This little piggie went to market...

Hair, do we ever get it right?

So today I get a haircut, a new guy that Ang really likes.  He was a little butterfly of a man, flitting all over the salon, and very good at what he did.  Actually it was more like reconstructive surgery, since my last haircut was gawdawful, and even though I had let it grow, he still had to cut it really short to straighten out the bad cut. And you don’t even want to hear about the girl that cut it the last time.  Hubby found her at a rummage sale.  Why I ever listened to that man in the first place is beyond me.  She was a really sweet girl, her salon was just a couple of miles from home, but she really butchered my hair, the only way I can explain it was that it was like a bowl cut with wings.

Anyway, I told this little fairy of a guy what I wanted, really shaggy around the face, REALLY shaggy, and he was a whiz with the scizz, but I’m not REALLY shaggy and it’s not the haircut I envisioned, but in all honesty, he didn’t have a helluva lot to work with.  And don’t go getting your panties in a wad, I’m not discriminating against gay men, actually I adore gay men, they are always fun and entertaining.  I’m just explaining him to you…

And so it will grow, and then I will get it cut again, and not like it again, because that’s the way it is with my hair.  And it’s not helping that this almost sixty-two year old face is attached to that hair.

And so it goes, this Monday evening.  It’s not been one of my better days, tomorrow will be better, and Wednesday it will be cooler, and Thursday I get to see Abby, who Lindsay says  is now calling me “Grammie-me.”  I have yet to hear her utter those words, Ryan was trying to get her to say it Sunday, telling her to “say hi to Grammie.” But like always when we try to get her to say my name, she yelled “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” into the phone as loudly as she could – I swear that precious little thing is going to give “Grammie-me” a complex if she doesn’t call me SOMETHING, soon.  I’ll take ANYTHING!  And of course hubby got on the phone and said hi to her and she yelled “P-PA, P-PA” joyously.  And of course he was just beaming, and I could have just smacked him.  Well not really, but you get my drift.   Oh the unfairness of it all!

But we’re going to work on it this weekend, and just maybe she will call me something other than “NOOOOOOOOOO.”   Just throw me a crumb baby girl, just throw me a crumb….

Sunday Church Social…

Hubby and I went to a church social today.  A country catholic church just a few miles from us has one every August and the food is always so good.

The lines are long, we go early to beat the heat, and sit under the old shade trees waiting for our number to be called.

Simple, wholesome food, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, dumplings, dressing, corn and green beans, dinner rolls and different kinds of cake for desserts.

You sit in a gymnasium at long tables, sat up with pitchers of tea and water, and big bowls of to-die-for coleslaw, fresh tomatoes and green peppers.

And yes, it was just as good as it sounds.  Diets to the wind, sometimes you just have to live in the moment and enjoy the food.  I adore the angel food cake, it’s yummy with great frosting.  We sat and conversed with the others at the table, it was so refreshing, like going back in time.  They have a huge following, the crowds were really getting large by the time we finished.

After we left, LC summed it up by saying, “this is the way life is supposed to be.”  What a good time it was…

Note:  I just found this coleslaw recipe online, it would be very similar to what we had today.  Check it out, here…

It all goes back to childhood….

Maggie and I took a ride on Milly this morning.  I’m sitting by the creek, sipping my coffee, enjoying the birds, listening to the frogs, watching the tadpoles in the water, and I was completely, totally, at peace.

And I’m thinking to myself, this is what it’s all about, this is my Utopia, nature, my place of ideal perfection.  And it all goes back to childhood, to my country roots, to summer days spent by my ditch, playing with my animals under a shade tree, living in nature.  But what about people that are raised in the city? 

Are they comforted by the sound of garbage trucks, sirens, busy, bustling people?  Do they enjoy the smell of gas fumes?  I’m not being facetious here, I really wonder if that gives them peace.  But, of course, I have no way of knowing, I’m just sayin’…