So to help heal my broken heart, I faced my greatest fear and got my hair cut. Yes, I know, getting your hair done should not be so scary, but for me it is. You see, I always go in with such high hopes that I will find a stylist who listens to me and also does a good job, and I am always disappointed. I did find a great one once 25 years ago and I've been looking to replace him ever since I left Norway. I had one in Korea this last time who was great but never listened to me and so my hair was long and blonde. I'm not a blonde, I'm a redhead, but the hairdresser didn't like red hair, so I became a blonde. Ugh. She was the only person I could find who knew how to highlight straight caucasian hair, so I just let her do what I want. So far in DC, I've tried lots of different places, and I did find someone great who charged $200 and everyone else was just disappointing, so it's been 7 months since I last got my hair cut professionally and after the crooked bang incident in November after I burned my hand and chopped off the top of my thumb, I couldn't take it any longer. So I took the plunge and and let someone else cut my hair. It is supposed to look like this. Only not blonde. I still have red hair, mostly because I now color it myself with the help of Child 3 who is an excellent stylist.
Child 1 just called and she is safe in Hawaii and I so, so envy her. So now I can go to bed, but not before stating that "Call the Midwife" is the best! And way, way better than a brownie because it has no calories whatsoever, but is completely delightful and heartwarming and historical and set in post-war London, so what could be bad?
It's an awesome show about women supporting women, although Child 2 should not watch it due to her somewhat alarming tendency to vomit and then pass out while discussing medical issues. Some of the birth scenes might send her over the edge, but Child 1 will love it. Just don't tell Child 2. Seriously. I can't take the fainting.