The Blonde Leading the Blind

I’m in love with my new toothbrush - the Oral B Advantage Glide. I first was wooed by its very hip pink and silver coloring, but upon closer inspection I could tell it was so much more. With its angular bristles and blue indicators and soft touch, I knew I had found a winner. I was so right. It was magical the first night I brushed, and the glory just doesn’t seem to fade.

Before you think I’ve totally lost my mind, you should know I’m obsessed with dental hygiene. But for good reason.

It’s not just my tree trunk thighs and goofy blank gape that I got from my Dad. I seem to have inherited some of his dental issues as well.

A few years back I had to resort to going to a dental school to have some work done on my teeth thanks to my not-so-groovy dental plan through my job. It’s not as scary as it sounds. It was affordable after what little my insurance paid. The students were supervised by professionals. Everything was clean. But, the materials were the bare essentials required to get the job done with not much regard to cosmetics, i.e. if you needed a filling, and I did, it was the cheaper silver-tone stuff, not the more discreet tooth-colored goo.

By the time I started my current job in 2004, my teeth had seen some serious wear and tear, and several fillings had started to corrode and needed replacing. I wasn’t worried. I’d never really feared getting dental work done and wasn’t worried. Until, I had my first couple fillings replaced. All went well with the procedure, but by the time I got home I could barely move my mouth and chewing was completely out of the question. I spent the next twelve months trying to figure out what was up with my mouth and how the hell to fix it…an endeavor that resulted in:

• Three root canals
• Four crowns
• Countless trips to the dentist
• Two-thousand dollars worth of out-of-pocket expenses
• And, my personal favorite, one emergency visit to a San Francisco doctor after having an allergic reaction to antibiotics prescribed before root canal number three

It was definitely time for a new dentist. I found one in Dr. Lisbeth Randall. She rocks and so does her staff. She helped figure out what the issue was on my first appointment. Turns out I just have really sensitive teeth and muscles in my jaw and after a couple intensive cleanings and learning how to hold my mouth open so I don’t put too much stress on my jaw, I haven’t had a problem since.

Unless, you count my total oral fixation with toothbrushes, dental floss, and Cool Mint Listerine as a problem. I think not.

The usually non-political SpiderHusband has become exceptionally interested in this year’s presidential election.  And, me?  I owe a lot to of my professional accomplishments to my days spent in government PR.  So, both of us were crushed when Friday night we discovered that the local paper had erroneously printed that Barack Obama would be making a campaign stop in Noblesville Saturday.  After digging around, we found out that he would instead be appearing in my former hometown of Anderson, which is about a 30 minute drive away.  Tickets were free but required for the event, so we loaded up the hounds and raced to Anderson to see if tickets were still available.

Ah, if only the website had included a telephone number, we could have saved ourselves a quarter tank of gas and the disappointment of driving home sans tickets.  My grandfathers would tell me it served me right for voting for the enemy.  :  )

I’m something of an anomaly in my family when it comes to politics.  I come from a long line of ardent Republicans, especially when it comes to both of my grandfathers.  My Grandpa Rupert couldn’t be more of a Republican if he had a trunk and an impeccable memory.  My political leanings were outed shortly after I graduated from college when I started working as an agency spokesperson for a Democratic administration and then followed that gig up working for a Democratic mayor.  Knowing this, I totally threw SpiderHusband under the bus on our last visit to Grandpa Rupert’s house when I told him that SpiderHusband was rooting for Obama.  As a Romney man at the time, poor Grandpa was horrified, but managed to recover quickly enough to blow a raspberry at us both before shaking his head in disbelief.  He still loves us, though.  He even bought us Villa Pizza (the greatest pizza in the world) that night.  Although, he did make us eat it with green peppers on it. 

But, back to the story at hand…

So on Saturday afternoon, while hundreds of other Hoosiers were listening to Obama speak at Anderson High School, SpiderHusband and I headed downtown so that I could vote via absentee ballot since I’ll be out of state traveling for work on Primary Election Day this year.  A quick look at the Town Square gave us some insight into the confusion caused by the local paper - there was an Obama rally downtown, there was just no Obama.

He got my vote anyway.  Sorry, Rupe.

Saturday was the dreaded bath day in the Blonde home.  Bath day typically coincides with The Blonde washing the bedsheets day since the princesses have taken up residence in our bed over the past several months.  Clean sheets and dirty chows are a combination for disaster.

Miss Halas and Miss Lombardi have joined the green revolution with our latest eco-friendly pet shampoo purchase of earthbath: Good for the Planet Totally Natural Pet Shampoo.  SpiderHusband, Disaster Twin bather extraordinaire, gives two thumbs up to the Oatmeal & Aloe Shampoo.  I’m told it lathers most excellently, and it certainly is an olfactory improvement over the usual eau de Chow-Chow that the dynamic duo typically sports.

Halas is what you call a power-eater.

Well, until we recently transitioned the Disaster Twins completely over to adult dog food.  After 18 months of dining on the finest Nutro Lamb and Rice Large Breed Puppy Formula dog food, Halas has taken to reluctantly lapping up her food while intermittently gagging herself and spitting it back out in protest.  L

You can live the dream yourself with this picture - note Lombardi on the left delightfully woofing down her dinner and Halas on the right hacking it back up:

At first we thought she might be sick until one of the trainers at PetSmart told us that adult dog food is void of the extra fat and protein that makes the food taste yummy and that it wasn’t uncommon for dogs to have this reaction when the puppy food is replaced.  We further tested this theory by buying a different flavor for the beasts - Nutro Chicken Meal, Rice & Oatmeal - which was promptly scarfed down when mixed with the Lamb & Rice formula at home.

The enthusiasm lasted for about two meals.

Little brat.

We thought we might be able to woo Halas with a cool new paw-shaped food scoop that is the exact size of her breakfast and dinner portions.  And, it’s even pink!

Apparently, it’s delicious.

If all else fails, at least we know she’ll eat plastic.

Last week I discovered that I’d reached a whole new level of desperation involving my wardrobe (or lack thereof) when I accidentally tore a hole in my last remaining pair of black tights and actually considered coloring in the exposed flesh of my leg with a black Sharpie so I could continue wearing them to work.

I hate shopping for clothes that much.

I’ve reached a point where the clothes I purchased most likely back in 1999 have become so tattered and ragged that no amount of sweaters, t-shirts or cleverly-placed jewelry will conceal the signs of the past nine years of wear and tear.  So, after work on Monday I headed to a new shopping destination, Avenue, after a friend mentioned that her sister had found some nice clothes in her size there.  She was right.  There were nice clothes there…some that I would even wear.  The prices were reasonable.  They had a variety of sizes and colors in stock.  Still, I walked out of the store with nothing.

As someone who has struggled with her weight for years, I’m particularly sensitive to the stereotype that overweight people are fat, unmotivated, slow and lazy slobs.  And, nothing sends me into a blind rage faster than when I witness my chunky sisters and brothers behave in such a manner.  Help me out here folks, you’re ruining it for the rest of us.

I walked into the store not to be pleasantly greeted by Avenue staff, but instead to overhear two employees moaning and groaning about having to fold a stack of t-shirts for a table display.  SpiderHusband and I browsed through the racks selecting about dozen items for me to try on without either of them so much as turning their head in our direction.  When I was ready for a fitting room, I moved toward the not-so-dynamic duo thinking they’d get the hint, but no, the chatter just continued until I finally asked if the fitting rooms were unlocked.

To which one of my worst stereotypes imagined huffed and muttered “Ummmphhh.  I’ll take this one.” before shuffling her way back to the fitting room area.  I became increasingly irritated as I tried on the clothes and found that I needed smaller sizes in several of the dresses.  But, even my passive-aggressive super loud talking voice couldn’t woo either employee away from their station.

So, I got dressed, hung all the clothes I’d tried on on a rack by the register, and walked out empty-handed cursing and ranting to SpiderHusband…something about liking the clothes but being damned if I was giving one dollar of commission to Bertha and Bessie inside.

Did I mention that I have a problem with passive-aggressiveness?

When I got home, I found a coupon in my email from Avenue.com offering 31% off and free shipping for a limited time on online orders, so all was not lost.

Well, except Bertha and Bessie’s commission.

SpiderHusband and I braved the rain yesterday morning to join the family at this year’s Race for the Cure event in downtown Indianapolis.  This was my ninth year to be a part of the event since being recruited by my friends Jill and her husband-to-be (at that time) Josh years ago, and it’s the one event I faithfully support.

The event has taken on even more meaning for me and SpiderHusband in the past few years as breast cancer personally touched our lives when SpiderHusband’s Aunt Pam and one of my Mom’s closest friends were diagnosed.  Aunt Pam passed away in 2005, and for SpiderHusband’s family the event has become a way to celebrate what we all loved most about her:

She was bold and she was sassy and she made me laugh.  She was one of the first people in SpiderHusband’s extended family that I met and welcomed me from the start.  And, it only took an instant before SpiderHusband’s Aunt Pam became my Aunt Pam, too.

So, I’ll close this post with a story and a picture that I think Aunt Pam would have enjoyed…my relentless teasing of SpiderHusband over his black Nike water wicking socks.

I love SpiderHusband’s legs, especially when he’s wearing shorts and running shoes.  Some women like piercing blue eyes, others like powerful muscles bursting out of shirts, I like dudes in shorts and tennis shoes, in particular white running shoes and always white socks.

Alas, my husband rebuffed my athletic shoe fetish since purchasing his latest round of running gear to prepare for the Mini-Marathon - black shoes, and even worse, black socks.  Egads!  But, these are no ordinary socks, or so I’m told.  These are special water wicking socks to keep his feet sweat and moisture free during his running jaunts, and let me tell you, they are spectacular.  Just see for yourself…

Ah, the things we tolerate for love.  My poor husband.

At least his feet are dry, eh?

I can hear Aunt Pam cackling now.

Survivor truly hit an all new low last night.

What?  Don’t even act like you don’t watch a show or two that you should be ashamed of yourself for watching.  There’s a reason why The Real World, The Bachelor, The Amazing Race, and Flavor of Love are all still on the air, and the ratings aren’t coming from The Blonde household.  (I’ll take credit for Season One of Flavor of Love and the first nine seasons of The Real World, except Miami and London - they were terrible, but that’s where I draw the line.)

So, most of my horror focuses on the immunity challenge that involved the contestants standing on buckets with their arms extended above their heads and tied to a string that would dump a barrel full of water down on them if the lowered their arms too far.  The last one left dry was the big winner.

I could spend hours reconstructing the ten minutes of drama it took for this event to unfold onscreen, but the memories are far too painful.  So, if you missed this episode, you’ll probably feel a little confused as I gloss over the highlights below…

First off, Erik, who spent the previous evening gorging on a Micronesian feast only to spend the night puking after insisting on partaking of betel nut and some type of tribal home brew beer, waited for what, 30 seconds?, before making a deal with Cirie to abandon the challenge to share a bowl of what can only be described as the bottom rung of the candy food chain.  Were those actually Gummi rings and Jujubees?  Come on people, that’s the kind of candy your kids are trading up for apples and granola bars on Halloween.

Fast forward ahead to the final two left standing in the challenge - Parvati who has a strong alliance…heck, she has two or three of them, and Jason who is most likely to be voted out if he loses the challenge, but when tempted with pizza, crappy candy, cookies and doughnuts for the entire group, decides he wants to start trusting the very people conspiring to vote him out.

I honestly don’t know if I was more horrified that he willingly dropped out of the challenge after more than five hours of pain because the other tribe members (none of which have ever lied, cheated, or stabbed anyone in the back) told him they wouldn’t vote for him…or Cirie and Alexis who made the promise, but crossed their fingers behind their back.  Are there really people out there who believe that if you cross your fingers when lying to someone’s face it negates the promise you’ve just made?  Hells bells!  It’s a good thing they don’t have a calendar out there because then every Wednesday could be Opposite Day, and we’d all get a big laugh.

Finally, we move on to the debacle that became Tribal Council.  Between James‘ doughnut speech that was only intelligible to his fellow tribe members, most likely due to the heightened sense of dementia brought on by the dehydration, living off the land, wearing the same underwear/swimsuit for weeks, and sleep deprived lifestyle caused by the entire Survivor experience and Ozzy’s massive ‘tude and shock over getting voted out despite being warned that the other members of his alliance were all getting bad vibes before heading to Tribal, I almost had a seizure.  

It was fantastic.

The Disaster Twins changed up their workout routine walking with The Blonde this week to get some quality time with their fearless leader, SpiderHusband.

I’m pretty sure they had no idea that quality time entailed running (and possibly being dragged) three miles through the neighborhood to help their Doggy Daddy prepare for the Mini-Marathon in May.

I don’t think the dynamic duo will be joining him again any time soon.

After weeks of driving Spider-Husband bat shit crazy griping about the state of my hair, I finally made an appointment to get a haircut yesterday after work.  I love getting my haircut since discovering what was once the best kept secret in Indianapolis…the Aveda Frederic’s Institute.

A few years back, this Aveda store/salon training center in Castleton Square Mall.  I’m a huge fan of Aveda products - they’re the one luxury that I splurge on - and was eager to check out what services the offered as soon as the store opened.  It was fantastic - I got a professional cut that I loved, a mini facial, and a back rub from one of the student stylists for…are you ready???  $15 bucks!  That so rocks!

My only complaint is the insistence of both the instructors and students of using the term “fringe” to describe what is commonly known to the rest of society as bangs.  Now, I’ll freely admit that I don’t make a point to stay hip to the latest hair lexicon, but come on, fringe.  Fringe makes me think of suede chaps and cowboys or something my mother might have worn in the 60s to a peace rally.  Trust me…they’re bangs.  I spent the better portion of my teen years with a can of AquaNet teasing them to amazing heights.

Be forewarned…Aveda Frederic’s is not for the high maintenance hair hopper.  After all, these are stylists who are learning, and results aren’t always exactly what you envisioned.  But, if you’re willing to take a chance for the right price, it’s totally worth the wait for an appointment.

Imagine my glee when I opened up a package from my coworker, IT Girl, today filled with my highly anticipated Girl Scout Cookie order courtesy of her daughter, Little IT.  

Girl Scout Cookie season is perfectly timed each year to coincide with my annual pledge to eat healthy and exercise every day.  It doesn’t attack in January when you still have the willpower and determination to stick to any New Year’s resolutions you may have made.  Instead, it pops up three to four months in when your three-pound a week weight loss goal has been edged out by the “please just let me not have gained anything this week even though I ate half of a large pizza all by myself” mode.

In all fairness, IT Girl does offer us the opportunity to support the Girl Scouts by purchasing cookies that are sent overseas to the troops as part of Operation Thin Mint, a great idea for sure.  But, like Christmas, it does only come once a year.  And, thus, I vow to be strong. I will order a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies, and I’ll freeze them, and they’ll last for several months.  I’ll have my cookies and eat them, too!

And, apparently all at one time…since I managed to mow my way through an entire sleeve of cookies within an hour of opening the box.

Thin Mints my ass.