Greetings, all. I have yet to post in the new space, so I’m going to disappoint all you rabid consumers out there and refrain from pointing you to more interesting pages on the site where you can buy stuff. You’ll just have to hold onto your money a little longer.
So – last week we went up to the big city (New York, that is) to have some important meetings that Matthew will describe in laborious detail at some other time. I’m going to tell you about the real trauma of it all, the messy awful parts, the parts that make me want to stay away from trips to the big city for important meetings. The real trauma of it all was not, in fact, the fact that we were going to be up in the big city with several million other people who were much more savvy, sophisticated, brash, well-dressed, sensible, and neurotic than we were (and still are). I mean, see how earnest and naive we are?
It begs the question, what could possibly be worse? Well, let me tell you. You might not have noticed in the full glare of the early morning sun. But if you look closely enough, you will see evidence of the nexus of trauma.
Actually, don’t look closely enough. I’d really rather you didn’t. But…
Okay. Now, I fully recognize that it’s totally (fill in a word for “catty” and “hateful” that rhymes with “twitchy” here) to complain about a big zit when, for the most part, you are blessed with decent skin. I know, I know. But this is all in the name of a good story. So, the morning light made my zit look not all that bad, but if you had seen me in person, you would know that it actually looked like this:
Who knew that a camera actually subtracts ten pounds from a zit? So yes, actually, two days before our big trip, this zit of gargantuan proportions settled in for what looked to be an entire nesting season. It was bad. It was really bad. I commanded Matthew to go forth and buy me all sorts of products after doing research on the net. It had become large and distracting and I was debating whether bandages were in order. And then, the real trauma occurred. I was giving Alden a bath and she points up to my forehead, right at the zit, and uses one of her favorite new words, and with gusto:
“NIP-PLE!”
Oy, yoy. You can sure count on that kid being honest. Thankfully after two days of non-stop treatment, it settled down into more of an uncomfortable bump, and I was able to forego any serious cosmetic intervention. But for a while there, I was worried I was going to have to go into these important meetings with a nipple on my forehead.
This isn’t to say that the trauma of being in the big city with all those savvy, sophisticated, brash, well-dressed, sensible, and neurotic people was not great. I mean, look at where we’re coming from:
I’m so glad that we found this supply of bling on our way out of town. Not only had I forgotten my bling at home, but I’ve heard that important people in important meetings in the big city just won’t take you seriously without your bling.
Real trauma averted. Whew!
Not just the importance of bling was missed but BLING TEETH. (All caps.)
Is there really any other kind of bling?
You know, come to think of it, none that I’d actually want to own and operate.
Zits are the pits, cuz there ain’t no fix.
This is funny because you’re so pretty who would ever notice that little spot? Funniest of all, though, is that big ole arrow right across your hubby’s face.