Every year I make a trip to Utah. In hopes that I can fool people into thinking I'm not as frumpy as I look, I always start to try to fix myself up. This always includes a hair cut.
Do you remember the 80's when you would dry your hair, put the sides up in a barrette, curl and tease the bangs, add a lot of hairspray, and then you were done? Those were the good old days? Why must we know section off our hair in little pieces and blow it dry in a directional flow with a round brush, and then section it off again and use a straight iron? Oh, great master of beauticians, I do not have the time or patience for this! My baby gives me 10.3 minutes to shower, shave, dry my thick hair, and apply makeup.
So, tomorrow I hope to get my hair cut. This is the picture I am using. (I stole it off flickr, thank you pretty lady and photographer) I also need another box of Clairol. But maybe I'll wait and take Laura up on her offer and get my hair colored. I understand she is also great at waxing. She's even cornered my manly brothers and removed their unruly eyebrows. It's going to be a hair party!
Oh, and apparantly I can dream in spanish. Who would have thunk? But there I was speaking fluently all through my dream. Sadly, I don't have this talent in real life. I do wish I could speak spanish. After all, half my family speaks it. Jason, GianCarlo, Heidi, Paul, Amelia, and Diego all speak spanish. But I don't have the aptitude for it. In fact my spanish teacher in high school (what was his name? Jason, do you remember?) told me I should try another language!