Uugh!  Gah!  Ewww! No! No! No!

This is the sound of me throwing a temper tantrum.  Yes...me... a grown woman, throwing a temper tantrum.  Please, allow me to explain:

I haven't had a hair cut since we've been here in Illinois, at least not one that didn't involve me standing in my bathroom with a death grip on the electric clippers, cursing everything known to man, while buzzing off what you maybe, might, conceivable refer to as...my hair, or what's left of it. 

(Why, you may be asking, don't I grow it out?  Wouldn't long, thin hair be better than short, thin hair? Haven't I ever heard of a comb over, you ask?  Well...have you ever seen the Crypt-keeper? There's your answer.)

In Utah, I had a couple of lovely friends who had salons in their homes, who knew me 'before', and where I felt comfortable getting my hair cut.  Here I have nothing like that and  I have not been able to bring myself to go sit down in a salon full of women with beautiful hair and let total strangers try to act natural and not gawk at my pathetic little scalp.  It is humiliating just to think about it. 

So when it became apparent that I was long overdue for a real trimming, the best idea I could come up with was a barbershop.  Still, plenty of apprehension, but desperation and common sense were coming up on the inside and getting ready to steal the lead.  I had no choice but to act like I was with them as they crossed the finish line.

So yesterday, Mark took me to the barbershop.  And, it wasn't my favoritest thing in the world.  Especially the part where the barber swung my chair around, stopping me only when I was face to face with a guy who was waiting for his turn on the bench adjacent my chair.  He was a very talented finger tapper and took a sudden interest in the ceiling.  I'm not sure what was up there, but probably not a girl in a barber chair looking all butched up.

Anyway, so...I just closed my eyes and repeated in my head "I'm just getting a hair cut, I'm just getting a hair cut" over and over until the tears that were pushing at the back of my eyes went away.
Snippity, snip, snip, snip...a couple bucks for the tip, and we were on our way.

And that my friends, is what makes me say Uugh!  Gah!  No, no, please....please, not ever again, no.

The Temp

"No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth." ~Robert Southey

Hello.  I am your temporary friend.  I will come into your life and mingle and we will share a couple of laughs.  I'll stand by your side and we'll work together and perhaps somewhere along the way, I'll even let you know one of my secrets.  But it will probably only be part of one of my secrets; because I'd never tell you the whole thing.  Afterall, I'm only a temporary friend. 

My departure is imminent.  Sooner than you expected.  Earlier than usual.  'Imminent", "sooner", "earlier" followed by gone and possibly...even forgotten. After I leave, someone else will come water my tree, look out my windows, and soak in my tub. That's what happens when you move and we move A LOT.   

I could be described as an actor that shows up for a cameo role on an episode or two; but that analogy doesn't really work.  It implies that I have a full-time gig somewhere else and I don't think "empty moving box collector" counts.  No...I am more like a character actor; I get around but I really don't belong anywhere.

But ironically, even though my fractured zip code collection is driving me a little crazy, it has also  made me a lot of whole. Because of my association with so many different people, I have witnessed first hand how carefully God tutors each one of us - how we need it and when we need it - and although I've only been auditing your classes with the Creator, I've still learned a lot. You seem to be doing really well and I hope to be like you...in some tiny, albeit significant way.

"Do not cry because it's over; smile because it happened."  Author Unknown

P.S.  What I meant to say, before my inner poet took over,  is that we're moving again.  After only nine months here, we are moving again.  Mark found a job elsewhere that he is really excited about.  It's been a great nine months for me...not so much for Mark.