VivaCity

I'm happy to report that the incomparable Mr. John Denver streamed from my kitchen speakers last night. Thank you Ebay seller of trivial crap! I think that's actually his screenname.

The baby & I danced a little jig all through 'Grandma's Feather Bed,' and you know what? His fever miraculously broke & he's been cool as a cucumber ever since. So I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that the Spirit of John Denver can, in fact, sooth the savage beast and/or bug.

Those of you who are tired of seeing me peer out from beneath this mop will be happy to learn I've got a haircut scheduled this evening. The Muppet look is so last year. I'm thisclose to pulling a Britney & shaving the whole damn thing off. It's so irritating! While I do enjoy my short 'do, I am not used to having to keep up with the constant trims that a cut like this requires. I'll never be accused of being a high-maintenance bizznitch. Nathaniel may beg to differ, but he lives in an alternate plane of reality in which I am a "nag" and he is "obsessed with cleaning." LMAO!!!! Slays me every time I hear him say that. You're right, darling, my body language does count as nagging and the tantrums in which you throw everything in your path down the basement stairs count as cleaning. Right on.

How did this turn into me ranting about my old man? Hmm. Curious.

So wish me luck tonight, as I venture off to my fairly-new stylist (she's wonderful) and leave the children with Mr. Clean. Wish us all luck.