Just between you and I...John D. could sing. I am not ashamed to say that within the last 10 years I have owned a cassette tape of his greatest hits. I am also not ashamed to say that at some point, if one of you were traveling down some random Texas highway within the last 10 years, that you may have seen some crazed, red-headed woman singing Take Me Home Country Roads at the top her lungs.
That, my friends, would have been me. Oh, I am certainly special.
But unbeknownst to you all, this post is actually not about John Denver. Go figure.
It is to tell you that me and the bouncing Baby Girl are gettin' on an airplane tomorrow and heading to Michigan to visit my sister for a few days. Now for those of you that know me in real life, y'all understand just how bad I hate to fly. For those of you that don't know me in real life, let me just tell you.....I hate to fly. I loathe it completely. With every fiber in my being.
Curse those Wright Brothers. In my humble opinion, Orville and Wilbur needed to get a life. You know, besides changing the world forever with the invention of flight and all.
But for the sake of technology, I'll let bygones be bygones and I will board that airplane tomorrow. Sweating and shaking profusely, but I'll do it.
Me and the Baby Girl are a little under the weather and I'm hoping by tomorrow we will feel a little better. If not, then she will be
As for me? I figure a fifth of Vodka should work. I. AM. KIDDING.
In other unrelated, completely random news, I'm having a small hair crisis. This would be a step up from two days ago when I was having a very large hair crisis. Large, as in, my hair was big. Too big. My go-to style was a pony tailed bun thingy.
Let me tell you, it was nothing if not attractive.
I had also developed a patch of unseemly white hair along my left temple. And another one along my right temple. I don't know about y'all, but a pregnant woman with gray just doesn't jive in my book. So, I called my sister and begged her to call her stylist to rescue me from my hair purgatory. And she did.
So yesterday, for the first time ever, I had my hair professionally colored. Me and Ms. L'Oreal have been friends in the past, but yesterday I got to play with the big girls. Real color, applied by certified professionals, in a reputable salon, all while wearing a gen-u-ine smock thingy. Very much a step up from my drugstore color, in my messy bathroom, by me in an old, stained Eeyore t-shirt.
I have officially arrived.
Anyway, the color that was applied was described to me as "copper". And it was. I don't mind flaming copper hair, really I don't. My friend Andrea likes bright red hair too and that's why I consider her a kindred spirit.
After coming home and upon closer examination, my hair is TWO completely different colors. It is a bright, coppery color on top and a more muted auburn color on the bottom. It is quite freakish actually. The stylist told me the color would settle down after a few washes, but I'm not quite sure if the two-toned thing was supposed to happen.
Anyway, I'm stuck like Chuck until I get home and can call the stylist back. But at least I'm not a gray headed pregnant lady anymore.
Now I'm just a two-toned, unnatural looking freak. Colored by professionals, mind you.