Wednesday, December 16, 2009


I've lived in this current home for 5 plus years and guess what? I still have some boxes that haven't been unpacked yet. I'm proud to say, I tackled one today--YAY for me--. I know, I know, hold your applause. I'm glad I picked this one to go through because it was PICTURES!!!!!!!! Not just any photo's but high school activities. *EVIL LAUGH* I know some of you have fainted off your chair, terrified you might be in some. Be worried if you were on the PHI-DEL team

 or a cheerleader with me because you are.

Take a gander and see if you can recognize anyone, let alone yourself.

Rodeo parade, when we martched BEHIND the band.  Freshman year.

Do you remember those outfits? And the gloves?

We are about to turn a corner. It really sucked being the outside-end person. WIDE STEPS to stay in line.
The next are my Sophomore year.

Novelty routine to Dr. Bones.

Military routine, I don't remember the song's title but I know it came off of the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack.

Ending postion of the routine.

Now, about those other unpacked boxes......maybe I should throw 'em out with out looking. Nah. I'll leave them for another day.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Is that your natural color?

A lot of my clients say to me, “Laci, I can’t believe I’m going grey at my age! Please don’t tell anyone.”

Rest assured your secrets are safe with me. ALL OF THEM. And, believe me I know way too much about people. Being a cosmetologist, my license should include; marriage therapist, person guidance counselor, and one that I really do like being, a person that someone can come to when they just need a shoulder to cry on. But, sometimes people unwilling give you information you don’t want to hear. I mean they literally rape my ear. I will, however, not repeat what you told me. Consider it my professional courtesy.

Sorry, that went a little off track. Any-who. Hair color. Don’t fret too much if you dye your hair. 85% of women –and men—are NOT their natural hair color, and it’s not that big of a deal. Personally, a man with a few dusty greys on their head tells me they are experienced, distinguished, and possibly more mature. A woman with silver or white hair implies they have been there, done that, and loved it. BUT, on the other hand, some feel it ages them. It’s okay to cover it up. I will when my hair looses it’s pigment. What am I talking about? I already do. I don’t think I can remember my REAL hair color. I know in my childhood my hair was a bright golden blonde, and then turned to a light brown in my teens. Later, after each child it darkened what felt like 4 shades.

I like to color people’s hair because when I’m done they feel better about themselves. The same when I get my own hair colored. So be proud of what ever your hair color is, natural or adjusted to your perfection of style and taste.

For your enjoyment, here are some snap shots of my past hair colors. What one is your favorite color on me?                                         
This is my color now.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Skinny Jeans

Today I had the experience of being in the grocery store during high school lunch hour. I know some of you are probably thinking so what? Well, where I live the high school is pretty much next door to the ONE grocery store in town and the majority of the students eat there at the deli.

Now, I’m one who tries to keep up with trends, but not for sure I can handle this one. I’m sorry, so sorry to you teenage boys. You teenage boys, who are wearing super, SUPER tight skinny jeans.

Have you taken a second and noticed your reflection in the mirror? Turn to the side; do you know what you look like? A capital “L”.
Plus, how do you bend over? Can you breathe? ‘Cause I know when I wear jeans that are too tight, it’s close to impossible for me to do either. I over heard a boy bragging he had to lay down to zip up his pants with pliers. Um, what happens if you have to pee at school?

This fad sent me into a bad flash back of the pant style of my high school days, those extremely baggy pants. Where their behinds were only covered by a thin layer of boxer shorts and the pants were held up around their upper thigh by a belt.
My husband was guilty of this fashion movement and I remember his pockets being so big he could carry a 2 liter bottle of soda, and was proud of it!

Now take a look at these twin boys, yes BOYS, from the group Tokio Hotel. An example of one extreme to the next.
Do you understand what I'm saying?

This next example is my personal preference of pant styles for guys, and yes, one is a skinny jean.

Can we please have a happy medium and loosen up the calf area just a hair? Skinny jeans aren’t horrible, but it’s when they are so tight you almost waddle is the problem.
Am I alone in this?

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

December 2, 1991

18 years ago today, my life changened forever. I came home from my 3rd grade class, eager to go watch my sister dance with her performance group in Logan. She had to arrive early and caught a ride with my uncle and cousins while the rest of the family waited for my dad to come home. Something had broke on our truck and the family was down to one car for the rest of the week.
   Around 6:00 pm my dad, mom, little 3 year old brother, and myself loaded up in our two door 1985 Oldmobile. My dad had to take a test for his referee re-certification and had my mom drop him off, but as she pulled into the parking lot she got the feeling to leave my little brother with him. I remember very well, dad strongly opposed to that idea saying, "Diane, how am I suppose to take a test with him running around?" Well, Mom persuaded Dad into taking Tyler with him in only a matter of seconds with out a big argument. ( Tyler told us that he remembers this too and Dad told us Tyler sat still on the floor next to the table and didn't make a sound). 
   Happy to be going on a girls night out, I climbed into the front seat and fastened my seat belt. The two of us were on our way and it began to snow. Being winter the sun had set and it was dark, but our car (we called her Kate) had what my dad called "meaty tread on the tires"and we'd be okay. As soon as we were on Highway 91, just past the Preston sewer plant, the car fish tailed. Mom gripped the wheel and gasped, but straightened us out each time. She said to me, "I'd better slow down to 45 MPH. I don't want to wreck." I rolled my eyes and said,"But MOM, I want to get there in time to watch LeAnn dance." She shrugged and slowed down while I glared out the side window.
   We rounded the corner by Little Mountain in Whitney and my mom gasped again. I looked over at her as she said,"Laci, we're going to wreck!" I didn't believe her, cause she always seemed to freak out over any slip of the tires, but I realized very soon this time it was different. The car spun and slid sideways down the road. I looked out the window and saw the headlights of on coming traffic headed right for me. The last thing I remember was the bumper of a car coming through the door and hitting the right side of my body.
   My mom told me when she woke up, I was still buckeled in my seat but hanging upside down, eyes open and not breathing, Can you imagine the pain my mom felt thinking her daughter was dead?
   At the hospital, my parents were told the entire right side of my body was crushed, thankfully it wasn't. Only my feet, the right one taking most damage. The tiny 8 year old foot had been smashed so bad that the doctors couldn't find some of the bones. Because of this, I had to re-learn to use and control my feet to walk again. My two outside toes should have been amputated, but weren't. So now they look funny. They haven't grown since that day and the little toe was so deformed that it is placed on the top of my foot. Yeah, everyone laughs at it, but I don't care. It's a constant reminder that I lived through that for some bigger reason.
   Looking at the photo's of our car, if my brother wouldn't have gone with my dad or if I would have stayed in the backseat, we would be dead. I couldn't find the photo to post, but I'm betting it's at my mom's. I will go look and post it if I find it. Thanks for sitting this long to read this very long story.