In Which I Blunder Into Trendy

I received a very nice compliment today from my dermatologist. This wasn’t entirely unexpected, as he regularly enchants me by zooming in on my face with his dermatoscope and then muttering, “When are you going to get wrinkles? I keep waiting for you to get wrinkles…”

But today he surprised me by expanding his range, saying, “Love the hair! I LOVE the hair!” as his fingers danced through the strands, exposing my scalp. (This makes him sound a bit like a fey hairdresser, which he is decidedly not… a fact that made the compliment even more puzzling.)

The most puzzling part, however, was that this was about the seventh compliment I’ve received on my hair since Christmas. FIfty-seven years of nada, six months of compliments.

What is up with that? 

And Why?

Here’s my hair care regime:

         I wash it daily.

         I finger-comb a leave-in conditioner through it, scrunching as I go.

         I try to remember to brush it after it has dried.

                  (this doesn’t always happen)

         I get it cut whenever my bangs obscure my glasses. (~8-10 weeks)

That is IT.

I do not color, I do not frost, I do not highlight.

You cannot get much more au naturel than my hair.

Yet apparently, my path of disdaining artifice and fuss has landed me smack on the cutting edge of fashion. Because (as I have now learned, having finally become sufficiently curious as to what everyone is going on about to google “hair trends”) what I call au naturel is seen by others as balayage grey - and it is quite The Thing.

I wish I’d realized this earlier, so I could at least enjoy my fifteen minutes of fame and fashion.

(Because you KNOW me being fashionable is a once-in-a-lifetime event!)

Oh well, at least now I’ll understand when people start gently suggesting my hair is a bit passé. -- Which I expect to start happening sometime next week...

Can't. Stop. Laughing.

This one’s for Kraken-

Who looked pretty much just like this when we became friends in 8th grade…

I don't know if it will make anyone else laugh this hard-

But I hope so!

June is Peeves Month

OK, I made that up. 

But it IS true that my last “peeves” post was prompted by having to go around with my nose crinkling at the stench of June roses... and since those very roses are once more fouling the air around me and causing me to dwell on recurrent irritations, I’ve decided that I have more than enough peeves left over to support a further rant.

Plus, I’m in the mood to gripe.

(Or bitch-slap someone but I’m trying to rein that in…)

So here we go.

More reasonable/unreasonable/absurd/IRKSOME things that make me peevish:

1- Having a job that requires me to get up so early that I go to bed while it’s still light out.

I’m all for youthfulness, but I’d prefer feeling like a 20-year old, not an 02-year old.

2- Fake accents.

They’re rarely funny, few are convincing, and unless you’re unusually well-acquainted with the entirety of the foreign parts in question, you’re probably demonstrating geographical ignorance, as well. (Not to mention confusing your audience.) Texans don’t speak with a Bronx accent, a Geordie doesn’t have a Cockney accent, Catalan is not generally heard in Mexico. Need I go on? 

Just... please stop before I stab you.

3- Asking your IT tech, “How did that happen?”

Do you really anticipate understanding the answer? 

Plus, odds are good that it’s an ID-10-T error - don’t make us lie to you.

Just say, “Thank you” - we appreciate that.

4- “Where’s that at?”

The “at” is incorrect, inelegant, extraneous, and lowers your perceptible IQ a good 15 points.

Is “ignorant” really the impression you want to give to the world?

5- Road Hogs

Specifically, people with very large vehicles who would rather drive oncoming vehicles into a ditch than risk scootching in any closer than 3-ft from the edge of the road.

The yellow line is not there for you to drive on. 

Please learn some spatial guidelines before someone gets killed.

6- Squeaking Bras

Those of you who don’t wear underwires may not get this at all.

Those of you who do, can I have an “Amen!”?

I don't even know what to suggest to fix this tendency but I'd really like to see someone address it. I mean, it's bad enough to have your shoes squeak but when people start to think that your boobs need oiling, something is very, very wrong.

Happy Father's Day!

Just remember, never get between the big guy and his grill!

The Grand Day

So, Kraken and I played hooky from work the other day and did this:

Ostensibly, we were going to see this:

But it turned out that there was also this:

And this:

(click thru for larger, if you want to be blown away)

And Kraken really wanted to see this:

so I said okay.

(Matisse isn’t my favorite, but I can play Noble Friend.)

Especially when it means Kraken will owe me and has to come along while I visit the...

MUMMIES!!!!!

Eight-year-old Jz wanted nothing more than to grow up to be an archaeologist and dig up… 

MUMMIES!!!

OK, and read some hieroglyphs…

"Long, long ago..."

and maybe wear a bitchin’ mummy robe…

(ah, the dreams of nubile youth...)

But mostly,

MUMMIES!!!

Yes, it was a grand day.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get better…

there was this:

*bliss*

Stop Me If You've Heard This One...

... go ahead, tell me how you'd finish the joke! :-D

(Best punchline gets a virtual prize!)

Betwixt and Between

On my way to the library this morning, I passed an indigent soul who called out, “How do you look so happy all the time? I want to know your secret!” 

That surprised a laugh out of me and I quipped back, “It’s pure fake-it ’til you make-it… but it helps!” He grinned and waved in acknowledgement as I continued on by.

I had to shake my head at the timeliness of the encounter, however, as I’ve had more than one conversation over the last couple of days about this very thing. It started with SP the other night, when he asked, “How are you? I cannot tell from your blog.” 

Well, no, one can’t - because I’ve been sticking to the light and fluffy. I’ve been superficial, not digging deep because, truthfully? I don't have much to dig into at the moment.

In a way, that’s good - because “not much” includes heartbreak. That, thankfully, has moved on. I’m no longer constantly bereft, no longer wondering how on earth I’m going to make it through the day before I’ve even gotten out of bed in the morning. Time has allowed the hurt to dissipate - for which I am very grateful.

However, the vacated space hasn’t been filled yet, either. Not even with contentment, much less joy. And while it’s great not to harbor sorrow within your soul, having *nothing* there isn’t really anything to write home about, either. "Nothing to feel" is remarkably similar to “numb.” 

Dull… Uninterested… Apathetic, even. 

(None of which, can I just mention, are good places from which to write.)

But I know this is all a process, so I make myself go through the motions. I get out and do things with my friends... and I genuinely do have fun. There’s a ton of teasing and laughter and very real enjoyment. It’s just that all of that pleasure is superficial, only going down to… about my shoulders. Below that, I’m Hollow Woman, whose heart and soul are still off on walkabout together. Which is okay. Time will continue to do its thing and pretty soon, they’ll come back, and the good stuff will start to trickle into the void, and I will once more have fodder for something deeper than a silly meme.

But in the meantime, enjoy the fluff.

Cuz it’s still better than this, I think:

Ha! You thought I’d forgotten Spock Sunday, didn’t you??