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June 09 After
Originally uploaded by wavybrains.
This came out WAY darker than I was anticipating, but I swear there are actually a TON of highlights, some of which are bleach blonde, some of which are purple, and some of which are red, but the base shade of chocolate makes photographing a challenge.
The cut though is made of awesome.
Freak, however, thinks that this doesn't match the dress I will be wearing to the wedding. So we'll call this a partial win?
My current hair situation is nothing short of horrid. HORRID:
Now, I have a date with a lovely hair salon next week while Clanna (!!!!!!!) is in town to watch Hurricane Tavy while I get my hair did. I usually go my own color, but I'm really craving serious highlights, and since that worked so well last time at home (see horrid, awful home hair color that induced labor), I thought I would splurge on getting it done at the salon. I can't decide exactly what look I'm going for. Here are a few images that are inspiring me right now. Thoughts? Suggestions?
Choice A: I'm thinking that I would need less golden tones given my rosacea, but LOVE:
Choice B: I'm tempted to go this radical, but would probably use one of the other cuts unless you can make an argument for me and bangs becoming close personal friends.
Choice C: I'm digging the cut, but it might be too high maintence for me. Am I going to need a blow dry and product EVERYDAY? Cause no. Also, adding much more visible highlights?
Choice D: Radical, but do you see how totally happy, confident, and in love with her fluffy self this woman is? I'm VERY tempted to just go for it and top it off with radical highlights. Talk me out of or into it.
Even before recent events, I've been in a bit of a funk the last couple of months. Nothing as bad as depressions of yore, but I didn't really realize it until I looked around and realized ta gray pallor that had descended since Uncle Nanny abandoned us for the bright lights and big city. Sure, he's a measly hour's drive away. A drive that I don't make without Freak. And a drive that he requires public transportation for (and given recent cutbacks, an act of God). But, I miss him. And, he doesn't read my blog, but I want to give him a shout out anyway. Next Sunday is all about the Dads, but I'm hereby declaring tomorrow Fabulous Uncle Day.
I miss the routine we had going. I was really nervous about him moving out here. After all, the last time we shared living quarters he was a quirky 12 year old who couldn't keep his junior high locker combination straight. And the last few years have had their ups and downs for both of us, and neither of us is great on the phone. But, he came, and it was full of awesome as he jumped right into Tavy's life with unbridled enthusiasm. She was just learning to walk, and he would lead her around. And around. And around. He patiently sorted flash cards with her, hunted for baby baby, and played telephone. Their natural rapport after just the first week made my heart hurt.
I actually miss the time before he found work. I miss the quiet afternoons with just the three of us. I miss the time I spent grading or working on class prep with them playing on the floor of my office. I miss the spontaneous trips to the store and downtown. He made me see my city with fresh eyes. Also, his eyes were my eyes reflecting a shared history that made me instantly realize that Tavy needs a sibling so that she can experience what it is like to be with someone who gets you on that level.
I miss his love of my cooking, and his willingness to whip my kitchen into shape. My house has deteriorated in recent weeks. Thanks to MoxieClean I'm finding my MoJo again, and just makes me appreciate him all the more. I miss how he finds everything amazing from gluten free pizza to Weeds to Tavy's first real words. He watched her become a toddler each day, and I will always associate this time in our lives with his living here.
We spent a beautiful memorial day with him, and its obvious that he's thriving in the urban environment. He's a city guy, and this was never going to be a long term thing. Our relationship is evolving into something new, and its still wonderful--he shows us greek grocery stores, and we show him state parks that we hadn't explored before. Tavy soaks up each visit with him and talks about him constantly. Today she was experimenting with three word sentences, and they all involved him. Nanny {she says his actual name} eat food! Nanny go Big YaYa! Nanny eat soup! {which sounds suspiciously like a curse} Nanny go outside! Nanny go bye! Nanny eat rock! {she's all about learning rules right now}. Nanny clean up! {Thanks for giving me credit, kid} Nanny phone Mama! {All this stemmed from ONE voicemail message} {Don't ask why I'm loving brackets today} She runs to his door every so often, and I want to weep at her hopefulness. She sobs when she first sees him now, like a kid being picked up from daycare because it is finally safe to express those emotions. I have hope that their special bond will continue.
When I saw the love of the family who surrounded the grieving parents this parent, I was struck anew by how precious my family is. Those near and those flung far. Two years ago, I was alone here, craving biological connection. Now, I am doubly blessed. And I've resolved to work on affirming our connections and establishing new traditions as we work out what it means to be a family without an elder to guide us. I also have my family of choice, the friends who surround me, and I'm glad that Uncle Nanny gets to see this me too.
Here's to you, Uncle Nanny. I miss you. I'm so happy and proud of you. You are turning into the most amazing adult. You are living your dream and creating new ones, and I'm your biggest cheerleader. My dishes still miss you though.
There were flowers. So many flowers all triumphantly, majestically ALIVE awaiting planting in a memorial garden where they will live on for the one who cannot. There were speeches, the beauty and eloquence of which defies quotation. There were friends, too numerous to count, the devotion of whom was unquestioned and the love unconditional and unending. There was a tiny picture that embodied perfection.
And still.
There was no sense.
None.
The injustice of the universe was stunning. Stunningly awful. One of the speakers spoke about the etymology of the word awful, both "awe inspiring" and "horrid." And that's exactly what this was.
It was one of the most beautiful events I have ever attended, and the outpouring of love was indeed awe inspiring. And it was also horrid. I didn't want to be anywhere else, and yet I did. not. want. to. be. there.
My pink peony bushes are overflowing right now, touching the earth with their bounty, and earlier in the week, I had thought how I would sneak over to my friend's house this weekend and leave her a large vase to welcome the new arrival. Instead, yesterday, I carefully selected a plant that will bloom delicate purple blossoms each June. The sticky sweet smell of peonies as they wilt is making me ill right now.
Today is also my mother's birthday, and like the day itself, it seemed both fitting and bizarrely macabre. When I called my mother at midnight, I couldn't make it through happy birthday. Instead, I spent most of the phone conversation alternately railing at the universe and marveling at the sheet stupid luck of my own good fortune.
There is no sense in the senseless. But, there is love. So much love for my sweet, sweet friends. I'm so sorry that I never got to meet their beautiful little girl whose arrival was awaited by so many and whose passing is mourned by a multitude.
If you would like a tangible way to share the love, please consider donating to the one the raffles benefiting the families.
