It's No Wonder We're So Screwed Up

On long car trips, I occasionally wax philosophic. I ponder the big questions. Last Monday, as we were speeding along some interstate or other on our way to Nashville, Jim The Husband (AKA Sugar), remarked how it felt like SPRING was in the air, even though it was still cold, and the trees still bare. Something in the air smelled of possibility.

This made me ponder the whole cycle of life thing--new beginnings, things sprouting anew from the dormant womb of Mother Earth...okay, I know, I went around the bend there, but you get the idea. The cyclical nature of the universe captured my imagination. Everything important is round. The Earth, the sun, Godiva hazelnut oysters--okay, they aren't really round, but they are roundish.

Things go 'round in circles... Everything has a natural beginning and end...

Of course, I went off on a tangent. If everything starts anew in spring, WHY DOESN'T THE NEW YEAR BEGIN ON MARCH 20th?

I asked Sugar about this, but he was busy fiddling with his Blackberry and wasn't paying good attention just then. He did mutter something about the Mayan calendar actually being more accurate according to some folks

Now THERE'S a thought that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. We haven't seen the movie yet--it's in our Netflix queue. But if the previews are any indication, it doesn't end happily.

Now, you may wonder here if I paid attention in school, or perhaps went to school in one of those Southern districts that gets so much attention in studies and whatnot because children can't read. The answers are yes, and no, respectively. Any gaps in my education I blame on that bicycle accident when I was eight where I got the bad concussion. It impacted my memory. Some things I simply cannot remember.

Which is why I am so thankful for Google.

For any of the rest of you who suffered head injuries as a child, daydreamed in class, or possibly attended a sub-par school district, January (named for Janus, the Roman god of doors) was not always the first month in the Gregorian calendar. March was, originally. Ha!

It was changed around 450 BC because that's when counsuls were chosen or some such. (Yes, this is an oversimplification, but y'all can Google for the details if you want them.)

Between politicians monkeying with our calendar because of elections, and springing us forward to save energy, our systems are completely out of balance with nature. It's no wonder we can't solve the big problems like HEALTH CARE and WORLD PEACE. We're fundamentally screwed up.

On a side note, I did get the Tweety Bird Yellow out of my hair.

Peace, out...

Susan

I Cannot Think With All This Blonde Hair

Hair color is not an exact science. Even the colorist who has been making you ash blonde with platinum highlights for many years--okay, not THAT many--can accidentally make your hair yellow.

I know, because this happened to me, and despite two rounds of toner, I still look like Tweety Bird. And now I'm out of town, so the HIGHLY SKILLED colorist who accidentally made my hair bright yellow can't do anything else to fix it. (She really, really is highly skilled--I'm not being snarky at all because I have a YELLOW HEAD.)

It doesn't seem prudent to walk into someone's shop who's never done my hair before and ask for color correction, so I'm stuck until I can get back home.

The worst part is, I think all the chemicals have effected my brain. I can't seem to string two sentences together. Everything I write I end up tossing the next day. I'm either brain damaged, or just in such a foul mood over what I see in the mirror I can't function.

Either way, I'm on the verge of heading to Walgreens for some L'Oreal.

On My Own Recognizance

So I'm back in Indiana this week, last week was Kentucky. I've had no access to Jazzercise--well except for the DVD's I can use in the hotel room. I actually did this one day last week when the exercise room was full. Doing Jazzercise moves on carpet is less than optimal, but I tried. (Aerobic shoes don't slide on carpet.)

I've been using the treadmill, elliptical machine, and/or bike for an hour every day except the one, and I have to say, exercise is painfully dull when you're watching the news instead of moving to the groove. Also, NO ONE in the exercise room taunts me with a microphone, or yells when I slack off. I've come to depend on that.

I really don't enjoy watching the news anyway. The only time I watch it is when I'm in the exercise room and someone else has it on. As if exercise wasn't depressing enough...