hair and other things

For some, summer is their favorite time of year. That is not me. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to live in the mountains. Instead, I lived near southern waters. With southern waters comes humid summers.

Have I told you about my hair? I have fine, thick hair. It's possibly the worst follicular combination available to the human head. If humidity rises above 50%, I resemble Orphan Annie. No, this is not true. Her curls are controlled. My curls expand. Additionally, I have a cowlick over my right eyebrow. So right over my eyebrow is a flipped, frizzy, turbo apostrophe. The hotter it gets outside, the bigger this punctuation mark gets. So, like Colonel Sanders with boobs and an apostrophe.

Colorado was a welcome respite from this summer dread. Yes, my hair was straight as a board. I didn't mind one bit. It became faithful - I always knew where it would be. Boring was hair bliss.

Now don't get me wrong. I've evolved. I think grooming is important. There's no reason to have a piece of crap on your head. If you look like you just woke up and you didn't, maybe you need a stylist. When I return, the first thing I'm going to do is locate a hair stylist who can do something with my hair. No more Great Clips for me.

But I can't wait for my summers of joy. Straight haired-joy. I'm not going to fret about it now, when humidity is working against me. So in what, with luck, is my last summer in the south, I have cut my hair shorter. And I'm planting every possible vegetable in the garden. I want to look back on my last summer and say I got a lot out of my yard, that I enjoyed the things I grew and didn't worry about my hair.

-Laura