It’s always time for a haircut when I go into “bun phase” or “Detective Odafin Tutuola phase.” I didn’t make it to Fin Phase, but I was sporting a lot of buns. I hadn’t had a cut since last July. I got it cut almost two weeks ago, but I am behind on life after Miss H’s 5th birthday.
I do. I want to post about good things, about stuff we’re making here, things we’re doing, how cute my dog is. How cute my kid is, even. But to talk about this stuff and pretend that the country isn’t in a dark place right now is disingenuous, it’s pretending that everything is fine, everything is normal.
And Hannah and I marched, in Asbury Park. With one of my lovely quilt friends, Natalie, and her family. Originally Adam was considering coming, too, but then Hannah decided she wanted to stay home. I was going to be on my own. But then as I was getting ready to leave, she changed her mind and wanted to come protest. Adam was still in his PJs, with a healthy to do list for an afternoon planned watching the small human, so the girls went solo.
I’ve had a tough time getting my head back in the game after the election last week. But I’m definitely getting there, and I’m tired of obsessing, tired of reading endless articles about how it all went wrong. I’m taking some concrete steps in my community, with my own economic power, with my time to do what I can at a local level to make life better. The results are the results, I’m not ready to overthrow the government. But I am ready to volunteer, to listen to people, to donate, to see how I can help with future political campaigns, to write, etc. But for now, here are some beautiful fall pictures while I get my head organized. The world itself is still damn gorgeous.
This isn’t a terribly exciting post, except that I waited far too long to get a haircut. And now my head feels so much better! I actually thought it’d been a year and a half since my last haircut, but I was wrong. It was last June. Which is still more than a year, but not quite as bad as I thought.
This week. This week has been an awful week in the news. It’s been difficult to pull away from the endless analyses, anger, video, heartbreak, and outrage. From every side. And it’s only been four days. I started to just feel depressed, and hopeless, and tired of arguing with people I like but disagree with intensely over huge issues of race and inequality. My stomach hurt, my head hurt, I couldn’t stop reading everything that popped up on my feed.
So here’s the thing about November and December: they were kind of the worst.
Hannah spent 2 nights in the hospital the week before Christmas having some tests done. Everything came out clear, but we were still camped out in a hospital room with our little girl. And we may have more tests ahead of us. Nothing life threatening, but still awful. That photo above was when we first checked in, before she was all hooked up to wires.
Friendships in your 30s are so much different than friendships in your 20s, and thank goodness for that. I hope my 40s are even better.
Kathy and I met 13 years ago when were pretty fresh out of college, working a random office job we’d found ourselves in together. We weren’t happy about it. Our entire early friendship was based on being unhappy. We were snarky, wanting to get on with being who we were going to be. We were restless.