Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Babies: A Tirade

Want to know my biggest pet peeve? The one question that will literally turn my vision red and have me biting my tongue to retort a smart remark?

"Are you pregnant yet/when are you having a baby?" Here's when: IT'S NONE OF YOUR GOSH DARN BUSINESS!

[Note: I love babies. They are so cute and gushy and I just want to squeeze their little cheeks. But then I get to give them back to mommy and daddy. I will have kids someday, but not now. And I realize that no form of birth control is perfect, but knock on wood so far so good. This is also in no way a bash on women who are trying/already pregnant or who are/want to be stay at home moms. I think that has to be the hardest career out there and you truly amaze me. This is strictly my personal opinion and experiences on the subject. Now back to my rant.]

Oh I'm sorry let me get this straight. Because I've been married for two years I'm expected to be knocked up at this point and pop out a child? Oh no [waves index finger in air dramatically while shaking head.]

You know what let me tell you something. If you ask me this question, my response is going to be "I can't have children, my ovaries are bad" or "I have a hostile uterus so it's questionable if I can carry a baby at all". Is that true? Absolutely not (as far as I know). Why am I saying this? Because I want you to realize how much of an jerk you are for even asking me that question. And I want you to guilty about asking me and have to stammer your way out of it.

To me that is the rudest and most personal question that you can ask someone that is absolutely 100% NONE of your business. You have no idea what a couple is going through at any point in their relationship and to have the audacity to ask when they are having children to me is just outrageous. How do you know a couple hasn't been trying for ages and are having problems? What if he's sterile? What if she just had a miscarriage? You may be asking something so deeply hurtful and not even realize it. I sure as heck never do. I'm even timid to ask a woman who is OBVIOUSLY pregnant when she's due. If they bring it up in conversation, I'm happy to chat about it. Otherwise I'm going no where near that topic.

And how many times does Nick (aka my husband) get asked that? NEVER. It's such a sexist question. Oh I'm sorry because I'm the one to carry the baby for 9 months I have to be the one constantly questioned as to when we're having children? Last time I checked this was a two person tango and my husband is just as equal a factor as me in getting pregnant/having children. So ask him when the heck we're having children, not just me. I consider myself to be extremely lucky that neither my parents nor in-laws are bugging us for grandchildren. They realize that when we are ready we will have children.

Plus, talk about awkward. Like when people ask me that in front of my parents. Right, because they really want to think about their darling daughter being pregnant. That means they have to acknowledge how it happens which blatantly means that Nick and I have sex. *gasp* I know. Doubtful your parents want to think about that entire situation either, just saying.

So if you're wondering when we're having children, guess what, it's no time soon. I won't apologize for being a career driven women without babies on the brain and I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. Am I being selfish? Absolutely. I have too many goals to achieve and places I want to travel. Deal. With. It. Or just stop asking. It's that simple.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Great Divide

Map credit (and laughs) to Joe Steinfeld
Oh New Jersey. How can one small state have so many different areas? This map was all the rage a couple months ago and it got me thinking about the great divide. I never knew how different North and South Jersey were until I went to college (what's up Marist!). And that's where it all began...

[Side-note: this is just an observation post. Please don't think I'm belittling any part of New Jersey, I'm just putting out there what I experienced while I was in college. I have a many great friends and work colleagues from different parts of the state, and I realize I'm making sweeping generalizations in this post. So everyone just calm down and have a open mind while reading this.]

I live in a small town in South Jersey. Smaller then small. People know more about me then I know about myself. And I likely don't even know who they are but they come up to me anyway and tell me things I didn't even know were public information. I'm getting out I swear, I told everyone and off to college I went, 180 miles away to Poughkeepsie, New York.

The question I got most once I arrived was 'what exit are you off the Parkway'? The first time I got that question I was a deer in headlights. I'm not off the Parkway, how do I respond?! MY ENTIRE COLLEGE CAREER DEPENDS ON THIS ANSWER! Or so I my mind screamed at me. So I'd start explaining how I'm not technically off the Parkway, but do take that to exit ___ then have to take the NJ Turnpike south to exit 7 and then have to take 206 all the way down and then I'm home. [Another side-note, I no longer take the Parkway when traveling to NY to see family/friends. 287 is a much preferred route after months of a long distance relationship. But I digress and that's for another post.]

So I learned to shorten my answer. I explained I'm not off the Parkway I was halfway between Philly and Atlantic City  but even that was too confusing to people. So when teachers made us do the awkward introductions in the beginning of every class every semester I just started  telling everyone I was from Atlantic City because that was the only landmark they knew down here.

Everyone from North Jersey talks about going to the city. The 'city' to me was Philadelphia. But in North Jersey 'the city' is New York City. NYC was only an hour and a half train ride on Metro North while I was in college, but I always equated hearing 'want to go to the city?' to Philadelphia. [Sidebar #3 - if you like any other cheese steak place then Pat's King of Steaks you are dead to me.]  And I had to explain to North Jersey-ians that for me to get to NYC from home it's over 4 hours of travel time there and back, so I don't frequent it from good old So Jo [Sidebar #4 - technically I did frequent NYC with my family once a year, but that's for another post and again, I'm digressing!].

The other weird thing is that everyone from North Jersey goes by counties they are from. Conversations would go "Where are you from?" "I'm from Monmouth County" or "I'm from Bergen county". I'm sorry, I'm not from a county. I'm from a town. That just happens to be located in the county of Atlantic. Just saying. My response was "I'm from Hammonton". Blank stare. "It's in South Jersey, don't worry about it."

And people from North Jersey seem to have much more pride in the state then I do. I mean, Jersey is cool and all. We've got Springsteen. And beaches. And the Jersey Devil. I'll never forget when I was in a communications class and someone started ripping on Jersey, a classmate legitimacy freaked out about New Jersey being better then New York. I turned to him and said 'dude its government land, not like you own the state.' Let's calm down people. New Jersey is all well and good, but so are other states. You can argue that Vermont is great because they have amazing ski resorts (so I'm told) or Delaware is amazing because they have no sales tax. It's all what you make it people.

One thing seriously lacking in North Jersey (and New York, for that matter) is Wawa. Wawa doesn't go past much of Central Jersey and there were none located in New York. There are literally two Wawa's within a mile radius of my condo. Go anywhere in South Jersey and you won't have to go far to find a Wawa. Food, coffee and snacks galore, not to mention great gas prices. Wawa is just another reason to love South Jersey. You truly don't get it until you've visited a Wawa.

The most hilarious to me is when I had a friend of mine from Long Island visit me (not North Jersey I know but stick with me). As we were driving down from Marist, we finally got off the Turnpike to Route 206. Now, anyone who drives 206 down to Hammonton knows that it is in the Pinelands. Pinelands = trees galore. And the Jersey Devil. He literally started questioning where we were headed and was convinced I was taking him into the woods to murder him as we were driving down 206. He was becoming physically uncomfortable with the forest we were driving through. Pinelands forest is nothing out of the ordinary, I explained, I grew up with the Jersey Devil. Even my colleagues from North Jersey comment about the 'back woods' they have to drive through just to get to our agency. I never realized how the stories surrounding the Pinelands freak people out. Not to worry though, the Jersey Devil and I are BFF's.

So I'm down here in South Jersey somewhere between "Pineys, Pineys Everywhere" and "Ghetto In the Woods". Although I fit into neither of these classifications as I'm more of the book-nerd-in-the-small-Italian-town-girl. And still trying (extremely unsuccessfully) to get out.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

House Hunting

My husband and I are currently house hunting. And by currently I mean we started last October. And by house hunting I mean torturing ourselves every weekend and usually just coming home with a ginormous headache. Who knew it would be this difficult to find the home of our dreams. Or maybe we are just too picky?

Now I realize that there are much bigger problems in the world then not being to find the perfect home. But being this is my blog, I get to complain about my first world problem.

Like I said, we started this hunt back in October, and we've seen more loser homes then we have winners. We decided that buying was more within our budget then building a home. We got pre-qualified, found the price range we believe we can afford, and started searching on internet sites (trulia, realtor, and zillow to be exact). We are lucky that in that my family business does not only insurance but also sells real estate, so our agent is my father. That means no pressure to buy and guidance that is truly looking out for our best interest, not just making the sale on his end. Plus a lot of laughs.

Some of these homes have been so skeevy I felt like I needed shower after walking out. One home we loved the lot it was on as it was a cul-de-sac, but that's where it ended. All you had to do was walk in the home to feel dirty. The rugs were stained and worn. The linoleum was yellowed and rolling up. There were holes in the walls and light fixtures ripped out of sockets. The entire interior needed to be gutted and re-built. Another home had shit on the wall. Literally, there were feces on the bedroom wall. Whether it was human or animal we didn't stick around to see, but it was disgusting.

And to make matters worse it's not like we are looking in sub-standard areas. These are in gorgeous neighborhoods with great schools in the area. Two stories houses with 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths and full basements. Which leads to the question is this really how people live? Or is this the state of the economy? People know they will be losing their house so they trash the place, knowing the bank will never get the money they invested  because it's in such deplorable condition? It's really quite remarkable (and disturbing).

And the taxes. New Jersey is just out of control. I mean the mortgage payment is going to be less then what we are currently paying in rent, but the taxes will be like making a second mortgage payment a month. Like I said, it's not like we're looking at $500,000 dollar homes. These are middle class homes with $7-$8,000 taxes a year and this is just the taxes to start. That means they can only go up from here, which is terrifying. I'll need a second job just to pay for my taxes.

Then there are short sales. A lot of nice homes we look at are short sales and I'm doinng my research. But the conclusions I'm drawing is that it is a nightmare. It can take 6 months or longer to even get into the home because the bank needs to do enough research on you to make the CIA proud. Then they'll still want your blood type, kidney, and first born child. To make matters worse is you can put all this effort into the home and still not get it if the former owners are become more financially secure. Of all the good stories I've heard (one, to be exact), there are 10 horror stories. Which has us questioning if it is even worth it to get involved in. But with so many houses on the market currently in short sale status, they are pretty difficult to avoid.

Speaking of doing research online, I have to complain about the digital age. Here we are in an age of technology that is so immediate that information can be updated in seconds. I have seen homes updated on these sites with price reductions, but when we call for a showing they say it's already under contract. I'm sorry, let me get this straight. You updated the website to say that the home price was reduced by $10,000 but not to change the status from active to under contract? That obviously makes perfect sense.

But the cherry on top has to be the frustrating aspect of obtaining a mortgage. We only got pre-qualified and they still wanted our tax records and paycheck stubs. We've already been informed that they'll then need our bank statements to see our income and spending monthly. We'll need to justify any loans we have and how they are being paid (aka student or car loans). The few as always have managed to ruined it for the many. I feel like I'm in grade school again. The teacher can't figure out who wrote the bad word on the chalk board, so the whole class gets punished. Banks made bad investment decisions and  many people were given mortgage loans they truly couldn't afford all because the banks wanted to make quick money. Now because these people defaulted on their loans, we are being scrutinized. Here my husband and I are, responsible adults waiting to purchase a home until we had a down payment and knew we could afford it, and we have to be put under a microscope to be sure we won't default. So because we were smart and responsible, we are being penalized. Because the banks made bad decisions, we are punished with a monthly mortgage insurance if we don't put 20% down. Got to love Big Brother.

So tonight hubby and I sat at dinner, talked about the couple homes we will see tomorrow morning, and wondered if we will find one we want to make an offer on, or just find more shit.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Because I Got High

So in an effort to not jinx my registration to the Broad Street Run (and with their website issues, was questionable), I can now officially say that I made it into the race again this year! Have I mentioned I HATE running?

What you say? You hate running yet you're doing a 10 mile race down Broad Street in Philly for the second year in a row? Why yes my friend and let me explain why. I'm addicted to the high. Here's how I got my fix.

I was not very active during my college years, other then bringing the beer bottle up to my lips (not until I was 21, obviously). I did get a personal trainer when I graduated who was crucial in helping me to get in shape before my wedding (and learn proper lifting technique). After that it was just normal everyday cardio and gym classes.

My lovely, wonderful mother had a mid-life crisis about 2 years ago and decided to get in shape (she looks fantastic by the way!) Part of her life re-vamping was not only eating right and weight training, but she also started running. A lot. She tried to get me to go along with the whole running situation but I was just not having it. It was boring, and it was hard. And I absolute HATE the treadmill (yes, let's make running even more dreadful by staying in one place) so cold/rainy days left me run-less. Then she signed up for the Philadelphia Half Marathon in November of 2010. Like any good daughter, I went with my father to support her at the finish line (plus, the promise of Pat's Steaks).

Being at the half-marathon that day changed everything in my eyes. There were people everywhere. Of all ages, shapes, and sizes. All were there for one thing: to run this half marathon. We saw mom to her corral. The energy in the air was tangible. There were family members with signs and bullhorns, shouting words of encouragement to their loved ones. Racer's had hilarious shirts that read "Does this shirt makes my butt look fast?" and "Please let there is someone behind me to read this". These people weren't here to break records, they were here to have FUN. As soon as my mom crossed the finish line I was hooked and told her that next year I was going to run a half marathon too.

So I started training spring 2011. It wasn't pretty. I am slow. Like slower then slow. Turtles might have something on me. But you know what, I finish. I made three different playlists with songs that I loved because to me, having an awesome soundtrack was the only way I could get through my runs. I needed the music to help propel me forward. Everyone kept telling me at a certain point you'll feel a runners high. Whatever you say crazy, I thought as my quads were on fire and I tended to yet another blister on my foot. I was convinced that the runner's high was something people just told you to make you keep running. It had to be a lie.

I believe it was my best friend Colleen who got us interested in running Broad Street 10 miler last year. I was terrified. I hadn't run anything further than a 5K in race setting, and the last training run I did was only 7 miles. But hey, if I was going for a half marathon this year, a 10-miler is a good stepping stone. The morning of the race, my mom, Colleen, and I met a good friend of ours at his house in Philly and went down to the Septa station to get to the starting line. The train was packed. We were runners on-top of runners ontop of runners. No personal space here . Nerves were high; this was a lot of people's first race. We were all joking about how we were 'glad we showered' and 'hope everyone wore deodorant' to help calm ourselves. Last words of encouragement were spoken as we got off the train and into the masses.

Once again, there were people everywhere. It was organized chaos. I have never seen a crowd like that in my life. My mom was leaving right after the race for vacation, but Colleen and I had a plan of where to meet at the end. I was grateful to be running with my iPhone because I was sure I would get lost. How could you not with 30,000 people? We found our corral and waited. The guns finally went off for the first corral, and then the crowd starts moving forward. After about 20 minutes it was our corral's turn to start. Colleen turns to me and says "you ready?". I don't know if I even responded, I think I managed a nod. All I know is we started our race timers/play lists and off we went.

I managed to keep pace with Colleen for 7 miles (which is a feat in and of itself because she's amazingly fast) and could not believe how many people were LINING the race course. Everywhere you looked there were choirs singing outside of churches, people clapping and cheering, kids waving and putting out their hands for high-fives as you pass. I don't think there was a stretch of that 10 mile run that didn't have people there. Talk about encouragement; complete strangers were rooting for you. Even runners as we went by each other were commenting on shirts being worn and motivating each other.

Broad Street Run ends at the Navy Yard in Penn's Landing. I'll never forget the feeling that surged through me once I saw went around the arches to enter the Navy Yard. That was my landmark; I knew I had only a half mile left. I've got this I told myself, I can finish this. The feeling when I crossed that finish line was indescribable. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to laugh, cry, and shout out loud all at the same time. I was shaking from exhaustion and excitement. That was the runner's high I'd been missing. I had lived to tell about my first distance race.

No, those purple nails aren't just matching my polish color 

 Naturally after I came down off that high, I had some  battle wounds. I had blood blisters underneath two  toe nails (photo left) and my legs were like jelly for  most of the next week. But toenails grow back (albeit,  extremely slow and not a pleasant process). But I  wanted more. I wanted that high again.

 I ended up doing two half marathons in the fall, one in  September and one in October. I for one, do not  recommend doing two so close to each other, but  lesson learned. Although I still got the rush from  finishing, it didn't feel the same as Broad Street. So  that's my running goal this year, push myself more. So  much of running for me is mental. It's not that my leg's  hurt, it's my mind messing with me. And I'm not going  to let it win this year.

Training starts March 1st for me. I have the Phillies 5K on March 31st. Broad Street May 6th. Tour de Shore Bike Race July 29th. Baltimore Relay with my mom, aunt, and cousin October 13th. And possibly a half-marathon in there somewhere. Just look for me!  I'll be the slow and steady one, just happy to finish the race.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Valentine's Hate

Okay, so here comes the obligatory Valentine's Day post. And apparently hating Valentine's Day is becoming more common (and more annoying to people) then actually enjoying the day.

As you can probably tell by the title, I'm a hater. I've always hated Valentine's Day as my mother constantly tells me every time I say that. When you were little you spent hours analyzing those pre-printed boxed cards because everyone in class had to get one. You didn't want to send the wrong message to your crush or the creepy kid who sits behind you and always smells your hair. And then after your teacher had you walk around the room and place them all into the paper bags on everyone's desk you would frantically search for the meaning behind the ones given to you. Then eat enough of those red lollipops with the white writing (BEST cherry flavor EVER), candy hearts, and chocolate to kill a small elephant.

But I think most of my hatred is because most of my February 14th's were spent Valentine's less, thus making me feel pretty shitty about myself. Am I bitter? Absolutely. Even now with a husband I'm still bitter from those that have passed with me, alone, in the corner of my bed, crying over my chocolate, listening to sappy love songs on repeat and wondering why I was alone. Have I had some good ones, sure. But I'm pretty sure that in my 26 years, I can only count them on one hand.

In my opinion, any 'holiday' that makes an individual feel bad about themselves as a person is unacceptable. Who says you need to be with someone in order to be happy? Some of the best times in my life were when I was single (sorry dear) because I got to grow and learn about myself. Be who I want to be, do what I want to do. Find out what I like and don't like. Experience new things and have lots of adventures with my girl friends. Valentine's Day seems like just a pressurized holiday to be anything but alone. But I truly don't understand what's so wrong with that. Yes, let's make a holiday where men feel pressure to buy expensive gifts, women feel entitled to expect big, sparkly gifts, and all the singles feel like they're scum of the earth because they have no one to celebrate it with. No thank you.

Sure, you say, the married girl bitches about how lame Valentine's Day is but she's not spending it alone. I hear the criticisms running through your head, the rolled eyes as you read this because I don't know what I'm talking about. But I do and always have felt this way. To me, it's always been an over commercialized holiday built around making money for card stores/flower shops/jewelry stores/chocolate companies. Oh and probably stuffed animal companies. Let's be real, those are the businesses that make bank on the 14th every. Single. Year.

Also if you propose on Valentine's Day I seriously want to punch you in the face. But that's my opinion on proposing on any holiday/birthday. Not cool man, not cool. Make you're proposal unique and special to you, not piggy backed off an already distinctive day.

So how will I be spending my Valentine's evening? Hubby and I are not celebrating it. I'm going to the gym and getting my ass kicked in kettle bell class.  Mostly because I look forward to February 15th, which is half-off all chocolate day. Guess who will be buying (and consuming) a box of chocolates that day. Priorities people!!

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Kids These Days

I saw a few of my Facebook friends had posted this video and though at first was appalled by the 8+ minute length, was extremely grateful at the end that I sat through the video (more on that later). If you have not seen the video of the Dad Uses Facebook to Teach Daughter A Lesson I've linked it for your viewing pleasure.

Now let me first state that I am a 26 year old, married female with no children. I am not currently pregnant, not looking to try to get pregnant any time soon, and still am terrified of getting pregnant as all I can imagine is the scene from Alien when the baby alien spawn pops out of Kane's stomach. Hopefully one day I'll get over this fear, but I'm pretty sure my biological clock is broken.

With that being said, I have had the opportunity of working with children. The most experience I've are my time of being a Certified Babysitter when I was younger (yes, I took a course and all), as well as a lifeguard at a summer camp for five years. Besides being in the company of the few friends that have children, I'm a novice and readily admit that I know nothing about raising a child.

After watching the above video, it got me thinking to when I was younger, and the chores/responsibilities my parents had me and my siblings do. We each had a responsibility. Mine was vacuuming. My sister's was dusting. I'm not too sure what my little brother's was because he was (is) the favorite child. Okay fine his was mowing the lawn. Once a week I was expected to vacuum all the rugs in the home, a chore that took me probably all of about a half hour to complete between upstairs and downstairs. I was slightly compensated by my parents with an allowance, but nothing crazy out of the ordinary. I was also expected to make my bed and keep my room neat.

But then there were other things I would help my parents do just naturally. Help my mom clear the table and do dishes after dinner. I'd empty the dishwasher in the morning as I was usually the first one downstairs. Grabbing bottles of soda or food that were in the outside refrigerator. When I started to drive I would run errands for them if they needed me to. I never gave much thought as this girl in the video obviously did, that my parents should stop being "lazy" and just do it all themselves. The way I saw it, I was just helping them out as any child would do. I was always greatful for whatever little allowance my parents gave me and never expected anything from them. These duties were a part of living in my parents home as they work all day and it's just a little I can do to help them out.

So at what point did children become so ungrateful? The girl in this video posts a lengthy paragraph of how terrible her parents are and how they need to stop being lazy and she won't be there for them when they need her at an older age. I was speechless as this man read that. I mean I get that children aren't always going to get along with their parents perfectly 24/7 (I'm surprised my father didn't murder me with some of the boys I dated). But from the sounds of it, this dad wasn't asking much of his daughter, just some chores around the house. When did it become okay for children to not have responsibility? Where did this sense of entitlement come from? Is this a new trend? Poor parenting? The wave of the future? (God I hope not)

I don't think that this dad was being outlandish when he posted this video. I don't know anything about raising a child in this day in age, as the internet was still dial up when I was younger and car phone's were only used to make calls. In my opinion, this man's daughter was being an ungrateful little brat in posting that Facebook status. Not to mention stupid. I'm sorry but your father works in IT and has already lectured you about those kind of postings in the past. Do you really think you can keep anything private on a COMPUTER from him? Child please.

Anyway, parents, for the most part (as I do realize there is such a thing as a bad parents), provide so much for their children. So does it come down to that while providing children with so much, parents aren't teaching their children to be thankful? Is it them just being lazy parents or are the children learning it from other sources? I was raised to be greatful for anything I have (not in a guilty way) but to realize there are so many people in the world who don't have the things I do. As this man so aptly stated, he's given his daughter a laptop, iPod and updated the software on her computer. Not to mention I'm assuming she's got a roof over her head, 3 square meals a day, and a loving father that does all of this for her. The way I saw my life was the same thing. My parents never made me feel guilted into helping them as they did sacrifice so much for me. Plus, chores taught me responsibility. I knew I had duties to complete and if they weren't I didn't my allowance. Which pretty much sounds like work, because if I don't complete what I need to do, I don't get paid.

But the best part of the video was by far when he (SPOILER ALERT) shot the laptop. When he pulled out the gun I legitimately yelled at my computer screen "oh no he's not". AND THEN HE DID. Over dramatic, yes. But I hope it teaches this brat a lesson.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

I Finally Did It

I hate to say it because I don't really believe in New Year's Resolutions (honestly, who keeps them past March?), but I finally started a blog. I swore that I was going to start writing again this year and made it my goal to do so. It may have taken a month and a half(ish) but hey, better late then never.

Technically  I've always been a writer. I've kept journals since I learned how to write. Remember Lisa Frank Diaries with the locks and keys? I have multiple. And have had my grandmother find and correct my spelling in entries. But that's for another blog post.

Keeping track of day to day life, problems, triumphs, life lessons and loves lost has always been a big part of my life. And I love going back to see how much I've changed from the experiences I've had. So I thought why not keep it electronically? Plus with all the typing I do at work my handwriting has become atrocious other then my signature. And my hand cramps if I'm writing longer then scribbling notes down. Wah wah.

I have to give credit where credit is due and say a big thank you to my husband, who helped me name the blog and constantly supports all the crazy ideas I have in my head. Like when I just decide "hey, I'm going to run a half-marathon" or "I'm doing a 65 mile bike ride from Philly to Atlantic City" or "I'm going to start a blog" (all of which I'm doing, again, this year. Naturally more posts will follow). He always looks at me, says "go for it" and continues to support me all the way through. So thank you for the support, love, and helping me constantly remember which movie I know "that" actor from.

There's definitely more to this blog title then meets the eye, but I'll go with the obvious. In short, I have ridiculous curly hair (which is a whole other blog post for a future date). While bantering back and forth about blog names and hubby mentioned the title "Living with Curls" I thought it couldn't be more appropriate label for not only mine, but life in general. Living with curly hair has it's challenges; it's constantly throwing you through a loop of how it's going to work with you on a daily basis. Much like life, living with curly hair is full of surprises, twists and turns. And even when you think you have it under control, it throws you through another wave.

So sit back, relax and enjoy the random ramblings of a woman who is just living with curls.