Hair today...

I hate getting my hair cut.  With a passion.  I don't know that I have ever had a cut that makes me happy, which is why I wear my hair long - I can not worry about how it looks.  Braids, buns, pony tails, or just loose.  And I love it.

Back in NJ, one time, I asked for my hair to be short, but not so short that they had to shave the little pointy areas that come down the back of my neck.  What did I get?  My hair so short that they SHOULD HAVE shaved the little pointy areas, but didn't. An inch of pointy hair stuck out - and didn't look good.  Once, I asked for just a trim.  Just a trim.  JUST.A.TRIM.  And the hairdresser cut TWO.FREAKING.INCHES off of my shoulder-length hair.

So remember that time a couple of months ago that I fell down, went boom splat?  Finally, after 2 1/2 months, xrays, being told my wrist wasn't broken and I should just live with it, I got to an orthopedic doctor.  Same one I ended up with my dislocated shoulder (same arm).  I have DeQuervain's Tendonitis.  So I'm in a brace that immobilizes my thumb.  No opposable thumb on my dominant hand.  Needless to say, really hard to braid, bun, or pony long hair with only one usable hand.  So I go to get my hair cut where I've gone before.  Except the stylist I've gone to is no longer there.  I show my brace, tell her I need it short enough to finger-comb, that she's the expert at what she does, and that I really just don't want to look like a man.  She repeatedly asked if I would be mad (my hair was past my shoulders) - I repeatedly told her that I could not care for my long hair and needed it short.  Repeat.ed.LY.  She tells me SPECIFICALLY that she won't make me look like the guy from the Three Stooges.  Seriously.  Then she makes me look EXACTLY like Moe Howard.  I guess she meant she wouldn't make me look like Curly.  She asked me what I thought.  I told her that I wanted some more layers above my ears.  She told me that she couldn't do that.  I cringed inwardly.  And, like the well-trained, polite woman doormat that I am, I not only paid full price but tipped her.  And then I went, 1 1/2 weeks later, I went to a different salon and asked for a cut to fix the cut.  I explained what I needed, explained why I was unhappy with their competitor's work, and asked for help.  Shown a pixie cut, I said, "YES!!  I couldn't remember what to call it, but that's exactly what I had asked for!" - and proceeded to get a pixie cut - which I am mostly happy with...except that one side is 1/2 - 3/4" longer than the other.  Why???  For the love of Mike (who is Mike, and why do we love him???), WHY?  And, again, I paid and tipped.  So in a couple of weeks, I will probably be looking for the third cut to fix the bad cuts.

Maybe I need to be less critical of how I look with short hair.  Maybe I need to find someone who knows how to listen better.  Maybe I just need to shave it all off and start over...

We all Fall Down

Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that I fell a week ago today.  I stepped on a small rock/piece of gravel, my foot rolled out from under me, and I fell.  Hard.  On my right knee (thankfully, on the knee that is already giving me problems, so I still have one good knee!).  Also on the heel of my hands; even though I know from karate that I should fall onto my forearms, I put out my hands instead.  I let out a little "ugh!" when I fell.  I knew that I was ok, but not ok.  I knew I needed to get out of the road, but I was enough on the side of the road that I really didn't want to move for a few minutes.  I wanted to wiggle toes and see if I had done more serious damage than I had.  My husband came to my side, got the ice that I asked for, and the people whose home we were in front of, on our way to get some information, came out and helped as well.  I got to the grass, laid my head on a cushion that happened to be in the car, and had my knee cleaned and bandaged.  Hal continues to clean it and dress it, because I can't reach it well am really useless with gross stuff. 

All it took was a small rock.  Not big enough to notice outright, but big enough to trip me up and lay me low.  A stumbling block, if you would.  Don't we all have stumbling blocks in our lives?  Some are physical, as mine was - addiction, sexual misbehavior.  Some are situational - the loss of a job, a promotion going to a lesser qualified (at least in our eyes) colleague, failing a class.  Some are temptations, things or ideas that get between us and God.  Food, shopping, alcohol...oh, just one more piece of pie...just one more drink...I NEED this new pair of shoes Incidentally, I was wearing a new pair of shoes when I fell - I told Hal to take them off my feet and THROW THEM OUT - thankfully he didn't (but they are still in the car).  It was not the shoes, after all, that caused my fall. But I was looking for something to blame, aside from my inability to watch where I was walking. 

Don't we all?  It's not MY fault that I weigh more than I did 10 years ago, it's those darn cookies.  It's not YOUR fault that you lost your temper, he made you mad.  And so rather than be on the lookout for those stones along the way, rather than land on our forearms so we can get up more easily, we look for scapegoats - like my cute new shoes - and eliminate them rather than get to the real problem.  And we fall again, and place blame elsewhere again, and...well, you get the point.

My knee is healing well.  My pride - yeah, that is healing too.  But I should not have fallen in the first place.  None of us should.  Let us look around at those things that make us stumble.  Let us keep our eyes on our path - not downcast, just alert.  Let us step well, let us step firmly, and let us step on solid ground.

Have You Been to St. Ives?

Remember the old rhyme/riddle about St. Ives?  "As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives.  Every wife had seven sacks; every sack had seven cats, every cat had seven kits.  Kits, cats, Saxon wives sacks, and wives, how many were going to St. Ives?"

We were asked this in a class in elementary school.  So, I did the math.  (One of the few instances, in fact, where "doing the math" involves actual calculations.  You know, like, "So, I'm working in the restaurant, and Joey comes in with Anna Maria, and he pulls out a box, and he gets down on one knee, and she starts crying and nodding yes - well, you do the math" - see, no math involved)

And when I said that there were 2800 going to St. Ives, 2802 if you count your self and the man (because the riddle leaves out the man and the person speaking), I was told that I was wrong.  Because, you see, I was going to St. Ives, and I MET the others as I PASSED them on the road as they were coming BACK from St. Ives.  And I looked at the teacher, and argued about it.  Because that's who I was.  I have always questioned authority.  Now frankly, if I was carrying 7 sacks with 49 cats and 343 kits, as were the other 6 women I was with, we would have been walking slower than one person who was not as encumbered.  Logically, they could have passed us, walking in the same direction, because they were quicker than we were, and they could have met us as they passed us.  Or at a bistro (or rest stop).  The teacher was not pleased with my argument.  I think I saw my first adult facepalm.  The discussion, as I recall, was cut short .  Maybe I just shut down because I was told I was wrong, when, in fact, I was merely thinking outside the box and not giving the expected answer. 

Don't we do that a lot?  We're no longer encouraged to think for ourselves, rather to spew back "expected" answers.  Not just in education situations, but in the workplace, in political dealings, in personal relationships.  We're expected to fit into neat little boxes, where we can stay as long as we like, as long as we please the one who puts the box parameters in place.  It's when we begin to question, when we begin to seek alternatives, when we begin to question the status quo, that we are shamed, as that teacher tried to shame me, into leaving the box.  And that may not be a bad thing. 

It's messy outside the box.  Sometimes a little scary, too.  Outside, though, is where we are best able to find our own parameters, where we can test our ideas and see which work and which don't.  Where we encounter those who, like us, question "expected" answers.  I am thankful for people who have thought outside the box before me, and hope that I still have enough rebel in me to question things that make no sense - or, that make sense in more than one way.  Because, as my husband frequently tells our my felines, there's more than one way to skin a cat.  Let us always look for the unexpected.

(Anti-) Social Media

Yesterday I went off Facebook.  And what did I do?  Finished (except for mugs, music, and movies) putting away Christmas.  Finally.  And my snowmen (which is what I put out when I take Christmas stuff down, because the house is too empty with NOTHING there).  Stacked the boxes downstairs.  Moved nativities to the empty spot on the mantle, rearranged them til I got them how I like them.  Emptied another box in the room from hades craft room/library.  Handled a phone call or two.  Visited with someone for an hour (SOCIAL non-media).  Shopped (didn't buy anything, just shopped).  Put gas in the car ('cause I don't live in Jersey anymore).  Napped.  Did another 20 rows on a baby blanket I've been working on (which leaves me with16 rows and some trim stitching, before I do the next blanket).  Finished a book I've been reading (Jen Hatmaker's 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess) and started another book (Chris Seay's A place at the Table:  40 Days of Solidarity with the Poor).  Talked about what's going on in the world with my husband.  Laughed with my husband.  Groaned over silly jokes with my husband (him over mine, me over his).  Written this blog post (my first in over 6 months), because I'm not writing in snippets.

Thoughts on Hatmaker's book - some of the things she did and wrote about, I've done.  Perhaps not for the reasons that she did.  It strikes me that she comes at this from a place of privilege, and I don't begrudge her that.  I applaud that she realized that she was being called to this.  Please understand that.  But I grew up below the poverty level, and she spent the last days of her experiment on her parents' 300+ acre ranch.  So yeah, we don't all have the ability to hang out on Mom & Dad's ranch. I've done the October Dress Project 2 years now, and given away excess clothing...twice...and yes, have purchased more, and also have more to give away.  I don't think I'll ever get to 7 items (not counting underwear, as she said) - or be like the character in Not a Fan who gave up all his clothing except a few items.  But I am conscious of what I wear and what I buy.  I shop at thrift stores because it was instilled in me early that I'm not too good to have another person's cast-off clothes (I was, after all, the youngest of 4, with 2 older sisters) or other belongings.  For Pete's sake (who is Pete, and why do we do things for his sake?), I see my grandchildren once or twice a year, and am not going to spend ridiculous amounts of money on toys they will outgrow before they play with it ten times.  My "fine china"?  The 50 cents a piece with a $5 purchase at Foodtown (mind you, Hal has purchased some of the serving pieces, which were NOT 50 cents a piece).   As for food, Hal and I garden and can, make real homemade soup, bake, etc.  I know that I have things that have too many items with the wrong (read: chemical) ingredients in them; we're trying to phase those items out.  Could I live with only 7 food items for a month?  Probably.  But I won't.  I could go on and on about the other chapters...but I won't do that, either (at least not in this blog post - perhaps in a later post).  Here's the thing.  I would rather make lifestyle choices that stick, rather than do without something for a short period of time, knowing that I will be able to go right back to where I was.  If a month of something gives one the ability to go somewhere in the middle, that's great for them.  But it's not for me.  I've tried that.  Depriving myself, makes me want things more.  So, my mutiny against excess has been, and will continue to be, the other way - looking at what I have, what I use, and what I can do without, and giving those items away.  Looking at the things I'm putting in my shopping cart, and putting them back on the shelf because I really don't need them, regardless of how inexpensive or attractive they may be.  Using my funds to support companies, ministries, and people that work towards what I work towards, and not giving my funds to those that work against what I work towards. 

Overall, would I recommend Hatmaker's book?  Yes, if you want to see how one family dealt with living with less, and living more intentionally.  I would also recommend Kyle Idleman's Not a Fan. 

And yes, I'm posting this to my Facebook page.  But comment here, because I'm not reading comments on FB.