Irrelevant and unrelated stuff.

1. Window strikes. We have a big picture window in the back of the new house. It faces the foothills. It also reflects the sky, if you happen to be flying toward the house, as one unfortunate bird apparently was:

I allowed myself a laugh the first time because there wasn't a little feathered body lying on the patio; most were just a bit stunned and flew away. Then came the fateful day, a tiny lifeless body on the patio, and I hung wind chimes in front of the window. No more bird dust on the window, no more bodies, I keep my view.

2. Spoiled. I just can't come to this salon any more. It's too casual. It's a 45 minute drive to listen to people people yelling jokes to each other and screaming babies whose mommies weren't willing to put off their hair appointment until they could find a babysitter. The low point came when the owner, who was working on my hair, wanted to have the elderly and severely hyperopic shampoo lady do my color while my stylist did other things. (She's also the owner.) How do I know the shampoo lady is hyperopic? Because she did my pedicure once, and there was nail polish all over my toes. I hyperventilated, and she relented, but now begins the ardous journey of finding a new stylist. One who will devote their time to me fully. I have a bad feeling that devoted $tylist$ are more expen$ive than the other kind.

4. Girls Day Out. Last week, DP, SWTriGal, Cindy, and I went to Santa Fe for a girl's day out. It was close to my 44th birthday and I wanted to celebrate. We spent the morning at 10000 Waves, where we soaked in a hot tub in the snow in the mountains outside Santa Fe. Naked TriChicks in a hot tub! No, there are no naked tri-chick hot-tub pictures. Afterwards, I got my very first facial. I felt like I'd been dipped in valium. Now, of course, I'm thoroughly spoiled.

5. New shoes. I didn't buy these Borns last fall, and I've been thinking about them ever since. I couldn't get them off my mind. But that's not what makes them important.

What makes them important is that I'm wearing heels, with jeans, which I swore I would never do until I was a size 4. I'm not a size 4. I'm a size 12. And I'm wearing heels with jeans. Heel with Jeans. As long as I stay away from mirrors, I can teeter around feeling that I'm a size 4 and lanky.

6. I'm registered for Ironman St. George, 2010. Ulp. The interesting part will be getting iron-distance swims in during the winter.

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