FEEL JUST LIKE I'M WALKING

People talk about seasonal depression and how Fall seems to be a trigger. I've never thought of myself as one of those people that fall victim to seasonal depression, but I do get antsy with season changes. This week it seems that the antsiness is beginning to get to me.

I've been easily frustrated with breaks in my routine but at the same time apathetic. Tonight is dust and vacuum night and I wasn't really into the idea of dusting. Chris caught me touching the dust rag to a spot on the shelf. I was testing it to see just how dusty it was. He let me off the hook by saying that he planned to take the air-conditioning unit out of the window this weekend and re-install the screen. He said I could wait to dust until then. I shrugged and moved onto the vacuum.

My sleep has been off. Last night I struggled to get to sleep. I was hot. I was cold. I itched. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamed. I dreamed that for "science purposes" we were going to shoot my foot at point blank and study the exit wound and repeat with the second foot (we've been watching a lot of Fringe lately). We did both feet and I have no comparisons, but if gun shots hurt as badly as they do in dreams, then I pray to the Gods that I never get shot. So I woke up and in pain, which didn't make sense because there was nothing physically wrong with me.

But then, I'll do something simple like ride the scooter home or dance like a fool in Zumba and I'll become lighter, happier. The frustrations and the struggles melt away. The guy in these pictures walks on glass as his performance art. Well, I think we are all performance artists. We all walk on glass every day. There are days where walking on glass is just not as easy as this guy makes it look. We may cut our feet. But then there are days where we prance around on that glass as if it were a pile of feathers. Monday and Tuesday were my days to practice walking on glass. There have been a few cuts, but nothing that requires stitches or even a band-aid. The rest of this week, I'll be walking on feathers.

I HEARD THE NEWS TODAY

Ever have one of those moments that send your head swirling back in time. I had one today. A long time ago I had this really good friend I'd hang out with, named Amy. Amy had this older brother. I won't call him a boy. He was a guy. A really cool guy. He drove this big old Lincoln and he'd take us to concerts. Concerts for bands you never heard of. I'm pretty sure he introduced me to the Flaming Lips. He was tall and lanky. He had really large hands and he was...just cool. He's the type of guy you'd have a crush on, the kind of crush you have for a celebrity. Amy and I and a gaggle of friends would travel around in the backseat of his big ole car and I'd feel cool just by association. That guy committed suicide over the weekend. My sister told me this morning. And the biggest thing I feel is guilt. I let Amy and her family drift away, when she was one of those people I should have kept track of. I did a really good job of distancing myself from the small town I grew up in. I barely remember 90% of the ones who contact me on facebook. I think it's because there were so few people there that I ever let see my authentic self. I learned early on the reward for voicing opinions different from those around me was hate mail. It's easier now to be me and not being around those people from my past means I don't have to pretend to be the person they think I should be.

But Amy was one of the few. And I feel really ashamed for losing touch with her. I know that our friendship could not have saved her brother. And I know there's not much of any thing that I could say to her to make it better. But I've got strong shoulders and good ears and sometimes that's all someone who's hurting needs. Please keep her and her family in your thoughts and send them loving thoughts.

SUNDAY FUNDAY

We avoided the TV today and went road tripping instead. Chris and I headed out to Truck Stop MO (the one from the TV). We met my brother and sister-in-law there for early lunch. And I toyed with the idea of joining the circus.

Then we headed down the road to Les Bourgeois Vineyards and Winery. We tasted some of their wine, bought a bottle and then headed over to the vineyard to see the grapes.

But we also discovered a beautiful view and a bistro where we all agreed we'd meet for lunch the next time.

This is where we parted ways and Chris and I took a side trip out into the country to figure out what Arrow Rock is all about. It's an old town on the Louis and Clarke Trail. We took a break in this really nice shaded area.

Then we discovered the recipe for Pickle Brine.

Then we drove home, took a nap, and made quesadillas. The End.

OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE

Anthropologie is one of my favorite stores. I used to drool over their clothes online. When I was in New York last year, I nearly fainted at the thought of going into and actually purchasing something from a real live store. It's one of those few shops where I could see myself wearing the clothes. The problem is, I can't really afford the clothes. Now I live in a town that has two Anthropologie stores (much to Chris's dismay). Occasionally I go in and browse the sales racks where I get to choose one thing. Saturday, I stopped by VS to take advantage of their 7 cotton panties for $25 sale. Then Chris and I started walking down to the bookstore, but we passed Anthropologie on the way. I ducked in before Chris could say anything. There were many things on the sales rack that I could have taken home that day, but I decided on this orange shirt. I had originally tried on one in navy, but I put it back and replaced it with the orange. I did this for a number of reasons.

I used to by only white or off-white panties. Now when I go in to stock up, I force myself to choose the most outlandish colors. This batch even includes a pair with glittery polka-dots. It's taken years to get comfortable enough to just wear colored underwear. The top is no different. First of all, I would never choose a top like this for myself. It's fitted in all the places that make me self conscious. But after trying on the navy blue one, I realized it's quite a flattering cut. I went back for the orange for the same reason I no longer allow myself to buy white underwear. It's a bright color. It stands out.

Maybe I've been watching too much "What Not To Wear" lately, but some of those things that Stacy and Clinton have been saying may be working it's way into my brain. I tend to be a bright, joyful person. Shouldn't the things I wear reflect that? I'm at a place in my life where I no longer feel the need to hide myself in gray and brown. I admit. It's going to be hard to wear that shirt the first time. But I know, just like with the colored panties, it will get easier. It stands out, because I stand out.

Plus, it's orange. I can wear it on game days. Go Pokes!

FOOD TRUCK FRIDAY

I've decided that I might have an addiction problem. I think I may be addicted to Food Trucks. I was practically skipping all day yesterday with the anticipation of dinner from a food truck. And I will say, dinner did not disappoint. We started off with the Magical Meatball Tour. Chris had the classic Italian sub and I had the spinach balls. Their sign boasts that these are the best balls you'll ever put in your mouth and I have to say they are not bragging. Chris followed his sub up with a ChiDog from Nuvo Dog, while I munched on some Asiago, truffle chips. Then for dessert we had cupcakes from Coffee Cake KC. But the best part came while Chris and I were licking the last of the light dreamy frosting from our fingers. We overhead this woman talking to another woman about her new project. She's in charge of putting together the Food Truck Festival in Westport. As she was saying her goodbyes to the other woman, I stopped her and asked about the festival and you know what? That woman gave us two free tickets to the event. Score! You know what's funny? The woman said to us that if we promise that we'll go, she'd give us these tickets. I almost said to her "Lady, if you only knew who were talking to".

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

THERE'S A POST IN HERE SOMEWHERE

Today I had a PB&J sandwich, corn chips and a banana for lunch. Then I went home and had a chili dog with garlic fries while wearing my hair in pig tails. Angela posted something on my facebook wall that it must be Eat Like a Kid Day. The sad truth is every other day is Eat Like a Kid Day in my house. Tomorrow? I'll have left over chili dog for lunch. I've noticed this year that I've been playing up all the grown-up stuff we've been doing. We bought our first lawnmower and I thought "wow, that's most grown-up thing we've ever done". And don't get me started on the whole house thing. It feels like Chris and I are a bit of late bloomers. Like we're just now getting around to doing things our friends did years ago. Up to this point, we've just been floating along. Waiting for the right job, the right time, the right whatever to come along. Someday. We used to say that a lot. Someday we're going to move. Someday we're going to buy house. Someday blah, blah, blah.

I have no idea where I'm going with this. Wait. I think it had something to do with being a grown-up. I'm starting to think that being a grown-up is overrated. I've been a grown-up since I was three. All those years we were floating around, we had to make some really grown-up decisions and do some of the hardest grown-up things like surgeries and burying loved ones. I think now is the time for a little de-aging. Now is the time for pig tails and chili dogs.

I'll be a grown-up tomorrow.

THE PEN PAL PROJECT

A few weeks ago, Chris and I watched Mary and Max. It's a bit dark and sad for kids, but it's a really beautiful story. Mary and Max form a friendship by writing letters to each other. They become pen pals. This gave me an idea. I've always loved getting mail. When I was little, my mom used to give me the junk mail and tell me that they had come for me. Some times, rarely, I'd get real mail. Someone would send me a letter or a postcard. The summer before I headed off to college, I had a boyfriend in the Navy. I was more in love with the romantic idea of the letters we mailed back and forth than I was with him (sorry Jason). I don't like getting bills, but I do like getting mail.

So, I've started The Pen Pal Project. I've written letters to all my nieces and nephews (blood related and honorary). I know that some of them will roll their eyes (I can hear them rolling now) and shake their heads at their silly Aunt Cindy. But some of them (maybe because their mothers will make them) will write back. This is my way of keeping them close. Also, I've been thinking that this is a good start on changing the way we speak to and about each other. I can use these letters to sneak in words of encouragement. It's my way of telling them how special each and everyone of them are.

I can't wait to see what comes back.

FEAR OF HUNGER AND DAY 10

I know I've mentioned here just how attached I am to schedules. It should come as no surprise that I am the same way about food. Around 7:30 AM, I eat breakfast, noon is lunch and 5:30ish means dinner (or supper). At any point in the day where it seems like this may be disrupted, like lunch doesn't come until 12:30, I start to panic. I am afraid of being hungry. I have no idea where this comes from. My family had it's fair share of bean dinners, but we always had plenty of food on the table. There was a big theme of "waste not" in our home and it's possible my hunger fear comes from that. But who knows? When Chris suggested the juice cleanse, I immediately started worrying about going hungry. What if I ran out of juice at work? How would I parcel out my juice during the day to ensure I'd have enough to get me through? But this is what I learned: it's OK to be hungry. I'm not talking about starving to the point of wonky. There's a difference between hungry and being HUNGRY. These last few days, when I've felt hungry, I'd drink some water and wait. If I still felt hungry twenty minutes or so later, I'd make a cup of miso soup or drink some of my "snack" juice. And for the most part this worked out. I realized that I was hungry when I was supposed to be hungry.

I'll tell you what's not OK and that's walking into a Whole Foods when you're hungry. Because hungry quickly turns into HUNGRY. You know what they have at Whole Foods? Free samples. Free samples of cheese. Free samples of fruits. Free samples of Pirate's Booty. These free samples are open and begging for you to take, take, take. And while I've been able to handle being hungry, I have grown weary of the monotony of juice for every. single. meal. I want food I can chew. Sunday, we started talking about what we were going to eat on Thursday. Oddly enough the list didn't include chocolate cake and potato chips, but more like big salads and peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

Today is our final day of the 10 Day Juice Cleanse. It's also known as a re-boot. This makes sense because I'm back down to the weight I was before the move. I am happy with that. I'm also happy that I put a big dent into that fear of being hungry.

LESSON # 2

The Facebook events that prompted this entry couldn't have come at a better time. I think it planted a seed and the sessions I attended at BlogHer acted as the water to make it grow. Sitting in on the International Activist Scholarship Winners session really makes me appreciate the freedoms I have. This years scholarship winners were Reem Amir Abbas, Simone Leid and Yoani Sanchez and the session was moderated by Cheryl Contee. Cheryl Contee is one cool chic. Check out the work she does. All of these women are remarkable , blogging in unsafe territory. Yoani Sanchez could only speak to us through a video she had sent. The Cuban government refused to let her leave the country and she is currently under house arrest. For her blog. Now this is were you stop and let that sink in. No matter what your gripes are towards our government, you at least have the freedoms to write and post what ever it is you want to say for who ever wants to read it.

I also sat in on the Owning Your Beauty session moderated by Rita Arens. Panelist were Karen Walrond, Jess Weiner, Kate Harding and Stephanie Nielson. I intentionally went to see Karen and I had met Rita the night before. She's a KC girl and she swept me into her gaggle of fellow KC bloggers. But the woman I related to the most was Kate. Her blog focuses on being healthy at any size and learning to be comfortable in your present skin. I can't tell you how long it took me to get to that place in my life.

So how do these two tie together for my second lesson. Well, there was a lot a talk about changing the language. Changing how we talk and think about differences. I have the freedom to and the power to do just that. But just not with my words. I've decided that once we get the house settled, I'll start teaching yoga again. On a volunteer basis. I see a class of underprivileged girls or women of low income families. I see myself teaching these women that they are beautiful and they are worthy through yoga. That's what I want.

OK...just one more lesson, but that's for another day.

TAKE AWAY, LESSON #1

I thought I'd be able to sit down and type up an entry about the things I got from BlogHer11, but as I started writing just on the first session I sat in on, the entry just went on and on and on. So, I'm going to have to give it to you in pieces. The first session I attended was called Your Perfect Imperfections: Blogging Your Way To Self Acceptance. It was moderated by Gretchen Rubin with Dr. Brene Brown, Mr. Lady and Shauna James Ahern. I was drawn to this one because I had read The Happiness Project. Also, I've seen Dr. Brown's TED Talk. But I was just as interested to hear the other two women's stories, particularly Shauna James Ahern. Her blog is beautiful. Go see it. It's full of colorful images and stories of living a gluten free life. She is so warm and joyful and has the most inviting beautiful smile. I was completely floored by her response to an audience question dealing with mean commentors.

She said that there was a person out there that listened to everything she says and then mocks it on a website completely devoted to mocking the Gluten Free Girl. My jaw dropped to the floor. Why on earth would someone want to actually spend time and waste energy on bashing this woman and her food blog?!?! Brene told Shauna that people hate her because she's so joyful. This in my head is a totally fucked up concept, but I get it. People who don't feel worthy of love and acceptance take the sad but easy route to bash those who do feel those things.

Something else I wasn't prepared for was bursting into ugly cry while introducing myself to Brene Brown. This is the woman that inspired me to work hard at being my authentic self and being my authentic self (I believe) is what got me my new job. And as I was talking to her about this, my new job and my new life, the tears just bubbled up and over and then the blubbering began. Before I knew it the woman behind me was crying and I was blurting out that we were buying a house and HOLY SHIT WE ARE BUYING A HOUSE!!! Yeah...

Well, my take away from this is to continue on my path of being my authentic self. There was also a lot of talk of owning your story, not being afraid to tell that story and being vulnerable. I feel there are times I'd like to share something, just to get it out of my head, but I don't for fear of pissing someone off. And I know where that fear comes from and I'm thinking it's time to get over that. There's no reason I can't share my stories of healing, of moving past obstacles. I've been so focused on this blog being all about building positives. But I'm not that happy and positive 24 hours a day. I struggle and I think it's healthy for people to know that I struggle, but in that struggle I've found a way to find peace and happiness.

AIRPORT BLOGGING

Right now, I am in the process of making my way home and I'm currently sitting on the floor of the Phoenix airport waiting to get on my second and last flight of the day. And I'm tired. Be aware this post may ramble and since I'm just not ready to tell you about BlogHer11 yet, this post has very little direction. Direction. There's something to think about. We all have this perceived notion of what direction our lives will or should take dont we? Like, by this age I should have at least two kids, a house, a retirement plan. By this age, I should be a grown up. But then I start to question. What is a grown up? The people reading in this Year's Voices of The Year Keynote each had to answer three questions as part of their introduction. One of the questions was something about what you looked forward to most about being a grown up when you were a kid? There were answers like "I will drink as much soda pop as I want" or "No one will tell me what to do". All of the answers where clever and funny (dur...this was BLOGHER!) but it left me with the realization that nobody knows what it means to be a grown up.

I have a lot to think about. Some of it has to do with direction and purpose. And some of it is simply how to tell about my trip. Did I mention I was tired? Any hoo...more to come. I promise.

WORDS MATTER

Over the weekend, I inserted myself into a bit of a quarrel. I commented on a guy's Facebook status that had him railing against the high gas prices and putting blame on a "Muslim President" at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. It wasn't his anger at the price of gas or even placing the blame on the President that put me off. It was the way he tried to turn "Muslim" into a derogatory word and the fact that he felt the need to express his bigotry first thing in the morning. You have to wonder what kind of person starts their day with such negativity and hate. There was at one point where that guy expressed his frustrations in a non derogatory way and if he had used those words in his status, I would not have thought twice about it. Of course, he then went on to get uglier and show his true bigot self, but my point is, words matter. It's one thing to say things around a table of like minded pals, but quite another to post it for the world to see. I feel that we have a responsibility not just to the people closest to us, but to everyone, in how we speak. Hateful, bigotry words beget hate and bigotry. So, I set him straight.

There's a line in the new Captain America movie where young Steve Rogers is asked if he wants to kill Nazis. He replies "I don't want to kill anybody. I don't like bullies. I don't care where their from". Now, I've never been keen on Captain America (he's a bit too much cheese), but I do have to admit to feeling some pride at this. I don't like bullies either and I come from some pretty strong stock of people that don't put up with bullies. And I like to think I've made them proud. "You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

*For J.

SALT THE EARTH

Monday was one of those cliched kind of days. I had slept poorly, having dreams where I argued with my mother, so that when I woke up, I woke up bleary and cranky. I went to work and had a long mentally exhausting day. I didn't do my yoga practice. I worried about the house. I mumbled in my head about my fat tired body. I whined about the heat. And all of this I did internally, trying hard to not sound snappish when I talked to Chris. Then, that evening, while I was moping on the couch, Chris came out and said he wanted to water the garden and spray the yard. I grumbled and put on my shoes and headed out to help. I watered the garden and pulled some weeds while Chris sprayed a salt brine around the perimeter of the house and yard. And we were swarmed by mosquitoes. Masses of them. We came in covered in bites and Chris immediately jumped in the shower. I flopped down on the couch thinking I would not shower. I would just sit and itch and grumble. But Chris finished and I decided at the last minute to grab a tub of salt and jump into the shower and scrub myself with salt. Then, a funny thing happened. I stopped itching. I felt cooler. I felt less cranky. In fact, I didn't feel cranky at all.

We learned about energy cleansing with salt in yoga teacher training. It's best to soak in a tub of salt water for twenty minutes, but in a pinch (punny) you can just pour it over yourself and use it like a soap. I realized last night that this is something I don't do often enough. My body was hot, sweaty and itchy and could have done with a good scrub. But really the part that needed to be cleansed the most, was my soul. It's odd. I clean the house once a week. I wash clothes once a week. I shower daily, but I have a hard time remembering to clean my spirit. Perhaps salt baths should be added to the weekly chore list.

SATURDAYS WERE MADE FOR THESE

During our trip to Seattle so many years ago, we visited Pike Place Market. We passed rows and rows of fresh bouquets and they were so cheap. I remember turning to Chris and saying that if we lived here, I'd have a bouquet of fresh flowers in our home every week. It seems like such a extravagant thing to do, flowers for no reason. How nice that seems. This morning we got up early to do our grocery shopping before Trader Joe's got too crazy. As you walk into our TJ's you must walk past the wall of beautiful bouquets. Chris told me to get something. I chose the big, bright sunflowers.

We spent the rest of the day doing this.

Just lounging, watching BBC America and Strictly Ballroom, taking a nap, followed by more lounging. The dog even got in on the act.

FORGIVENESS

My sister posted a link to this article from yoga Journal on her Facebook page. Maybe it's something she's been struggling with lately and the article spoke to her or maybe she just thought it was a good read. I don't know; she didn't say. But I read the article and it is a good one and it did make me pause and question forgiveness. Often times I feel I've forgiven someone for some transgression or another only to have the memory of that anger and hurt rear it's ugly head again during my meditation practice. I start to rerun the event wondering if there were ways I could have made it better. This is of course a distraction during my practice. Or it could be a way for my subconscious to actually deal with the issue. I've come to realize that often times I forgive (maybe too easily), but I don't really forget. I distance myself from the transgressor, because I no longer trust that person not to do it again. It's safe. It's easy. But does my inability to forget mean I've really forgiven?

I forgive those who have trespassed against me. I forgive and forget the trespasses. It's an easy thing to say (or type). But if I live a life where I believe that words matter, then I should make this an easy thing to do.

Namaste Y'all.

TRAVELIN' PANTS

Chris and I had some business to take care of in Oklahoma City. So we boarded the dog and hopped into our (decrepit) car and headed south. Into God's oven. Or Hell. However you care to look at it. These quick trips are so bitter sweet. We spend more time on the road getting from Point A to Point B than we do actually being there and seeing people. I think that's why I keep telling people to come up here and visit. I'd be sure to get more one-on-one time. As it was, Chris and I took a divide and conquer approach. We spent Friday night at Misti's, got up the next morning and took care of a couple of things before Chris dropped me off at the salon so Misti could cut my hair. From there, Stephanie picked me up for lunch where we lingered for over an hour. Then we decided to get pedicures. I haven't had a pedicure in over a year. I felt really sorry for the girl in charge of my feet. Then Steph dropped me off at Traci's, where Chris had been hanging out and we all went to dinner. From there we went to Norman to hang with The Jens and that's where we spent the night. The next morning, we met Misti for brunch before making the long trek home. Whew!

I tend to get hung up on the things I didn't do, the people I didn't see. Time is a bitch. But it's when I get hung up on all of that that I really have to focus on the things I did and the people I spent time with. I had most of the day with Steph. We haven't had a day for just the two of us in a really, really long time. I think we both needed that more than we were willing to say and it was good. And when I think of the time spent together, I know I made the right decision to just be with her and not cram so much into what little time we had.

Next time. There's always a next time.

KABLAMY

You know that weekend I wished for? Well, I got it. Maybe not all of it, but most of it. We ate well. We slept well. We lazed about well. I vacuumed and gardened (and killed the squash). We made no real plans, but managed to have a list of things to do. It was good. I think this is the first 4th of July Holiday where Chris and I haven't been either camping or hanging out with friends and family. That was a bit odd. We fended for ourselves. I made us star shaped pancakes for breakfast with strawberries. They kind of looked like people. Fortunately they didn't taste like people or stars. We had them with strawberries and it was only later in the day when Chris said "Hey. You know what we should have also had with those pancakes?". I looked at him and said "blueberries". We tend to be on the same page. For dinner that night we had hot dogs with sauerkraut, followed up with watermelon. Then as the sun went down, we sat at the end of our drive watching the next door neighbor kids set off fireworks.

Lord, do they do fireworks in this town. Our neighborhood sounded like a war zone. I think Chris and I were so thrown by it because we come from a place where fireworks are mostly illegal. There's always a burn ban or you're in city limits. Not here. We get rain once a week around here and apparently the cops look the other way when it comes to fireworks. Even the really big ones and let me just say that the people behind us set off a bazillion dollars worth. I donated two glass coke bottles to the kids next door for them to launch the biggest bottle rockets I've ever seen. We watched the bats and the fireworks and then went to bed to the sound of booms and bangs.

COOKIES FOR BREAKFAST!

Last night I came home to a house still without power and when I talked to KCP&L and was told that power would not happen this weekend, I had little bit of a meltdown. Chris said that this was OK. That he, too, had had his meltdown a little earlier. He described how he curled up in a ball of despair on the bed, and I burped out a bubbly teary laugh. We lay on the bed for about five minutes wallowing in self-pity. Then we rallied! We got up and went to dinner at this very bizarre (and extremely good, but not vegetarian-friendly) Chinese Buffet down the street. It was run by Mexicans, and included a build-your-own taco bar. After dinner, we went next door to the Dollar General where we listened to a woman talking loudly on her phone while her two kids squalled. One of those kids was wearing only shoes and a saggy diaper. And I was all "Man, it's just being in OKC". We bought candles and headed to our dark house. Then our landlord showed up with an ice chest of good beer and water and promises of extension cords to run from the house next door.

So, this morning, we got up and went to our new favorite place and had a cookie for breakfast (well, a bit more than that, if truth be told). Sometime next week we will have power, and all will be well.

I TEND TO CHANNEL LUCILLE BALL

When I was little, all my Barbies had short hair. Their hair would get tangled and I would get tired of brushing it, so I'd give them a hair cut. It was to set the tone for the rest of my life. I had long hair once. Really long hair. But you know that scene in Uncle Buck where the big sister is brushing her little sister's hair and when she finishes, the little sister messes it all up again? I was that little sister. I hated having to brush my hair. My mom would wash it and put it up in french braids so tight I'd have slanty eyes and she'd leave it like that for a week just so she wouldn't have to deal with my hair. At the end of the week, she'd take it down along with all the other debris that would collect in it over the week like twigs and leaves and little toy soldiers (not really, but it could have happened). Finally, she just cut it off and it's been short ever since. I come from a long line of do-it-yourselfers. I don't know how many times I sat on the edge of the tub watching mom cut, color or perm her own hair. So it should be no surprise that I tend to cut my own hair on occasion. Usually, I just trim my bangs, but I have been known to get a little nutty with the scissors particularly if left unsupervised. (Side note: I have the same problem when left to fend for myself for dinner. If unsupervised I will eat a bag of Skittles or a carton of ice cream or both.) The craziest unsupervised haircut I ever did was the time I put pony tails all over my head and then cut them off. To be fair, the cut didn't look that bad. It was only when I went in to have Misti cut it that it was really noticeable. Misti would get to particularly wonky section and go "What the Hell happened here?!?". That's when I shamefully tucked my chin and told her about the pony tail incident. I remember seeing Misti's reflection in the mirror as she closed her eyes and then pressed her fingers to her forehead. Let's just say there hasn't been a pony tail incident since then.

This was my hair a year ago.

And this is my hair now.

No, I didn't cut it, but I did trim my bangs. By my calculation, twenty years from now, my hair will finally be long enough to cut off for charity.

And on a sad note. Our friend lost her beloved Penny today. Funny, little Penny who could sneeze on demand. She was well loved and will be terribly missed. Treats for everyone!

YOU SAY TOMATO!

Chris and I stumbled across yet another new place to eat. I found it by accident online and it's a good thing I did, because we would have never found this place on our own just driving around. You Say Tomato is tucked back into a neighborhood, where it used to be the corner grocery store. It still has lots of the old fixtures and part of it is still a little grocery, selling locally-grown veggies and other locally-produced goods. You can buy sticks of butter and pounds of sugar. Or you can just order a yummy meal.

That's what we did. Chris had the biscuits and gravy, while I had the baked French toast. The French toast was made from slices of their homemade cinnamon rolls. And to top it all off, we split an ice cream sandwich. It was brilliant, a big slab of homemade vanilla ice cream wedged between two slices of gingerbread. I'm getting a bit teary just thinking about it. We ate there on Saturday and loved it so much we went back on Sunday for brunch.

It wasn't just the food that drew us in to You Say Tomato. The atmosphere is calm and easy. It's the type of place where you can sit and linger over that second (or third) cup of coffee. Sunday was busy, but that just meant that we had to sit outside under the awning. We didn't mind. The day was cool with the occasional sprinkle. We even had a little sparrow that kept hopping up to our feet to beg for food. It's our new favorite place and it and will be really hard to convince ourselves to try other places. Yet another very Portland-like place.