I thought saying "shut the front door!" was a colloquial way of saying "hey, that's awesome!". I have been using it frequently as a comment on blogs as a fun way of saying "wow, your DIY project is awesome!"
Apparently what it actually means, according to Urban Dictionary, is "shut the eff up."
If I complimented you recently on your blog on your awesome DIY project, I apologize. I will be returning to my "oh, I love that color" comments.
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I went to the hairdresser for a haircut and to cover up my gray hairs. I thought, its September, even though it feels like high summer here, so I will just pretend its fall by perhaps putting brown low-lights in my hair, instead of blonde. The hairdresser talked me into an all-over color instead.
I went from this strawberry blonde:
to this:
This is lightened from the original crazy dark color. This picture does not reflect the RED RED PURPLISH RED color that it was. Wine-infused dark brown was NOT the look I was thinking of. I am washing my hair daily and waiting another two weeks so I can go back to my usual strawberry blonde.
And yes, I went home and plucked my eyebrows into oblivion after seeing that picture.
************
One of my aunts gifted this bust of a monkey to my grandmother:
It makes monkey noises and turns it head and the eyes and lips open and close.
I need a creepy monkey bust for my own house.
************
I had a lovely visit with the family over Labor Day weekend. I got to meet my new nephew Ferb and love me up on some baby:
I love to snuggle babies. Love it.
************
In addition to seeing Ferb, I went to a Bruce Springsteen concert. Bruuuuuuuuce!!!
We have a family tradition of sitting in the very last row for events. (Ask me about the Nutcracker ballet where we sat behind a structural column.)
Any further back we would have been sitting on I-95.
Although we could barely see Bruce on stage, we had an amazing view of the Philadelphia skyline, and the skyscrapers appeared cut in half by the low hanging clouds. It looked very ominous and Gotham-ish. Bruce started the concert singing Working Life, and as I sat there in the dark, looking out at the skyline, and all the people around me singing along, with me between my dad and my sister and my mom, I felt the past and the present and the future converging, distilled in that single moment.
I love Bruce. I love Bruce because my dad loves Bruce. My dad listened to Bruce Springsteen all throughout my childhood; I can peg every house we lived in with a different Bruce album. Two years ago my sisters and I took my father to a Bruce concert at the Meadowlands (sitting in nearly the same seats), and it was a religious experience, made more so because it was so great to see my father having such a good time.
I want my kids to have that. I want my kids to enjoy something because they know I enjoy it, because doing that activity with me is a connection. Listening to Bruce makes me think of my dad and my childhood and Saturday mornings and long car trips. I think of my dad opening a new Bruce album and putting it on the record player and dancing me around the living room. Listening to Bruce makes me remember feeling safe and happy and cherished by my daddy.
I need to give that to my own kids.
Jersey girls represent!
Apparently what it actually means, according to Urban Dictionary, is "shut the eff up."
If I complimented you recently on your blog on your awesome DIY project, I apologize. I will be returning to my "oh, I love that color" comments.
*************
I went to the hairdresser for a haircut and to cover up my gray hairs. I thought, its September, even though it feels like high summer here, so I will just pretend its fall by perhaps putting brown low-lights in my hair, instead of blonde. The hairdresser talked me into an all-over color instead.
I went from this strawberry blonde:
to this:
This is lightened from the original crazy dark color. This picture does not reflect the RED RED PURPLISH RED color that it was. Wine-infused dark brown was NOT the look I was thinking of. I am washing my hair daily and waiting another two weeks so I can go back to my usual strawberry blonde.
And yes, I went home and plucked my eyebrows into oblivion after seeing that picture.
************
One of my aunts gifted this bust of a monkey to my grandmother:
It makes monkey noises and turns it head and the eyes and lips open and close.
I need a creepy monkey bust for my own house.
************
I had a lovely visit with the family over Labor Day weekend. I got to meet my new nephew Ferb and love me up on some baby:
I love to snuggle babies. Love it.
************
In addition to seeing Ferb, I went to a Bruce Springsteen concert. Bruuuuuuuuce!!!
We have a family tradition of sitting in the very last row for events. (Ask me about the Nutcracker ballet where we sat behind a structural column.)
Any further back we would have been sitting on I-95.
Although we could barely see Bruce on stage, we had an amazing view of the Philadelphia skyline, and the skyscrapers appeared cut in half by the low hanging clouds. It looked very ominous and Gotham-ish. Bruce started the concert singing Working Life, and as I sat there in the dark, looking out at the skyline, and all the people around me singing along, with me between my dad and my sister and my mom, I felt the past and the present and the future converging, distilled in that single moment.
I love Bruce. I love Bruce because my dad loves Bruce. My dad listened to Bruce Springsteen all throughout my childhood; I can peg every house we lived in with a different Bruce album. Two years ago my sisters and I took my father to a Bruce concert at the Meadowlands (sitting in nearly the same seats), and it was a religious experience, made more so because it was so great to see my father having such a good time.
I want my kids to have that. I want my kids to enjoy something because they know I enjoy it, because doing that activity with me is a connection. Listening to Bruce makes me think of my dad and my childhood and Saturday mornings and long car trips. I think of my dad opening a new Bruce album and putting it on the record player and dancing me around the living room. Listening to Bruce makes me remember feeling safe and happy and cherished by my daddy.
I need to give that to my own kids.
Jersey girls represent!
That monkey bust is Shut The Front Door terrifying. Bruuuuuuuce!
ReplyDeleteHahahaha, several of us are cracking up at your innocence about STFU. Too funny :)
ReplyDeleteI'm still so confused how you didn't know Shut the Front Door meant STFU. We are definitely cracking up at your innocence. )
ReplyDeleteAlso, that is a great way of explaining why we like Bruce. :)
Looks like so much fun. I was a Bruce fan in CA, but I do fit in better her in NJ. I am surprised that you did not know it was shut the F up. I us it as that....because I have a potty mouth. My NY'er friends don't notice.
ReplyDeleteIf it is any comfort to you, I didn't know that about the front door thing, either. And Bruce, yes, love Bruce.
ReplyDeleteI am so hearing you on hair color woes. I was blonde my whole life, until my mid-30s. Then my blonde began turning mouse. I highlighted. I hate highlighting. Who has time for a 2 hour hair appointment? And I hate roots. So this summer I decided to be who I am and asked the stylist to color the rest of my hair its natural color. (I had plenty of root showing so she could see it. I'm blessed to have no gray.)
ReplyDeleteI felt like Elvira. I felt weird. I have pictures from the first week, and I hate every one of them. Luckily, it's the kind of color that fades. I've gotten used to it, and it's not so intense now. And I've gotten lots of compliments my first week back at school. Hair should not take this much energy! Wishing you luck on finding what you want...