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After careful consideration, driving through blinding buckets of rain is not as knuckle-whitening as driving through blinding buckets of snow. (I'm sure knowing my brakes "should be checked" only aggravated my knuckle pallor.)
The highway speed drops down below 40, so then Mr. "I'm an excellent driver" in front of you -- whom you're tailgating slightly because the snow is coming down so fast you need to in order to not lose the tracks his tires are cutting for you -- decides to use his hazards, which completely fuck up depth perception, obliging you to Change Lanes, going through that big snowbank covering all the white dashes.
In spite of that and sisterly bonding (at a talbots that doesn't carry my size!) until 4, I made it back by 10, went to (considering the weather) a surprisingly well-attended boxing day party. Received my first holiday gift book and DVD, making up for the atypically media-poor family exchange.
People liked my straight hair. Led to the discussion that no one is happy with their own hair.
Not so. My hair would be great, if I were the sort to make time to deal with it. Left alone, it's all frizz and split ends. But when I have the time, temperament and equipment, it takes a curl, and a straight, and, the rare attempt at color (not lately. Long enough ago that I could probably use henna on the entire length of it now. I'm mostly content with my natural color.) So, sure, I am considering maybe getting a straightening iron to use at the gym, but... not all the time. My hair may be so cooperative in part because I'm not constantly doing shit to it, so I think I shall keep up the neglect.
::
I was dressed to shovel when I got the call that work was delayed until noon. I shoveled anyway. Neither my landlord is around to shovel, nor his friend with the snowblower. Although someone shoveled our walk. I tried to thank my upstairs neighbor, just as she was about to thank me. We have a snowangel! I still had to do the driveway, which hopefully earned my big breakfast at Soundbites. I even successfully found folks with an extra place at their table.
The highway speed drops down below 40, so then Mr. "I'm an excellent driver" in front of you -- whom you're tailgating slightly because the snow is coming down so fast you need to in order to not lose the tracks his tires are cutting for you -- decides to use his hazards, which completely fuck up depth perception, obliging you to Change Lanes, going through that big snowbank covering all the white dashes.
In spite of that and sisterly bonding (at a talbots that doesn't carry my size!) until 4, I made it back by 10, went to (considering the weather) a surprisingly well-attended boxing day party. Received my first holiday gift book and DVD, making up for the atypically media-poor family exchange.
People liked my straight hair. Led to the discussion that no one is happy with their own hair.
Not so. My hair would be great, if I were the sort to make time to deal with it. Left alone, it's all frizz and split ends. But when I have the time, temperament and equipment, it takes a curl, and a straight, and, the rare attempt at color (not lately. Long enough ago that I could probably use henna on the entire length of it now. I'm mostly content with my natural color.) So, sure, I am considering maybe getting a straightening iron to use at the gym, but... not all the time. My hair may be so cooperative in part because I'm not constantly doing shit to it, so I think I shall keep up the neglect.
::
I was dressed to shovel when I got the call that work was delayed until noon. I shoveled anyway. Neither my landlord is around to shovel, nor his friend with the snowblower. Although someone shoveled our walk. I tried to thank my upstairs neighbor, just as she was about to thank me. We have a snowangel! I still had to do the driveway, which hopefully earned my big breakfast at Soundbites. I even successfully found folks with an extra place at their table.
