I don’t want to sound too hippie but coconut oil is changing my hair/skin/life!

Stephania! says you Stephania! What on earth are you doing there in that picture? Why are you posting a picture on ye olde internets of yourself with no make up and a klassy ziploc bag on your head? WEIRDO.

Well, says I, the ziploc is the poor mans shower cap and leave me be! I am currently performing a hair miracle. 

Or rather coconut oil is.

So, last night I tweeted “people, I  don’t want to sound too hippie, but coconut oil is changing my hair/skin/life” and sooner than you can say Nathan Fillion is a golden god people were like tell me more, Minks, tell me more. Not being one to deny the masses my incredible wisdom (quit laughing, let me teach you how to bleach your hair cheap whore yellow! I’m an expert!) I have decided to blog it. Now sit back and be amazed…or at least mildly interested and slightly bemused.

I’m not quite sure how I first heard about the miracle substance that is coconut oil but I know it was years ago and then I forgot all about it. That is until I, you know, turned my hair into yellow straw. So I was playing on pinterest like you do, and oh! right! Coconut oil can deep condition your hair. So I immediately went to Target and bought some. Came right home and begun the deep conditioning process. And then I fell in love. I might marry it. I am now like the mom in my Big Fat Greek Wedding “Put Windex on it!” except I’m “Put coconut oil on it!”

HAIR: The thing about coconut oil is that it melts crazy super easy, like with the touch of your hand so you don’t want to microwave it. To deep condition your hair scoop out about 2 tablespoons of coconut oil into a ramiken or cup and place it in a bowl of hot water until it melts. Then slather it on your dry hair, really saturate it, get it on your scalp, get it everywhere. Then put a ziploc on your head, or it you’re a little higher class, maybe a plastic shower cap. I’m not going to tell you how I know this but Glad Press n Seal works well too. While I am slathering the oil on my hair I stick a towel in the dryer and then wrap the hot towel around my ziploc’d head. Not face. Don’t be a moron and put a ziploc on your face.  OR sometimes if I am able to I just aim the hair dryer on warm at my hair for a good 15 minutes or so THEN wrap it in the hot towel. The longer you leave the coconut oil in the better. If you can handle sleeping with it in, even better! Then a nice hot shower and wash your hair twice to get it all out. If I am not going anywhere (and let’s face it, I have two kids and rarely get out) I will only wash my hair once, which leaves it kind of heavy but keeps some of the oil on there ever longer.

You can also use just a touch of it on your dry ends if they are frizzy or you have fly aways. Coconut oil is extremely light, not like olive or vegetable oil. sometimes I will scoop out a dime sized amount warm it between my palms and then smooth on the ends of my hair.

SKIN: What can’t you do with this? First off, right before bed I smooth it over my eyelids, under eye and lashes and crows feet. Ugh, I hate those things. It may make your vision the teeniest bit blurry, so do this right before you go to bed. I let it soak in for about 10 minutes and cover my whole face in vitamin E cream. Since I have been doing this my lashes are thicker, my under eye bags less puffy and my wrinkles less noticeable. I use it on my lips right before bed as well and have even melted 2 parts lipstick to 1 part coconut oil to make a great gloss.

I slather this all over my legs right out of the shower and put it on my arms as well…it’s GREAT over self tanner. It gives your skin the teeniest shimmer.

Huckleberry had a vicious diaper rash last week and of course I slathered coconut oil all over his cute boot and BOOM! Gone. No chemicals. Boss has been getting bloody noses and so I’ve been putting a tiny bit in his nose and no more nosebleeds! Bonus, it contains anti-microbials so it’s even better shove up your nose than icky petroleum jelly.

COOKING/EATING: You can use coconut oil as a replacement for butter or oil in almost any recipe! The health benefits of eating coconut oil are vast. It contains lauric acid which is a natural anti-fungal, so if you frequently get yeast infections or athlete’s foot this will be incredibly beneficial to you! When you ingest lauric acid it is converted to monolaurin which is highly toxic to viruses and bacteria. Good for flu season! It can also help with weight loss as it contains medium chain fatty acids which is all scientific and schtuff but basically helps convert food to energy etc. etc. etc.

I don’t want to be over effusive but since including this in my diet/beauty routine I have seen results. Maybe you will too!

Oh, and in case you are thinking YAY! but do I really want to walk around always smelling like a pina colada? The answer is: you don’t have too. REFINED coconut oil has no smell or coconut taste. VIRGIN coconut oil does. So, I use virgin for baking and my hair and refined for everything else!

I have become my mother.

It’s happened. I have become my mother. My mother is a dog trainer, she’s the bestest in the westest (literally she is in Colorado so I guess she is the bestest in the western-mid-westest) Cesar the Dog Abuser ain’t got nothin on my mumsy. She is fantastico. But  she talks to herself. All day long. Non-stop. And it always drove me to the brink of ragetastic insanity. While I was such a delightful and easy going teenager I would be screaming in my head “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST THINK THAT??”It was only due to the fact that yelling that at her would have involved speaking to her that saved her (at least) one of those tirades. Yup. I was such a joy.  Now that I am not an evil teenager and we are sooper close, I must admit that habit if hers still drives me bonkers, but now in that way that only someone you love more than life can make you crazy.

And then yesterday I noticed it. I talk to myself. All day. It happened when I was running errands for the play restaurant that I suddenly needed to make for The Boss.  Huck was with me but sleeping peacefully and I found myself chattering away at well, no one, trying to decide between the 4 inch circles and the 5 inch circles for the stove top. Then I noticed it again as I was fighting with my mini sander to get the opening for the sink justhismuchbiggerwearesoclosewhywon’titfit?!

There was an actual clap of thunder (it’s thunderstorm season round these parts) and I stopped sanding looked up at the heavens as the raindrops began to fall and declared “Holy Crap. I am my mother.”

I know where this new habit came from and Dr. Laura will be thrilled to know that I do not blame my soliloquizing mumsy. I blame my son. My precious, snuggle bug, darling Boss. It’s his fault. He, like most small people, is of an inquisitive nature. Not so much the why of things, but more ‘what’s that they are doing”  & “is she happy?” and so I narrate our day from morning till sleep with the what and how of what we are doing. And when I am not narrating I am answering questions. When I am not answering questions I am responding positively to the 8000 th announcement of Mommy I did it! {Honestly I never get tired of that one. He is so proud of himself and I want that ingrained in him before he goes to school and some asshole kid tries to tear him down.}

So you can see why I am in the habit of talking all the livelong day. Now with Huckie being here I am sure the daily narration will continue for at least another 5 years? Maybe longer if I am blessed with a third mini fun sized person. As long as I have small people in the house that means I don’t need to call the looney bin on myself right?

Sorry mom, watch out for those men in the white coats…. I am not sure if there is a Dog Trainer narrating for dogs clause, but I’ll look into it for you.

p.s. i love you mom, sorry again for being a  train wreck/exorcist like monster for so many years.


Oh and p.p.s. I am over at my new venture The DC Moms writing about my top ten beauty buys under 30 bucks. Give it a look see please? Y’know so I am not talking to myself on the internet too.

What I like about me…

{Me on the set of McFwap!}

So. I’ve reached that postpartum stage where I’m feeling a bit blah. You know the stage. I’m still thrilled to be a mom and I’m thinking that I am A-okay weight loss wise, but I’ve just got a case of the blahs. I never quite got my mojo back after The Boss made his entrance I am determined now that Huck is here to sort of piece myself back together. One simply cannot live in yoga pants and hoodies for ever, know what I mean? Surely there must be a middle ground between day time pj’s and platform wedges right? Wait. I love platform wedges. No middle ground there, but the point is this: I need to get back on the Stephanie bandwagon and figure out who I am in addition to being mommy/roadie/milk bar/walking napkin.

I know, it’s a tale often told. I’m not alone in this. But I must admit that I am still sort of  caddywhompas from the 1-2-3 punch of having a baby, moving, and then moving again. I miss my friends still. I am so isolated now and it’s hard to make new friends as an adult. Especially when you have tiny little ones. I find myself talking far too much when I am unleashed upon the adult population at large. Simply too excited to talk to someone who has knowledge of a world beyond Yo Gabba Gabba. I’m a big personality, to be sure. To be an actor and commedian in LA you sort of have to be, I fit in there, I made friends easily. Here? I’ve been so very, very, blessed to meet my blogging friends. My DCmoms (website soon to launch!) but even then, when we meet I am wracked with second thoughts. I talk too much, I interrupt too much. And also? They are all so accomplished it’s a mite bit intimidating! Everyone is so busy, of course, with life and kids and y’know 8 million blogging conferences that we rarely see one another. But I am lucky to have met them. But I digress…again.

One of these lovely DCMoms is CiaoMom. I adore her! She along with The Empress devised a dastardly plan. What if instead of the twenty million negative things we list about ourselves every day was replaced with just ten things we like? Maybe you don’t have the same inner monologue I do. In which case you’re one lucky duck cause my brain works like this:

{Wake up}Wow, I look tired. And old. When did I get so old? Is my neck sagging? Good Lord, it is. Ugh. I’m fat. This belly is so wobbly! holy crap! Is that my belly button? Whoa. I’m practically a hunchback. I hate my hair. Why can’t I figure out what to do with my damn hair. Ugh. I hate my clothes!{continue with slight variations until sleep}


You get the point.

So, the challenge. List a buncha things that you like about you. Errr. That I like about me. It has proven to be, well, troublesome. Is it because we as women are taught to downplay our accomplishments for fear of being labeled a braggart? I don’t know, but I do know this; it’s an uncomfortable thing for me to do. I’ve been sitting here for ages trying to come up with say, ten. And so far I’ve got:

1. I make really cute babies.

Yeah. Surely there is more to me that I like than just that??? Ugh. I keep thinking about this one picture of me, it’s my favorite picture of me ever! I’m laughing and the wind is blowing my hair back from my face. I’m wearing a vintage slip as a dress and some horrible frankenstein’s monster shoes. Despite the shoes, it’s a great picture I look happy and thin and it’s just perfect. It’s a perfect moment captured on film. I wish I could find it…so now we have

1. I make really cute babies

2. Once I took a really great picture that captured how happy and carefree I was.


oh yeah I am just BURNING up this list, riiiiiight??

So here we go, no heavy thinking just brainstorming. Don’t laugh, K?

  1. I make really cute kids (and I love them with all that I am)
  2. once I took a great picture that captured how happy and carefree I was
  3. I am pretty funny, actually!
  4. I conquered a big old fear and did stand up. At the Improv. In front of Drew Carey and a bunch of other comics and they laughed!
  5. I love that for a while, I really did live my dream of being a professional actor.
  6. I like that I have gotten into refinishing and painting furniture. I’m pretty proud of how I’ve taught myself how to do that!
  7. I’m a good decorator.
  8. I like that I grew up with an anxiety disorder and was a train wreck teenager, but came out the other side a wiser adult.
  9. I like that I beat my eating disorder before it beat me.
  10. I like  my lips and eyes.
  11. I like that I am decisive. Whether I chose right or wrong, I chose what I want really quickly.
  12. I like that when I set my mind to something more often than not I make it happen.
  13. I like that I can do a bunch of accents/dialects and can come up with a sketch comedy character quickly!
  14. I like that I have found an incredible group of friends through blogging.
  15. I like that I am me. When it boils down to it, I really wouldn’t want to be anyone else. Of course, I’d like to be me with my own house and oodles of money….but me nonetheless

There. 15. Whew. I need  a drink. Why is that so hard? And so…uncomfortable feeling? Ugh. You do it too, okay? List and link up. Cause well, we could all use a little pick me up, I’d love to read what you like about you. Cause I think you rock.



Have you ever just embarrased the hell outta yourself? If you’ve read this blog for more that like, one entry, you know I do all the time. But I’ll tell you a little secret, I totally almost hyperventiliated/cried/peed a little over this one.

And then I got all uppity cause um, I WAS RIGHT!

I’m pushing my oh-so-happy Boss in the swings at the playground, he’s squealing and laughing and telling me he can touch the sun. It was, in the words of the immortal Miss Chanandler Bing “perfection”

Suddenly there is a loud screeching of tires behind me as a black SUV and burgundy sedan come flying into the playground parking lot. I mean dangerous, crazy fast. The playground was packed since it was nice out and we have all been locked in our snow caves for ages. The drivers hop out of their cars and before I can stop myself I go OFF.

“Hey!” I scream “watch your driving, there are kids everywhere.  Slow down! Got it?” and by scream I mean that loud, strident mom yell that was installed sometime shortly after The Boss was born. Perhaps you have it too? The one that can stop teenage boys in their tracks and can freeze your toddlers giving-the-cat-a-bath-in-the-toilet attempt. That one. The two men stop for a moment, just a split second and give me a look before violently throwing open the trunks of their respective cars.

um…crap. They are totally going to kill me for yelling at them.

I’m nervously pushing The Boss and making small talk with him all the while watching them out of the corner of my eyes as they pull out big.fat.fekking.guns. at the playground. They both strap them into thigh holsters, before whipping out smaller guns to place at their waist and finally bullet proof vests marked POLICE in bright yellow letters across their chests.

Oh thank God, the chances of them murdering every one at the playground just got a lot smaller. They hopped back in their cars and drove off but not before giving me a sheepish look, as they pulled out of the parking lot I smiled embarrassed, terrified and said a quick prayer for their safety.

I simply cannot believe I screamed at the cops. Busy cops. On their way somewhere important and scary and time was off the essence.

But for reals? Don’t speed at the playground.

accidents happen and randomness.

I accidentally dyed my hair red.

A week ago Tuesday TOTT took me to the ballet at the Kennedy Center and it made my toes hurt because they can’t help but point the whole time and I believe I once kicked the chair of the woman in front of me during a particularly impressive jump one of the dancers performed.

Sorry lady.

I can’t help it! I still dream that that could be me, even though hello? It cannot. I spent many hours after school in junior high at Boulder Ballet Ensemble practicing and dreaming. Well, really more dreaming than practicing since I was not too big on actual work and commitment as a young teen. Can someone tell that to my toes? {none of which were broken at that moment} Toes! You do not belong to an actual ballerina! You haven’t been on pointe in ages! Also you are wearing boots and are almost 5 months pregnant! So stop pointing, and longing to dance. So I says to TOTT during one of the intermissions “TOTT” says I, “once this bambini arrives I shall take  ballet class!” And TOTT smiles ever so sweetly and then says”Absolutely baby!” and then my thighs rubbed against one another as I crossed my now sausage legs and all those old body issue reared up and said BALLET THIGHS! And so I says to TOTT “TOTT, let’s start going to the gym” and TOTT says “Absolutely!” {And when I fell down the stairs TOTT says “you really want to get out of going to the gym don’t you!” and I said ” I swear I want to go! Do you know I won’t be able to wear cute shoes for ages now?” and then I silently thanked God that it is ten below and it’s the season of the Ugg boot and asked God for a quick healing toe and an early spring…and cute shoes. My testimony of shoes is strong.}

But my hair…I dyed it. Red. Accidentally. Well, auburn-y. And no one noticed. No one. So, I guess it’s not all that different than before but I sure thought so. And it was in my “no one notices me I’m so shlubby and pregnant and invisible and can’t fit into anything and will surely never look cute again or wear cute strappy sandals” funk that I finally threw in the towel and gave up on the ellusive center part I had been attempting. I guess it’s side part or nothing for this gal. I did manage to stop myself from cutting bangs. Barely.

Even Baby Boy #2 says NO MOMMY NO BANGS!

And lastly, and possibly most importantly…my quest for red lipstick that won’t turn hot pink on my big ol’ lips continues. Loreal FAIL! I want RED lips. Not hot pink. So very frustrating! Anyone have a great reccomendation, because a good red lipstick is a thing of beauty and power.

Minky’s Monday Musings~I am what your mother warned you about.

I am back from vacation and now I need a vacation from my vacation. Traveling with a tiny person is exhausting! Worth it though, since The Boss had a blast. And I learned several important lessons. Which I shall now share with you, my faithful and totally gorgeous readers.

The least of these lessons is if you wish to resume any sort of healthy eating routine when arriving home from said vacation please do not bring any Riverstreet Pralines home with you. Irresistable. It is not an understatement to say:

Pralines are the new kryptonite.

Related: Dear TOTT, we regret to inform you that Riverstreet Pralines will no longer be available in the DC Metro Area upon your arrival home from your business conference in sunny San Diego. {sorry Sucka!}

Most importantly, watch and learn. This is like…a very special Monday Musing. Think “on a very special episode of Blossom” important. It’s muy importante, trey important, molto importante -and very important in many other languages.

dialmforminky.com from Stephanie Dulli on Vimeo.

I’m just trying to help you out. I care. That’s the truth.

Today is the last day to VOTE FOR ME I beg of you.

That sound? Is my dignity scurrying away…

{photo by kate monroe}

Yup. Tuesday was three flights. Three. With a toddler who was crazy over tired. From Salt Lake City to Chicago and from Chicago to Atlanta and Atlanta to Myrtle Beach. Each leg of the flight brought an ever smaller plane and  cranky toddler to tears.

By the time we landed I was done, TOTT was done and The Boss was DONER THAN DONE. Done.

Our flight didn’t get in until 10 p.m. and The Boss was rubbing his little red eyes as he showed off his new somersaulting skillz to his great grandparents. He rock and rolls and he just plain rolls. The Boss- multi talented.

A quick dunk in the tub and we commenced getting his new alligator pj’s on.

My mother in law- Ma- was giving him belly zerberts and kissing him up and down when she  held out her hand and asked for a diaper.

I proceeded to hand her a tampon.
Nice. She said I don’t think that will do.  Indeed not,  thought I. Blushing a bit and handing her  a good old fashioned Huggies overnight. Much more suitable for a 23 month old boy, don’t you think?

I then handed her the A&D diaper ointment and said: here is the K-Y.

Oh, Mah GAH!!!! What did I just say? HERE IS THE K-Y???? Now my mother in law is cool, but still! I was so embarrassed and tired I just started giggling uncontrollably. The giggles came back and bit me throughout the night and even a time or two today.

I die. I am so embarrassed! And the worst is I can’t even explain to her that I had K-Y on the brain for an innocent reason! I was just reading about how some people use K-Y to attach baby bows to their little baby girls head.

Say what?  Is this common practice? Random. Hello, that’s what eyelash glue is for peeps!

Oh well.  Perhaps after one more nights sleep I will be able to tell the difference between A&D ointment and K-Y.

Let’s all hope, non?

Don’t say I never taught you nothin’

When I was about 6 or so my mother bought me this beautiful cloth doll at a boutique next to Casa Bonita. My favorite childhood restaurant. Yes, it really exists, South Park didn’t make it up. Anyway, I loved this doll. She had lovely brown yarn hair and a big pink bow, a gorgeous pink dress with cabbage roses on it and a skirt that could be taken off and worn as a bonnet. I loved her. I also loved playing at Viele Lake with Dub. Our moms would walk us down there and we would be tortured by feed the geese and play on the playground. Of course I wanted to take my gorgeous doll to show Dub. And by show her, I mean rub it in that I not only got to go to Casa Bonita, but got a doll too. Buuuuuuuuuuurn, sister!

My mom said no, let’s not bring your brand new beautiful doll. I said, Mumsy how dare you deny me the opportunity to make Dub jealous! Also, we both know I’m gonna win this one and time’s a wastin’! Off we went to the Lake with my doll and headed di-rectly to the playground. Dub, Doll and I made it about 5 or so rounds on the roundabout thingy before Doll went flying off and landed in the sandy water that had collected by the spinning toy. Sobs, distress, screaming ensued.  Doll. Was. Ruined. Apparently her insides were made of scraps of fabric and when dampened the color ran from her insides to her out, marring her beautiful cream complexion with spots and streaks of brownish red.

She was thenceforth known as The Doll With The Skin Disease.

I still loved her.

You may not know this about me but I am pale. I don’t just mean white – I mean see through white. When I was pg you could could plan to motor west on route 66 on my belly. I feared ultrasounds might be unnecessary. Just hold a flashlight up to my huge swollen stomach and see him dance!

I attended Catholic school for a while in junior high. It was a hoot and all the girls were suuuuuuuuuuper nice. They gave me cute nicknames like Morticia, Elvira and Casper. Like the Ghost. My mother was quick to point out that Casper was the friendly ghost, but that was of no consolation to me.

And thus, in the 8th grade I began my Life Long Love Affair/Hundred Years War with self tanning products. I started with good old Coppertone. It came out of the bottle orange and I slathered it all over my spindly white legs, tossed on my light blue denim skirt, pink shirt, purple eyeliner and headed off to junior high. It was in gym class (which I was sitting out of, natch) that I looked down and saw myself. Oh. God. I resembled a monochromatic Jackson Pollack leg painting. It was horrible. I went to the bathroom and cried. The problem: I was and continue to be, a dress wearing freak. I love dress and skirt. Love them. And my legs, well…they get seen.I even went so far as to try a tanning bed once. They laughed at me. Laughed. At. Me. But those year book epitaphs always rang in my head

Get a taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan. {They haunt me.} Keep in touch, get a taaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.

The whole while Dub just laughed and laughed since she tans if you turn on a bright light. She and I spent the summer laying out on my roof covered in baby oil. Awesome. We were the epitome of brilliant in our youth, as you can see. She tanned and said buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn sister.

And I did. Then I peeled and was white again.

Finally, better living through chemistry has caught up with my paleness (somewhat) and I have now entered an exclusive monogamous relationship with Jergens self tanner (no animal testing!)

A helpful hint before the weekend: if you run out of shaving cream may I suggest that if you do use your creamy facial wash as a substitute you make sure it doesn’t include a make up remover in the formula.

If you do, your legs might quickly resemble The Doll With The Skin Disease.

Not that I did that.