Tag - Mr. Candy

The Physics of Curly Hair

They say men like long hair, but “they” clearly have not polled my husband.  That’s right; Mr. Candy has a thing for shorter hair and, back when we first met — WAY back when there was no running water or Twitter — I did indeed have shorter hair.  Apparently, this is how I lured him in.  Well, that plus my dazzling ability to shotgun a beer.  (Remember:  we didn’t have The Twitter to entertain us back then.)  Then, once I had him hooked, I pulled the ol’ bait-and-switch by growing my hair long and pretty much keeping it that way, give or take a couple of inches, for the next 17 years.


Now, Mr. Candy doesn’t typically give beauty advice or imply he would like me to look like any other way but how I currently look.  Wise man.  In fact, I am on the receiving end (pun intended) of many admiring butt squeezes from him on a daily basis, whether I want them or not.  But the other day, he did suggest something… unwise.

“What if you cut your hair up to here?” he asked innocently, his hand karate-chopping my hair at chin-length.

I replied as any reasonable wife would:


It’s not that I don’t like short hair.  I would love to rock a pixie cut or pull off an adorable bob.  However, you have to understand, I have very thick, wavy hair.  And we recently moved to the beach.  THE BEACH, PEOPLE.  WITH BEACH AIR.  This means I must approach my hair like a grenade — don’t make any sudden movements or it will EXPLODE.

My fellow curly-haired ladies know what I’m talking about.  Mr. Candy apparently does not, so I have created a helpful and incredibly scientific equation for him:

 Time further explains:

The investigators concluded that the biggest variable curly hair has to reckon with is weight. The longer a hair grows, the more of a burden the bottom of the shaft must carry until the strand as a whole topples over. Straight hair lays flat after that, becoming what the investigators call a 2-D hook, since it effectively moves in just two dimensions, front to back or side to side. A hair with an innate curliness to it is only beginning its adventure in multi-directional physics. If your curly hair is relatively short, each strand forms what the researchers call a 3-D local helix—growing up, down, swooping in at angles, doubling back on itself. If the hair extends the length of the head or beyond (Brave, we’re looking at you again), it’s called a 3-D global helix, and its behavior, accordingly, becomes more complex.

Which is, um, pretty much what I said.  Only not as scientific.

It all boils down to physics, my dear husband.  Just like shotgunning a beer.

Mr. Candy’s List of Favorite Things

When I posted my list of favorite things, some of you asked if Mr. Candy could suggest his fave items for new babydaddies.  He’s been traveling like a fiend lately (fun for him AND me… ugh), so he asked me to be his not-so-secret ghostwriter, and even gave me pointers on the jokes he would like incorporated.  If I “forget” to include those jokes, well, consider yourselves lucky.


1.  Digital picture frame.  Mr. Candy misses the little one when he’s at the office, so he asked me Santa for one of these for Christmas.  We have one at home, and are endlessly entertained by the digital slide show.  (Simple minds and all.)  Note that some frames use LCD panels with fewer pixels than others. This means they can’t display as much detail as frames with higher resolutions, such as the Kodak EasyShare D830 8-inch digital frame with its 800 by 600 resolution (currently on sale at Amazon for $129.99).  I, er… I mean, Santa plans on taking the hint and loading up one of these puppies for Mr. Candy’s office with pictures of Skylar, the kitties and maybe even one of me  — even though I know I rate a distant fourth in the photo hierarchy.

No office?  No problem.  Get a nice digital photo keychain for $17.

2.  Oakley Sunglasses.  Mr. Candy says nothing made him feel older than having a kid, which is why he apparently went out and got a pair of sporty Oakley sunglasses — to make himself feel “young and cool” again.  A funny thing, considering when he told me he’d bought mirrored sunglasses, I was like, “Didn’t those go out of style fifteen years ago?”  Turns out, they look REALLY good on him.  [I’m supposed to inject a joke about how he recommends the mirrored lenses to men, so their wives won’t notice them checking out “the young hotties” — but, as you can imagine, that joke was met with *crickets* ’round here.]   I see a pair similar to Mr. Candy’s on Oakley.com for $120.  Young hotties not included.

3.   Diaper Dude Diaper Bag.  I’d bought one of these in black for Mr. Candy when I was pregnant with Miss Skye.  And he was all, “Couldn’t I just use YOUR diaper bag if I need one?”  And I was all, “No.  You cannot.”   And that was that.  I think he’s surprised how often this bag has come in handy since Skylar’s arrival.  It’s about as manly as a diaper bag’s gonna get.  Plus, lots o’ pockets for daddy-and-me Heinekens!  Awww.  Currently on sale for $53.10 with free shipping.

4.  Edge Wine.  This one gets the Candy AND Mr. Candy Seal of Drunken Approval.  We were introduced to Edge Wine on a Santa Barbara winery tour — even though it’s a Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon — and my, oh my, how we wished we’d bought several cases of it.  It is, as a refined sommelier would say, f*cking good.  Voted “Best Cabernet Sauvignon Under $20″ by Food & Wine Magazine.

Let’s face it, if there’s one thing new parents should have, it’s alcohol.  Cheers!  $20/bottle.

Baby Math with Mr. Candy: In Deep Doo-Doo

Baby Math with Mr. Candy:  In Deep Doo-Doo

I remember going shopping for Skylar before she was born.  Candy picked out a giant box of diapers.  As I was putting it into the shopping cart, she grabbed another giant box without hesitation. In disbelief, I exclaimed, “How much do you think this little girl is going to poop?!?!”  The dad next to me shook his head and said, “More than you can imagine, more than you can imagine.”

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Silly Men

MR. CANDY:  Wow.  Colbie Smulders doesn’t even look pregnant!

ME:  Um, she had her baby a couple months ago.

MR. CANDY:  Oh.  [PAUSE]  Wow.  She lost her weight fast.

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Date Night

“We have to go out on a date at LEAST every other week after the baby comes,” Mr. Candy and I had agreed.  That agreement was made was WAY back in the day, a whole seven weeks ago, when I was still pregnant, naive and showered.

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A Whole New Kind of Party

Anyone who’s followed my column with even infrequent regularity knows Mr. Candy and I have enjoyed our fair share of partying.  (Translation: If it weren’t for the apples and oranges in sangria, we would have starved.)  Yes, we may have been drunkards, but at least we were realistic drunkards, waiting for the day we got the partying out of our systems to start a family.

Okay, so that day never came.

What can I say, we love the liquor! Almost as much as Skylar loves the boob.  But we forged ahead with Operation: Baby anyway and, lo and behold, when I spied those two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I developed a completely different kind of thirst — a thirst for a happy and healthy baby. You may remember that day…?  It was the day distillery stocks plummeted and my liver did a jig of relief.  Yes!  My liver!  Gettin’ jiggy with the anti-cirrhosis dance! It can viewed on YouTube to this day.

Fast forward to two days ago, when our newly expanded family celebrated Mr. Candy’s birthday with — wait for it… wait for it… — um, sandwiches and shakes at Johnny Rockets.   Don’t be jealous of our glamorous life, y’all.   Now it’s all about bottomless fries instead of bottomless drinks.  And, as you can see, the only person who passed out at this party was Skylar.   (Those boob-tinis get her every time.)

When I laughed about how much things had changed, Mr. Candy just smiled:  “Skylar’s the best gift you could have given me.”

And, given the way he sucked down his Oreo milkshake, that was a close second.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Candy.

Baby Math with Mr. Candy: DC Isn’t the Only Place with a Budget Crunch

Baby Math
With Mr. Candy

Not being the creative one in the family, I could never hope to capture in words the joy and happiness I experienced when I first saw Skylar. The love I feel in my heart is indescribable.  However, as the “economical” one in the family (some less “economical” would say “cheap”), I am unfortunately fully capable of calculating the cost of Skylar.  Even though she’s of course priceless, the pain I feel in my wallet is all too calculable.

Candy will undoubtedly be sharing the joy and happiness in our hearts, so I will share something less precious:  the pain in our bank account.  A pain that is especially acute when thinking about the cost of college when Skylar is due to attend.  As a consultant, I ask that you indulge my love for finance (some less “financially minded” would say my “inner geek”) and allow me to share that pain with you in my native tongue (that would be bullet points and charts).

  • The current annual cost of an Ivy League education with room and board (OK, so I have high hopes for the little one) is $48,147.1
  • Over the last 10 years, the average annual increase for college has been 6.0% per year. 2 Using that rate, by the time Skylar goes to college in 2027, four years of school will cost $601,194.15.  Yup, that is right.  $601,194.15!  In case you are wondering (or hoping), that is US dollars, not Mexican pesos.

  • Vanguard’s S&P 500 Index fund has returned an average of 10.19% per year since its inception in 1976.3
  • At that rate, we would have to put away an extra $756.41 per month, every month starting today to afford to put little Skylar through college.
  • To find that kind of dough, our budget is going to have to change… DRAMATICALLY!


Ed. note:  This budget reallocation has NOT been approved by Candy.  To hell with electricity and water, I say — Mama needs a new pair of shoes and margarita fix!

1 http://cgi.money.cnn.com/tools/collegecost/collegecost.jsp?college_id=9334

2 http://www.naicu.edu/news_room/private-college-tuition-rises-at-lowest-rate-in-37-years

3 https://personal.vanguard.com/us/funds/vanguard/all?sort=name&sortorder=asc

Why Women Have Babies

Candy white-knuckles the bathroom counter, breathing through her Braxton-Hicks contractions.


He jumps back from the mirror, wincing in agony.


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The Social Life of Expectant Parents: A Visual Perspective

Candy and Mr. Candy last year — a night that, if I’m not mistaken, ended with Mr. Candy having a lively conversation with the milkmaid statue outside.  (They remain in contact via Facebook.)

Mr. Candy this past Saturday evening — a night that, if I’m not mistaken, ended with us fighting over the Snuggie before passing out at 10:30.

The Perils of Writing a Column

Easter BumpBetween you and me, I felt rather good about myself in my Easter Sunday dress.  Form-fitting enough to really showcase my bump, but also cute enough to make me feel like a stylish mama.  No small feat six months into pregnancy.

I bounced — okay, waddled — down the stairs, prepared to welcome the compliments my husband surely would heap on me.  Instead I was greeted by silence, a silence broken only by the tap-tap-tap of Mr. Candy’s fingers playing his favorite computer addiction, er… game.   I, with absolutely no pride, made a point of “casually” hanging out by the TV, a place I knew his eyes would eventually land.

And… succcess!  A wide smile crossed my hubby’s face.

“My shirt is perfect for Easter, isn’t it?” he asked, clearly impressed with himself.

Was this guy serious?

“Yeah.  Perfect.”

I continued to stand there, waiting.  La-di-da.  Now, I am not usually the kind of woman who seeks validation.  The words “How does this make me look” have rarely, if ever, escaped my lips.  But I AM A HORMONAL PREGNANT LADY WHOSE BODY IS CHANGING EVERY DAY, DAMMIT!  It’s a weird thing to deal with.  Wonderful, but weird.  Just throw a few scraps of praise my way, please.  Please?  Sincerity not required.  I even tried to help him out:

“My pink ribbon is very Easter-like, too, don’t you think?”

“Yes — AND you’re shaped like an Easter egg!”

Oh yes, he did.  Followed by a guffaw.  So I did the only thing I could, and scorched an Easter egg-sized hole into Mr. Candy’s head with my no-fail Laser Stare of Death.

“I’m kidding!” he insisted.  “I just say these things for your column!”

Yeah, mmm-hmmm.   Actually, my hubby is a kindhearted goofball and self-professed “laugh slut,” so I was inclined to believe him.  Not laugh, but believe. However, it dawned on me that this column has — oy — bestowed Mr. Candy with a free pass to passively-aggressively lob insults and claim immunity because he’s “just helping me do my job.”  I processed this development, thoughtfully rubbing my big belly, and said to myself:

“Huh.  That’s pretty damn clever.  Well-played, Mr. Candy.  Well-played, indeed.”

That is, until this Easter Egg cracks!