My hair has reached the crisis point. I think I qualify for a national disaster grant.
Can you guess what’s on the schedule for today? That’s right–my trusty hair-stylist and colorist are riding to the rescue. And it’s none too soon–my hair is in open rebellion and it’s time for the cavalry to show up, bugles blowing, to restore peace and tranquility.
In my family, people either have too much hair, or not enough. There is no happy medium, it seems. My sister Sally and I have a running joke about the way our hair looks when we wake up in the mornings–every day is different, though always comical. We think the aliens are conducting weird hair experiments without our knowledge and often swap cell-phone snap shots to prove it. Cousin Mary Ann seems to be a test-subject, too–nobody’s been able to match the special way the back of her hair fans out like a peacock’s tail.
I’ve been doing catch-up stuff all week–things I didn’t get to while I was writing “An Outlaw’s Christmas”, and also playing in my art journal, since I got a lot of great stuff on my visit to Oregon. It’s funny–Spokane doesn’t have a Craft Warehouse, so I head straight for that whenever I get to Salem, and Salem doesn’t have a Hobby Lobby, so it’s the reverse when Sally comes here. Whatever Sally and I are doing, we have a great time.
The CREATE workshop in California is coming up soon. I have my tickets, hotel reservations, and most of the supplies listed for the classes I’m in. That is going to be so much fun, especially since Wendy and Jeremy are coming to join me. Yeehaw! Crafting AND my favorite (and only) child? It just doesn’t get any better than that.
More tomorrow. Be kind. (Here’s an idea. Be kind to YOURSELF.)