Let's talk about a couple of important things here as we enter into this Valentine's weekend. (According to our oldest, she is very excited for the holiday today--Valentine's Day Eve. Otherwise known as the-last-school-day-before-Valentine's-so-therefore-the-ubiquitous-Valentine's-party-at-school.)
First: my hair. It's a big old wig of nothingness. Too fine and slippery to hold any shape. To prone to tangles to wear down comfortably every day. To limp and flopsy when it's short. In short, it's completely forgetable, and I have no skillset to do anything with it myself. It doesn't matter the length; I never feel comfortable with it. I would skim it off down to the shortest of the short except that I fear it would not even withstand the spunky, spiky look...and that would require hair product to maintain, with which I have never had luck. Right now, it's as long as it has ever been, and I still can't do anything with it. It falls out of my attempts at bunning it. It slips free of a braid. It get's snarly at the ends because of this wretched thing called wind. I also have the patience of a tomato as far as styling it. So there you go: a no win-no win situation. (And for all of those encouraging thoughts in parenting magazines that "Your hair will achieve a beautiful luster and thickness when expecting!" I defy you. Clumps of hair fell out and it was nary a day more shiny than the last.)
Second: blind date with a book. Our local library is one of my go-to spots around town because, you know, one can't make excuses to get coffee at their local java joint every day (can one?). And in February, the library sponsors this jiggy little promotion to "blind date a book." Friends, I got a $50 gift card for my favorite local sushi place last year through this promotion. You can bet your clicking chopsticks that I'm reading as fast as I can manage right now. Sure, it's a bit of a slog-fest cause I keep choosing some real losers (Is this what it's like to actually go on blind dates? How depressing.). So far this month, I read an absolutely horrible memoir about some dancing coach or other who has what must be an atrocious reality show (wretchingly horrible but a quick read), I've returned a book that I already read, worked my way through a book on buried treasure (decent) and am trying to be interested in a romance called The Love Dog, which has alternating passages from the point of view of the dog...the dog. Are we so low on story ideas that this gets published?
Third: pitchers and catchers report to spring training in one week. Finally, a bit of warm, happy thoughts. It's been a rough couple of weeks (e.g. months). My team is in rebuilding mode this year, and we might be mediocre, but I'm steeling myself that we'll be lousy. And no one wants to be lousy, especially 162 times a year. But they're still my team, and as long as the Cubs continue to be a disaster and the Yankees continue to be an overpaid bunch of has-beens, then the year won't be a complete loss.