Must not pluck eyebrows... & A really major bummer

Must...not...pluck!

Man, that's hard - watching these little dark black hairs sprout out and having to resist touching any of them.

See, like the rest of my hair, almost all of my eyebrows fell out. The only part that really stayed visible was the widest part of the brow, closest to the nose. Well, they're coming back now, but they're coming back randomly, a hair here, and a hair there. Some of them are also coming in ingrown, which requires me to try and exfoliate the dead skin on top without pulling the hair.

Obviously, there's going to be some shaping to do and plucking will be very necessary. Now here's the big issue: The problem is, I haven't the foggiest idea which hairs will end up being the good ones and which ones will end up being the bad ones, shape-wise.

I'm really very, very tired of looking sloppy and ugly and icky. And stop right there, all of you who feel you have to comment and say I'm not ugly and icky. I know what you're going to say, thank you, but *I* feel ugly and icky, and I'm sick of it.

Grrr.

But anyway, on to something that actually means something - my eyebrows and feeling ugly are so completely meaningless, in the real scheme of things.

What's meaningful is the news that some friends of ours, a family here in Gridley, are losing their house; at least, so says the legal notice Lloyd read in the local paper, which says their house is about to be auctioned off.

I'm hoping this is a giant misprint, a mistake, something. But if it's real.... This is HORRIBLE, and I'm really, really depressed.

I don't think they read this blog, but all the same I'm not going to say anything to ID them. We didn't know a thing about it until we read it in the paper, and there's really no good way to go up to someone and ask if they're really in foreclosure.

I wish there was, because I want to tell them how sorry I am, and offer any help we could. I've been at rock bottom, and I know what it feels like, and it doesn't feel good. I've made it through thanks to my family and friends, and I'd like this family to know that we're here for them. People close to me have visited this particular department of hell, and I know how horrible it is.

If they want to keep this matter private, then I won't say a thing.

If they want help...well, I'm not much use for packing and moving stuff, but I could

• recruit a bunch of people who can pack, haul and carry;
• keep the coffee/soda/beer flowing; and
• make a lunch for all the workers so that they could come take a break in my nice cool house and have something to eat.

We have a mutual friend who may know a lot more about this than I do, and I will definitely be asking her if she knows what's going on.

I guess it was really only a matter of time before the "mortgage crisis," as they call it on the news, hit closer to home for us.

Unfortunately, it just really fucking sucks.