The Battle of The Hair

"Cut That Hair!" - Pavement

"Get a haircut and get a real job!" - George Thorogood

It's one of the oldest cliches and most enduring (in my mind anyway). Long haired, wild youth gets older, grows up and and has to cut that damn hair.

I don't know how wild I was from that time to now and my hair gets shaggy - not long - but I do know, I'm not Thurston Moore, though like him, I do have kids. Kids who have to get their hair cut because the most wonderful lady in their life who decides if the sun should rise or not, "would really like them to look nice and not homeless."

This same most wonderful lady in my life has said the same thing to me several times and my two boys, like me, try as they might to fight it, end up in a barber's or stylist's chair.

When the hair hits the floor and all is said and done, I feel like such a hypocrite and a bit of a sell-out.

Thankfully/Unfortunately, that part of me still exists.

The part that a)wants to fight for follicle freedom and never cut my hair, b)wants to buy only local and never shop at Walmart, and c)wants to drive an imaginary 8-seat SUV that runs on dreams and reverses the greenhouse effect with every mile.

Then again, it's just hair.

It grows impressively fast, serves some basic protective functions, but largely, it's a vanity thing.

I wrestle with this realization each and every time - before, during and after - I or my boys get our "ears lowered."

Then all of a sudden, a warm smile of approval is flashed and like dark magic or sinister science, my memory is erased, my mood is elevated and I find myself muttering "I like it cut short. Remind me of this next time."

Judging from the sudden change in demeanor and the eye roll, I suspect she's heard this before and isn't looking forward to that next time.

I hope I don't pass this on to the kids.

My Hometown (Returning to The Fold)

I never ever dreamed in a million years, I'd be writing this post from this zip code: 43130.



I certainly never ever dreamed up in my head a scenario where I would not only be okay with it, but also pretty excited about it.

That would have been insane.

Here we are though. Here, being Lancaster, Ohio for those unfamiliar (or just too lazy to look it up).

To quote Chuck Berry, "it goes to show you never can tell."

And at the beginning of this year, we really couldn't have predicted any of the events that unfolded or the whirlwind surrounding them and enveloping us. It's just equally too bizarre as it is commonplace - which is why it's perfect, I suppose.

First, there was the super wonderful yet surprising news that we were going to have another baby.
Then, there was the hellishly slo-mo nightmare of showing our first house, selling our first house and moving out of our first house.

Now, I just made that last part sound waaaay too quick and easy. I feel you’re not getting it, so imagine if you will, the slowest simultaneous peeling of the driest, stickiest band-aid on your most sensitive areas of your body while the loudest, most annoying fly buzzes around and in your ear and your most-prized possessions are burned and liquefied in front of you.

Honestly, that takes care of about half the pain, stress, and anger you experience during the process of selling a house and moving.

Anyway, with two kids under 4 and one due any day now (seriously, any day now, baby girl!) we find ourselves back in our hometown, trying to buy a new house (our last house/the house we will die in because-we’re-never-going-through-that-again) and taking up quarters with my wonderfully accommodating and almost too hospitable in-laws.

The uncertainty of this move’s impact on our “daily life as we know it” (and our ability to get a really good tamale) pales in comparison to the assured hope we have that it’s the right move, which grants us the convenience of being closer to family, and the safety and security a small town brings.

While I never thought I’d go “Full Suburban”, I think I’m going to enjoy it.
I know the kids will.

But just so there’s no confusion, suburbanite or not, you’ll never catch me dead in a mini-van.

Friday night crash

I'm so unbelievably tired but my mind is racing and there's only one remedy - write!
Or type or blog (whatever).

So, what's on my mind?

This:

In less than a year, my oldest son will start preschool.
In less than six months (I predict), my youngest son will be potty-trained.
In less than a month, my daughter will be born.

Freelance writer is probably not a viable long-term career option.

Occupy Wall Street Protestor definitely isn't.

Before the end of this year, we may move into a new house and we may be driving some variation of an SUV or mini van.

The location of both new house and new vehicle may be within 15 minutes of the house I grew up in.

So does this put Oakland PD ahead of LAPD for "Most hated law enforcement in the US?"

And of course, this:

Some time between these future events and possibly very soon, I will completely lose it, after the severity of the situation and enormousness of this reality sets in.

I have no idea how it's going to go down really but I could guess the text conversation in my head.


????????
WHOA. EPIC.
OMG WTF SRSLY WTF OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
FML OMG OMG OMG LOL LOL LOL LOL OMG OMG OMG OMG
:) :) :) :) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHOA. EPIC.
!!!!!!!!!