Wait a minute. That baby was here for two hours, long enough for us to eat dinner and start the weekly game, and I failed to take a single new picture of her? Whoops. I'm falling down on the job. Granted I spent a lot of time holding and actively cuddling the baby, and the rest of the time with Saoirse sitting on my lap and me grappling her while she tried to get to her baby next to us on the couch. I was busy. Boy, she was cute, though. Too bad I can't show you.
Do people still describe women of a certain age as "blue-haired?" I know that it was in reference to a rinse they used to make gray/white hair less yellow or brassy looking, but when I was a kid, it was such a common, usually disparaging name. I never hear it anymore. In the 24 hours since I dyed my hair blue, I have thought about that a lot. None of those blue haired old ladies from my youth wore their hair "midnight indigo" like I just went. Well, maybe that lady from Are You Being Served, but she tended to favor pastels, if I recall correctly. I'm really starting to dig having literal blue-black hair. Will hold off on predicting how long I will keep it this way to see how it survives the first few washes.
I am hopelessly behind on what I wanted to accomplish for Christmas. I mean hopelessly. I plan to beg everyone's indulgence, because who is really on top of things in 2020? I can barely function as an adult in normal years. What even is normal anymore? I haven't had one in at least seven years. This year I'm just glad we made it all the way to December, and I bet most of my circle feels the same. Hit me up in several months when we are all vaccinated and the economy is rolling smoothly again, and I'll be on board for Christmas in July. Or August. Or whatever.
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