Happy birthday pops. Thanks for being the best dad a girl could ask for. Frankly it’s quite obvious what a cool dad you are, just look at what great kids you have. I mean, sure we aren’t all exactly ‘emotionally stable’ but we are functioning adults… *snicker*… well, some of us anyway. Thanks for always having an answer to almost everything and thanks for having the ability to fool us on the rest.
My weekend was good. Friday, Chris and I attended our marriage class at church.
Saturday I got my hair done. The unfortunate part is, my hair dresser just returned from maternity leave and is double booking clients. She generally puts a hint of red with a gloss in my hair and lets it sit for about 10 minutes. After about 40 minutes and another client squeezed in, she washed the color out and said, ‘Oh. This looks… lovely. I totally did this on purpose. You needed a little umph to your red. Doesn’t it look fantastic?’
Uh. Yeah. If I wanted to look like Jean Grey in X-Men, it’d look fantastic.
But since I don’t get to-
a) portray a superhero in a movie
b) have a fantastic comic book figure
c) make out with Hugh Jackman
I’ll pass on the uber red.
Being the spineless gal that I am (Colegate is so ashamed of me) I said, ‘Yeah it looks.. uh… uh… red. Thanks?’ and tipped her 20 percent.
Come on. She’s got a new baby. It’s not the kid’s fault.
I don’t have any pictures but trust me… they’ll follow soon.
Sunday we went to church then picked up Rev and Tallon to see Wall-E. If you get past the constant subliminal (or not so subliminal) message that humans are fat, dumb, lazy pigs, the movie is cute. Sure if it were possible I’d sit in a lounger all day in the sunshine and eat but that doesn’t mean I’m… wait. Yup. I would be.
We all went up to the house to celebrate dad’s birthday. Dad ‘smoked’ some chicken. Some would call it ‘chicken that caught fire’ but uh.. because it was his birthday, we let him call it smoked. Mom made a raspberry cake that smelt atrocious but was surprisingly good. Cheers to another year.
Happy birthday dad.