Bowl Cut

I always love hearing the stories from my parent’s childhood. You know those stories they share around the Thanksgiving table or their relatives share for them (when that happens it’s like looking at your parents for the first time…who is this person that has been raising me!!???).  Those stories are the kind that never get old, no matter how many times they are shared. They become an important part of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, and if they weren’t told it would be like having Thanksgiving meal without having any turkey.

This is a funny story I just love that my Mom tells every year.

Growing up my Mom lived in a run-down neighborhood in the mid-west which, when I was little, sounded like it was filled with endless adventure. Now that I am older, and have been given the “grand tour” it actually was a scary place to live. Random mobile homes are burned throughout the neighborhood and for the longest time there was no police force whatsoever. Any way, back to my story. My Mom came from a huge family (she had 9 brothers and sisters!). My Mom was second to youngest with the sister she was closest to, Candy, coming in last just a year younger than my Mom.

“Pat!!!!” Patricia jerked her head up at the sound of her Mother’s stratchy voice coming from somewhere inside their small house. The house was painted the exact same color of her Grandmother’s coffee after she had added what her Grandpa referred to as “an ungodly” amount of cream. There were tall green weeds surrounding the edges of the house, and paint the was peeling off the sides. Patricia froze, her fingers still deep in the mudd she had been using to mold into a cake. She was a good 200 feet away from the house, the wind was blowing, the neighbor was mowing the lawn and yet her Mothers voice managed to carry out practically drowning out all the other noises. “Pat!!!Get inside now!” She bellowed.

Pat, they all called her Pat for some reason. It was a family thing, no one was called by their actual name. Barbara was Barb. Jonathan was Johnny. Patricia was Pat. She hated being called Pat. Wasn’t it a boy’s name? Her Mother called again, but Pat remained still. She couldn’t make her feet go to the house, not yet. She knew what was coming and if she could hold off the inevitable for at least a few more minutes, she would. She wiped the mud off of on of her hands onto her jeans and then touched her dark brown hair.

“PPPPAAATTTTRRIIIICCCCIIIIAAAAA! Patricia Denise Borets, you get in here NOW!”

Pat felt her hair once again and there it was! The bubblegum. Who knew that gum could become a permanent fixture in your hair? She and her sister, Candy (sort for Cassandra) had just been having fun trying to blow the biggest bubbles in the world. Pat wasn’t even sure how the gum ended up in her hair and in her sister’s hair…but there it was, creating a giant tangle.

Pat turned away from the house, devoting her full attention back to her mud pie. A few minutes passed of silence. Maybe her Mom gave up after all. Pat knew that wasn’t true. She would be sending out a “messenger” (aka one of the other kids) to go and retrieve Pat at any moment.

“Pat,” came a quiet, almost feeble voice. The voice of someone who had just endured something awful. It was the messenger.

Pat turned around and stared at Candy. Her nine year old sister’s once long, golden locks were no where to be found. Pat gasped. Her hair was cut like a gross boy’s hair.

“Mama says you better come inside, it’s your turn,” Candy said quietly. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying.


When Pat got inside her Mother had her sit in a chair by the kitchen sink. She was muttering how she didn’t want to do this, but she had- had it! The girls were too rambunctious and their hair was constantly tangled and the gum was too high up to do anything other than cut it very short. She grabbed a bowl that was normally used to eat corn flakes out of and shoved it onto Pat’s head. She took her scissors and, using the bowl as a stencil, cut Pat’s hair off.


A few days later, Pat and Candy sat in the front row at the little Baptist Church down the road. Their Mother and Dad sat several rows behind them, melting into the congregation. For little kids something about being “in the front” that makes you feel utterly important. Like you are number one. It doesn’t matter if it is the front pew of church, the front of a line, the front of a roller coaster seat, the front of the car-sitting in the front is a symbol that you have arrived.

The pastor was known for his abilities to put even the most hyper and caffeine filled people to sleep. His voice was like the ocean, rolling back and forth, slowly creating a melody. For Pat and Candy, a single sermon felt like a life time. Since they were in the front row, away from their parents, they decided to occupy themselves with poking each other and giggling at the people falling asleep in the choir chairs.

Their giggles became louder and louder with each poke and point. Suddenly, Mr. Strombly, a member in the choir started to head nod. His eyes looked like they had weights on them, pulling them down and down. Then Miss Tilda’s head went backwards and her mouth hung open. Pat and Candy laughed and then Candy imitated Miss Tilda dramatically, making Pat laugh so loudly several people around them woke up. The room began to stir.

The pastor paused and stared stone faced at the girls.

Suddenly, he seemed like a different person, with emotions and feelings.  He said angrily, “If those two BOYS in the front row don’t stop goofing off I will have a word with your parents, young men.”

Pat and Candy looked around for the boys he was speaking of. There was no one else sitting in either front row. Suddenly they realized the pastor’s blazing eyes were fixed on THEM.

BOYS???!!!! And what was this nonsense about having a word with their parents? Their parents were in the room already!!??

“Candy, he thinks we are boys!” Pat whispered with a horrified gasp. She said the word, “boy” like it was the most disgusting thing in the entire world.  She looked at Candy with her bowl-cut hair, pants and stripped shirt. She did kind of look like a boy…

Candy’s eyes grew wide and filled with a sheen a tears.

Pat grabbed Candy’s hand and using all of her courage approached the podium where the pastor had once again continued his oceanic melody. They walked up the couple steps and then were right next to the pastor on the stage.

“Excuse me, ex-cuse me!” Pat said tugging on his suit coat.

The pastor looked down, startled.

“Wh-at are you boys doing now? You are being very disruptive,” he said flustered but managed a small, fake smile. His eye twitched beneath his thick glasses.

“We, we just wanted to tell you that- ” Pat paused suddenly feeling nervous. There were a lot of people in here and all of them were awake and attentive. She had to make sure the pastor knew though. She had to tell him, at least for Candy’s sake. She swallowed and then said,”We wanted to tell you that WE ARE GIRLS…..NOT BOYS.” 

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I have!!!!!!!

What is your worst child-hood hair cut? Any family stories you’d like to share?

Acrophobia-the fear of heights

Finally, a Photo Friday, sorry for slacking life has been crazy these past few weeks!

Today’s photo Friday features Thrill-seekers, Kirill Oreskin , Andy Lewis and Brian Mosbaugh. These guys  do things I would never ever…imagine doing. One of my greatest fears is heights. Perhaps I have acrophobia “the fear of heights” (or maybe it should be called common sense??); I get shaky, can barely breathe, and I feel like I am on the verge of a heart attack when I am up high. That bungee ride at Six Flag theme park…yeah my theory is I would have a massive and deadly heart attack at the very top of the ride. Heights + Me = TERROR.

Kirill, from Russian, says he climbs, “because I like the views”. Well, he certainly has gotten views of things, most people would never come close to seeing. I have to agree with him, there are few things better than a stunning, breath stopping view-however, you won’t find me dangling hundreds of feet on the edge of a building anytime soon. To see more of Kirill’s amazing photo’s visit his website: .

Brian and Andy are apart of a group called the “Moab Monkeys” and are friends with one common link: THRILL. Both thrill seekers, and adventurers who like to live life on the edge. The picture below was taken in Brazil! Visit their facebook page : Monkeys.

information research credit: Huffington post, UK Daily

Are you afraid of heights? What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?

photo credit: Kirill Oreshkin

photo credit: Kirill Oreshkin

this picture was taken by Brian Mosbaugh. The guy in the photograph is Brian's friend Andy

this picture was taken by Brian Mosbaugh. The guy in the photograph is Brian’s friend Andy Lewis

Sisterhood of the World of Bloggers Nomination.sisterhoodworldbloggers

Thank you to When Nothing Goes Write (  for nominating me for this award…it brings back memories of me and my group of childhood friends who were OBCESSED with Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. We even made our own “sisterhood” with the special article of clothing being a shirt…it didn’t last very long and nothing exactly magical happened but always a good memory.

The Guide lines:

Thank and link the person who nominated you.
Add the award to your post and site.
Answer 10 questions provided to by the person nominating you.
Provide 10 questions of your own to be answered by those you nominate.
Nominate your bloggers for the award. (AND comment on their blogs to inform them.)

Questions for me to answer:

1. What is your favorite book and why?  (One question at a time is overrated.)

This is a tuff one because I love so many books. I will give you one of my top ten though. Safe Haven by Nicolas Sparks. For me the best books have romance, realistic characters, gets you emotionally involved, and have suspense. Nicolas Sparks nails all categories in Safe Haven. I liked the movie but the book is MUCH better!

2. Arranged marriages.  Yes or no?


3. Explain in your own words what pension means?  I’m mostly just confused about this and looking for answers in all the wrong places.

Pension is when the company you have dedicated years of your life to, still pays you AFTER you retire!

4. Do you believe in jinxes?  Like jinx you owe me a coke jinxes…I guess superstition in general.

No not really, but I have had some suspiciously accurate fortune cookies.

5. Where do you stand in the whole nature versus nurture debate?

I don’t know too much about this, so hopefully this will make sense: I think there are absolute truths, truths that will never change no matter what society decides about them. We were all given a consciences and the ability to make choices. I think society does affect us hugely but ultimately you make your own choices. A line from the movie A Knight’s Tale , “you can change your stars”, sort of sums this up.

6. Do you believe in fate and why?

I think people and situations are put in our lives  for a reason and a purpose, but the choices we make/others make is a factor as well.

7. What is your favorite phrase or saying?

“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” – Mother Teresa

8. Where exactly do you think Waldo is?

Probably chilling on a beach! Or he is in plain view, blending in with the hipsters!

9. What is the last song you listened to?

“Play It Again” by Luke Bryan. I heart this song!

10. How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  (This is a personal favorite so I will be judging you based on your response.)

I totally support breakfast for dinner! Sometimes you simply NEED waffles and bacon at 6:30pm. And who can resist biscuits and gravy at any time of day?

Questions for my nominees:

1. What inspires you?

2. If you had to be in a reality tv show…which one would you pick?

3. Can guys and girls be BEST FRIENDS with no romantic feelings on either side?

4. If you could meet up with anyone for coffee…ANYONE at all, past-present-who would it be?

5. Talent or hard work…which wins?

6. Is there a song out there that could totally describe you/your life at the moment?

7. Burger king, McDonalds, or I would never eat at these two places?

8. Last book you read?

9. If you could have the powers of any of the super heroes…which would you pick?

10. What is a random keepsake you have…and what’s the story behind it?

I would like to nominate:

1. A Positive Italian

2. Rachel Carrera

3. Motley Prints 

when technology fails

Feeling depressed…just was about done with answering questions, making up questions and nominating for my Sisterhood of the World of Bloggers nomination…and poof! My entire blog post disappeared…everything that I had written. Not even a letter saved in the drafts. GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRR. Computer: I am so disappointed in you! lol. OOO wells…so a “take two” will be in order.

A gallery of what happens to me before, during and after an interview

For several days I have been preparing for an interview…it was just a phone interview but I wanted to be ready. If you are anything like me interviews TERRIFY you. I get sweaty palms, a wildly beating heart, butterflies in my stomach. My fear is that my mind will go completely blank (it’s the same sort of thing that happens to me when I stand up and give a speech…it’s awful!) and I will have no idea what to say. I decided to take a bunch of pictures of what happens to me before…during and after an interview. Enjoy!! (you also get a lovely view of my bathroom!) What do you do to prepare for an interview? Are you as cool as cucumber? What’s the most intense interview you’ve been on? What’s the most “chill” interview you’ve been on?

Before the interview: Cool and collected...I so have this!

Before the interview: Cool and collected…I so have this!

15 minutes before the interview...WHAT AM I DOING???? Terror and fear.

15 minutes before the interview…WHAT AM I DOING???? Terror and fear.

That moment when they call you into the office...

That moment when they call you into the office…

How I actually look during the interview.

How I actually look during the interview.

How I THINK I look during the interview...

How I THINK I look during the interview…

How I FEEL during the interview...

How I FEEL during the interview…

When you walk out of the interview...YAY!!!!! It's over!!!

When you walk out of the interview…YAY!!!!! It’s over!!!

I think I did a pretty good I say so myself..

I think I did a pretty good job…it I say so myself..

Suddenly going over the interview in my mind...Did I really say that???

Suddenly going over the interview in my mind…Did I really say that???



I said that too???AAHHH!! What was I thinking??

I said that too???AAHHH!! What was I thinking??

Hmmm.... self doubt and wondering if I will get the dreaded, "we decided to move on with more experienced candidates "email.

self doubt and wondering if I will get the dreaded, “we decided to move on with more experienced candidates “email.

Tick Tock-A Poem

I have been so bad at blogging lately!!! I have actually been writing things, but I have no internet at my house except on my phone. I have only written one blog through my phone….it was ROUGH trying to type on that tiny key pad. At last I am somewhere with a steady stream of internet so….here’s a poem:

Tick Tock

On the wall hung an old clock

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock;

His arms played in rythmic tune-

One o’clock, three o’clock, five o’clock-noon.

In his old age the clock realized

The entire world was paralyzed;

Each and every person laid down their arms,

In subjection to their capture’s charms.

Green and crisp was their master

Gold and silver their spell caster-

Each person had believed

Each person had been deceived.

More and more of the money they sought

For all the things they thought it bought-

Love, happiness, relationships, trust.

More-more-more was their lust.

But gadgets and cars can rust

And money cannot purchase trust;

The love and friends it bought

You never know if they really cared or not.

The happiness it provided

Always, quickly subsided.

Tick tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock

Chimed the old clock

They had something more valuable to give

They had a better way to live.

Each person ended up with a hole-

An emptiness in their soul-

But like an addict they would fall

Straight to the lies of their master’s call.

And following their greed

They lived for what they did not need.

Money makes the world go round-

But listen to the clock’s sound:

The old clock by the door

Wasn’t ticking anymore.

Time is the greatest treasure

To have and to give;

Times used wisely

is a life well lived.


I also wanted to say as a side note…having money isn’t a bad thing…it only gets bad when it becomes our obsession! Time is the greatest gift we have and the greatest gift we can give.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

-Edmund Burke

Today I am thankful to be an American. Today I am remembering the terrible tragedy that happened 13 years ago to the date. Today I am remembering life is short. Today I am reminded to love my family and friends and to tell them. Today I am reminded to fight for and stand up for good.

God Bless America

the eyebrow waxing adventure

Have you ever met someone that has eyebrows that look they have been carved by angels? I was never that person. When I was younger, my eyebrows were like two wild spindly forests that grew whichever way they saw fit. And if they had their way, they were forests whose dream was to meet in the middle and form into one BIG forest. When I was really little I thought when I grew up I would magically have perfect eyebrows. Soon enough I found out that was a fairytale and I was introduced to tweezers. I felt like a lumberjack with the amount of work I had to do to keep my foresty eyebrows tidy and still with all the work I did, I always seemed to “tweeze” too much or too little. It was a life-long struggle.

My roommate I called “Mer” had perfect eyebrows. They weren’t too thick, they weren’t too thin, they had a nice arch that framed her pretty blue eyes perfectly. When I was putting on my makeup next to her in the bathroom I enviously looked at her eyebrows and asked her how she had got them so perfect. Was it just in the genes? It had to be…she must have inherited the perfect eyebrow gene.

“I wax them! It is the best thing ever!” She exclaimed excitedly in her North Carolina accent.

“Wax? Oh, I’ve always thought about getting that done but ya, I’m sure I would just have to tweeze them the next day so I don’t know if it would be a good idea.”

“They actually don’t grow back for about 3 weeks! It’s amazing!”

Three weeks!!!!????? Translation: heaven

“You should totally get it done!” Mer said happily.

“I should, you know I think I will.”

At the Salon….

I sat in the chair my head leaned on the back, my eyes nervously darting around in anticipation. I was freaking out. The salon I was at was in the mall near the college, I had taken my sister Andrea and my best friend Vicky with me for moral support but at the current moment I was alone. Andrea had been snagged by one of those people selling makeup in the little booths in the middle of the mall, (You know those little booths with straighteners, beauty products, cell phone covers, sunglasses that are right in the path of where you need to go. They have the most dedicated sales people…I tell ya! Sometimes I  pretend to be in deep conversation on my cell phone when I walk past them!)and Vicky was at Starbucks.

I tried to think about anything else than what was about to happen to me. I was about to have about 100 plus hairs ripped from my head….all at the same time. The pain we are willing to endure for beauty…

The hairdresser that was preforming my waxing procedure returned with her weapons-I mean waxing tools. She had jet black hair that was as straight as a pin, she wore burgundy lipstick and had drawn on eyebrows with extreme arches…which I should’ve taken as a warning signal.

“You ready hunny?” she asked in her deep voice.

Could anyone ever truly be ready for this kind of pain? I let out a deep breath and tried to focus on the prize: perfect eyebrows like Mer’s and not tweezing for three weeks. “S-su-re.” I reminded her over again that I had never had this done before and just wanted the brows cleaned up and a touch up on the shaping. Nothing drastic. She seemed confident in her abilities.

“Just close your eyes, your eyebrows are gonna look great!”

“Will it hurt?” Yes…it was a stupid question to ask.

“It just feels like a li’l pinch,” she said the lie they must all be told to say and I closed my eyes.

She slathered on the thick gluey warm wax just above my eyes. I heard her tinkering around and then she laid little papers across my eyebrow. This was it. I held my breath and squeezed my already closed eyes even tighter.


The pain was sharp and intense, making me catch my breath. At least it was over-

RRRIIIIPPPP! What is she doing???? !!!!

She began to go to town. The pain wasn’t as intense anymore, now it just had the sensation that my entire skin surrounding my eyebrows was on fire. I squeezed the arms of the chair as she finished up, attempting to push through the pain by trying to focus on how lovely my eyebrows would be afterwards.

The ripping and tearing stopped.

I popped open my eyes, hesitantly, as if I was going to be staring into the face of the boogey man.

“All done hunny! And your eyebrows look GORGEOUS! Let me just put some of this cream down to reduce the redness,” the stylist said triumphantly.


“Oh! Here’s a mirror so you can get a good look of the new you!”

She held up a small mirror over my head. I looked at myself, and I certainly was a new person….a new person with NO EYEBROWS! I double took….wha-at? What did this woman do to my

How I felt when I saw my eyebrows

How I felt when I saw my eyebrows

eyebrows????? Where did she take them??? I looked harder…Oh look! There’s something there…I think. She had literally removed every last eyebrow hair I owned except for a pencil thin straight line. No arch. No depth. My eyebrows were a speck of a line. Oh yeah, and there was blood-apparently she had taken some skin out while she was at it.

I looked scary.  Traumatized, I paid and left in a daze, praying I would not see anyone I know in this mall. My skin was on fire and I was sure it was so red it looked like it was on fire. I searched for Vicky and Andrea and found them at the makeup cart where Andrea was being subjected to a makeover. I wanted to put my hands over my barely existent new eyebrows, I wanted to hide them.

Andrea, Vicky and the makeup artist turned around and just stared.

Andrea and Vicky...looking at my eyebrows

Andrea and Vicky…looking at my eyebrows

“They’re horrible…I don’t know what happened…she ripped them all out…I don’t know what to do!!” I cried.

Vicky just put her hand to her mouth and Andrea was like “There, there.”

The makeup artist looked at me and my red skin and skinny little eyebrows. “Oh my word!! You should demand your money back!” She said, “I will go with you…she totally ruined your eyebrows and you shouldn’t be paying for that!”

I did end up getting my money back, explaining that I had no eyebrows left. The woman didn’t protest…she didn’t even say a word…just handed me back my money, like she knew what she had done.

I had to buy this special makeup to fill in what was left of my eyebrows so I wouldn’t scare people until they grew back.

Tweezers for life…(one day I might try waxing again…I know it works for a lot of people!)

Have you ever had a traumatic eyebrow waxing/threading or bad hair cut/style experience?



Photo Friday: BIG

Today’s photo Friday was inspired from the State Fair. One of my favorite things to see at the fair is none other than the GIGANTIC FRUITS AND VEGETABLES. These things just leave me speech less…and grateful that I don’t have to eat them. Any awesomely huge vegetables or fruits you’ve seen? What’s your favorite thing at the fair?

This picture is of an enormous cabbage grown by expert farmer John Evans of Alaska!

This green cabbage is MASSIVE! Grown by expert farmer John Evans of Alaska!

This green cabbage is MASSIVE!

Ever wonder what $160,000 dollars looks like? Well, just take a gander at this 3lb Truffle. Found in Italy, the truffle sold at auction for $160,000. I am thinking about becoming a truffle hunter as a side job….

photo credit: pinterest, Every day Health

 photo credit: pinterest, Every day Health

The last picture is of a 17 POUND ONION. Talk about bad breath! The onion was grown by Peter Glazebrook of Newark, England. The onion earned a World Guinness Record.

photo credit: Everyday Health

ummm….is this for real? photo credit: Everyday Health

Photo FridayThat’s Photo Friday!

information/research credit: Everyday Health, Buzzfeed