I don't have a little story for you, but in the words of Pearl Jam, "I'm still alive." So much, and yet so little has happened since I last wrote. I figured since there have been so few words lately, that I would provide you with some words on this Wordless Wednesday.
It is currently 5:50 in the morning; I've been up since 3, out of bed since 3:45. I am on spring break (which means I don't have to deal with this), but I'm not up because I have been kicking it. I am up because I couldn't breathe and thought that it would be better to get out of bed than risk death while asleep. I think I might have a sinus infection, but am not sure -- never had one before. I have rocked the neti pot so many times -- many times with no flow happening, but when it does work, almost immediately after am restuffed up.
After two months of going to various car repair shops (and truly dreading the idea of having to buy a new car), the mechanics finally figured out what is wrong with my car. The friendly men at Midas figured it out - no charge (for figuring it out, not the service I will get). I went there one day and sat from 7:30-2:30, another day for another 4 hours -- all the while watching them scratch their heads and bring over new mechanics as they tried to figure out the problem. They sadly told me I would have to go to the dealer to see if their diagnostics could figure out the problem. Went there. They charged me $143 to tell me that they did not know what the problem was. Went back to the guys at Midas yesterday because they really had wanted to know what the dealers turned up. They had gone online, talked with other mechanics all trying to figure out my car issues. Said they would try one more thing. That thing discovered the problem. Now I just have to shell out a lot of money to have that fixed.
Track season started. Still miss the kiddos at the old school, but like I have said, I have been remade to come to this new place. So far this new crew is doing all right. Had their first hard workout yesterday -- had 3 kids puke, one get trampled as someone cut in too early, and many other ones come up with injuries out the wazzoo so that they would not have to complete the workout. The ones who made it, really made it. I am starting over with them as I did at the last place. Which means that they have to learn what it feels like to really work out. Which means that they have to gain confidence in what they actually can do. Which means I have to steadily help them understand the difference between hurting and actually being hurt. Which means I have to be patient.
Since December 24 I have been growing my hair out. Started from a bald fade and have grown it to about an inch and a half. Not bad. The intent -- grow it out so that I can have one of those poofy fros I love so much. I would love to be able to tie a scarf around my head and just look fabulous as do other women with natural dos.
Yesterday morning I woke up to comb the nest that has become my hair. The comb ever so gently broke at the handle. Then I went for the third consultation as to how much longer I would have to grow my hair before getting micro braids so that I wouldn't have to look feel like I look crazy with this not-quite fro/not quite fade/not quite cute anymore do. Each woman has said at least another inch to two inches. Which would mean another month or so of growth.
Which means, when I came home from practice I proceeded to fill the trashcan with an inch and a half of hair as I took the clippers to my head. I even allowed myself to rock a frohawk for about two minutes -- long enough to take a picture that I will likely not share with any one.
I just couldn't stand looking crazy. And having to wake up early and condition my hair every morning just so I could get a comb through it successfully.
I may try again another time, but for now, I am rocking the almost bald head. I feel sexier this way.
Enjoy some somewhat old-school music here, reminisce on the times when people used to wear flannels constantly with disheveled hair, and I will try to sleep sitting up until the alarm goes off to go to practice -- that way hopefully my sinuses with allow me to breath at least a little bit out of my nose.