Friday, September 14, 2012

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, I am my Mother after all ;-)



Yesterday was my looooong awaited hair appointment. A few months back there was a chemical/dryer/hair/burning mishap. Ya'll know I've got white-blonde hair - well, while it was that color naturally in high school, but darkened with childbirth/age, nowadays it gets some help from my stylist. After all these years, though, it finally happened - he cooked it. I literally could smell my hair burning while I was under the dryer. Yikes! To make matters worse, the area that burned down to a scant 1/2 inch length, is on the back of my head exactly where I have a cowlick! It's like rubbing salt in a wound. Not cool. While I've wanted to simply wear a hat until it grows out (I also toyed with the idea of going buzz cut), I've sucked it up, done the female "comb-over" and pretended it's not there. No fun.

So... after all this, my stylist decides it's time to give my hair a break and nurse it back to health. "Let's go dark," he said. Thinking that would hide my bald spot better than my currently fiber-optic shade, I agreed. What it meant, though, was going extra long between hair appointments to make sure I had a good chunk of root regrowth. Argh. Great. Now I've got a bald spot, female comb-over, and an inch and a half of dark roots. Nice. It has not been a good hair summer. Lol.

This brings me to yesterday. The "let's go dark" day. And OMG. I was stunned, it's been so long since I've done any color but blonde, that it was shocking. My skin tone looked darker, my eyes looked bigger, and as I finally focused on the full reflection, I did a double-take. When did my mother get here? LOL! Seriously, with the dark hair, I look just like my mom (who has amazing skin, btw, so I'll take it!).

I headed off to go pick up my youngest at school, and kept glancing at my hair in the rear view mirror - I may have had a conversation with my mom/reflection as I drove along. ;-)   I got to the school, pulled up and waited. She sees the car and here she comes. Yep. She saw me. There's the jerk and stop. She opens the door and says, "OMG! I totally thought Gramma Liz was here!" Hahahaha!!!  I got to shock our oldest daughter, and my hubby, and can't wait to get my other two kids. LOL ;-) I'll try and get Bill to take a pic of it this weekend. I hate taking my own pic - never can get it right - I mean seriously, I do NOT have 4 chins! Why do my self-pics always make me look like I do??? Oy!

Quick update on Nakki - we started her steroid treatment. Yesterday we got home after doing all our camping-trip-supply-shopping, and she not only greeted us at the door doing her signature butt-wag (no tail), she was jumping, running around us, bringing us toys to toss in the air for her to jump up and snatch... it was incredible! I felt around her, and the tumors on her chest have shrunk so much I can't find them, and the lymph nodes have significantly reduced in size, too! We know it's not a cure. We know it really doesn't change the outcome. But seeing her that energized and happy was overwhelming for us.

Today, we're finishing off the work schedule, then packing up and heading out. The plan is to set up in a sweet little campground outside of Sedona. One couple is already on their way to go stake out a site, while the rest of us can't leave until later. Here's the deal with camping. I love camping. Really. I grew up camping. Which is why I now have rules about camping. Serious rules. When I was a kid, the routine was to drive to the middle of nowhere, take the next back-road - or better yet, make one, drive until we could not go any further, set up the tent, the army blankets (you know those scratchy green wool ones?), douse ourselves in bug spray, and (here's why I have rules) pick a tree. I have awesome memories of those camping trips, but as an adult, I get to say: no toilets, no camping. Period. I will NOT do the tree thing.

Now, the friends we're going camping with don't understand this rule. They have no problem doing the tree thing. They even offered to bring, and share, their portable camping toilet. Yes, I did the heeby-jeeby dance. NO. EWWWWW. NO! I'd frankly rather do the tree thing! Which I am not going to, as I insisted (fine, I'm a camping weenie, whatever, at least I won't go home with poison ivy on my ass!) on going to a campground with quasi-real toilets. And yes, I've packed both toilet paper and wet-wipes. I also have a generous first aid kit. We're going fishing. Maybe hiking. We'll spend our evenings around a campfire. There's a pretty high probability that my klutz will emerge.


With great fear and trepidation, I am packing my cooler, my first aid supplies, my bug spray and various other items, and driving off into the sunset. 

Please let no one get hurt. 
Please let me hurt no one. 
Please let the bathrooms not be out of order. 

Happy Friday!!


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