In Which a Questionable Haircut turns me into an Utter Narcissist

So I tried again this morning:

I think it is better. It may actually look less like the inspiration pictures, but it looks more like me. Good ole stripey shirt never hurt either. I still think it needs work, maybe shorten the shorter side and thin out the longer side. And that thing is happening whenever I give myself bangs, what I like to think of as the Conan O'Brian swoop. But I think that might have something to do with my glasses, and so I can't really change that. All in all, I'm feeling better about it today.

What I'm not feeling better about today is my cold. It feels like a small, furry, stinky animal - a wet ferret maybe?- has cuddled up with my lungs. I get to have cold-medicine dreams all night, like last night when I dreamed that Jennifer and I were chasing our high school crush/obsession around and around Canyon High. I'm pretty sure that dream went on all night.

But hey, even in my drugged state, I managed to sign the girls (even Elsa!) up for swim lessons! I found some through parks and rec that are four days a week for two weeks, and they will happen before we move, so maybe my bleak prophecy that my children are destined to be non-swimmers will not come to fruition. And I finally told the owner of our gym that we are moving at the end of June, so I don't have to stress over what will become of my Zumba class. I was worried about telling her because I thought she would be really irritated that I started up a class knowing that I was going to be moving (we didn't know for sure, but when do we ever?) Anyway I took the chicken way out and wrote her an email, but she didn't seem mad. So that's good. Still don't know how I am going to handle the various trips I need to make to California this summer, but that's a ways off so I'm not too worried. I'm feeling a bit more optimistic today, so here are some pictures of cutie Elsa on her birthday last week:

She wouldn't eat the cupcake so I had to.

May we all get such joy from poking around in the dirt with a stick

Do I look like a newscaster to you?

No seriously, do I? I can't figure out my new hair cut.

Actually, I don't look anything like a newscaster in these pictures. But you should have seen it yesterday when I got home. It was very mushroom shaped.  I keep looking back at the photos that I brought in as inspiration to the hairdresser.

While it's true that mine is not as wispy as these are, it's pretty much the same hair cut. Then how come I still look 36? How come I don't look 18? I don't get it.

Also, I don't look so great because I am sick. And seriously, am I the only person in the world that thinks that half a vicodin is really the best cough and cold medicine you can take?