Chaotic… Here we come…

Life goes from busy to psychotic at the flip of a switch, naturally with no warning what-so-ever. Thanksgiving blurred into Christmas and without even a breathe, we are now moving out of our house, a rental, no thanks to the owners deciding to abruptly sell. This hectic schedule has become a strange new way of life. SO just to make it ready stand out, why not throw a new pet into the mix.

The newest Andrewartha..

The newest Andrewartha..

My sister always says, “Go Big or Go Home” and it’s funny how much I emulate that statement. All the “spare time” I had before has blown out the window along with what little sanity I had left.

With that, I apologize for the delay of writing this next post which is only about 3 months overdue.. I can honestly say that over the last couple of months so much has happened that I have plenty to say to amuse myself and hopefully keep my brain from completely crashing into a babbling pool of slime.

As for now, my new focus in life is to keep a bouncing (seriously, she thinks she is part rabbit), stubborn (and part human toddler), chewing, barking, digging, swimming, happy pile of puppy love from getting out of the house while packing, shifting, lifting and relocating items from one house to another. When I moved here we had very little. After one short year of being here….. where the hell did all this stuff come from? Seriously I have no idea how we managed to obtain so much stuff… x8 people… even Matthew’s daughter has things here.. This is going to be very interesting indeed. So my next adventure seems to begin. Time for a little house hunting.

I am considering contacting a TV network and pitching our life as a reality show to fund this crazy operation!


To Cut or Not To Cut……My hair that is…

I get the “What were you thinking, moving here all the way from New York?” a lot. Moving to Australia, the first thing people pick up is my accent even though, I’m pretty sure they are the ones who have it. I tell them all…. it’s just another part of my adventurous life.. Tell that to my hair!

Like any child, my mother took me to her hairdresser. Everyone grows up and gets older, and so does your taste in style. You get over your mother’s “Old School” stylist and move on to one of your own. I’m one of those people who really hates my hair the same for too long. Because of this I regularly change my hair. Since High School I have either had my style changed, or my hair dyed/frosted/high-lighted, whatever, about every 3-4 months. Bangs being the most fun… The tedious growing out the bangs, only to cut them in frustration when they hit that certain length. Each hair-cut would be one frustration after another, because I would never stay with the same hair-stylist twice. They would always do at least one thing I didn’t like and I would move on. I would even, on occasion, go back to my mother’s stylist only to realize why I stopped in the first place. It is the challenge of a lifetime to find someone to be happy with. A hair-dresser soul-mate.

Then comes college… where no one has the money to get an expensive hair-cut. Your to busy making what little money you can so you can drink it away at some bar your friends all like hanging out in. So either it’s never cut, or you hand the scissors to a friend who “has cut hair before”, which is always an interesting fashion statement, to say the least. I can remember my friends and I all sitting around one day  in the middle of the Frat house my boyfriend (at the time) belonged to, just cutting hair. The guys just lined up and sat down. I found out I’m not too bad at it. No one left with a bald spot, at least not a noticeable one. Ha ha ha

As your patience and the years go by, you finally manage to find this one amazing hairdresser, who cuts your hair twice and moves to the other end of the damn country. You get that 6 month bliss of having great hair and then it’s snatched away from you, without even a notice. You just call to make an appointment one day, and they inform you she has moved on and your quest has to start all over again! UGH!

Now, I have a 14-year-old daughter of my own, who through most of her childhood, kept her hair short. She was taught that if she was not going to keep her hair out of her beautiful face, and take care of it properly, then it was to stay short and manageable. So finally at 12, when I was sick to death of seeing it short, I convinced her to grow it out. We made a pact to grow our hair out long enough to donate it for cancer. Mykalyn has this amazingly thick flow of medium red hair. The highlights are all natural, even though I have been accused many times of streaking it. And her curls… They are lively, big, fluffy and soft. The hair all of us straight girls dream of.

A few years ago, in the midst of looking for a back-to-school trim for my daughter (and still not finding a suitable place to keep my business), I decide to walk into a fast-cut place. $12.00 for a kids hair-cut. Typical to any other fast-cut salon, they had 15 different stations, with 10 different hair stylists on duty and they were banging cuts out like an assembly line. My faith was still shattered from the last terrible hair-cut (that cost me $75 and I left in tears) and my anxiety level was at an all time high. Now I know what your thinking… seriously… it’s just a hair-cut. But in my not-so-normal world, it’s just one of those things I feel I need to have the control over. Some people have an obsession with their car, others may need their desk at work to be just sooo. Mine is my hair.

Mykalyn’s name is announced, jolting me out of my dazed confusion that is a busy salon. Almost completely drowned out by the hair dryers, and the obnoxious chatter of the girl sitting next to me on her cell, planning some hot party. So I look up to see where this voice is coming from, and my heart skips a beat. This adorable girl with this perky little voice calls her name again. I’m serious… it was like a sign from above. She was shrouded with bright light and a halo and I could even hear the faint sound of an organ off in the distance somewhere. And that was it.

She cut Mykalyn’s hair to perfection. So much so, that I sat down next and I didn’t even need anything. She proceeded to fix the $75 hair-cut from the week before and did both our heads for half the price of my last. My love affair with my hair had gone to an all-time high. And to top it all off, she has now branched out into her very own salon so I know she isn’t going anywhere. And cancer causes are very near and dear to her as well. She has lost her mother to cancer and from the stories she tells me about her mom, she was a wonderful person. Kristen, my favorite hair stylist, is a master of her trade and I have never cheated. Who would want to when you have the perfect stylist. Compliments became a part of my world and I was never shy to share my secret. My quest was complete. I was one very happy girl.

And…… bang. We up and move to another country. In the 9 months we have lived here I have not gotten even so much as a trim. It is so long now, I could probably donate it twice. I have trimmed Mykalyn’s a couple times so she doesn’t get split ends, but that’s it. Matthew laughs at me every time my hair is unruly and tells me to just go get it trimmed. I just glare at him and he laughs even harder. I give him the same answer every time…. “My stylist is in New York… If you’re not careful, I’ll leave you for her!” Lord, please help me find some money in our budget to book a flight home so I can get my HAIR CUT! I’m not sure if I can handle the hunt for someone new… again. UGH!


If you have a special person who provides you a service you can’t live without, feel free to share and don’t forget to tell them you can’t live without them! 🙂

The adventure begins….What was I thinking?

My head is buzzing with more ideas that one person should possibly deal with.. so here I go blurting out whatever comes to mind. Be kind, this is my first stab at writing in any followed form. And seriously, pre-coffee me loves to misspell!

I have done some crazy things in my life. Nothing so crazy that I couldn’t recover from the shock… and I guess some might even find me rather boring and remedial. To those people I say.. I have had my fun crazy moments, enjoyed most of it, and don’t regret any part of my life. Which brings me to my latest crazy maneuver.

9 months ago, I hopped a plane with my 13-year-old daughter heading half-way across the world to start a whole new adventure. Strange as it seems to my new friends here, I left my comfy life in Upstate New York, leaving behind everyone I know and everything I understood. I climbed out of that final plane after an almost 2 day trip with my daughter babbling like a 2-year-old with a bad case of jet-lag and killer hunger pains… into my new reality. A dream come true move to Australia where the man of my dreams was eagerly awaiting my arrival. More like he was jumpy and nervous about our safe arrival with hair sticking up as if he had been trying to pull it out.

Our first priority… a shower. Next… to a store for a hair dryer and a coffee maker. He just laughed and found it so strange that these 2 items be so very important.. nowadays, he gets this tick to his cheek if the coffee isn’t made when he walks out of the bedroom in the morning.

Walking into our house the first time… bare necessities would be a kind way of putting it. Bachelor pad is more accurate… I have my work cut out for me. I see he didn’t spare much expense on the tv!  Nothing by way of decorations. According to Matthew, the TV is the decoration! That’s usually when I smile and giggle and secretly pull an Ally McBeal and shake him senselessly. Nothing on the walls with only blinds on the windows. And white…. whats up with that horribly bright white people put on new walls. Don’t they know how painfully depressing it is to look at that hospital white wall?

Now, as if the situation wasn’t wacky enough. Dragging my daughter along for the ride as been quite the bonding experience. Now let’s add the rest of the crew to this strange tale. Matthew has 5, yes I said 5.. children. His oldest is now 17 and his only girl. the 4 boys range from 13 to 8. My guess.. I didn’t have enough drama living in New York so …. what the heck, let’s completely change everything as we know it, and do the opposite. Strap on your seat belts people. It’s going to be one crazy ride.

%d bloggers like this: