Yeah, look at me, all vanishing again for a week, popping up with no coherent thoughts. Just: "Oog. Brain fuzzy." My brain is fuzzy. You know how the inside of your mouth feels kind of ... furry ... after eating cooked spinach? My head is like that. On the bright side, my head is now host to newly pink hair. Oh, my roots were so atrocious! Last hair appointment, we got all sidetracked and forgot to make my next appointment, and then by the time I realized it, my stylist was all booked! It was dire, seriously dire. So that I was wearing hats, and they were squeezing my brain and I was torn whether to take them off in public or not. Brain squeeze, roots, brain squeeze, roots.
I eventually chose in favor of brain comfort, and exposed my roots to the world. Or the world at the cafe where I was writing, anyway. As far as I know, everyone survived.
My lovely hair stylist pinked me at her house this evening, while Jim and Clementine hung out inside with her husband -- who was our first friend in Portland -- and kids. I am no longer a disgrace to the color pink, thank god!
You see what matters of incredible importance I blog about? Here's another one: I keep finding random things in my shirt. Shoved there by furtive baby fists. I think I catch, like, 85% of them going in, but there's that 15% or so that happen while I'm distracted and then fall out later. Like, a game piece, or a whole block. Things have fallen unceremoniously out of my bra that I would have sworn to you could never have gone unnoticed. And yet.
There's a whole food component too, but those tend to be in the 85%, especially the really awesome stuff, like sliced peaches. I might occasionally come across a cheerio though.
Brain had just notified me that it has exactly three coherent sentences left in it. That was one. There went another. Dog had to drive uphill but that's okay I like root beer don't you? Warm cheerios and then I waffle iron halleluja shut up. I've come to the end and kept talking you see what happens? So just. Stop. Talking. Blueberry.