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11:44 a.m. - 2011-01-19
Trees, Ice and Very Bad Hair.

There was another snow day yesterday and a two hour delay this morning. The world outside is an icy, ploppy, melty, crunchy, slippy mess. The temp is riding at exactly 32 degrees and the dreary downpour of bits of water from the sky get to decide for themselves whether to be solid or liquid. Quite a nice change for the individual pieces of precipitation, they being used to the iron hands of physics and chemistry deciding for them, but pretty lousy for us. And my poor trees, bowed under globs of snow and now entombed in ice.

What have I been up to lately? Mostly I've been waiting around to be called in for interviews and letting my hair grow. I'm in Hair Hell right now. I've put on a dreadful amount of weight and want more volume to my hairdo to offset the bigger face and can't quite figure out exactly where my hair should be poofier. Or how it should be arranged. I may have to break down and get some professional help. (For my hair woes, smartypantses, I'm off the couch for the nonce, my last shrink had more issues than I did! Sheesh.) Only problem is that Zee has retired and moved to Florida and I hardly think marching into some random salon and saying, "Fix it!" to an unknown and untried stylist is wise.

Though that's how I met Zee in the first place. I was about 7 months gone with Wolf and suddenly realized that with a new baby I wouldn't have the time, money or energy to keep up with my extravagantly high-maintenance Barbie hair. I hauled my rotund preggo self into the car and drove around until I saw a salon and went inside. Zee wasn't the haircutter I drew on that visit, she was working the chair next to the one I was in. And while the adequate random stylist chopped off my locks I eavesdropped shamelessly on Zee and her customer. The woman delighted me. Her quick wit and breezy humor. Her outfit which on anyone else would be paired with a stripper's pole but on Zee came off as exactly what a 40-something woman with great legs should wear, right on down to the Candie's on her feet. Shoes I'd have sworn had disappeared off the Earth somewhere around the time Alex was born and yet here they were still looking snazzy and fun in the draggle end of the grunge clunky 1990s. And this wild, yet somehow welcoming woman was wearing them to cut hair in! I figured anybody who could be on her feet all day in 5" heels and a spandex dress and still come across as gracious, talented, funny, and kind was my kind of hairdresser.

And so she was. Hairdresser, confessor, and friend for a lotta years.

Finding a successor to Zee won't be easy. Damn near impossible, really. So here I sit with my raggedy shapeless mop and my ballooning face (and butt) wondering about hair and fate and whether Jamie Lee Curtis would mind trading bodies with me for a few months. I'd do my best to keep hers in good order while she whipped my poor bod and coif into shape. For that I'd even eat her nasty 'poop like a champ' yogurt.

Speaking of getting into shape, MIL and decided we'd go back to the gym in March. Neither of us relishes the idea of taking on the gym and the chancy winter weather. By that time too I should (hope to) have scored a job and will be able to work out a gym schedule around my work one. I've no grand ambitions about my employ and would actually prefer a nice deadhead 25 hour a week schedule. A couple early shifts, a couple late ones and one but not both weekend days. Picky, ain't I? Especially in this economy. I know how retail works though and a more than competent, pleasant, no drama, honest and reliable employee who doesn't think showing up on time is voluntary and that actually working while I'm on the clock isn't an outrageous demand by management will be quite welcome. Of this I am certain.

Uh oh. I just heard a very ugly crack followed by a thud. This weather is NOT kind to trees. Must investigate. BRB.

Well, there's nothing on the cars and all the outbuildings are still standing so wherever that branch came down it's not done any noticeable harm. Hope our luck (and our trees) hold up.


Time for a cuppa and another round of "What the hell should I do with this hair?" ~LA

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