My Toughest Critic

I've always been my own worst critic. I see where I could have done more, better, faster. It is easy to find my own shortcomings, to tell myself I should be accomplishing more. It comes naturally to me and I have to work at giving myself a break. Going easy on myself is not an easy thing to do.

What brings this up? For the past week or so, I've been tired. Exhausted. Get out of bed, let the dogs out, pour myself a bowl of cereal, and then be too tired to eat it exhausted. Too tired to blow dry my hair after washing it exhausted. I've been forcing myself to accomplish even the smallest things like doing laundry or dishes or taking the trash to the dump, telling myself I'm not allowed to just sleep all day or laze around on the couch. I've also been making myself take the dogs out for our daily 3-5 mile walks. It is very unusual for me to not want to go, but I haven't. I've been TIRED. And I've been telling myself I'm not allowed to be tired. I'm not allowed to be unproductive. I'm not allowed to be LAZY (the worst four letter word ever according to my mom).

Saturday I got shaky and dizzy. I told myself I just hadn't had enough protein and exercise. I had some lunch meat and took the dogs out to one of the battlefields. About 2 miles into our walk (that would be 2 miles AWAY from the car), I got shaky and clammy and so weak I had to sit down on a log so that I didn't fall down. It was then that I realized that I'm not being LAZY, I'm SICK (yet another four letter word). And I've been trying to get sick for over a week but my brain refused to listen to my body. 

I'm finally listening. Sunday I did nothing for most of the day in order to conserve enough energy to greet all of the ghosties and goblins with candy. Today I have done nothing productive. That's right, absolutely nothing. I have surfed the web with no real purpose in mind, flipped through a couple of magazines without actually reading them, and taken several naps - oh, and I cooked some dinner & made tea. Tomorrow I will go out to VOTE and then I will proceed to come home and take a nap. Perhaps drink some more hot tea. Hopefully by telling you all that my goal is to concentrate on doing NOTHING and allow myself to fight this bug, I'll actually stop beating myself up and relax.
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I've failed already. I couldn't even sit on my couch with my blankie and tea and be sick long enough for this blog to post. Actually, it's the tea's fault. I ran out. Well, the cupboard had plenty, but my cup was empty. So I got up to make some. And, while up, I remembered that I had chicken in the fridge that really needed to be put in some marinade sauce because if it doesn't get cooked tomorrow the cat's gonna end up getting to eat it. Then I figured it wouldn't hurt any to do the dishes. After all, the dishwasher is going to be doing most of the work. Along the same lines, it wouldn't hurt to put a load of laundry in the washer either. You know, since I was up. Off to the closet I headed to dig clothes out of the hamper. And that's where my whole, "while I was up" thinking came to an abrupt halt. Because... I was suddenly no longer "up". I fell over. In my closet. One of the dogs came to rescue me - evidently doggie kisses help fix any situation. So, NOW I am back on the couch with my blankie and a cup of of Alkaseltzer Nightime Cold & Flu. I don't know if it'll make me feel better, but I do know that it'll knock my *ss out so that I don't end up falling over in the closet again tonight.

COLD Feet

No, not a metaphor. My feet are cold, it's 5:30am, and they woke me up. No, the house isn't cold, I'm not cold, just my feet. They're like blocks of ice. Guess it's time to start wearing socks to bed again. This happens every fall and every year it catches me by surprise. Yet another sure sign winter is on its way.

Spontaneous Combustion

I was going through paperwork today. Re-organizing, shredding the old, basically trying to keep my office from being overrun by stacks of paper. I ran across a notice from my Doc. An old notice. One I didn't even realize I'd kept. And I started bawling. Because, it is the last notice I ever got telling me that the results of my pap were in and I'm "normal". Maybe I'm just extra emotional because next week is my appointment for my first pap since the surgery & I'm really hoping / yet petrified to hope that the results will be "normal". I'm afraid I'll never be "normal" again.

I'm in LOVE!

Nah, not THAT kind of love. The other kind of love that all girls succumb to at one point or another... HORSES. I found the absolutely most gorgeous breed that's as sweet as they come. They are called Gypsy Vanner horses and they take my breath away! I want I want I want... but can I have? Not unless that Publishers Clearing House letter that arrived today turns out to be for real. They cost the same amount as a mid-range car. Definitely out of my price range. Oh, but boy are they pretty!!!


To learn more about them, go to:
http://www.gypsygold.com

Papuza's Rorscharc

The Gypsy King

Bommarito

Equirace Gypsy

Ahhhhh... Much Better!

I warned my stylist. I found him over a year ago on, of all places, a dating site.  He has some of the most gorgeous thick naturally wavy hair ever and in his profile he stated he's been a master stylist for over 25 years. My hair is thick and naturally wavy too. So, I sent him an e-mail. He admits it's the strangest one he's ever gotten... "I'm not interested in dating you, but do you think you could do my hair?" Yup, that's the e-mail I sent him. We met. I told him about my stylist on the west coast that had been doing my hair for over 10 years, how horribly picky I am, and that I absolutely won't spend more than ten minutes on my hair. And then I warned him... when my hair starts driving me nuts, I cut it myself. No waiting for an appointment. I can't wait. Out come the scissors and I start trimming some here, some there... until I'm happy. 

The first time I did this was in 8th grade. I'd gotten an absolutely HORRID cut - so bad I made the woman stop in the middle of it & walked out of the salon without paying - seriously out of character for my 13yr old self. I went home, got out the scissors, and didn't stop until I could live with the results. I ended up getting a lot of compliments on my handiwork. I wasn't thrilled with it because it was too short for my tastes, but it did look pretty good. Anyhow, thus began my fearlessness when it came to cutting my own hair. After all, I could never screw it up as bad as that woman did!

Back to the present... In April my guy convinced me to let my long layers grow out & try having my hair all one length. He styles it beautifully when it's like this & my hair ends up looking like it just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Problem is... it takes a whole lot longer than ten minutes to achieve this look. My mane has to be blow dried with a straightening brush and then I have to take a flat iron to it and if I don't use the right amount & kinds of product it absolutely won't stay (did I mention I hate product). I didn't realize it until tonight, but I've been unhappy with it for a while. 

What made me realize I was unhappy with my hair? The dogs. I know, strange. My girl has very long fine hair with a thick woolly undercoat. I have her shaved every spring and in the middle of the summer because she just gets way too hot otherwise. Her hair is growing back out and is about three inches long now. She's not happy about this because it's still too hot for long hair. Today she went to where the clippers are and made it very clear she wanted a haircut. So, I shaved her belly & made her very happy. While I was doing this, my boy came over and asked for his belly to be shaved too. Both dogs are now cool and content. As I was giving them their haircuts, mine kept getting in the way. And the light bulb went on.

I see my stylist again next month. My hair, as of tonight, is no longer all the same length. I cut the layers back into it. I warned him. ;)