I got a haircut today. It was time. After the last haircut which I didn't like at all, I said, fuck it, I'm just growing it out and so it grew and grew, duh, what hair does. So now it's all flowing grey locks with curl and product and I feel fabulous. Too bad I have nowhere to go with my wondrous hair except for the dog park.
I downloaded an interview I conducted with a midwife pal that my buddy Clark transcribed and it's 23 pages long. Yikes. Fortunately, she's a brilliant and insightful person, but geez, Clark has five more interviews to go. This bit is hard, waiting for interviews, conducting interviews with midwives, practically impossible. And then I procrastinate. Ha.
My writing group is interesting. I drive all the way to Duvall, a far place to me. We sit on the floor of a yoga studio and write from prompts. I'm finding that I 1) want to make myself look good and 2) I don't have patience with prose. However, poems spring up afterwards.
With this hairdo I will look good on Sunday when I go to Duvall again.
Yesterday, sweet Rosemary came over and assessed my house for salability. Sigh. It's time, like a haircut, it's time to divest. This big old house is too big and too old. And I must have smaller and cheaper and more secluded. Or I think more secluded. I'm fantasizing about 'small house backing a greenbelt' versus co-housing versus a condo in an old old brick building versus 2 acres with shack and painting studio on Vashon Island. The thought of packing, moving, starting over etc makes me totally terrified. By myself. At least I figured something out. As a once homeless teen, home is very important and never a sure thing. And I have to be protective and fierce and closed up so I'm not out there again with no roof and no family and no resources.
I can't afford this house forever unless I work til I die. And I'd rather go to Burma.
Rosemary said that mostly my house needs a bit of cosmetics. After I'm done paying for the exterior paint job and the furnace, I can tackle the eye shadow and mascara.
3 comments:
All right. I posted a picture of myself today. I want a picture of you with your new hair! Please?
I look at this house we live in- the house that I seriously thought I would die if we didn't buy ten years ago and it's too old and too big and I know we can't live here forever and every morning when I wake up I ponder that.
We get older. We have different needs. Part of me thinks that I would be happy to just live here until I die and part of me thinks that this is not a good plan. I don't know.
I just know that as we age, it does not get easier.
Still, I would like to see your picture.
Love...Ms. Moon
Houses and hair and much pondering -- I wish you ease.
OK.
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