Not stricken and a selfie photo

Yesterday was pretty dull, work, organizing, took a nap.  My mood is a little on the manic side which bodes well for cleaning up. 

I finally washed all the clothes and hung them up.  I have what I consider a decent wardrobe, now. 

I've continued to check my blood sugars, and they remain about 20 points above average.  I can work on that before I start having major complications. 

Speaking of, I got my health insurance card today.  I have a $6K deductible.  These days, that's an ingrown toenail.  After that is paid I am covered 100%.  I thought, if I have a problem, it will either be pretty cheap, like my sinus infection or the bladder trouble, $100 each, or it will be expensive, like Ron's "would have been 13K trip to the emergency room, but wasn't because he had Medicare". 

I ride with at least one person who makes me nervous, two if you count the elderly paratransit driver.  [sigh]  They have minimal liability coverage (one person I asked to increase, and he refused), and we all know what that means in an accident - trouble. 

Anyway, I got the card and I put it in my wallet. 

We also got a letter from the homeowner's association.  Apparently #6 broke his fence during one of their parties (kicking the ball into the fence repeatedly, breaks the slats).  It's his fence, but we got a letter too, which is apparently standard policy.  He already fixed it so we shouldn't have a problem. 

"It's his fault" I told Ron "For teaching his kids to kick the ball into the fence".  Yeah, it's cute when they're little, 3-4 years old, but when they're teenagers they have a lot more force behind that kick.  Ron and I both wonder why they don't go to one of the vacant lots in the subdivision, to play, like the other soccer fans. 

As you know, I have considered cutting my hair for a while.  I am pretty sick of the red henna "ends", especially when contrasted with my natural gray/brown hair.  It looked kind of garish and glaring, in my opinion.  The henna didn't go well with my skin tone anyway, so I had a choice of either cutting it all off, dying it another color and then maintaining that dye. 

We're going to come back to this. 

I also wanted some yarn to work on a project.  I wanted a small project, something I could work on while I was waiting, something fun, but not complicated.  I dug around in what's left of my yarn box, last night, and didn't find much. 

I decided I wanted to go to the craft store today.  I asked Ron if he could make a trip.  He said no, but he would pay for a cab to take me each way. 

I got up around 7 with a headache.  I did my God Time, went through the mail with Ron, took out the Salvation Army box, and finished the laundry. 

I hang up my t-shirts.  I feel that's the best way to keep them wrinkle free. 

As you can imagine, I have a lot of hangers for my tshirts.  I was happy to see my assortment in the closet.  Most of them are somewhat oversized, and all of them are very modest. 

All done. 

I took a shower, shaved my legs again (trying to keep it up so I don't have to shave half inch stubble), and took a hard look at myself in the mirror.  Did I want to cut off the henna part of my hair? 

I played around with my hair for a couple minutes.  If I did, I wouldn't be able to put it in a ponytail.  It would be more of a chin-length bob.  Was I OK with that?  I considered that for a few hours. 

The cab came and took me to the craft store.  The fare was $10, but I gave him a tip of course. 

I went in and started looking at the yarn.  I went with a colorway of wedgewood blues, called an ombre.  I actually made a blanket for my younger stepbrother in that colorway, about 25 years ago.  I wonder if he still has it.  I enjoyed working with it and enjoy looking at it, important because I'm going to be staring at it for hours as I work it up.  I also got some inexpensive circular needles. 

About this time, I got a text message from my adoptive Mom.  Dad has been coughing for a while.  She took him to the doctor.  He has pneumonia.  They gave him some steroids, and prescriptions for other drugs. 

That's not good. 

I really didn't care when my birth mother died.  What did I miss?  Neglect?  Abandonment?  She just wasn't present in any significant way, outside of massive neglect when I was an infant and toddler.  When that's my only experience with a parent, well, I don't miss it.  And I didn't.  I cried a little and felt bad in a general sense "my mother is dead" but I didn't really grieve because I didn't have anything to miss. 

Dad played more the primary nurturing role.  Dad is in pretty much every good childhood memory.  I always get anxious and upset when he is sick.  And I did. 

I called and spoke to them.  Honestly, I felt a lot better when I told Dad about our plans for lunch on Sunday and he was making yum yum noises at the menu.  When I'm really sick, I never want to eat, so I assume Dad is sick, but not stricken. 

Good.  Now, if you pray I would love it if you prayed for him. 

I was, understandably, pretty freaked out, but I managed to finish my shopping.  I walked out of the store in a daze, recalled I needed some cleaning products, and headed over to the dollar store.  I bought them and left (I left my shopping bag behind the counter and the employee was happy to take it). 

I had called Ron earlier and found out he wanted a shawarma from the Mediterranean place.  I really wanted to talk to him but he wasn't answering.  I ordered his food and finally got ahold of him.  He told me all the stuff I wanted to hear, your Dad will be fine, etc. 

I called my aunt and told her I was thinking about cutting my hair.  She was supportive. 

I realized I was pretty hungry but not in the mood for subs or Mediterranean food.  I went to Arby's and got a beef and cheddar.  Happily I did not get any on me while I ate.  It was pretty messy.  Then I walked over to the hair place and explained what I wanted: No more red, chin length. 

I'd been walking around a lot so I had them wash my hair.  I wouldn't want to put my hands in someone's sweaty hair.  She washed it, keeping me dry (yay!) and put me on the chair. 

She cut off the red and asked if I wanted to keep it.  I said no and she dropped it on the floor.  She took her time, more than I expected, but she was very thorough.  When I got up it looked like a hair explosion on the floor, around the chair.  I thought it was pretty funny.  I put on my glasses, had a look, and asked her to take a photo.  She was a little timid but did it. 

I went to Starbucks, called the cab, and got a ride home about 10 minutes later.  My Salvation Army box is still there.

I took a nap for about an hour, the cats brought something in, #6 made some noise, but that's pretty typical.  I hope I don't find whatever the cats brought home.  I hope they just eat it. 

My hair looked pretty good even after my nap. I'm not used to it right next to my face but I had this hairstyle for about 5 years around the turn of the century.  It should be a lot easier to maintain. 

Note: I part in the middle, not the side, but other than that you are looking at my new everyday look. 

I don't think I'm going to miss that long ponytail, dripping with sweat, the next time I unload the truck (tomorrow). 

I found it interesting, I put the photo on Facebook and my friends went crazy liking it.  Everyone loves it (Well, 22 of them do at present count).  That's good; I am liable to get yelled at by my drivers and the customers.  They get very upset every time I cut my hair. 

Yes, the concept of long wavy hair; lovely.  In reality, brushing it out, washing it, and drying it when depressed.  Having the hair dripping with sweat in the summer as I unload the vehicle; not fun, not pretty at all. 

I just want something cute and easy that won't send me to the hair dresser every month.