Our Sweet Sarah Beth

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Darling Little Debbie

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Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Everyone Loves a Slanket

Claire.

Seriously?

You don't know what a slanket is? I'm disappointed in you. For Claire and the rest of the uneducated population out there, a slanket is a blanket....

wait for it...

with sleeves.

Or to help you better understand the concept: a sleeved blanket. Erego, a slanket. Ever heard of the Snuggie? It's like that, only better.

One hand for the remote, one hand for your drink.




Jack modeling his birthday slanket


I am sure you have all seen the commercials advertising the Snuggie. In case you haven't, I'll set the scene for you:

Open into a cozy living room setting, an elderly lady snuggling up on the couch with a book, covered by a warm blanket. It's a peaceful scene; all is well with the world, and Grandma is really digging that book she is reading.

Then, the phone rings, and what happens next is like something out of a horror movie. It's like in a Hitchcock movie, you know, where they tie you up in a rubber bag and throw you in the trunk of a car.

So the phone rings, and all of a sudden, Grandma's life is thrown into an uproar. Hold on, they aren't selling phone silencers, just wait. Granny is flailing left and right, desperately trying to free her arms from the devil blanket. It's just so confining, WHY CAN'T SHE GET HER ARMS FREE??????????

The phone is ringing, and she can't get to it! Alas! She has freed herself, but now her hair is a mess, she's lost her book and worst of all, her arms are cold! I'd hate to be the person on the other end of that line because Granny is LIVID.

Cut to an eerily familiar scenario. It's like deja vu. There is Grandma, cozily reading on the couch, and she is happy again. THEN THE PHONE RINGS. Uh oh. The audience smells trouble in paradise. But not this time!

Because Granny has the snuggie, all of her problems are over. It's a blanket with sleeves! She can comfortably read on the couch, but when she needs to take that phone call about her friend's hip replacement surgery, her hands are free, arms are warm, and that blasted blanket has been thrown to the dogs.

The commercial ends with a whole family of Snuggie wearers, from Grandma to preteen, all happily smiling and hands free. They are a real treat for the whole family (one size fits all).

I seriously wanted to recreate that commercial with my video camera for you. I gave it some real thought, but if you check youtube, you can find plenty of snuggie commercials for your viewing entertainment.

After viewing the commercial several times, we heard a joke about a similar item (the slanket) on one of our favorite shows. Any 30 Rock fans out there? So as a gag birthday gift, Jack's brother Rob went to 8 different Walgreens and finally came out with a pair of slankets for Jack and me.

But Rob didn't know the gag would be on him! As it turns out, the slanket is a most wonderful thing. I wear mine nightly, and it keeps me so cozy and warm. Now Jack and I are the ones laughing as we like to nightly think about Rob freezing his arms off on his couch, while we snuggle away under our slankets.

But who knows, Rob's birthday is only a few weeks away. Maybe he'll get a slanket of his own. And I still might make a commercial.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Locks of Love and a Little Slanket

Yes I did, and yes I was.

To clear up a few questions from my last post:

1. Yes, I cut my hair. It is shorter than it has ever been. We are dealing with the situation.
2. Yes, I was wearing a slanket during our slumber party, as I do most evenings. Don't hate.

First of all, the haircut.



This is my hair on the morning of Friday, June 27. Long, heavy, lumpy mass of trouble. I was so tired of it constantly being in my way, and it has been just too hot to bear this summer. I haven't cut my hair (except for the occasional trim) since high school, and it was time. So when Jack hit the road last weekend, I hit the salon.

As I mentioned before, it's been a while since I have had my hair cut short, and Jack has always preferred it long. I told him in passing that I might get it cut while he was gone, if I got too bored, and he said, go ahead. So I blame him.

I told my stylist, Misty, I wanted to cut it all off, and that she could send it to Locks of Love. For those of you who aren't familiar, LOL is a charity that takes your unwanted hairs and gives it to cancer patients who can't grow their own. I hope my lumpy mass will make someone very happy.

So there I was, in the chair. She whipped my hair up into a ponytail and asked if I was sure I wanted to do this. Yes?

She poised her scissors above the ponytail holder, and caught my eye in the mirror one last time. A slow grin crept over her face, as though she understood the gravity of the situation, asking for one last "go ahead" before she took my ponytail away.

"Are you ready for this?"

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and she took that as a yes. Five minutes later, she had finally managed to saw through my thick, coarse mane, and she was triumphantly holding the ponytail formerly attached to my head up like an Indian chief with his first scalp. I wish I had taken a picture of that. It was over a foot long and looked so strange detached from my head. My hair was a mess. I went into mild shock, but after a few minutes on the bag, I was stable enough to style.

She began cutting even more, and things began to even out. By the time she was done, another pound of my hair was lying scattered carelessly on the floor around my throne. I walked out of there feeling about 10 pounds lighter. Probably not a bad estimate, although I haven't yet been on the scales to confirm.

Misty did a fantastic job, exactly what I told her I wanted. However, I'm still deciding if that was a great idea. I thought long hair was a pain, but you can always throw it up in a ponytail. Now my dead ponytail is lying in a box somewhere awaiting a new head and I'm stuck with something I cannot style.

Slowly, I'm learning. I placed a 911 call to my cousin, Dees, who came right over and helped me fix it the day after I cut it. And she brought me a Bops to ease the pain. Then my little sister, who is way more stylish than I will ever be, threw in her two cents with a curling iron a few days later. Although much shorter, my hair is still very lumpy and will not always cooperate. It tends to rebel in the back, where I have much less control over it, but at least I can't see that part, so as long as I can fix the front, I'll just wear a hoodie.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Slumber Party!

Jack went out of town last weekend, so Sarah Beth and I had the house all to ourselves. Everything was going swimmingly until the second night when I tried to put SB to bed. She revolted. It was awful. She was sobbing,

"I wanna go night night mama!"

Interpretation: "Mom, if it's alright with you, I would like to sleep with you in your bed tonight."

This pitiful cry went on for over ten minutes before I caved. Jack was out of town, and I figured I could use the company. So I rescued her from her white wooden prison and carried her back to the couch with me for some cuddle time.

It wasn't until an hour and a half later that I looked at the clock and realized how late it was. Almost 9:30, and SB, who normally goes to bed by 8, was still wide awake and grinning from ear to ear.

I looked at her and asked,

"Are we having a slumber party?"

SB: "Mmm Hmm."

Me: "Well then, we need some midnight snacks!"

SB wanted to put on her favorite pajamas, which are way too hot for summer. However, we were having our first slumber party, and I felt it was only fair that she get to wear what she wanted. So we put on the hot pink footed flannel pjs, and I left them unzipped so she wouldn't sweat to death. She was so happy, she gave me a big kiss.



When I asked what kind of yummies she wanted, she yelled, "I want cheese!" and did a little dance around the kitchen.

SB excitedly shows off her cheese.


I opted for M&Ms, which I naturally had to share.

In the kitchen getting yummies. SB in the hot pink footies, me in the slanket.

When our chick flick was over, it was after ten. I realized I might have gone a little overboard with the M&Ms when I noticed SB trying to nosedive off the couch:

doing acrobatics on the loveseat:


and getting as close to my face as possible while jabbering incoherently about Bunny and Puppy.



I finally got her settled down, and she went almost willingly to sleep in her own bed by 11. I think our first slumber party was a huge success.