The Happiness Project: Him Again?

What makes me happy? A faux hawk.

For more happiness, go here:

A Taxing Decision

Let's just say you need a haircut. Let's just say your hair resembles something a first grade boy may have worn in 1985. And let's just say a stylist/new friend said she could help you out on a Sunday at your house.

Now let's get over your jubilation at her graciousness and your jubilation at the fact that someone whose hair always looks great is willing to make you look great, too.

Borrowed from: http://thecoloringspot.com/images/people/hair-stylist.jpg

As our little scenario moves forward here, let's think about how you remember a few minutes before your stylist/new friend arrives that she also is a professional house cleaner - and she's really good at that cleaning stuff. Then you think about how you're maybe not in the professional realm of cleaners and about how you're maybe not even an amateur cleaner.

Just as your stylist/new friend rings the doorbell, you look in panic at the condition of your house.

What do you do?

a) greet her outside and accidentally lock the door behind you?

b) accept that you will always look a bit like that first grade boy, circa 1985, and refuse to open the door even as your stylist/new friend rings and rings and rings?

c) hand her a blindfold and sincerely pray that she is great at cutting by touch instead of sight?

Getting a Peek at Caution's Mind, Continued

My getting there blondness and I sat in that chair and spent NOT ONE SECOND thinking. Not even a nano-second of thought. Not even a stomach premonition that maybe I might want to think at some point in the future.

And when the stylist said,

"So what are we doing today?"

I answered,

"Whatever you want."

And she cleverly distracted me by talking about our state's record unemployment. We talked about how her dad has been out of work for nine months. We talked about how the Big 3 were whimpering and how Checkered might soon be out of work. We talked about how houses are taking two plus years to sell., so how could we ever move out of state to find other work. We talked about all those happy thoughts, and she painted and painted and painted and painted ... my hair.

I talked. She talked. We laughed.

And when I next checked the mirror, I was a redhead.

By the way, all those pink shirts I bought?

Redheads can't wear them.

Getting a Peek at Caution's Mind

A week ago, I was a former natural brunette living the good life as a getting there blond. My getting there blondness was an unexpected gift for me. People noticed. They liked it. I mean people I didn't think looked at hair (my pastor) noticed and liked it. Most importantly, I liked it. And then there were the collateral perks: my blondness looked wonderful in shades of pink, a color I had never worn with great success. So over the last year every clothing purchase I made was pink-related. Smart move, huh?

Last week, I was feeling old, fat, under appreciated, clumsy, unpopular, failure-esque, and that was just the beginning. My dark roots was apparent, my hair was shapeless and I had just enough coins in my pocket to do something about it.

That may have been a mistake.

I sat in that chair, and heard the question:

"So what are we doing today?"

Do you know what I answered?

Come on. I bet you do.

Take a guess!