You know, I typed blonde, but then firefox told me it was spelled wrong, so I changed it.

Oh well.

Oh, I like that.

Also, blonde is correct, when it's a noun. But if you're talking about your blond hair, you can leave off the "e".

Oh, pretty. My word, you look 12 years old in that second photo. Good genes, woman. Good genes.

What kind of stuff is it leaking onto? Once it has dried, I only ever have a problem after my shower the next couple of mornings -- and then it's just getting on my towel, so I use a dark towel, or an old crappy one I don't care about.

Also, blonde is correct, when it's a noun. But if you're talking about your blond hair, you can leave off the "e".

Can, or should?

Nice!

One or two shampoos usually stops the leaching for me. When I used to use conditioner regularly, it was usually stopped after the first wash, but I don't anymore. And that is with Feria, so.

ita, it'll bleed up til the second shower. Wrap your pillow in a towel, and it'll be all good.

I decided to try the TJs lemon pepper chicken "cook in a bag" meal for dinner, and while the chicken itself is actually very good and tasty, the bag leaked, and I don't think the cookie sheet I put it on is saveable.

Soft scrub helps with that. I've had success with scrubbing bubbles on the stove stains as well. Or heck, oven cleaner.

I'd like to note that I just realized I didn't hurt myself cleaning today. That's a first.

Wow! ita is a redhead!

I have skipped and skipped and jumped, as I have had a v.v. busy week and a half. Last weekend and this weekend I was teching and dressing a show (King Lear), and then on Sunday, my car died at Dunkin Donuts. Not unexpected, as you all know, but not an auspicious start to my day.

So I have joined the world of public transportation, which I am mostly likeing. Unlike most Rochestarians, my home and work are directly on buslines (and by directly, I mean there is a bus-stop 4 steps from my front door).

However, the weekends have proved troublesome, in that the bus really stops running regularly around 4 pm, and there are not always people waiting for a bus. Yesterday I missed a bus because I was on the wrong side of the street, the haule dass to another bus stop (2 miles), just missed that bus, and had to wait another 40 minutes for the next one, and then wait downtown for another 40 minutes.

Today the 4:55 bus drove right by me, even though I was at the stop. The next bus at that stop was at 7:45, so I hauled ass, again, to the other stop. I was 40 minutes early for the next bus, so I went and had some dinner, and came out of the restaurant to see the bus I was waiting for go by, 20 minutes early!. So I stood at the bus stop for 40 minutes without moving, because I was damned if I was going to miss another bus!

However, the weekday commutes seem fine, and I just think I have to learn how to manage the weekend stuff. I wish that the bus literature and signage was more explanatory, since there aren't a lot of people at every stop. For example, I think that telling you the side of thestreet you should be on would be great. Or even signes telling you the number of the busses that stopped at each stop. Also, I am the only non-elderly or disabled white person on the bus most of the time, until I get near the University. I don't mind, but no one wants to sit with me, because I am Other

I hope everything is going well for everyone else, especially Kat and the babies, and anyone else in need of good thoughts.

Thankfully, telling my parents I would be dating guys before I did anything more than chaste moviegoing worked wonders for dispelling their curiousity about my love life. I've never been pressed for a single detail, and they've taken to huffily stamping out other relatives' questions about settling down for me—I think they're kind of mad about the imagined reaction to explaining that I'm not legally allowed to marry. (Mom and Dad are the sole liberal couple out of a huge family of Southern conservative fundamentalists. And had to drag the rest of the family kicking and screaming into the 20th century over my cousin's interracial marriage.)