I Know I Have Pink Hair But...

“Your hair looks cool.”
“Thanks!”
We both walk on pleasantly and continue with our days.

“I really like your hair.”
I realize you are blocking my exit from the elevator and I smile awkwardly as I push by, way too close for comfort.

One of these is a friendly interaction.

One of them is creepy and threatening.

Is it really that difficult to know the difference?

The problem is, I want to be friendly and neighborly. I like living in a building where people say, “Hi,” when we pass in the halls. Just don’t corner people in the elevator. This shouldn’t even have to be said.

How to R2-D2

This year for Halloween we had a three year old who wanted to be R2-D2, accompanied by a Princess Leia mommy and a Han Solo daddy. Leia and Han seemed easy. Buy, borrow, or steal appropriate clothing and get a fairly popular wig. R2 was going to be more of a challenge because I wanted something more charming than store bought. I searched Google Images and pinned to Pinterest. I came up with a plan:

We spent an afternoon at a craft store trying to find just the right materials: foam, felt, glue, and something to craft the headpiece from. For the headpiece we ended up with a plastic army helmet glued to the inside of a salad bowl, both from a dollar store.

We crafted.

I bought a full Princess Leia costume, complete with hair-buns wig and ended up hating everything about it. So I Freecycled it and started from scratch, changing my concept to Hoth Leia. White yoga pants on sale for $5 and a beautiful white vest and snow boots that I'll wear this winter anyway paired with a long-hair wig that my mom helped braid. Han had to buy a henley shirt and black vest, supplying his own pants and boots. We bought $5 blasters and decided to keep them fake looking by not painting them black.

Star Wars family complete!

This was Muffin's first Halloween in the United States so we had to go the extra mile for her. Although, she's only three so the extra mile didn't have to be too far. We drove to a nearby neighborhood where a friend of ours was having a small party. We trick-or-treated at about five houses then went to our friend's for pizza and "grown-up" treats. Muffin ate too much candy but she didn't have school the next day so we could have a later night than usual and manage her the next day without too much difficulty. (Friday night she slept for twelve hours.)

I'm going to skip over Thanksgiving this year -- dinner is at my aunt's house and Mike most likely won't be home for it anyway -- and jump right into Muffin's First U.S. Christmas.

Color Me Holi

This weekend was Holi, a Hindu holiday in celebration of triumph over evil spirits. If you've seen the Incredible India! commercials on CNN, the part where boys are throwing paint on each other, that's Holi.

We ventured out to a Holi party with Muffin and some friends today.

As you can see, Muffin actually stayed fairly clean until we got home and started washing ourselves up. She's fine, but Mike and I are going to be pink for days. We look like we have terrible sunburns. And who remembers when my hair was pink? The pink hair has returned for a few days. (I like it!)

Happy Holi!

hair

I never watch Top Chef, but I caught a couple episodes last week before the big finale. I have to say the part I enjoyed the most was watching Marcel's big, villainous hair. Something about judging food doesn't make me feel as involved as an audience member as say, fashion design or interior decorating. I know an ugly or pretty dress when I see one, but I have no idea if the food tastes good or not. I have no choice but to trust the judges.

I'm having typing trouble. Grendel shredded the tip of my left index finger when we were playing "catch" a couple nights ago and whenever I take the band-aid off the scratches pop open and start bleeding again. Gross, isn't it? He didn't mean it. He doesn't know his own strength sometimes. (How I'm going to wash my hair today I have no idea. You know like, when you get a papercut on your finger, then wash your hair, and the strands get caught in the cut? I hate that so much.)