Isn’t it always the way?

Often my problem with the blog is finding something to say:
Blog Date 21389 – still live a boring life

But right now I have things to say! I have new pictures! I have Mocksgiving redux! I have last night’s rather intense Presbytery meeting and thoughts inspired therein. I have a report back on how to report sermons and get the podcastified. Thane learned a new word!

Look at that! That’s like two weeks worth of posts! All worthwhile! Content ho!

But is that what I want to talk about? Nahhhhhh….

What I really want to talk about is my hair. I used to be blonde.

Here’s a picture of me taken under my dorm window at Blacksmith, freshman year of college. I was 18. (I’m in the middle wearing a silk tank top and black skirt).

Bonus: three of the four people with me were at Mocksgiving!

That was purely natural hair. It hadn’t been cut in years. I certainly didn’t dye it or style it or anything. That was my hair color.

Flash forward to now.

This is not blonde
This is not blonde

My hair has darkened from truly and honestly blonde to a sort of chestnut. As if that’s not bad enough, it’s chestnut with (ahem) gray streaks in it. Or, perhaps given their source, Grey streaks.

In addition to totally changing colors, my hair has thickened considerably. Back in that collegiate photo, my hair was quite fine and on the thin side. Now my hair is very heavy and thick. Towards the end of my pregnancy, even with super-duper rubber bands I couldn’t put it up in a pony tail. It would just drag it down. I can’t really use most barrettes anymore (and I like using barrettes to pull my hair back).

I have declared Saturday “Brenda is Fabulous” day. It begins at 1:30 with a bra fitting After nearly five years of I’m pregnant, no I’m nursing, no I’m weaning, no I’m trying to get pregnant, etc. ad nauseum (no really — there was lots of nauseum involved) I’m finally planning on a permanent single-occupancy body. I actually threw away all my regular bras when I got knocked up, because I knew otherwise I’d never get around to getting ones that actually, you know, fit. It’s been like two months since I last nursed, so…. it’s time.

Then at 4 pm I’m going to go see Dale (I always want to call his partner Chip, but I suspect that would be rude) and get my hair cut. Or something.

But oh! What the heck am I going to ask for? Something fashionable and current? Something classic and elegant? A mohawk? And what about colors? Do I do anything with the gray? Do I age gracefully? Do I do an at-home wash? Do I get highlights? Will I keep them up if I get them? Do I just ignore the issue for another few years? What am I trying to look like?

What do you think?

No, I have not given birth yet

I promise you are not as disappointed by this as I am. (I’d forgotten that about this stage of pregnancy not only do people get *really excited* when you call them, but if you — heaven forfend — do NOT contact them they get all excited.) But no. Still pregnant.

I do, however, have significantly less hair than I did this morning. I just washed it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow if I like it. But it needed to be done — I couldn’t do anything with it but put it back and it failed to please me. To the headsman! Or the stylist! Pictures will be forthcoming.

One of my cats has gingivitis. Let me tell you how excited I am about paying for full anesthesia for appropriate dental care. I increasingly suspect these two felines are the last freeloaders I’m going to have for quite some time.

These and other FASCINATING events are the substance of my life. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some terribly exciting things to do. Like pay bills.