The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Receptionist at haircutting place said, "I didn't even recognize you (from yesterday when I dropped by before workout with Four for a spontaneous haircut for her) when you came in for your appointment today" ... haircut lady said "DeAnn comes in only once a year for a real haircut though she has her bangs trimmed more frequently". I thought she was wrong ... surely I was in around Christmas ... . Nope.  I noted it here, it was last September.  I guess I treat myself after the summer. I go in and relax in the chair and she tells me about something I've never heard about, like waxing in Atlanta, or the best little hole in the wall eating joint in New Orleans. "So, what are we doing today?" she asked like I might have some new found interest in my "style".  She is noted to be the best colorist in town and sometimes we talk about adding grey, or white, making my hair look like Emmy Lou Harris' hair.  I feel like it should be all grey, or white, by now, but it isn't and I'm not one to "keep up" with the roots.  It would be a real mess within the month.  I'm too old to think of roots showing and bra straps showing as anything but just tacky.  "Ummm,  just make it look right'" I say, "I'm trying to avoid that biker babe stringy look ... cut off how ever much it takes."  She notices that my hair is about one third as thick as it used to be, she's been cutting it for a long time, and I say thanks for telling me to keep one of my ponytails when I used to have them cut off and sent away to Locks of Love.  I'm noticing that it doesn't take very long to blow dry, and I'm glad about that ... and I wonder why I kept that ponytail when I know I'd never take the time to "plug it in" for extra fullness.  I think I started out with enough hair to lose half of it to menopause and the rest of it to general, free floating stress that comes with the climb to the top of the hill.  I need to look "nice" just every once in awhile ... most of the time it's okay to look just like me.  I just don't want to mess with it.  We tailgated this weekend, and I was looking forward to it ... tailgating in the rarefied air of an air conditioned tent ... it did turn out to be a peek at everything I don't like about "here" ... except the sweet tea which was practically a necessity after the walk through the crowds partying up before the game.  I heard a song, new to me, which I will try to find now ...

yep, that's it

So ... here it is, Monday morning, my house was empty by 7:00 ... an hours worth of yard work chittychat, breakfast dishes on the counter top ... a stack of words representing old news/same ole same ole and a cup of cold coffee down on the end of the dining room table.  I step outside to move the bird feeder and bring an orchid back in with me, it needs water and a spot in the house.  The sun is hiding behind a layer that will probably become an afternoon shower and I wonder how many yards the guys working this neighborhood will get mowed before it gets  too wet to work. And ... I think about planning out my week. Last week I spent my "spending money" on some Sam Edelman flats, cantaloupe and cinnamon with a gold metal toe ... perfect for the party ... now I need to start saving up to waste it, the money I get from wasting my time working for others because I don't know what better to do, to waste it on a little shopping trip.  Except for a pair of black pants (and maybe those Coach booties, I say that tongue in cheek) I have everything I need and more.

Today I'll stay home
and wash the windows on the front of the house
and maybe in the den
I'll vacuum and steam the wood floors in my house and the kitchen too
and I'll hang that load of white towels outside and maybe they'll dry before it rains today, but they will at least fill themselves with the good smell of the pine forest that is my backyard
and I'll get the sheets to going
and I should dust
there's dust on the lamps in the living room
it's there again
like the stack of newspapers ... not news ... same ole same ole
and the bathrooms ... the bathrooms definitely want to be cleaned

I'll figure out the just right salad for the mother-daughter dinner coming up tonight while I brush my thinning hair up into a ponytail

and think about which of my Pandora stations would be best for a day like this one ... something loud to beat back the silence I think.

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