Flip Flops….check

Bathing Suits…check

Beach Towels…check

Sunscreen….hmmmm. Need to get that.

No sooner had I made that list before my trip to Hawaii this summer, the good folks at Nature’s Basin, purveyors of organic beauty products, contacted me and asked if I’d like to try something from their inventory.

Boy, that request couldn’t have come at a better time.

After perusing their natural beauty products site, I picked the Soleo Organics All Natural Sunscreen:

Soleo Organics All Natural Sunscreen from Nature's Basin

I’d never tried an organic sunscreen before. I was interested to see if the organic product would perform any differently than the non-organic sunscreens I’ve always used.

Here’s the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly breakdown…

The Good:

It came within day thanks to the great shipping and handling folks at Nature’s Basin.

I loved the handy dandy caribeaner I could use to attach to my backpack.

We hauled the sunscreen all over Oahu and the package never leaked, even when I accidentally left it in a hot car.

The Bad:

The sunscreen had a gritty texture that was unpleasant to smear on my skin. It also took a long time to work into the skin. I racked those issues up to the zinc oxide and cupuacu seed.

The sunscreen’s 30+SPF didn’t do much to protect me. Granted, my skin is so far that it’s nearly transparent and I could have applied it more often, but, in the end, I didn’t get any better protection on one shoulder (where I used the organic sunscreen) than I did from the Banana Boat sunscreen I had on the other shoulder. After a day driving up the coast in a convertible, I looked like this:

The hotel lighting didn't do it justice.

The Ugly:

Here’s what I looked like after I gave it a second try on our day of surfing and parasailing:

Note my shoulders. Yes. It hurt.

To be fair, I wouldn’t judge all of the organic products offered at Nature’s Basin by the performance of this one item. They do have a huge selection of items. So, if you’re looking for natural beauty products, they’re definitely worth a look.

Disclosure: I received a sample from Nature’s Basin to try out and review. I received no other compensation for this post.

Funny things happen when you go to the movies here in Vegas.

Sometimes you meet interesting people.

Sometimes those interesting people offer you free shoes for your kid.

I love it when that happens, don’t you?

Hmmm. You mean that’s never happened to you before?

Well. It should.

Especially when they’re Pediped shoes.

Especially when you’ve been dealing with a stench from your three-year-old son’s shoes that could be bottled and used as a weapon of mass destruction.

Especially when money is tight and you’re looking at a hefty bill for back to school clothes for the three year old and his private school uniform-wearing big sister.

Especially when you can print out a cool sizing chart from their website and order with confidence knowing that the shoes may actually fit.

Especially when the shoes come with these nifty inserts that allow you to order shoes a little on the big size since you know your three year old’s foot grew a whole size in nine months.

Especially when the Pediped shoes are made like shoes should be made — so that kids grow out of the shoes before they wear out.

Especially when the shoes are really super-cute and come in cool color combinations that made your three-year-old happy.

Especially when the Velcro enclosures are strong enough to stay in place, but easy enough for the three-year-old to take them off himself before he tracks dirt on your couch. (We’re still working on the motor skills needed for him to put them on himself.)

Espcially when the shoes have awesome memory foam that keeps the three-year-old from whining that his feet hurt on long walks (Yes, he still whines, but not about his shoes. Some things Pediped can’t fix.)

Especially when the three-year-old wears the shoes on 110+ summer days in and out of the water and neither his feet nor the shoes smell – AT ALL.

Especially when your kid looks this cute wearing them.

Disclosure: The woman I met at the movies offered the shoes without requesting a review. She didn’t even know I was a blogger at the time. See? Cool things happen at Vegas movie theaters. I need to go to the movies more. Mama could use a new pair of winter boots.

UPDATE: And the Winner is….Marcie W! Congratulations!

Mondays are a bitch and yesterday was no exception.

Somehow my alarm clock malfunctioned. Fortunately my ever-vigilant three-year-old was up at 6 a.m. on the dot and saved me from utter ruin…well, until he decided to throw a major fit about everything under the sun. There weren’t enough Lightning McQueens on his underwear. His toothpaste was too blue. His sister got to the bottom of the stairs before him. Somehow, some night gnome pushed the boy’s “brat” button and jammed it stuck. It was one of those mornings where I was happy to hand him off to the paid professionals at daycare.

I think the night gnome made the rounds in the wee Monday morning hours. People in traffic were jerks. I nearly lost my temper at the office. And, for some insane reason, I got a bug up my butt to start my graduate school career a year earlier than my original plan.

So, when I got home, I knew the dragon that crawled out of his loft bed still needed to be tamed and I had a grad school app to start working on. AND I had a ton of writing work to get moving on. Oh? And laundry. Let’s not forget that.

So…what better time to do the taste test for Seattle’s Best iced coffee drinks? Their PR peeps sent me samples about a week ago and they’d been chilling in the fridge, just waiting for the right moment.

Something told me this was a prime time. So, here’s my review.

Seattle’s Best Iced Coffee Drink Review

You know, there’s a reason that directors hate working with animals and kids, or in my case, kids with animals.

If I didn’t have to keep the kids from knocking open cans of iced coffee on my desk, I would have told you that I was really surprised how much I liked these things. The vanilla and mocha flavors were very smooth and rich.

By the time I downed the mocha one (the only one I actually finished that night), I was full enough that I really could have gone to bed without dinner. Hell, the sugar and caffiene high had me soaring well past midnight.

These were so good, that I dragged the kids to the store after work and got some of these (we needed milk and bananas, so you all can back off on the judgy stuff). At about $5.50 a four-pack, this was a great deal, especially when you consider that I spend about $20 a week on four frappachinos from Crack-bucks.

So, I’d say that if you’re a caffeine addict like me, go buy yourself a pack and give them a try. Or, you can win a pack from the good folks at Seattle’s Best. You can win a 4-pack of each of the three flavors I tried.

Here’s how:

1. Tell me your favorite coffee drink. Are you a latte person? Is a frappachino more to your liking? Do you take it straight up black, or are there more accoutrements than coffee?
2. Leave a comment below by midnight (pacific time) on Monday, May 24, 2010. One comment per person, please.
3. The winner will be chosen by a random draw and posted here after the award has been confirmed.

Good luck and bottoms up! If you really like the stuff, sign up on the website and, if you’re one of the first 10,000 people, they’ll send you some cool stuff.

[This was a solicited, but uncompensated review. Samples and giveaways were provided by the manufacturer, but in no way influenced my opinions of the product. Trust me. I've reviewed samples and haven't been a fan.]

Growing up, my nose was trained to believe that clean was a cocktail of clorox, windex, glass wax and any other chemical compound ending in “x.”)

I carried on my mother’s tradition, carting around my bucket o’solvents from room to room. Dusting and sanitizing, de-spotting and unsticking.

And then I had kids. And then I started to feel a little bit guilty about the chemicals I was exposing them to. However, they made my life even messier, so my chemical warfare was only matched by my consumption of roll upon roll of paper towels.

And then, I saw it.

I believe I was up nursing Boo more than six years ago and saw the informercial. A steam cleaning miracle that would sanitize and disinfect every surface of my home.No chemicals. Just hot water.

I lusted after an appliance named for a fish.

Yes. I wanted The Shark Steam Pocket Cleaner.

But I held back. I held fast to my bucket and brushes for more than six years and then…

I went to Costco.

And it was there.

I had to have it.

I sat on the hallway floor (standing guard to keep Doodle in bed) with all the parts strewn about me. I spent an hour (yes, he takes THAT long to pass out) pouring over the manuals, information sheets and accessory order forms. I didn’t care that it was now 10 p.m.

I wanted to clean.

Crap.

I needed distilled water. (Vegas water is too hard and clogs steam appliances faster than a cheeseburger through Rush Limbaugh’s arteries.)

So, finally, I got a jug on the way home tonight. I could hear the angels ready to part the clouds and sing. My house would be cleaner than it’s ever been! I wouldn’t have to use a single paper towel! I would be a green goddess of home cleaning!

Well, I tried it. And…

it sucked.

Here’s why:

1. It took at least four different attachments to clean the bathroom. Switching them out and then waiting for the larger pieces to gather enough steam to work took a lot of time. So much time, in fact that it took me three times longer than usual. And, since I usually clean all three bathrooms at the same time, plugging and unplugging and attaching and detaching became so annoying that I gave up after doing only two bathrooms.
2. The attachments were difficult to use. Maneuvering around all the bends and curves of a bathroom with the tools was nearly impossible. I kept thinking that I had way better dexterity with my hand and a paper towel.
3. It didn’t clean. The mirrors were streaked. The dust and hair on my bathroom counters just got steam cleaned and then glued back to the surface. I had to go back with a rag to pick up everything it left behind. If this appliance has a forte, it’s not that it picks up anything big enough to see. My guess is that I would need to clean the surfaces with my regular cleaner, Trader Joe’s Next To Godliness Multi-Purpose Cleaner, and then “sanitize” it with The Shark. I thought this thing was supposed to save me time? Why would I clean my bathroom twice?

Sorry Shark, you’re going back to the store (thanks to Costco’s great return policy). The 80 bucks I’ll get back will be going toward more paper towels and Joe’s spray.

I'll take the spray over The Shark any day.

(Note: This was an unsolicited and unpaid review. I just tell it like it is, ‘yo.)

The nice folks over at 20th Century Fox sent us an advance copy of the Strawberry Shortcake: The Berryfest Princess Movie and asked us to give it a watch and review.

We watched it this weekend and here’s what my 6YO daughter, Boo, thought:

Boo’s Shortcake Review.

Side note: She was playing with her stuffed horse’s tail. Looking at it now, it’s a little disturbing.

Here are some of my observations:

In the previews, Orange Blossom with her light tan skin, seemed to be the lovely Latina of the group. When the film started, she had transformed into an African-American character, equally lovely mind you. The switch was so odd, that we actually went back and watched them both again, not believing what we saw. While I was befuddled why both groups couldn’t get their berrytastic props in Berrybitty City, my Boo had some very interesting explanations, including:

• “Mommy, she just spent too much time in the garden and got a tan.”
• “Oh, they just changed the lighting in the movie, so her skin looks lighter in the preview.”

Hmmm. I’m not sure what’s up, but I’d like to give the filmmakers the benefit of the doubt.

I like the general updated look of the characters. I was a Strawberry Shortcake collector when I was my daughter’s age (I think I still have some of the smell-tastic figures in storage somewhere). They kept Strawberry Shortcake sweet and genuinely nice, but they took out the token male in the group and the old villain is long gone.

The story in the movie is broken up into three main plot arcs. The first focuses on the election of the Berryfest princess, which turns out to be Strawberry Shortcake (shocker, I know). The second, on the stresses of planning the festival parade, where Strawberry learns even though you delegate important duties to reliable friends, your friends will let you down because they’re all a bowlful of flaky fruits. The calamity continues in the third section where the Berryfest feast (say that three times fast) is almost brought to a standstill when Strawberry gives the sacred wonderberry to an ailing and injured bird. But, have no fear…all’s well that ends well and Strawberry saves the day.

Movies like this aren’t without their valuable lessons. In this case, Boo learned that:

• You never put your name on a ballot until you’re sure what the winner’s duties are.
• The people you love will let you down and you will forgive and love them anyway.
• It’s okay to override other people’s wishes if you think it’s the right thing to do.

Hmmm. I think that last one’s gonna come back and bite me in the ass.

Ever since I had kids, reading for fun has become nearly impossible. By the time my head hits the pillow, I can maybe make it through a few pages before my lids start to flutter and I pass out from sheer exhaustion. (Something tells me all of my screen time at work and after bedtime isn’t helping the situation, either).

So, when I packed for my latest business trip, I didn’t even bother to pack any reading material. After all, my Google Reader is backed up with 500+ posts I should be reading.

Well, that was the plan until I realized I needed to eat breakfast at the airport and I didn’t want to have my laptop crammed on the tabletop with my scrambled eggs and diet coke (breakfast of champions, no?), so I popped back to the newsstand and grabbed a copy of Chelsea Handler’s Are You There God? It’s me. Chelsea. I’ve been a fan of her show for years and figured that I’d better have a copy of her book on hand in case I ever actually get to see her show. Having her autograph it may be my best shot at capturing her DNA and creating a clone to carry out my plot to take over the world…

But I digress.

I should have known what I was in for when the sales lady offered me a free tube of Robitussin with my purchase (which has to go down as the oddest gift with purchase in the history of retail sales).

Breakfast took forever, but I didn’t care. I had tons of time before my flight and from the first page, I was totally engrossed. I am Chelsea’s long-lost little sister that she never knew she had. Yes, she’s blonde (but I used to be!) and has a way better rack (we obviously had different moms), and she’s Jewish (I like latkes, you know). We both love vodka (she drinks way more of it than I do), takes prescription drugs (mine are actually legally obtained), and were forced to drive crappy hand-me-down vehicles that were “gifted” by our dads (at least mine had a decent paint job thanks to my big brother). See? We’re practically twins! I’m totally sending her an invite to Doodle’s third birthday party. They need to meet their Auntie Chelsea and she’s gotta bring the vodka (’cause after two hours at Chuck E Cheese, I’m gonna need it).

Anyway…back to the book.

She opens with an epic tale about how she, at age nine, caught herself up in a web of lies to impress her schoolmates. The deceit goes so far as to require an autographed picture of Goldie Hawn and an “out” of her offer to play Hawn’s daughter in a sequel to Private Benjamin.

The book goes from there through a collection of 12 stories where we meet her family, friends, lovers, and random strangers. Chelsea’s ability to make some of the most reprehensible people and behaviors (often her own) into hilarious and charming characters is fabulous and true gift.

My favorite recurring “character” has to be her dad. You can feel her constant abject humiliation dripping from every pore as she reveals how he fancies himself a used car dealer, when in reality he just collects crap-mobiles and attempts to scheister unsuspecting saps into buying them, even when they need a jump start before a test drive. The vein of politically incorrect humor runs directly from him to her, even though he has the amazing ability to not only cross the line, but moon-jump over it into an entire realm of “ohdeargoddidhejustsaywhatIthoughthejustsaid”-ness.

My favorite chapter, by far, was her tale of her mini-me. A rabid fan, who happened to be a complete dwarf-sized replica of Chelsea, manages to con her way into Chelsea’s heart and her show, Girls Behaving Badly. Chelsea is admittedly helpless to the charms of little people:

Next to fat babies, midgets are my favorite things to hold. I love them so much, and I want to help them to do adult things like drive cars, Jet-Ski, and lip synch. I am in awe of their little limbs, large craniums, and their medicine-ball asses. I love the litle baby steps they take while shifting their weight from side to side, and the fact that when you knock one over accidentally, he flails like a turtle on its back that can’t get up right away.

If you’re looking for political correctness, you probably aren’t watching Chelsea’s show and, therefore, I’d suggest you pass on the book. However, if you have no problem with inappropriate laughter in public places that may result in you spraying your beverage all over complete strangers, have at it.

____________________________________________

P.S. I finished the book on my trip and picked up her first book, My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands while I was in San Diego. It was done before my plane landed back in Vegas. That’s two books in four days people – an indoor record for me post-kids. If that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is.

P.P.S. Her next book, CHELSEA CHELSEA BANG BANG is due out next month. I can’t wait and neither should you! So, win a copy! Just leave a comment with your favorite vodka beverage (Chelsea prefers Ketel One in her first two books, but I suspect her preference has changed to Belvedere since they’re now sponsoring her tour — funny how that works, eh?) Get your entries in by midnight, Friday, February 19 and a winner will be chosen by a random drawing. I will actually make and review the winning cocktail, so make it good, y’all.

And the winner is…..Kristel of Last Girl Standing! The book will be on the way once it’s released. Given the state of the Canadian postal service, she should get it by Christmas.

I have the great fortune and pain of traveling rather frequently on business. I see my share of Marriotts, Hiltons, and Holiday Inns. My skin has been inadvertently exfoliated by overbleached towels. The sound of blackout drapes scraping across curtain rods is all too familiar. I can find ice machines in my sleep.

Every once in awhile, though, I get to stay in cool places. It used to be that my September trip to Anaheim was the tops on my list. Oh, you need me to stay in a Disney resort where I get discounted tickets to see “The Mouse”? Darn. Twist my rubber arm.

Sorry Mickey, after last year’s rather lackluster performance, you’ve been bumped from the top of my list…by a president, no less. Well, actually, the son of a president who built a hotel and named it after his dad, who happens to share the same name.

Image courtesy of hotel website.

I’m talking about the US Grant Hotel adjacent San Diego’s Gaslamp District. In short, fan-freaking-tastic. The property was recently renovated and restored to all of its original glory. The smell of wallpaper paste is still fresh in the hallways. Each lobby, foyer, and corridor is adorned with amazing paintings and sculptures. Hell, even my padded headboard was art. My room walls were covered with picture frame mouldings and the floors were covered with amazing carpets. Even the shower floor was festooned with a basketweave tile. Aesthetically speaking, this has to be one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever stayed in.

Image courtesy of hotel website

The service was as amazing as the decor. Short of the great housekeeping incident of Tuesday night, the staff took amazing care to ensure my every desire was met. Their valets, front desk staff and bellhops were courteous and attentive. The bellhop even took a subtle second to check my name on my luggage tag and thank me by name for my tip (and trust me, my last name is no walk in the park).

When I was having issues with my TV remote, guest services sent engineering up within 10 minutes. It tuned out I was attempting to use the Bose sound system remote for the TV, so they brought up the correct remote (which was missing). I asked the engineer for the location of the ice machine, which was unfortunately three floors down. He graciously offered to retrieve ice for me. Five minutes later, guest services called to make sure the TV was working and informed me that room service was on their way with the ice.

Knock Knock. Here comes my ice. Holy heck. I’ve seen smaller buckets overturned on football coaches’ heads. I had noticed a note on the weight-sensitive minibar fridge (it’s one of those that charged you $20 if you looked at the microscopic vodka bottle for more than 30 seconds) that said they had regular mini-fridges upon request. So, when guest services called to ensure that the iceman cameth, I asked about the legend of the minifridge so I could safely stow my healthy snacks for the duration of my stay. Not only did they say “yes,” but there was no charge. Apparently they’re free on a first-come, first served basis. I was happy. My yogurt was thrilled. My carrots were ecstatic. I think I heard my grapes singing with glee. (Well, maybe that last part was a stretch. The last time I heard grapes sing was a Fruit of the Loom commercial, and I don’t think that situation ended well for anyone involved.)

Since I am on a campaign to shed the double chin off my ass, I trouped down to the hotel gym for a short workout to justify the dinner I was planning to consume later in the evening. I slid my room key into the door. The green light flashed and the lock clicked, but I couldn’t get the door to pull open. Hmmm. Let’s try that again. And again. And again. No dice.

At this point, I figured there was an idiot in the room. I admitted defeat and trouped up the steps to the front desk where a staffer practically skipped back down to assist me in my folly. He slid his master key in and pushed the door to let me in. Then he wished me a happy workout and went on his way, never even hinting at the “what a dumbass” kind of sarcasm that I so richly deserved.

Yep. This is a classy joint. AND that’s classy with a “C”, not with a “K”.

Such class comes with a pricetag, though. I was fortunate to stay on a special rate, so I didn’t have to pay the $369+taxes and fees the King room retailed for (at full price). In this case, though, if you’re a high-end traveler, or you’re looking to have a special getaway with historic grandeur in San Diego, I think you’ll be hard pressed to beat the US Grant. Keep an eye out for deals, though, especially for weeknight or off season travel. I found some surprising deals online.

One thing I know for sure. As long as I have breath in my body, my children will never so much as step foot in the lobby of this place. They’d break something within five minutes and college plans would be replaced with dishpan hands for life.

As if the good folks at 20th Century Fox hadn’t had enough of my movie reviewing drivel, they sent me a copy of Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs to review. Since my 5YO, Boo, is quite movie-phobic, I had not had the pleasure of seeing the first and second installment of the series, but we didn’t let that stop us. Once I convinced Boo that her apparently fragile film psyche would not be damaged by the viewing, we sat down on a Saturday afternoon and watched it.

As far as the kids went, they watched the DVD like most kids do…sit for five minutes…play for five minutes…ask for a snack…pee…watch until something scary happens…flee…ask mommy to stop folding laundry and come and sit with them…use mommy as a human trampoline…squeeze mom off the couch and steal the blanket….repeat about 20 times until the movie is over.

From a grownup point of view, I found the film to be a fun story with some great grown-up friendly one-liners and interesting characters. I could definitely handle this in the minivan DVD player on a car trip. The slapstick visuals keep the kids entertained and the dialogue would keep me from slitting my wrists after the millionth listen to Mary Poppins.

The basic plot focuses on two mated woolly mammoths as they plan for thr birth of their new baby. As their friends realize how the new addition will impact their group dynamic, the sloth decides to adopt a batch of eggs…dinosaur eggs. His maternal instincts lead him through a rabbit hole into a prehistoric underworld fraught with carnivorous treachery and campy ensemble cast antics. There are moments of high drama that left Boo watching through her hands and whining that it was too scary, but then again she and Doodle cackled at some very funny moments.

There are some valid lessons to be learned from this movie. Lessons for adults and children alike, such as:

1. If you are a boy, never offer your nuts to a girl. It is a trick. She will rip the hairy nut straight from your body.
2. Queen Latifah and Ray Romano: A couple that could only happen in animation.
3. Sloths with lisps are inherently funny.
4. John Leguizamo has a face for voice overs.
5. Eating your playmates is the #1 way to end a playdate.
6. Life is what happens between opportunities to say “yabba dabba do!”
7. Weasel-like prehistoric mammals with sharp teeth and leafy eye patches are always dependable jungle guides.
8. “He who has gas, travels at the end of the pack.” is truly sage wisdom.
9. Kids laugh at burp and fart jokes from birth.
10. Babies are cute even when they’re 200 pounds, furry and with a trunk and tusks.
11. Peaches is not appropriate name for a baby. Unless you are a woolly mammoth or you want your daughter to grow up to be stripper.

In summary, it’s high on the cute factor and very easy on the re-watch. The kids liked it, but they aren’t begging to watch it again and again. I’d recommend it to parents of younger kids who want a fun watch that they can sit through with their kids and enjoy instead of merely tolerate.

The good folks over at 20th Century Fox sent me a copy of Aliens in the Attic to review last month, hoping my mindless drivel would help spur folks to purchase the movie when it was released.

The good news is that I did watch the movie and I did find it mildly amusing. The bad news is that it’s taken me nearly a month to write this review (but I had a really good excuse for my delay) and pretty much anyone who’s going to buy this movie probably has.

However, I won’t the risk of being irrelevant deter me from spouting off. Here’s my take on the movie.

1. The general premise: A suburban family heads to the country for some bonding time with their crazy divorced uncle and his kids and the family matriarch. They are joined by an imposing, hormonally crazed asshole 20-something boyfriend of the teenage daughter. After what appeared to be a lightning strike, the kids discover a band have aliens has arrived with plans to take over the world using mind-control implants that only work on the adults. The kids band together to defeat the aliens.

2. It was a fun, but somewhat stereotypical family movie definitely targeted toward the tween market. My kids are well below the target demographic and, after pre-screening it with another grown-up, we felt most of it was too scary for my movie-sensitive 5 YO daughter and the 2YO would get as much out of it as he would if I made him watch Project Runway.

3. Watching Kevin Nealon playing an authoritarian parent role made me feel really old. Tim Meadows as the town sheriff pretty much put the nail in the coffin.

4. The film seemed to nearly steal some moments from other alien movies. For example, the interactions between the youngest child and the “good” alien felt so much like the exchanges between Gertie and E.T., I had a palpable craving for Reese’s Pieces.

5. The best scene: the fight scene between Nana Rose (Doris Roberts) and the boyfriend Rickey (Robert Hoffman). Think John Woo meets Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon meets Street Fighter.

So, in summary, it was a cute, but definitely followed the the trite recipe for family action-ish comedy that crowds DVD shelves in entertainment centers across the country. It reminded me of Herbie the Love Bug and the Apple Bottom Gang from my childhood. Just swap Don Knotts out with Doris Roberts and the surly cowboys with some remote-control wielding aliens and you’ve got it covered.

If you’re looking for a fun, family friendly gift for a tween in your life this holiday season, I’m sure they’d enjoy it. If you’re looking for thought provoking action films, I’d stick with the 10th anniversary edition of Fight Club.

While I’m fortunate to have a great job and some fun side projects that pay for a few extras, money is tight. I’m not alone. I have more than a dozen friends and colleagues who have been looking for work for months. We’re all cutting back with summer staycations, homemade Halloween garb, and Netflix subscriptions replacing movie nights.

So getting by has been a challenge, to be sure.

I remember a economics class in grad school that, when it comes to household budgets in crisis, cable television is the last thing to go.

For me, it’s my hair. It’s my vanity. I’ve paid good money to great people over the years to keep it in the red. When I accidentally went from blond to green, I swore on bottle of peroxide that I would never color my hair myself again.

Me and my professionally-colored hair with Blackberry Diaries author Kathy Buckworth

Well, that day has come. After dishing out nearly $175 every four to six weeks on cuts, colors, and highlights, I had to let it go. No longer could I look at my checking account and reconcile that expense.

It was time to tighten the belt and open the box.

I tried a temporary color which was…uh…temporary. My gray roots came screaming out like James Brown on his first day out of jail.

A few weeks later, I tried a permanent shade from Feria by L’Oreal Paris. It was quite the science experiment with three fluids to combine and heaven forbid if you shake it with the wrong lid. It went on easily with a few drips, but I didn’t leave the process with zombie-like red dye marks streaming down my face (Let’s just ignore the stains on the door where I tried to squeeze out the last few bits. Sorry Madame Landlord!)

Here are the results.

Great hair. Crappy picture, but you can't tell the difference, can you?

Not bad, eh? It got the grey and gave me a fairly consistent color throughout. Processing time was only 25 minutes, so with my amateur application methods and a thorough post-color rinse and condition, it was a total hour of my time. For $10 and a trip to the grocery store. Not a bad deal for downsizing if you ask me.