I'm Pretty Sure Dinosaurs Don't Like Snow. Isn't That What Killed Them Off? Perhaps I Was Tempting Fate.

I don't know which weather deity I ticked off when I moved into this house, but for the last six years about three-fourths of the parties I plan (or are planned in honor of me) have been cursed with snow. As in massive snowstorms, many of them.

You'd think a birthday party planned for April 17th would escape the curse.

You'd be wrong.

I knew the weather was supposed to be a little chilly and windy today. I did not, however, cancel my reservation for the gazebo in the park nearby, because we're Michiganders, dagnabit, and temps in the low fifties are No Big Deal.

Ha.

I was a little worried when I was loading things into the car and spotted a few particles that looked suspiciously like random snowbits. It was only ten in the morning, though, and the temp was in the mid-forties. I had to be seeing things.

The kite-making went well. DramaBoy and The Widget were joined by MTL's youngest daughter K, and they all had fun decorating their own kites. Then we put them together with little rods and string and label stickers. Flying the kites was no problem, either. The Widget dropped his on the ground shortly after getting outside, and when he tugged at it, the wind caught it and UP IT WENT!!!

For being a newb at kite flying, he was pretty dang good. Mostly I just kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't get tugged into the parking lot.

But then the wind began to blow in earnest. And along came the snow. My friend M, who was driving with her husband and daughter to join us, said the temperature dropped nine degrees in ten minutes. When The Widget began crying because he was so cold, we decided to give up and head back to the house.

Thank God for the boys' father and grandmother, who scooted through the house cleaning like mad while I waited at the park to direct stragglers in the right direction. We somehow managed to put everything together and had a great party, sudden changes in plan notwithstanding. Since it was too cold for the kids to go outside, I didn't even have to worry about the horrendous state of the yard!

It all worked out. But I think I need to figure out what propitiations need to be made in order to rid myself of this curse. I know it's Michigan, but people are starting to talk.

And I LIKE parties.

Also: WEATHERPEOPLE SUCK. No one said anything about snow.

Gratuitous photo evidence, with captions:

The Widget has a very free-form artistic approach.

Two blondes with kites

(good name for a band)

Up, up, and away!

It's a wrapper! It's a plastic bag! No...it's a kite! (No, really.)

He had on three layers and STILL ended up shivering and crying. Sigh.

Dinosaur cupcakes! Brilliant brainchild of SoccerSister (and some others, but she beat them to the punch). They almost didn't happen. I thought I had eggs and discovered at 9:30 last night that I did not. MTL came to the rescue by dropping off some eggs and calling my phone, which had managed to get lost somewhere in the house. It was a fun night, let me tell you.

Rawr.

The spread. Again, kudos to my friends and family who gave me ideas for what to get. Also HUGE thanks to the boys' grandma, who used her magical shopping skillz to track down all the dinosaur Stuff that I could not seem to find ANYWHERE.

The Widget kept rolling his eyes while we sang to him. It was very teenager. I wish I could have captured it on camera.

But then he made up for it with a huge grin. The chocolate may have helped.

PRESENTS!!!! There were many dinosaurs. We have several dozen inhabiting the house now. Also: a happy Widget. And that, my friends, makes it all worthwhile.

Bald is Beautiful

I shaved my head last night.

I've been getting irritated with my hair lately. The color is growing out, so I have about four inches of roots, and I don't have the spare cash to get it redone. It's also been getting in my face--a LOT. Constantly. And because I'm always touching it in order to move it out of the way, it gets stringy, which is, you know, Such a Good Look.

I've also had an annoying habit of playing with my hair since I was in seventh grade. It's a bit of a nervous habit, though it's become more frequent. I don't just do it when I'm anxious any more. I do it All The Time. So I get split ends and look like a dork with my hand up by my ear, twirling a piece of hair between my thumb and forefinger.

Add to all this a broken water heater and very cold showers, and the whole having hair thing becomes WAY overrated.

So last night I just got rid of it all. Very a la Britney Spears, except with fewer paparazzi.

I have to say, I'm surprised by how good it looks. I was afraid I'd have all sorts of nasty bumps and ridges all over my head that would make me look like some sort of misshapen freak, but it turns out that I have a rather nice skull. Who knew?

My students were a little taken aback. I think they might have been mildly blinded by the glare. It's a bit on the white side at the moment. But the weather is rather lovely right now, so I'll spend some time in the sun this weekend, and I'm sure I'll look just fine by the time I show up at church on Sunday.

Hey, Natalie Portman and Demi Moore did it. Why can't I?

There's a Yellow Brick Road There, Right?

I've decided to move to Australia.

This may seem sudden, but really it's not that surprising. I mean, I've been intruigued by Australia for a long time, ever since I read the classic Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. Obviously Australia is the first choice for asylum in an unfriendly world.

Besides, I have a very dear friend who already lives there and has a habit of taking in lost souls while they get back on their feet, so I'd be set for that. And upon checking the immigration requirements, it appears that I have a limited time frame: I only have 14 years remaining before I'm too old to move there. Apparently they don't want a bunch of senior citizens using them as the international Florida.

Though, like Florida, weather is balmy and beautiful in Australia this time of year. Since Michigan just decided to let Winter come blowing back through in defiance of the calendar that CLEARLY says it's Spring, that sounds good to me.

Now, Australia's kinda strict about who they let live there. They don't have a Statue of Liberty with the whole "Bring me your tired, your poor" sort of mentality (which, of course, we uphold with such pride these days). No, you need to prove that you can contribute to their society rather than being a drain on their resources. No bums need apply.

So I did some research. Looks good! According to Booklet 6: General Skilled Migration, I qualify because:

1. I'm under 45.

2. I hold a passport issued by the United States of America (or at least, I will once I apply for a new one, since the old one is lost and defunct). This apparently proves I have a good grasp of the English language. Though judging by the students who pass through my classroom, US citizenship isn't necessarily a guarantee of such a thing.

3. I have a Masters degree, which means I hold "a post secondary degree equivalent to an Australian Bachelors Degree (or higher)" (7). I also have an occupation that is listed on page 7 of the Skilled Occupation List ("Teacher – Secondary School Teacher"), which awards me 60 skill points (whatever that means), which is the highest number any occupation has. Sounds like I'm in like gravy.

4. I have pay stubs to prove that I "have been in paid employment in a skilled occupation on the SOL (form 1121i Skilled Occupation List (SOL) and Employer Nomination Scheme Occupation List (ENSOL)) for at least 12 months in the 24 months immediately before applying. This period of employment must have been accrued when [I was] in the workplace." Yeppers.

So all that's left is to take the Skills Assessment. I'm good at tests. Very good at tests.

Lauren, clean up that guest room! I'm moving in!