shutterstock_31612891Yesterday I got extensions in my hair.  Somehow I do not feel like a movie star.  At the moment, I feel more like a horse whose mane is braided for a parade.  And the volumes and volumes of hair that I thought would be thick and cascading around my shoulders?  Well, there is more hair. And it is soft.  After you get past the glued part at the top.

I did this all for the theatre.  I am in a play right now, as some of you know.  I envision Cookie, my character in the play, as having kinda wild hair.  Like Anne Burrell on Food Network.  And my real hair does not do wild things.  It just sits there.   So I needed more hair or I would have to wear a wig which I don’t particularly care for.   I just have to feel like Mr. Ed for a while until I get used to these things.

I have always changed my hair a lot anyway.  It is the only part of your body that you can really change quickly, to suit your mood or your purpose at the moment.  Red, blonde, brunette.  Feels empowering.  Of course that can be a bit dangerous.  I once scathingly announced to a new hairdresser, “I don’t want a hair left on my head that that man has touched”, speaking of an ex.  I looked away for a moment, but then felt a strange new sensation on my neck, accompanied by a buzzing sound.  “No, no, no, I was being funny!, I literally screamed.  I will never forget that hairdo.  It was a combination of a slight buzz cut up the back and a real short moppy look on top.  It was awful.  No more sarcasm at the beauty salon.

Back to Cookie – she is a hoot to play.  I was rehearsing my lines early yesterday morning before my husband got up, trying to memorize them before Monday night’s rehearsal.  There is a bit where I have to drop something “accidentally”, which is actually a little difficult, so I was practicing dropping a book and saying my lines, and moaning about my back hurting, as Cookie does frequently.  Moaning fairly loudly in fact.   Dropping and moaning, over and over.  Last night at dinner, he admitted that he had been nervous to come downstairs, because he couldn’t figure out what was going on.  If I was so upset, why wasn’t I coming upstairs?  Was I really mad about something and throwing things at 8:30 in the morning?  I thought that was pretty funny.

I have decided that I just may have filled my life up a little too much.  I know I set out in August to distract myself from NestAche.  I didn’t want to sit around and think about how much I miss my son.  And by the way, was hit with a wave of that yesterday, just out of the blue.  Here came a jolt of, “Boy, do I miss him”, just triggered by looking at the den door that he always used as he smiled and waved good-bye, gone for the night or off to school.  Wow, even now, brings tears to my eyes.  Shoot.  Okay, on with the story.

What we remember from school!

I so wish I had had this picture in front of me when I made that call.

One of the several things I have become involved in is a fundraiser for a local free health clinic.  I am chairing the event and it has been a little like herding cats.  But it’s going to be very successful and that is rewarding.  There have been countless e-mails, texts, phone calls, and several meetings, added on to my seeing patients and writing my now beloved blog.  At one of these meetings, we are discussing plans for the dinner and serving a carton of milk with a straw.  It’s supposed to be a funny thing.  We have a local dairy and the suggestion was made to ask the dairy to donate the milk.  I write down in my notes, “Call Joe at Dairy – straws”.  So next morning, I find myself calling Joe at the dairy and leaving a voicemail.  I ask Joe to donate straws.  Straws.  Then I catch myself.  I stutter a bit and say, “Wait a minute, Joe, I think I am supposed to be asking you for milk,  You must think I am an idiot”.  Duh?  Some wacko mental health professional.  Straws.  Really?  And I am in charge?  Oh my gosh.

You see my point about too many distractions.  I will be lucky if Joe calls me back at all.

Had a strange experience this morning at Waffle House.  There was a sea gull flying above the parking lot.  For those of you not blessed with geographic minds, Northwest Arkansas is not on the ocean.  We have lots of big lakes, but no oceans.  No seas.  In fact, there were two gulls but one disappeared.  Mary, our friend and waitress there, said that sea gulls often fly to avoid huge storms.  Hence the bird’s presence in the parking lot might be predicting a massive storm nearby. Or I don’t know what else.  But it was strange and sort of sad for the birds.

You can barely see the bird, just up on the street lamp. Sorry new phone.  Don't know how to zoom yet.

You can barely see the bird, just up on the street lamp. Sorry new phone. Don’t know how to zoom yet.

Maybe the gull is as distracted by her life as I have been in mine.  Maybe she is just too busy to figure out which way she is flying.  Maybe she asked for the wrong directions.   Straws instead of milk.  Poor thing ended up in Arkansas.  Above a Waffle House, two Mexican restaurants and a Thai place.  On a pretty cold Sunday morning when it was snowing lightly in late March.  I feel her pain.

So another week, the sea gull going where gulls go and me trying to do a better job of not letting my solutions become problems.  Not letting my “distractions” from an ache here or there, experiences which are bringing wonderful energy and fun into my life, overload me a bit too much.  All of this while trying not to feel too much like a horse.  Hmm, sometimes life is a little complicated.

 

 

 

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