I have always been a bit of a weather geek.
My dad used to buy me meteorology textbooks when I was in junior high. He really wanted me to be a television weather girl.
I think it was more about his affinity for big hair than his desire for me to master atmospheric phenomena.
And I dare any of you to find a weather girl with bigger hair than my 8th grade school picture.
Which is actually impossible as it is a photo you'll not ever see.
Where was I?
Oh yes. Weather.
So I love the weather. I know all of The Weather Channel peeps by first name.
Speaking of which, The Weather Channel's health insurance must have a fantastic maternity policy--or the constant concern over the jet stream makes you incredibly fertile--because those girls are always pregnant.
Where was I again?
I am generally on top of the 24/7 hurricane coverage. The design and strength of these storms are such an amazing example of God's power.
Of course I do not ever want a storm to make landfall.
I never want families to have to suffer the complete and utter devastation of these tropical systems.
I just find it awing that certain conditions can occasionally combine to create such a catastrophic event.
(I'm thinking there is a life lesson somewhere in there...)
(And a lot of letter Cs.)
But I've always watched from the safety of my home. Through my television. A hurricane has never affected me in the least.
A few weeks ago, however, Gustav planted himself right over Arkansas and dumped massive amounts of rain on our state.
Ike has postponed the Razorback game.
And he is supposed to plant himself right back over Arkansas.
Probably not going to happen.
So I think I am turning my back on the weather.
**Please know that I am not suggesting that my very minor inconveniences are fractionally close to the fear, anxiety and danger that Texas residents are experiencing. I am praying for all those in the path of Ike.**
I'm just saying that it is bizarre that Arkansas is indirectly involved in 2 storms in 2 weeks.
When we've never even had the slightest breeze in the past.
I think it is weird.
And I'm stuck with my mullet. Which I am now referring to as The Spawn of Ike.
I wonder if it is hair karma?
Like, if I'd been a television weather girl I would have had really big and fixed hair. Instead, I have short and messy hair.
Hair that has never seen a curling iron or rolling device.
The weather and my hair are conspiring against me.
Can y'all tell it is after midnight and I am sleepy? Just wondering. That is typically when my conspiracy theories take root.
Oh...one more thing.
If you are watching The Weather Channel this weekend, do me a favor. Watch when this guy is on his shift. It is usually late at night.
On the weekends.
He's our favorite. We have a special name for him. We call him: Inappropriate Pause.
I'm not going to elaborate. You'll see.
My hair is not so good.
I think I have a mullet.
I am going to Dallas this weekend and while I am there I am getting my hair cut.
(Do you hear the Hallelujah Chorus or is it just me?)
This is what I'm thinking...
Do you like it?
I won't turn into a superfreak or anything. I just like her hair.
Is it a mistake?
Is it a good decision?
Is there a cuter short haircut that I'm overlooking?
Remember a few weeks ago when I had the horrendous hair experience?
And how my hair began falling out?
IT STILL IS.
What in the world am I going to do?
It is not falling out in, like, handfuls.
It is just falling out.
All over my shoulders. In the bathtub.
I even found lots of strands on a lint roller.
And in my dryer lint catcher thing.
Pretty much everywhere.
I need some help.
I've started using Nioxin.
It takes 4 times as long to wash my hair now.
And makes my scalp burn like I've doused it in peppermint.
Should I take prenatal vitamins?
I went to the our local natural food store and told them I needed help. I didn't tell them about the coloring incident(s) because, you know, natural food. I think they frown on hair color.
And cell phones. So I turned mine off before entering the store.
I also made sure that I didn't have anything leather on my body.
After a few minutes in the store, it became apparent that certain natural food groupies frown on deodorant.
I thought they might like my nose ring.
And I wanted to announce that I drive a hybrid car for natural food bonus points.
Where was I going with this?
Oh yes. Hair supplement.
Mr. Natural Food gave me something called Ultra Mega Hair.
With no instructions.
But I want to have Ultra Mega Hair, so I took the humongous cow pills.
That smell like rotten eggs.
Rotten eggs that have been floating in the sewer, actually.
I feel so bad for ever taking hair for granted.
(No offense to The King.)
If any of you suffer from thinning hair, I am so sorry that I didn't grasp the depth of the despair.
I will forever appreciate hair that stays in my head.
But all that to say...if you have any advice, send it my way!
I had been looking forward to last Friday for a while.
Shannon and I had been planning on getting together for months. Friday was the day.
Though we've been in touch, we hadn't seen each other in 6 or 7 years.
I planned on getting my hair cut and colored on Thursday. I mean, if I couldn't lose 10 pounds on Thursday, I figured good hair was my next best option.
I went to my regular hair person. She is very conservative with hair color. I had no worries.
My hair is naturally very dark brown--almost black. I usually add a few highlights to make it look like I have hair with texture instead of a helmet. But lately my highlights have been turning a bit blonde and brassy. I asked if we could do a little red/brown highlight rather than the brassy.
I believe the words used were: chestnut; walnut; light brown; auburn.
I believe what I walked out with was: wildfire; explosion; red-orange; orange-red.
The color of those highlights cannot found in nature.
When I walked outside in the natural light...The Princess gasped.
That is never good.
I immediately got on the phone to call my sister-in-law, who is a stylist. Until that point, I had managed to not go to her. She is totally qualified. I just thought it could be awkward. If I hated a cut or something, it would be totally weird.
And I avoid totally weird like nobody's business.
But Thursday I called her and began the pleading. Oh, the pleading.
She met me at her salon at 7:30 Thursday night.
She put purple color stuff on my orange highlights to make them not orange.
It made them purple.
And I do have to say that a little purple is way better than neon orange. I am eternally grateful to my sister-in-law. Though now I have the humongous dilemma of who to go to next time.
I'm thinking I may have to move to another state to avoid the awkward.
By my next hair appointment.
Anyway, I knew that Shannon would understand that I had a hair dilemma. There are about thirty hair dilemmas from our teenage years that immediately pop into my mind.
I knew, however, that I would be meeting Chilihead, and I didn't want her to think I was pleased with/accepting of my purple hair. I thought of how I could maybe be like, "Hi, Chilihead. I'm Eggplant-head".
But then I thought that it would be better to be known for my purple hair and not my dorkiness.
And can I just say that Chilihead is hysterical? She is so funny. And nice. And smart. I just love it when people match their image in my head and she totally did. (And by the way, Chili...my hair is not normally purple.)
It was great to spend the afternoon with Shannon and her family. It really felt like time had not passed. If we hadn't been watching our children play, I might have thought we were right back in the good ole days of Debbie Gibson, cheese fries and boy trauma.
Um. And you know Shannon's pet rats? Yeah. Well. The Princess loved them. And she dropped one of them on my back. And that is just creepy. So, with the exception of being violated by the rat, it was a fabulous day.
But still, I had the hair issues.
So Saturday, The Princess and I spent the day with QM/Beachy Mimi. Who immediately suggested that we do something to get the purple out of my hair.
(She loved the nose ring, though.)
I called The King's cousin's wife, who is a stylist in the town that I was visiting, and had her take a look at my hair. She put something greenish on my hair. And you know, it didn't even scare me. Because if you take orange and purple and green...surely you get something close to brown.
And we did. We got something close to brown.
And I am not touching my hair again.
For at least 8 weeks or until my gray begins to show.
***PEOPLE. My camera is still in the shop from The Great Parasailing Adventure. I borrowed a camera for The Garden Party. I am too embarrassed to borrow a camera for The Great Eggplant Hair Disaster. And it is too late anyway. The hair is close to brown. Boring. I apologize for not thinking to take pictures during the fiasco, however, things were a little stressful at the time and documenting it on film was not my priority. I will do better next time. And trust me, there will be a next time.***
When I first read about Big Mama's Fashion Fiesta, I planned on opting out.
I'm all about good fashion. And a good fiesta.
It is just that I've strayed from my fashion roots.
I've become, dare I say, boring.
I know how to dress. I know what looks good.
I just don't do it.
It is so much trouble.
To make it look like no trouble.
And I've got this new roll over my jeans.
And my arms are flabby.
I need to camouflage those things. Fashion these days does not allow for the camouflaging of those things.
But then it occurred to me. That is the point of the Fiesta.
Big Mama, in all her fashion genius, knows all that.
Maybe she's trying to prove the point that NOBODY ACTUALLY WEARS THE STUFF THEY ARE TRYING TO FORCE ON US.
They being, you know, they. The fashion powers that be.
Or maybe that is not what she is doing at all.
So here goes. Don't expect this to make much sense.
I can assure you that 99.9% of my time is spent in jeans. I'd rather be in jeans than the yoga pant. I LOVE MY JEANS.
My daily jeans are Lucky.
Heck no, that's not my body.
I do love my Lucky jeans, though. I buy the Easy Riders. Which sounds like an old lady pair of jeans.
Which, in essence, they are.
Because I can sit in them. Like the good old days. When you could sit on the floor without displaying your crack to an entire population.
I have dressy jeans, but I only wear them on special occasions.
They are David Kahn. I love them.
Missy Miss Model makes my dressy jeans kind of look like daily jeans. Which they are so not.
But back to the daily.
My daily shirt would be, um, a t-shirt. That's it. Just a t-shirt.
Preferably a soft one.
Untucked. (Remember? The roll?)
This is my favorite.
Those aren't mine either.
Which is unfortunate.
I also have a Mt. Dew shirt. And a few others.
Because I'm nothing if not a walking billboard.
And on cold days I wear a white long sleeved t shirt under them.
I am in a never-ending cycle of washing and wearing the good ones.
I wear the same shoes everyday, too. I have a black pair and a brown pair.
They are Reef. I love Reef.
My fancy shirt would be something like this.
How cute would that be with these...
I would probably never wear those.
I'd go to the mall to buy them. Try them on. Love them. And then say, "Oh. I don't really need them."
And then I'd have the fancy jeans on with the cute top. And I'd think how good those shoes would've looked if I had them.
And the entire outfit will be ruined for me.
So I'd just go put on my t-shirt and jeans and Reefs.
Exciting, isn't it?
Now. If the rest of you put your really cute stuff on your posts...like, if you wear the cute stuff every single day...I'm gonna be mad.
I am not able to discuss my hair today.
Because I want to be happy.
Suffice it to say it is so short that it was dry before I had a chance to dry it.
Instead I'm going to relive my Anthropologie shopping.
And before anyone thinks that I have the ability to shop with no regard for the cost of the beautiful things, I need to explain my good fortune.
Both my mom and my dad gave me Anthropologie gift cards as my Christmas gift. Both of them.
Because I rarely mention my passionate love and desire for the Anthropologie clothes.
So. I had some fun.
My dad and The Princess walked around the mall because The King wanted to join me on my adventure.
He immediately saw this handbag and insisted that it be included in my purchases.
Don't get me wrong. I think this is a fabulous bag. But it could have been a skirt. Or a pair of pants. Or a (wiping tears) sundress.
I now have the bag.
Which will be buried with me.
I love this skirt. It fit well, which is unusual.
I bought it.
Without an accompanying shirt.
Which means I will never wear it.
(But it fit!)
I found these tops.
And these pants.
If any of you feel led to suggest a companion to the skirt, I would be eternally grateful.
Because the butchering is never far from my thoughts...
I will show you the photo of the beautiful, waif-like model that I showed
(He is dead to me.)
He said, "you can pull that off."
Unfortunately, he could not.
1. Get the NASCAR grime off of myself.
2. Get some sleep.
4. Cry over my hair.
It is 12:17 a.m. and I've just gotten home and I think I have tire residue in my hair.
I'll give you the skinny on the weekend later today.
If you want to send good thoughts for hair growth my way it would be much appreciated.
Johnny Cool is dead to me.
Guess where I am going this weekend?
Some of you might recall my slight obsession with NASCAR.
I'll ask you again...don't judge.
We all have our things.
The King left for Dallas yesterday. He had to do some work stuff.
The Princess and I are driving to Dallas with my dad today.
We are forcing my football-loving dad to endure the motor racing.
It should be interesting.
I will also be making a return visit to Johnny Cool. And wow. Do I need it. My hair is B. A. D.
I need some help. Which hairstyle do you think is the cutest?
Or are those all the same haircut?
Queen Mother sent this to me.
She wants me to wear my hair like that.
I don't know. I wonder what Johnny Cool will think?
I am also really excited about going to Anthropologie. I'm hoping that The King and my dad will take The Princess to a movie and I can have 2 uninterrupted hours in the store.
A girl can dream.
NASCAR, Johnny Cool and Anthropologie: A Perfect Weekend.