The Weekender

Well, it’s Sunday and we’re relaxing at home. Bright is asleep in his bed and I’m sitting here waiting stiff-necked processing my hair color which I HOPE is not going to end up bright purple. It’s supposed to be “deep mahogony black” but it looks more like a really dark brown with some burgandy highlights. I had to have Andrew help me (yes, I was desperate) because the last time I colored my hair by myself, I ended up not getting enough in the back. I had great color on either side, but the back was about three shades lighter than the front…
20 minutes later…
Well, we’re done processing and all rinsed out. Not dry yet as I’m still a bit afraid. The water ran awfully purple. Oh well. I’m sure I’ve had worse color.

The Continuing Day Care Saga:
Friday, I was still seething and obsessing about this whole thing. The more I thought about all the stupid things she said, and the more I realized that she thought she “really stuck it to me” the more I wanted to call her up and chew her out all over again but this time it was MY turn to talk. But I restrained myself and didn’t do that just because 1. I need to just get over it, why do I care what that ignorant POS thinks? and 2. Karma – nuff said. Besides, I called 4C’s and started a paper trail on her and I tried to call DHS but had the wrong number written down. So I’ll call them tomorrow. I want to make sure that she’s licensed like she implies. According to 4C’s (a child care referral service) she is not registered in their database. I asked if she was licensed if she would be in there, and they said “yes, if she’s licensed, she’d be in this database”. Hmmmm. Interesting. She also spouts off about how wonderful she is and how all of her kids go to school with manners and yada yada yada. And how the secretary at Mt. Vernon school just raves about how wonderful her day care is. Well, I thought about writing a nice little letter to the secretary telling her that sticky vicki shouldn’t be taking the credit for all the work that Rita does. See how she likes that bee in her bonnet. She certainly chose the WRONG mommy to deal with. And she thinks she really told me. HA!

Babes up, gotta go.

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