket of snow covering the ground.


Tonight I made it all better by enjoying a great conversation with my bestie; making summertime plans for some lake fun and sunshine.

Suck it, winter. You can't drag me down.


Service With a Smile.

I will just say that when you are likely the softest, bestest-smelling thing to walk into your local parts shop all day...

you get great customer service.

High five, Fastenal. :D



The Kid has a few nicknames... Nitro is one of them. He earned it young and he earned it fair; he's always going full out and loud.

It's one of his endearing qualities -- to be so full of "vim and vigor" as my Grandpa used to say -- but also something that gets him ripped on from time to time. And sometimes, I fear that I spend too much time talking about the testy side of his Nitro nature to others.

I was reminded today of just how many very cool things I've seen lately, little glimpses of his heart, of the man I hope he'll grow to be.

He writes a letter to his sister just about every night and has done for some time, now. They are folded in quarters and put in envelopes and stuck under her bedroom door. I've peeked. They're full of potty-humor comic strips he's drawn and the odd spelling mistake. But they are also full of encouraging words and adoration. I love that he's choosing to express his heart and that he does it so well.

He will often open the door for me or take it upon himself to be my aide and protector when we are out. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, there is nothing sweeter.

I'm seeing more of his compassionate side come out as he grows older. He very much does not like injustices or squabbles and will insert himself in a scrum between his friends to stop the scuffle. And he's not abrasive or rude. Just confident and ready to take action. I love it.

The other day we were getting groceries and I heard the clatter of cans hitting the floor. A lady further down the aisle had picked up a warehouse pack and the casing broke. Without me even saying anything, he ran to help her pick up the dropped items. He's starting to do this sort of helpful kindness to strangers more and more and I love watching how it almost makes him walk taller and be purposeful... like he sees his own greatness when he's helping other people. Very cool.

Parenting is a huge job. One that I feel that I am woefully inadequate for most of the time. I know that the good that is in our children isn't a direct result of Awesomeness on our part. But seeing it sure makes my heart all glowy and yes, a little bit proud.

I think it's one of the neatest things about raising children -- this opportunity to actually observe their Person develop. Even though I joke about Blunt Force Trauma and my lack of patience at times where the Kid is concerned, it remains that he is one of my biggest joys in life.


Cause You Had a Bad Hair Day...

(Go back and hum that title to the tune of the song, "Bad Day"... trust me, it's way more fun than just saying it.)


That's my blog... spreading the choral sunshine around. :D You're welcome.

Now let me start with my sad, sad story. Brace yourselves. It's a teary one.

Once upon a time there was a Flutterby. Her tresses were stressed. Sassy and short and bleached to within an inch of their itty-bitty lives -- it was time for a change. And while it is true that Flutterby is prone to making decisions about her hair without thinking things through, and, while it is true as well that Flutterby has repeatedly attempted to grow her hair longer and endured months of agonizing "in-between" hair ONLY to chop it all off in a fit of PMS/boredom/frustration/insertreasonhere AND... while it is also true that Flutterby has not worn a consistent hairstyle for more than 3 months at a time; Flutterby resolved that THIS TIME would be DIFFERENT.


This certain Flutterby decided to grow her hair long. Like, LONG, long. Pictures were Pinterested on Pinterest boards. Whole wardrobes were planned around all the wonderful, creative and fun styles that could be created with said amazing LONG hair.

But woe is Flutterby. Her short style was hiding the fact that her hair is wavy. And wavy mid-length hair is decidedly not the "look" for Flutterby. So, every morning Flutterby's hair enjoys a 300 degree hot iron stroking it into shape. Straight shape. And... every month, Flutterby's stylist trims off the dry ends from this repeated abuse. An amount which apparently negates most of the new hair growth during that same time.

Flutterby wants to scream.

And not surprisingly, also chop her hair off again.

Flutterby is clinging to the merest strands of hope. New product has been bought. Keratin proteins and no sulfates... all which whisper the sweet promise of non-heat straightened hair. Flutterby does not ask for much... really. 4 inches will do. *snicker* Just enough to allow her to work with this waviness and wear long hair for at least a few months. Cause we all know she will eventually chop it off. She's kinda crazy like that.


Interview with a Flutterby

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
Every day is a bad hair day when you are growing your length out.

2. How much cash do you have on you?
About $17 or so.

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Is saying "adore" cheating? Cause it kinda already has the homonym for "door" in it. Which may not technically be a rhyme. *puzzled look*

4. Favorite planet?
While I'm rather fond of Earth for it's ease of survival and fun-loving inhabitants; nothing makes me giggle like saying the name "Uranus".

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Client call.

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
Some techno jam from "2Fast 2Furious".

7. What shirt are you wearing?
black Roxy tee

8. Do you label yourself?
Maybe. Roller Derby has been a pretty defining involvement. If I would use any label it would be "derby girl", I guess.

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
MIA -- a value village find; ratty old converse-style sneaks that fit like my feet were born in them.

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Depends on what mood I'm in. Or what I'm doing. ;)

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Not sure...

12. What does your watch look like?
I don't wear one.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
"Hahaha! I love it!"

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
About a 20 minute walk; 2 min drive.

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
"Really?" It applies to so many situations.

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
The Kid.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
The Terd.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Advil Cold and Sinus.

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
Who uses rolls of film anymore?

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
Not sure how to answer.

22. Your worst enemy?

23. What is your current desktop picture?
Skelanimals Kitty Cat

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Probably Atom"

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
A million bucks. I'm a little scared of heights.

26. Do you like someone?
I like a whole bunch of Peoples. Peoples are great.

27. The last song you listened to?
An old "Demon Hunter" metalcore CD that was playing in my car.

28. What time of day were you born?
Afternoon -- I think it was around 3ish. I tried really hard not to be late. ;)

29. What’s your favorite number?
I like doubles. Like 11 or 22, etc.

30. Where did you live in 1987?
North Battleford, SK

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
I suppose so.

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
It is entirely possible, although highly improbable!

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
At home.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
Stare in disbelief and press the button a few more times. I probably also check the coin return.

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
I'd like to think so.

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
Below/beside hipbones. And I have to admit to liking the "tramp stamp" location, too.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
Hebrew or Mandarin.

38. Would you move for the person you loved?

39. Are you touchy feely?
Depends on who's touching/feeling me. lol

40. What’s your life motto?
Keep swinging.

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
If I have my purse with me, then for sure these are in it: iPhone, lip gloss, gum

42. What’s your favorite town/city?
I'm really not very well-traveled. I've always thought I would really love visiting Denver, Colorado.

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Salad for me, hotdog for the Kid at the Costco lunch counter.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
Does a greeting card count? Last week.

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
*blush* nope.

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
He was adopting children.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
Tracked back to some scandalous combination of 1700s Russian aristocracy and Irish/German poverty on my Dad's side. Know very little about my Mom's side.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
Two years ago at our derby year-end party I wore a cute dark grey drapey shirt dress and some killer 6 inch leopard print and leather heels. Man, I need to get out more.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Nope. Spring allergies are well-medicated today!

50. Have you been burned by love?
Only in the best ways.


Kinda Having A Good Monday...

Anyone wanna dance? :)

Score One For the Weekend.

Scorecard for the weekend:

1 -- round trip to visit in-laws

3 -- baby shower games

1 -- baby shower game that induced gagging

2 -- full days of not caring what I eat

5 -- hours of watching roller derby

1 -- visit with some lovely friends we haven't seen in a while

1 -- fun lunch with my sis-in-law and kiddos.

2 -- pancakes: nuff said

2 -- mornings to sleep in a bit

1 -- game of cribbage won

1 -- birthday supper


Grateful for fun family times. :) And super grateful for an awesome family. Also am super grateful to jump back on the Paleo train tomorrow morning. My tummy is not so pleased with me right now.



Someone is going to have to find a better hiding place for their toys.

...and it ain't the kids I'm talking about.

This isn't really covered in any parenting books, is it?



As of tonight, I am full-fledged card-carrying Trainer in my derby league.

OK... so there's no cards. But there should be. I would carry one.
Just sayin.

I've ran practices before as part of my apprenticeship... but nothing could prepare me for how AWESOME it would feel to actually run My Own Practice. I love teaching/coaching -- it's always been one of those things that lights me up... one of those vocation things where you kinda feel made to do something. And to be able to do that with something that I truly love doing like I love doing derby. Well... it kinda rocked my world.

I'm still smiling.


A Little Self-Defense Saga -- How Flutterby Became the Paranoid Freak That She Is

I have lived very few places in my life. I grew up in a small-ish city (16,000 people -- we'll call it Fluttertown for now) and, while we moved around a lot within that city, I have never known Big City life such as is made famous in movies and TV and newspaper obituaries. ;) Even now, my current city of residence of 250,000 -- while seeming "big" to me -- is but a dot on the map compared to some of the metro areas of Canada and the U.S.

Nevertheless my small hometown was not left untouched by the stupider aspects of the criminal element and there were definitely places that you didn't want to work, walk or otherwise hang out in after dark. And some neighborhoods were known for being a little on the rough side.

Newly married, Mr.F and I bought a house (for a paltry sum that makes me LAUGH OUT LOUD when I think of it, now!! People spend more on an average compact car!) close to one of those rougher ends of town. It served us well: despite being woken one night by the sound of a shotgun discharging in the house next door, the various and sundry ne'er-do-wells drunkenly chatting us up as we worked in the yard when they walked by (or coming to our door and expecting to be let in to what they mistakenly thought was THEIR house!), and a small number of times having to chase some rotten pukes off our property who were scouting for an easy in. During the day it was a decent neighborhood, safe enough, really. But, by the time we brought the Baby Princess home... well, having a wee one in your care like that all of a sudden raises the bar on what you consider "safe".

Mr. F started working at night, moonlighting driving pizza while I took a contract working at home so I could be with Baby. We started saving our pennies, and along with a good turn in the real estate market, were able to buy a bit nicer home in a bit nicer area a few years down the road. Good thing, too, as one little Kid was on the way. We hastily found a house in the middle of winter and I had the dubious pleasure of packing and unpacking a household while 7 months along With Child. Good times.

The Kid was born and I took a leave from my job. I also took that time to go slightly bat-sh$t crazy with PostPartemDepression. Mr. F was still working ridiculous hours; we now had this new house he had to pay for after all. And it was probably really nice to get away from your crying wife and colicky baby, for that matter! :) I would've worked a lot, too, if I was in his shoes! lol

Concurrent to all of this action of the past months, there had been a growing tension in Fluttertown. Without getting into tedious detail, there were three outside gangs from the reserves in the surrounding area which were bringing their "turf wars" to the town. It was recruiting season and there were a few "ins" which involved either raping a white girl, knifing a white man or shooting a cop. Sorry if that's disturbing to read, but it's how it was.

There were a number of reports that spring of stabbings (thankfully mostly more-or-less superficial or at least non-life-threatening) and sadly, women and girls were targeted as well. I don't believe there were any actual attempts on an officer -- or at least none that were reported publicly.

And, during this time it became apparent that our "nice neighborhood" wasn't exactly what we thought. More specifically, as the snow thawed and people started being more sociable (really, that's how it happens round this part of Canada! The snow thaws and we come out of hibernation.)... we started seeing a lot of gang colors entering and exiting our neighbors home. The drunken partying found it's way to our side door many times -- and most times I was home alone in the evening with the children while some belligerent drunken fool yelled scarily at the door and tried to look in my windows. There were fights and just general discord and awfulness at any given time during the day and/or night -- all right next door. I would get up to nurse my baby in the night and there were times I would have panic attacks while listening to the mess going on outside, worried that it would end up at the window or door again.

And then, one night while working his (un)glamourous night job, Mr. F was accosted outside an apartment complex. A few metres from his car, two punks ran up behind him and cracked him with a skateboard. A blow that had been meant for his head met with his elbow thanks to some quick reflexes. They pulled a knife and he offered money. They wanted blood -- clearly a gang thing -- and he knew it was On.

I am thankful that Mr.F is the kind of guy who can handle himself. But I admit that it took me some time to understand the things that he did that night in order to defend himself. Never having faced that kind of danger, I was still thinking like most sheeple (I mean, PEOPLE)... "why didn't you just subdue your attackers and wait for the authorities to arrive?". Instead of that neat and tidy utopian scenario, I was facing the fact that my husband had been stabbed and that he left two men near dead in the process of defending himself.

I wasn't sure which part bothered me more.

In the weeks that followed, I became more and more worried. Three weeks after the attack, two very broken and casted men came into the pizza place where Mr. F. was working that night, gave him a nod -- and my worry became full-on paranoia. Fluttertown is a small town and if they wanted retribution, the kids and I were sitting targets five nights a week. And of course I was concerned that Mr. F would be easy to trail and find in all manner of isolated situations (delivery to outset rural parts wasn't uncommon if a call came in that warranted it).

I began to read everything I could about Self-Defense and criminal mindset. My mind was opened in the harshest of ways to all the chaotic opportunity that lends itself to senseless crime and the insidious ways that premeditated violence against individuals is often aided and abetted by the victims themselves as they comply with directives that only isolate and leave them further at the mercy of their attacker. Truly, embarking on that sort of reading and learning may not have done my fragile state of mind any good. But I am really grateful that I did gain a greater understanding.

Shortly thereafter, we decided to move. I would be lying if I said it had nothing to do with all that had gone on. It did, in part.

Now, almost 9 years later, it's been a long time since I lived with my brain on Red Alert 24/7. I don't scope out every venue for primary and secondary egress (no kidding, this kid did that.) or practice peripheral scanning in WalMart. (good lord, I was troubled!) I can laugh about it, now. Nevertheless there is a lot that I've taken away from that time -- things that were reinforced during my training in Krav.

And there are conversations that Mr. F and I have had that I'm very glad we did. Like the chance to discuss hostage scenarios and our plan to handle the kids should we ever find ourselves in a sketchy situation (ie: being accosted on the street). These things seem dramatic -- and it was HARD to talk about because who wants to contemplate the possibility of violence happening to your family, right? But, I think it's a mistake to not talk about it. Case study after case study of in-home violence shows that complying to a hostage directive (ie: wife is held a knifepoint while the husband is directed to submit to restraints or his wife "gets it" only results in the husband getting the distinct privilege of watching his whole family perish before his eyes, before the mercy of death comes to him) Sorry, it's harsh and it's ghastly... but it's the truth. And because we've talked about it, Mr. F knows that he knows that I would rather bleed out on the floor while he takes the chance to bolt/fight, etc. and rescue the kids to safety rather than the alternative. (In fact, I would kick his ass myself in the hereafter should he do anything else!) And he feels the same. There is no more question about what is expected. The kids always come first.

I realize that the chance of this type of horrific violence touching our home is very slim. I am eternally grateful for that. But, having had a number of brushes with the Chaos Factor, I will never again live in ignorance that I am safe everywhere I go or that our home is safe no matter what.

In my mind, self-defense is so much more about a mindset than any particular type of training. (although I highly, HIGHLY recommend Krav as a way to encourage and develop a great mindset for self-defense) It's a mindset that says that things happen to you on your terms. Someone pulls a weapon on me and demands I get in a vehicle? Eff that all to hell. I'd rather face mortality there on that sidewalk than get in that vehicle and allow my attacker to isolate me and give himself the distance and privacy needed for whatever sickness is in his mind. This girl's body parts will never be found at a secondary scene. I make that choice.

Giving yourself choices; whether through knowledge, skill, training, communication... that is power. And it's something I wish more people gave due diligence to. There might be fewer horror stories in the news if they did.


Kinda like Potato Chips.

It looks like the Flutterby Household will be adding one more member. Of the furry kind.

No, we're not adding another Mr.F.

That's just silly.

We will be adding another lil dog. We've kinda thrown the idea around for some time, now. And once I got over my "NEED" for a dog of larger stature (which, I begrudgingly agree does not fit in with our lifestyle right now)... it looks like we'll be searching for another little chi or chi-mix. The Terd can use some company and it might help remind her of her Dog-ness. Cause right now she definitely thinks she's People.

Looks like it is true what they say about Chihuahuas and Potato Chips: Betcha can't have just one!

**This pic has been posted for the benefit of certain *ahem* commentators who doubt the level of Adorable possessed by this breed. Turned up to 11!!!**


My Prrecccioussssss...

Please excuse me while I spend quality time with my cellular device.

I may call this a honeymoon. Cause I can't keep my hands off of it.



Sunshine and Rainbows?

I won't lie. Homeschooling isn't always pretty. In fact, there have been more days in the past few weeks (months??) that have almost resulted in Blunt Force Trauma than I care to think about. Days that I fear that all my hopes for homeschool and helping the Kid overcome some of his challenges with Attention and Concentration are for nothing and that all I'm doing is catering to his deficits, rather than pushing him beyond his limitations.

And his attitude. And my attitude. *shakes head* It's a wonder that my kitchen table doesn't have a concave erosion from the regular pounding of my head against it.

It's not all bad, to be sure. But it's been enough "Bad" lately that the balance of that Pros/Cons list of School vs. Homeschool has been tilted. Next year's curriculum sits unopened in a box because even though I am so excited to dig into it (and you have no idea how geeky-excited I am about this stuff!) it remains a possibility that I might be sending it back. I'm not sure what to do. I'm not one of those homeschoolers that thinks public school is an evil scourge visited upon our children. It's just one imperfect option. Just as homeschooling is likewise an imperfect option. Homeschooling simply fit the Kid's particular needs and our particular situation the best, at this time.

So yes. Frustration. Lots of it.

Just a couple weekends ago, in the midst of the Crud Days, we ended up making a trip to Edmonton to see a Naturopath (the Dr. kind, not the practitioner kind). The Kid has a host of symptoms that conventional medicine wasn't doing much for. Anyhow, It's been a week since we started his treatment -- nothing crazy: some trace minerals, healthy gut bacteria (a specialized strain that he lacks), and some CoQ10/NADH and enzymes.

I've been somewhat skeptical (who, me???) -- even though I am a great supporter of alternative medicine and treatments, our doctor's explanation for many of his symptoms (particularly the troublesome ones such as Anxiety and ADD-symptoms) seemed so very simplistic.

But I sit here during our lunch break... AMAZED at the difference I've seen in my boy, especially today. He has been eager to work, focused (well, much more focused that usual!), compliant. A freakin pleasure to be around and teach.

And, he amazes me with everything he's stored in his head. Today, reading a reference in History about Thomas Alva Edison, he excitedly starts telling me -- no, TEACHING me -- all these random facts about Edison and happenings in his life. WHO IS THIS KID?!?!?!? And then later, the same thing about the Wright Brothers. I could only shake my head in amazement.

Now, it is entirely possible that this morning was just one sunshiney oddity in the middle of a cloudy patch. But, I must say that I am pretty curious -- and hopeful -- that perhaps our good doctor might have actually nailed his diagnosis. And I can't help but be hopeful that I might just end up opening that box, yet.



I bet you all didn't know I was counting down to something. But I totally am.

In two days, my cell contract can be upgraded. Which basically means I sign on for a number more years of indentured servitude and my cell provider lets me get a way more cool phone at a fraction of the regular cost.

It's really a vulgar plan in it's simplicity, but I've totally fallen for it. Because... hello?!?!? iPhone! Yep, that's right. I'm trading in my old model BlackBerry for a sleek, pretty new iPhone. And I'm happy to do it. So very, very happy! Giddy, even.