Thick and Thinner

Today's small mercy:  Thinning Shears.

I'm cheap. We all know that. And a bit over-scheduled.  The result is that I don't go get my hair cut very often.  Do you have any idea what the going rate for a woman's hair cut is these days?!?!  This habit of mine is fine in most climates, but in Texas, I constantly feel a need to be shorn.  I have very thick hair--on my head.  Once I had someone grab hold and comment--"That's not hair, that's buffalo hide!"  When I go and get a "trim", it's usually not the length that's been bugging me so much as the weight of it--the shear insulation factor alone causes great angst.  I have great empathy for wooly livestock in a warm spring and recurring nightmares of being pinned down by a burly cowboy and sheared to the nubbins in seconds flat while a crowd cheers--maybe I shouldn't have written that . . . Let's just say at this time of year, I steer well clear of alpaca farms.

So, back to the salon--I always ask for some serious thinning.  And I always leave the poor hair dresser and her broom to comments of "Look at all that hair on the floor!--most people don't have that much on their heads!"  I must admit, it always looks like I've left a small pet behind.  But, oh the difference the thinning shears make!!  So what took me so long, you may wonder, to go out and buy thinning shears of my own?  Excellent wondering!  Mostly the fact that I rarely frequent beauty supply stores, and when I do, I get in and get out without thinking much about what else they may have to offer (people like me drive away Sally Beauty's clientele so I'm usually not welcome to linger . . . and the feeling's mutual).  But, a few weeks ago, I went in and remembered, and I priced out thinning shears.  And I left with a pair (after paying for them first of course--perhaps it's the shoplifting and not my appearance that makes people nervous . . . I jest!).  At that moment, life just got a little better.  I went home and thinned and thinned.  I thinned my husband and children's hair (Matt has a similar buffalo hide, and heaven help my poor children who had both our genes poured onto their little noggins).  A whole new world of postponed haircuts and a little less summer misery opened up before my eyes.  Next I'm going to work on the cats!

About a month ago I went into a salon to have my haircut (I know! an actual salon and me!).  It had only been about six months since my last cut, but by early May, summer in Texas was in full bloom and I had a dire need to sweat less.  The stylist did a beautiful job cutting it short enough to use the clippers in back (LOVE THAT--how I wish I was a petite sprite of a person and I would live life with a pixie cut).  And she thinned the heck out of it!  Poor lady spent over an hour on my hair--and I'd gone cheap and asked not to have it styled--but I tipped her decently.  So now it's been 6 weeks, and I'm wanting to trim it back up--I've contemplated going back in.  Especially yesterday when we hit 100 degrees out (I think my head registered at least 120).  But then, I pulled out the magic thinning shears this morning and now I think I can hold out for August, or maybe late July . . .

A little of this  and ahhhhh . .  .

New Leaf

So I've been terrible about this blog. My excuses have been pretty much lack of time and lack of anything interesting/funny to say--mostly I'm just feeling sorry for myself these days, and nobody wants to hear that.  However, I've been reading a book that has made me think about it a little more.  And so, here is my new leaf--I'm going to strive to post at least every other day (I'd say every day, but let's start slowly here).  And, I'll do my very best to leave out the self-pity.  My thought here is that perhaps by forcing myself to recap some event from my day and ruling out self pity, that I'll begin to see more of the blessings and positive aspects to my life at present.  Because truly, despite my self-pity, I am very very blessed.  It's just easy to take those blessings for granted.  So, here goes:

Today I chose not to battle my yard equipment.  It was 100 degrees out and though lately I have attempted to rise early and beat the heat to do a little yardwork, today I slept in until 6, laid in bed reading until after 7, then got up and went over to visit my lovely friend who just gave birth to twins.  I taught her to make yogurt (I love the opportunity to spread the gospel of homemade yogurt . . . just ask me, I won't shut up about it). 

I returned to my air conditioned abode and didn't think twice about venturing out in the hot yard.  You see, we've been assured that the nice young men in our congregation are going to take care of the mowing for us while Matt is unable.  I have mixed feelings about this arrangement.  On the one hand, I am able-bodied and perfectly capable (well, not perfectly, but I can manage it with much sweating, swearing and tears), so I really hate having them come do it.  On the other hand, I've been told they really are looking for service opportunities to fulfill their scouting requirements, not to mention just their nice-young-man requirements, because they truly are such nice young men, and frankly, though I am able, I have about a million other things to worry about on a Saturday (laundry, cleaning, groceries, etc), so it's fantastic to have them do it.  Then on the other hand, my nine-year-old has been learning to mow and edge, and it's good for him to do it, but he usually ends up tuckering out about half way through and I get to finish.  And on the last hand, it's really good for my children to see examples of such service--they talk about doing the same for someone else when they are teenagers.  Oh, and really on the last hand (what am I up to, about six hands?), it's a good and humbling experience for me to just accept the assistance and say thanks. 

So, back to my Saturday, Ethan and I have handled the lawn the last couple of weeks because the Scouts were all at camp.  So, I had been assured someone would come over and do it today and I happily kept my doors shut against the heat all day--yay! 

See, so I am blessed.  Tonight we went out to get some things to bolster our hurricane survival supplies because there's a storm a-brewing that we just might get to see sometime next week.  But that's okay, because I am blessed and I am learning, however slowly, to walk by faith and to let go of my stranglehold on control.  Once I master patience and control, I'm going to work really hard on that empathy, and kindness thing.  Yeah, that.  All in due time.

Holiness

I made Elliot some eggs for Sunday breakfast.  When I asked him to clear his plate when he was done, he replied that we aren't supposed to work on the Sabbath Day. 

Perhaps we need another lesson on what exactly constitutes keeping the Sabbath Day holy.  I kinda think smart-mouthing your mother may just be a violation.

Summer Fun

The boys spent the better part of yesterday morning disassembling a broken vacuum in the sweltering heat in the garage and driveway.  Then they cleaned the usable parts with the hose (discovering in the process that you can use a vacuum brush attachment on the hose to create a great wet scrubbing tool) and took them upstairs to use in their fort-building endeavors.  No swimming and summer movies around here!  You want toys?  I'll give you toys!  Here's a broken vacuum and a screwdriver!!  Play with that!  Ha ha ha . . . . .

It's just the way I roll.

Who's Counting?

I am.  I shouldn't have, but I was curious.  By my count we have 13 medical appointments this week.  That is within a 5 day span--that's right, 13.  That's a way to spend the first week of summer.  So I get to juggle this with cub scout day camp, care of the 6-year-old-who-can't-go-to-camp-with-his-brother (video games) general household duties like cooking (it's chicken nugget week!), cleaning (what is that?), yardwork (it's 95 degrees and seriously humid mind you), medical bills (which is a part time job in itself), personal assistance of the resident invalid, oh and there's that little thing called my full time job.  No wonder I've stopped blogging . . .

Short Order

Just popped in for a little Elliotism.  I once told the child he could only have fried eggs on Friday.  Now this is the daily ritual:

Elliot, what do you want for breakfast?


What day is it?


Wednesday?


I'll take two Wednesd-eggs, please, extra runny. 

My Cup Overfloweth

Well, not my cup, exactly, but my bowl.  My toilet bowl to be precise.  Chalk it up--two times in a month that the toilet has overflowed to the point of an inch of water on the floor in the potty alcove before we got a handle on it.  By "we", I mean "I" of course.  Several buckets, many towels, a few tears and cursings later and the bathroom is pine-scented fresh.  And I'm exhausted.  I'm tired of being a grown-up.  I want someone else to deal with the overflowing toilet and the dishes and the cooking and the ants and the weeds, and the lawn and the grocery shopping and the bills and the insurance companies, pest control companies, the doctors offices and the pharmacies and the litter box and the garbage . . . I'll stop, but I could go on.  I really could.  Whining is something I'm very good at.  Oh, and self-pity.  That's one of my many talents.  That and unclogging a toilet.

p.s. Since we're discussing overflowing,  I've lately been struck by the oft-unsung verses of the hymn
How Firm A Foundation:
Verse 4
When thru the deep trials, I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee overflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee, and sanctify to thee,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

Verse 5
When thru fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace all sufficient shall be thy supply
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, thy dross to consume
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.


I hope my river of sorrow doesn't overflow like my toilet, because I still have lots of dross . . .