Dying for Face Wash

Desperate for inspiration to prevent a Hen shutdown, I once again turned to the polls to ask readers what they wanted to read. As we've seen, the democratic process has mixed results (Brexit, Trump, American Idol), but I'm confident in my readers! Here goes another comeback, and if you're not cackling, you only have yourselves to blame.

democracy.

Life as a 30-something has led me on a journey for the proper face wash. Instead of worrying about the next big party, I'm worrying about my skin's appearance. My dermatologist put me on a specific face wash that's just specific enough to be annoying. Any variations I've tried with the same active ingredient have a weird consistency, weird side affects, or both. After a few too many trials that left my face burning or discolored, I've accepted that CVS is the only place I can find the face wash I need.

Next, Please!

I'm just so overrated!

After last Monday's mildly successful "The Rudeness of Strangers," I've been thinking all week of how I could follow up with another riveting article to start the work week. Ideas included bashing the Kardashians (all of them!) or commenting ignorantly on the World Cup (Go Cameroon!). But after a week of procrastination, Monday arrived and I thought Tuesday would have to be the day. Thankfully, today's mundane errands turned foolish when I flapped into one dumb bird!

I started a Father's Day crafts project last week that has turned into a summer solstice crafts project. A Target gift card would have been easier than these homemade coasters, but I was determined to get crafty with Pinterest. With step C nearly dry, I needed the last obscure supply: acrylic sealer. Neither Wal-Mart nor Burger King sell it, so I was forced into Michael's.

Home Is Where the Stalker Is

A place for lucky ducks.

While I was in Colorado for my hen friend's wedding, I also had the freedom and free time to flutter around my old pecking grounds. When I did the math, I could hardly believe it'd been 9 years since I moved away from Colorado. Time flies when you have wings.

Like any return to an area we've called home, it's bittersweet. It's joyous to visit some favorite spots, it's sad seeing some beloved places that are changed and unfamiliar, or no longer there. All the sights are filled with memories, both good and bad, but memories from home are strong, and I enjoy revisiting and reflecting. It's also nice that I lived there long enough to not get lost or need a GPS.

A Mini Henplaint

In today's digital age, we make many purchases online. After a few times, I've become accustomed to the same process for buying flights, text books and my support for the less corrupt politician. A key part of forking my money over online is entering that "billing information," including my home address.

It is convenient in today's hustle (and usual bustle) to just type quickly, hit the "tab" key, and continue typing in the next box. On fancy sites, it will even automatically move me over to that next box - no "tab" necessary! Whew.