Hair woe again

My hair is waist length. It has been for a couple of months. It's fun for a while, then it's just a pain. That's the time I donate it to Locks of Love. It's been about three years since I last did it, so I set out to have my every-three-years haircut.

The Locks of Love website doesn't give a list of salons anymore. Hard to maintain, I understand. So I called around. A couple of places will cut in accordance with LOL's stipulations, but I'd have to send it in myself. Too lazy! A beauty school will do everything for Wigs for Kids and that's close enough for me, so I make an appointment.

I pack snacks and toys for the two boys I'll have with me and we talk about being quiet and good and staying by me and then we'll go to the store for a treat. They agree to the deal. I walk in and there are eight employees/students leaning on the front desk and chatting. Excellent, I think, it's not busy at all so the boys won't be a bother at all. But then I'm told that they're not allowed in the salon portion, and an adult has to be with them in the reception area. "I can't keep them with me? There's no one here." "No, I'm sorry. Is there someone you can call?" There sure isn't. I'm the babysitter. She offers that they have evening appointments a few days a week. A few days a week in the evenings, I am teaching a class or taking a class. If something can't be done in the afternoon with two toddlers in tow, it doesn't happen. I walk out and we go to the grocery store, where the boys are delightful and well-behaved, considering there is only one steering wheel in the fire truck shopping cart.

Civilians fear my hair. It's thick like a rope, coarsely textured and curly. My husband thinks it's trying to kill him (it might be). My mom has agreed to cut it Friday night so that there's time for correction if need be. Seriously, though, salons, I understand there are economic pressures on all of us. That's why I want a free haircut and tax deductibility certificate of donation. You can't accommodate hair donors? You know that women who grow an extra foot of hair are low-maintenance, less is more kind of women, and we tend to be close parents with multiple children. Work with me. The stinker of it is, LOL encourages generous tipping since no one is getting paid for the cut (if anyone still does it) and I was properly armed to make it worth the stylist's patience to saw through my hair with two three year olds rocking the ABCs twenty times. We all lost here, Local Beauty School.

Refreshed and quickly retrenched

My son and I went to visit an aunt & cousin this weekend and had a delightful time and came back refreshed and feeling groovy.

By two on Monday, I'm ready to leave again. How can I not hold on to a relaxed feeling? I think the ability is gone until the last of my kids is grown and gone. Even then, I know I'll be too invested in their well-being to really not be concerned about them. So I need to seek a new level of looseness.

Aging well

If you're old enough for chest hair and a soul patch, you're too old to ride a skateboard shirtless down the street. Time to graduate to a bike, my friend.

Yeargh!

I am up late from being out late. It's 10:11pm on a Wednesday. DH and I went to see HP and had pancakes at IHOP, because we're awesome. I can barely keep my eyes open.

When did I get so old? Although I'm a morning person by nature and prefer to go to bed early, I could stay up and rock the wee hours with the best of them not too long ago. I probably wouldn't be married to the guy I'm married to if not for many hours of Space Ghost Coast to Coast and Red Dwarf to provide safe conversation launching points. I think it's the lack of adrenaline. Staying up late with a hot guy I'm not sure finds me tempting enough to break up with his current crazy girlfriend? Exciting enough to keep me awake after he leaves. Knowing that he breaks up with her and the one after her and marries me? Wonderful, but knowing how the story ends kind of takes away the thrill. I'm making peace with my matins-keeping inner clock but intend to make more of an effort to go out dancing into the wee hours. On the weekends, when I can take a nap the next day. I still need to sleep and have the energy to exercise. I don't know if my sore adductors today are from Jazzercise or the adjustment my chiropractor made. I'll Jazzercise again tomorrow and see if it repeats, then we'll have evidence.

well well

I didn't think I had any followers, but lo, I do! So, here I am again.

I've started Jazzercising. Your MS Word spellchecker recognizes it. I get super sweaty and stinky. My sister is going with me and we're both purple faced and dripping by the end. But, we figure that if our aunt, fifteen years my senior and a couple jeans sizes ahead of us, can do it, so can we. If the 3,274 year old woman in front of us can keep up, so can we. So we did.

First observation: busty girls need to wear a super duper bra. I can keep up with the hopping and skipping and chasses and such, but my bosoms can't. I have two sports bras, but one is from pre-baby days and doesn't fit the same. The other creates a 30-minute cardio workout just to get into it, but nothing moves. So, I'm going to have to add that 3o minute cardio segment to my workouts. (If you're thinking, so just go to Target and get a couple more! then you haven't fully grasped the magnitude here. I'm not shy, come over and grasp it. You'll understand.)

Second, it's absolutely delightful that the instructor brings wet washcloths so we can wipe our sweaty, purple faces. Maybe we need to find a spot by the fans.

Third, I am way out of the loop on American pop music. I hear "Latifa" and I think "Ashan Bahebak," not "Ladies First." Paula Abdul? Did she sing that duet with Hakim? No. So I suppose this is an educational experience in music, too.

Fourth, you can take me out of Near Eastern dance class, but if there's dancing, I'm bellydancing. It's how I roll - from the obliques and through the hips. The warm up involves sliding the ribs over. Everyone else is leaning towards the wall. I slide just my ribs over. Everyone else rocks their hips like they're in George Michael's "Faith" video (I know that one!). I snap my hips sharply, using my glutes. I have a feeling some people are a little weirded out by it. I'm not bothered by it. I have yet to shimmy, but I think it will come once I'm more familiar with the footwork.

I have no idea how some moms write regular lengthy blogs. I am climbed like a rock wall as soon as I'm near the computer. But I'll make a point to make a howdy do! I hear my son still being awake.

Hair glory!

I have had "problem" hair my whole life - it's curly and frizzes if you look at it funny. It's coarse in texture, which I've come to enjoy because it holds a curl. It's staticky in the winter, but in summer, it's a thing to behold. It's lovely and glossy and I like it. I am more in love with my hair after receiving a sample of Roots of Nature Shea Butter Green Tea Reconstructing Deep Treatment. Looooong name, but my hair is reaching divinity after use. I looked high and low, at the grocery store, drug store, etc. for it to purchase the largest size possible, but couldn't find it anywhere. I finally found the same brand - in the ethnic hair care section. Fine, let's look again! No where to be found. OK, this isn't the most diverse part of the world, so I look online. No one but www.webplusbeauty.com sells it! Major retailers, drugstore.com, and all of my highly skilled sleuthing found no other vendor. So, thank you, wpb.