Deep Cut

Well, it was just a matter of time.

After a life of mostly fortunate experiences, my luck ran out and it happened.

I got a bad haircut.

Goodbye long hair!

Now, don't get me wrong. I've had some ridiculous looking hair before. Usually because I picked a style based on trend and not because it would actually look good on me. Or the stylist would give me something completely different than what I wanted.  So did it look good? No.  But it also didn't look like my hair got caught in a weed wacker.

It all started when I decided it was time to cut my hair. I haven't had a haircut in almost 4 years because I grow my hair and donate it.* I was completely happy with the stylist that cut it the last time. In fact, several months later I went back to her to get it cut even shorter. Both times she did a fantastic job.

So the reasonable thing to do would be to go back to the person I was happy with, right?

But no.

I was about to call (seriously had the number written on a post-it note) when I happened upon a salon I've heard about before and I decide to try that place. Because why go to a place that you know you'll like when you can take a gamble?

I called, made the appointment and then realized I didn't ask how much they charge. I called back and I promise you, the woman sounded almost embarrassed to tell me. And she should have been - it was outrageously expensive.

So I called my top fashionista friend, the guru of all things beauty, just to make sure I wasn't out of touch or just being cheap. She confirmed it was a little high and suggested I go to her girl.

For a fleeting minute I thought about keeping the appointment, just to see what a haircut that expensive would be like...but I couldn't do it.

So I call her girl.

One cut. That's all it took for me to know something was wrong.

She chopped my ponytail off and I remember thinking it felt really short - like too close to my head.  It immediately made me nervous. But I thought maybe I was just being paranoid and it was probably just the immediate shock of going from hair down my back to WHAM, now it's gone.

The more she cut, the less it looked like what I wanted. And I was worried. But I pushed my concerns right out of my head. After all, I had done everything I was suppose to - I brought a picture.  I told her exactly why I liked the cut in the picture.  I told her exactly what I wanted. And my friend's hair always looks so cute - this lady knows exactly what she's doing. She's the expert.

She's chopping and chopping. And that's exactly what it was - chopping, not cutting. She held my hair upside down between her fingers and just kind of jabbed at it with the shears - like a sword fight. All the while telling me about her time working on New York's Fashion Week. See, she is an expert.

When she was done I didn't like it. At all. I was trying hard to stay positive and give it a minute. I thought I just needed to go home and restyle it - a trick that has worked for me countless other times. In fact, I was in such a rush to get out and mess with it that I forgot to give them my coupon when I checked out. So not only did I pay and tip for something I didn't like - I cheated myself out of saving $25!

I got home, stuck my head under the faucet and tried to do something with it. And it wasn't happening. There was nothing I could do. No matter what it literally looked like my hair had gotten caught in a blender. At high speed. Choppy, chunky and just...weird.

Then I looked at the back. HOLY COW! My hair is stacked! In case you don't know - stacked in a style where the hair is essentially layered up and it requires short, short, short hair.  In fact, my neck hair (gorilla girl!) was showing. I'm convinced she didn't shave my neck because she didn't want me to know how short it was in the back.

So I called the girl I should have called originally and got it fixed the next day.  She tried to save as much length as she could but she had to cut even more to get it to look decent. Still not great but she could only do so much...

This is what I ended up with. You would appreciate it so much more
if you could see the before picture!

She was super sweet though because she cut me a deal on her price, since I had "already been through so much". And I don't want this to sound ungrateful, because it's absolutely awesome that she discounted it but I've been through some stuff, some real stuff and haircuts, no matter how bad, will never be included on that list.

Anyone besides me find it ironic (and kind of sickening) that I ended up paying more than the really expensive haircut that I cancelled?

Oh well, guess I can't expect to be lucky all the time...

M decided to donate with me. So proud of her heart!

*I don't donate to Locks of Love. I have nothing against that organization, they have an admirable mission statement but there is a huge misconception that they provide wigs to cancer patients. I'm not saying they don't, because they do. But that isn't their primary focus so it's more difficult for a cancer patient to get a wig from them than it is from other organization that focus specifically on cancer patients. That happens to be a cause that is near and dear to my heart so I donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.  Click here to find out more about the program.

Confidence Whisperer

A good and bad thing happened to me the other day.

I was shopping and as I was checking out, I looked over and made eye contact with a guy walking past. He smiled and said hello, I smiled and said hello. Nothing extraordinary. Just two people being friendly.  

I walk out to my car, throw my bags in and begin to make my way out of the parking lot. I see a truck approach from the other side and then slow down. I assumed they were turning into a parking spot until I notice the driver is motioning for me to roll down my window. That's when I realize it's the guy from the store. I immediately thought he was going to tell me I had a headlight out or something.

So I roll down my window and he says "Hey! Can I give you a compliment?" 

Um. Just for point of reference, YES, you can always give a girl a compliment.  Like, who doesn't like those?

But it was so off point from what I thought he was going to say that I was startled and the best that I could come up with was a confused sounding "Sure."

"You're really pretty, you dress great and you seem successful. Are you married?" 

By the time I could process what he said, I realized he was waiting on me for an answer. When I confirmed I was, he shook his head and said "Man." Then he paused for a second and finished with "Tell your husband he should treat you better." Then he was off. 

SCORE!

Who in a billion years would have imagined something like that happening to me? It felt great! I was on cloud nine. It totally made my day. 

Then I called my husband to gloat – because what’s the point of being hit on if you can’t brag about it, right? As I’m telling him it becomes painfully obvious that I’m much too excited, much too flattered. Much too desperate.

Do normal nearly-40 year old woman feel their egos soar when some random stranger gives them some vague and superficial compliment?

And it changed.

I’ve recognized that I’ve been feeling undesirable lately but didn’t realize to what extent. I’ve gotten out of my gym flow, have gained some (more) weight, and generally feel unattractive. And hubby’s been working a lot lately and has been really preoccupied and not into me. At all. So I feel a little ignored.

That’s a lie. I feel a lot ignored.

I know he’s busy and he’s tired and I appreciate that he works so hard for his family. I really do. But it’s hard when all I’ve been asking for is a date. Nothing extravagant, just a little bit of his time and attention. And when he tells me that he’ll be working for our anniversary…it’s hard not to take that personally. I’m here and I’m yours – does that not excite you at all?

Logically, I know that isn’t it. Logically, I know that he’s under a lot of stress and pressure and he’s doing whatever he can to make deadlines and keep us moving forward. It’s all for us, I understand that. But that doesn’t make feeling disregarded any easier.

I didn’t realize what that combination had done to my self-esteem. It’s kinda a shocking thing to realize you don’t feel good about yourself.

So what started out as a good thing quickly turned into something bad when it became apparent I’m in a slump.

But kudos to that guy for having the guts to do something like that. If I was single, I totally would have given him my number for his confidence alone.  There’s nothing more attractive than a man that goes after what he wants.

Of course, after thinking about it I’m not convinced it wasn’t just some guy doing charity work. For all I know, he could seek out frumpy old hags and give them that line just to make them feel better. And who could blame him?

After all, it totally worked on me.

Chaos Squared

So things have been...chaotic.

Largely because we're insane.

So I'm not sure what we were thinking or if we were thinking at all...but M2 will begin Kindergarten in August and we are nowhere near getting our house built. In fact, we haven't even begun with step 1!  And I am freaking out. We are running out of time and have to get this stuff started!

Hubby had a colleague that was supposed to draw our house plans. He had some life things come up and kept putting us off and we got tired of waiting. Then one of hubby's friends offered to draw them for way cheap. You know he wasn't going to pass that up so we went that route.

More waiting and then a few weeks ago he brings in kinda-sorta-but-not-really set of plans and explains he has no idea how to do a roof line.  Really? Because that's kinda an important part. Did you not know you couldn't do roof lines when you took the job? And of course, we paid him for the work he had done but it's essentially useless. Which just adds to my frustration.

And it's May. MAY!

So I start calling around. To professionals. None of this "I know a guy" stuff anymore. We need this done and we need it done right. By someone who can draw roof lines.

The first guy I called quoted me $6,400. Yes, you read that right - six thousand, four hundred. So does that include you pouring the concrete too or we talking just for the drawing? I mean, I knew a custom home would be more but...seriously?

It was good that I called him first though because he was the most expensive. It helped the other quotes not seem quite so shocking.

We went last week, interviewed two and picked our guy. Ironically, he happens to be the father of a girl my husband dated for a short bit almost 20 years ago. It doesn't bother me a bit but he was kinda freaking out about it. As we were driving to meet the guy he was all "Don't say anything about me and (insert ex's name here)." Yeah, because that was my plan. "Hi. Nice to meet you. This is my husband, who used to do your daughter."

So now we've got the plans going. Which is good but we are still so far away. We've known for a long time that we weren't going to have anything built before August but I really wanted M2 to begin school in that district so we've decided to go ahead and sale our current home and move. Originally hubby suggested renting a place but I think long-term it would be better just to buy something small that we can rent out or flip later. I mean, we're looking at least a year in order to build, it's not a quick process.

So that's where we're at.

The plan is to pack up all the clutter and crap (and there is WAY too much of it) and put it in storage so we can put our house on the market while we live in it. Of course, we aren't ready to put it on the market yet and don't want to get a storage building until we're ready...so it's all just getting stacked in our office.

I used to have a pretty entryway table here,
now you open the door to a pile of boxes.

So we're in the process of moving...but not moving. Just not able to get to anything because it's packed and having to work around too many boxes.

Down to essentials...

Honestly, I think I prefer the old method - grab a box and throw it in a few nights before you have to move. It may not be the most organized way to do it but I'm learning it's definitely the least stressful...

And happy late Mother's Day for all you Moms out there! I enjoyed my day with this fabulous lady...

Eye Of The Tiger

So you may remember this fun little medical emergency? 

Apparently I’m prone to random and weird eye stuff.

I was in a meeting Tuesday morning when I noticed a little bit of cloudiness in my left eye. Almost like my contact lens was foggy. I did the whole blink a million times thing and I couldn’t get it to go away.  After the meeting I came back to my office and realized I had no contact solution or eye drops. Way to be prepared.

I got caught up doing a few things so it took me a while to run to get solution. By that time it was really cloudy and I’m thinking I really need to get this contact out.  But when I did, the cloudiness was still there. I looked in the mirror and noticed my pupil was clouded over. Hummm, that’s not good.

So I make an appointment with an Ophthalmologist. By this time, the eye is beginning to water. Which is more than mildly annoying.  And a little alarming – why am I leaking?

My husband was in meetings so I couldn’t reach him – I just drove myself.  I’ve taken out my contacts, don’t have my glasses and am down to one eye. One pretty blind eye at that.  Did I mention that I only had one hand on the steering wheel because the other hand was busy holding a tissue to my now constantly watering eye? But no worries, I only drove like 20 miles per hour. 

As I check in my eye begins to burn. Are you kidding me? What is this?? Of course, they squeezed me in so it took forever to even get me back. I’m sitting in the waiting area hunched over in pain, with a tissue to my eye and tears pouring down my face. No wonder everyone sat on the opposite side of the room.

The first thing the nurse did was put numbing drops in my eye. Oh. My. God. That was the best feeling in the world. Like instant relief. Talk about liquid gold.

Then they put me out in the hall to wait for the doc.

For thirty minutes.

And those drops are good but they aren’t that good because my eye was on fire again by the time they finally called me back.

He spent a lot of time with me and said a lot of “hummm”s . At the end he said I had a lot of fluid on my cornea but he couldn’t identify a reason why. He said usually that’s caused by three things: injury to the eye (no evidence), infection (no evidence) or lack of oxygen from wearing contacts (no evidence). So he decided to treat me for all three.

This is what it looks like when they only dilate one eye.

After some expensive medications, I’m all fixed up and good to go. I’m also keenly aware that I’m getting older and starting to fall apart!

I'm A Healthy Bitch

The other night I walked upstairs and into the bathroom. I've been feeling run-down lately but this really hit me. I sat on the edge of the tub and said to my husband "Man. I'm exhausted. Like, pregnant exhausted." He shot me a look like 'Oh, poor you' because he has like zero sympathy for whining, of any kind. I was about to respond with a "What? I really am!" when  all the sudden, woosh, I felt a wave of nausea and realized I was about to pass out.

My husband was convinced I just came up the stairs too quickly. Now, I may be fat and out of shape but there was no way that was it. I walk up those stairs at least 4 times everyday and I have never, ever had that happen.

Not that it's that alarming - it happens. But it did get me wondering...a few weeks before that I had two episodes of chest pain. Which I completely blew off because I'm young and healthy. It was one of those things that happened and I thought "Oh. That's weird." and then went on. I think in the back of my mind I kinda thought maybe it was an anxiety attack of some sort.

I just happened to have a doctors appointment scheduled for something unrelated so I casually mentioned the chest pain and dizzy spell. I almost didn't but I'm glad I did. Turns out it was all something that I think I've known for a while and thought I was managing but wasn't.  Turns out severe anemia can cause chest pains and fainting. So besides being short on iron, I am totally and completely healthy.

And apparently I'm also a bitch.

It's not like I try to be. Because believe me, some woman really do. That's not the thing with me. Most the time with me it's based on principal and nothing else. I said 'most' the time!

Like today.

I took my kids to Sonic (because Happy Hour really does make me happy) and allowed them to get an "Add In" to their drink. Basically, you pay .20 for a squirt of flavoring. M wanted Blue Coconut. So I order and as the transaction flashes on the screen I notice her drink is .10 more than it should be so I call in and ask why. The guy on the speaker explained that Ocean Waters (sprite and blue coconut flavoring) were a premium drink and directed me (very condescendingly) to look at the menu.

And I was looking at the menu. I was looking right at it. So I very nicely explained that I ordered a sprite with an Add In and the menu said Add Ins were only 20 cents more, so I shouldn't be charged more than that. And there was silence. Nothing. No response. No acknowledgment. Nothing. I thought that was rude but a minute later I saw my order flash on the screen so I thought they were adjusting it (I had paid with debit card) and let it go.

When the carhop brought the drinks the ticket didn't show an adjustment.

It's 10 cents. I get it. It's nothing. Really, I could care less about 10 cents. What I do care about is customer service. So, you just don't respond and that's it? I don't think so.

To me it was completely illogical - you can add Blue Coconut to a Dr. Pepper and it's .20, add it to a Diet Coke and it's .20, add it to a Root Beer and it's .20 but add it to a Sprite and the drink magically becomes special? That's nonsense. And I'm calling you out on it.

So I call back in again.

Yes. I really did.

I told you I was a bitch! And apparently a very stubborn one because I was not going to let this go. And I asked if they were adjusting my ticket. The guy was annoyed and said no, that I ordered an Ocean Water. I'm sure in his head he was thinking "Oh my God, lady! It's 10 f'ng cents!"

But it wasn't just 10 f'ing cents - it was more than that. And it literally was - the way Happy Hour is calculated, it was 14 cents. But wasn't about the money - it was about the principle.

It was also a huge ordeal. Over 10 cents.

That was a fight that I didn't need to fight. But that's the problem - I wanna fight them all. If something is wrong, I want it fixed - no matter how small.  I do it nicely and respectfully (to begin with) but why do I feel like fighting it at all? What am I, the superhero of injustices? Here she comes to right the wrong! 

I have issues....and not just the low iron kind of issues...

The Day I Almost Died At The Carnival & Other Unimportant Nonsense

Every year our town celebrates the land run of 1889. Mostly because it's a historic town but partly because there is some real bitterness about the fact that this used to be the state's capitol.  It's the one claim to fame this old town has and they are not prepared to let it go. We gotta make sure everyone knows that this place was the territorial capitol. The fact that this hasn't been the capitol since 1910 is pretty irrelevant. We were the first, damn it!

So there are several 89er weekend festivities.  Mine usually begins with the parade. I always try to take the girls, because what kid doesn't love a parade? And it's usually a really good parade too. Normally, there are over 200 entries - bands from all across the state, Shriner clowns, show cars, horses - just a ton of stuff.

This year was just kinda 'eh'. Except that M got to be in the parade - she was super pumped about that. And when they went by she yelled out to M2 and made sure to throw candy right to her. That was a very big deal.

But not as big as getting to go to the carnival afterwards.  I planned to take them this year but didn't want to say yes, in case it didn't work out. So I was noncommittal, which my kids were afraid meant no.  M put together a pretty impressive marketing campaign to win me over. Seriously, I thought these were outstanding. She used a popcorn bag to create two ads:

"The carnival is fresh & crisp especially in 2015"

Clown holding a sign that says: "Please let M go to the carnival in 2015"

So off we go to the carnival! I love carnivals and fairs. I just think they're fun. And I love to people judge watch. So we get our wristbands and make our way down the row of rides. Most of them are the kiddie rides that don't do more than go in a circle. Down towards the end are the "real" rides. Those are the ones that M wants to ride. It's amazing, she's fearless. No hesitation, no doubt - just "I want to ride that!"

I like rides too. Love roller coasters. Which is why my family finds it hilarious that I'm scared of the Ferris Wheel. And I am. Hate it. I can't do it and when I do, I am petrified. Literally, clinging to the edges scared. I have been bungee jumping (twice), parasailing and skydiving but put me on a Ferris Wheel and I freak out.

Down on the ground, where I belong, watching my little one enjoy the ride

With all that stuff, it's so fast I don't have time to think - it's pure adrenaline. That's what I love about it. And what I hate about the Ferris Wheel. It's so slow, you're just hanging there, dangling. It's too much time to think and if I think, I get scared.

But I'm not so sure about these carnival rides. At least the big ones. Something about the fact that they put them up in two days makes me nervous. And they're not being put up by Engineers. There's a reason these people are working in a carnival...

So I let her pick one. Of course, she picks the scariest looking one, The Zipper. They put you in a little cage and you spin 360 degrees. Multiple times. Looks fun!

I started getting nervous when we were two away from the front of the line and I noticed a grown woman getting off the ride saying "No.No.No.Never again. Never. Never."

I watch the guy close the next basket, so I can see how they're latched and I realize it's literally just a little knob that the guy moves over. And he doesn't seem to be that careful about moving it over either. Like if it were me, I would be double, triple checking it. He's just halfheartedly, nonchalantly flicking it shut. Like, not putting any weight into it at all. I don't like that.

I notice the next cage is missing the black round knob that the other cages have. It doesn't prevent him from opening it but I wonder why it's missing and what that means...like, how can it latch shut if it's missing that knob?

And then...we're up? Our turn?  Into the cage with the missing knob. M is so excited she can hardly stand it. We get into the cage and...wait. There are no seat belts. Where are the seat belts? Where are the seat belts!?!?

Surprise!  There are no seat belts. Nope. The door has bars that you're supposed to hold on to and a soft foam strip to brace you. That's right - you're entire body weight is on this door. The door with the missing knob.

I shake the door four times as hard as I can before they lift us up - just to make sure it's really shut. But it doesn't make me feel better.

I realize too that M's feet are dangling precariously. Mine barely touch the floor. What's going to keep her anchored when we're upside down? So I hold on to the bar with one hand and put my arm across her chest with the other and right then - WHOOSH - we spin. And I know right away I don't like it. Spin, three more time. I'm not sure what I said but I'm pretty sure it was obvious that I was not okay with this ride. Then I notice M is leaning into me saying "I don't like it. I don't like it." over and over.

I know she's feeding off my panic so I immediately go into a  "It's okay. It's okay." mantra. And then I'm not scared at all, I just want her to be okay and for this damn ride to be over so she won't be scared anymore. And then, moments later we are lowered down and our cage pops open. Freedom!

We climb out and I notice M's hair is all over the place, reach back and feel that my own ponytail has fallen out and is frizzed over everywhere. M sees a friend walking towards The Zipper and exclaims "Don't do it! Don't ride The Zipper!" But there is a certain kind of pride in her voice as she relates the facts of our ride. "You go in circles and hang upside down!"

But that's not how I almost died. No, that happened much later in the evening when I reached back and pulled the rubber band out of my hair. I felt two things in my fingers so before I put my hair up again I look and there was a june bug! In my hand! I screamed, jumped about 3 feet and shook my hands as hard as I could.  It scared me so bad,  I was almost ready to ride The Zipper again.

I survived the ride and the bug! Champion!

Conference Adventures: Crying A River

So this conference brought me to tears. Literally. I ended the conference bawling like a baby.  And not the pretty-girl cry, but the type of ugly cry that looks painful and causes other people to avoid making eye contact. That horrible sniffling, scrunched up face, triple intake of air cry.

Never in my life have I needed a shirt that said "Hot Mess" more than I did at that instant. (Okaaay, there was that one time in Tijuana....but totally different type of hot mess) I tried hard but I could not keep it together. 

Here's the thing, and you probably already know it - I'm deeply sentimental. So you would expect that I would have been thinking and preparing for the fact that that was my last state conference and potentially my last conference ever. But I didn't. I totally didn't. 

I don't know...I just never really felt that it was the end. 

Until the end.

One of my dearest friends had suggested before the conference that we needed to do something symbolic to represent the end of an era and our friendship.  Not the end of our friendship, just the era...Hey, tomorrow we won't be friends, let's do something to symbolize that!

So I ran out with two of my best friends and we got matching tattoos. It's been almost 20 years since my last tattoo and I guess I must have forgotten how painful they are because that little thing hurt! It didn't help that while he was tattooing me, the guy was ranting about evil people who flip houses.  The more he talked about it, the angrier he got and the angrier he got, the deeper his needle went. It was almost like he knew we have flipped houses and he was extracting his revenge. I was trying to stay calm but all I could think in my head was "Stop talking!"

But I love the tattoo - absolutely love it. Both the actual tattoo and the symbolism of it and I will forever be glad that we did it.

We will never drift apart...

Even with the tattoos, I never got sad or sentimental.  I guess I was too busy enjoying myself to even think about it. And I had a series of small adventures to contend with that helped provide some distraction, and some humor - like losing my car in the parking garage, having my drivers license stuck overnight under a potted plant and getting a ticket for illegal parking. None of that sounds really funny but it was, trust me.   Of course, the funniest part of all those things is that if it happened to someone else I would totally being thinking "What a dumbass!"  No worries, the irony of that is not lost on me.

So conference wraps up and a small group of us are meeting for lunch before heading our separate ways.  We're standing around visiting when a friend comes over randomly and hugs me. A real hug. A tight, lingering, kinda sad hug. And it's funny because I knew immediately what it meant and I kinda got chocked up. Then I looked at her and she just gave me this look and it was over.  Just quiet, sad little tears because it really hit me how much I would miss her. And so many others.

Then she hugged me again! Seriously? No! Don't be nice to me, it only makes it worse.

I think I was so overcome because I hadn't prepared or anticipated feeling sad.  I hadn't really thought about all the amazing people I'm about to lose. Yeah, yeah, I know - you can always stay in touch, there's facebook, twitter, phone calls, emails...but the reality is that things change and people drift apart. It's a by-product of lives moving in different directions.

After lunch I hugged everyone goodbye, got in my car and cried. Not the little tears that I had earlier - this was a full cry.  I thought of all these people and wondered if they knew how much they meant to me, how much I learned from them, how much I cherished their mentorship and how grateful I am for their friendship. Would I get a chance to tell them? Or was this really it?

Endings are always hard. But there is something about an unfinished ending that is extra tough. I've had some of those and I think I will always carry the things unspoken, always have questions.  If I have the chance, I want closure. Even if sometimes it is more difficult, it's what I need.

Since I've got some time, I decided to write letters. I just don't think I'll be ready to leave this phase of my life until I have the opportunity to share with these people how amazing I think they are and to thank them for their love. Because I think it's kinda a rare thing for people to love you, really love you - when you have it, you've got to appreciate it and recognize it for the special thing it really is.  If things go well and we are refunded I will have two more conferences but I'm doing the letter thing anyway. I'm not counting on being able to say any of what I want to say in person - I just don't think I could get through it without crying.

And who wants to see sniffling, scrunched up face, triple intake of air cry?