My hair is too long.
My hair... is too long. In the summer-time, that means my hair is pulled back every single hour of the day that I am not in bed actively trying to sleep. During the night, I try to sort of flop my excess of hair onto the pillow so that it doesn't stick to my neck even then.
This is a problem.
I like having long hair in the winter, when it can kind of fall gloriously around my face or whatever reasoning I have at the time. But I definitely do not like long hair in the summer. Especially long hair that's about a month past needing a hair-cut. At least.
In a week or so, I'll be heading up north to visit with my family for the 4th of July. This will be my last big visit before the move, so it's going to be kind of bittersweet for me. One of the sweeter parts being that I am going to go see the hairstylist who started cutting my hair when I was a very little girl. She cut my hair through the entirety of my teen years, while my mother put up with this hair whim or that (oh yes, I had a pixie cut at 14. Let's just say it wasn't a good look for me).
I have been a tomboy since I was a very small child. I am a tomboy still today, as far as I am concerned. Hair, to me, is just hair. It grows out of my head, and it's there to cut or let grow long as I will. If it's long, I pull it back in a ponytail. If it's short, I do basically nothing at all. This is the extent of my daily hair beauty ritual: I shampoo, I condition, I comb. The end.
So having a hairstylist who understands that any haircut that might need actual upkeep is immediately out of the running is very important to me. In all my years living in Carbondale, I have been unable to find a hairstylist who really gets that.
This lady, though? She gets it.
She's the hairstylist who knows exactly what I mean when I come in, vaguely gesture at my head and make a pleading expression, and say "Layers, chin-ish, please help me." So she gets out her scissors and lo and behold, it's exactly what I have no idea how to articulate I wanted.
I have no idea what I will do when I'm living in South Carolina and she's so far away. Probably get my hair cut exactly once a year when I'm visiting my parents.
Also, it's hot.
It's so hot I'm drinking.
Okay, so I'm drinking tea, but I had you worried there for a second, didn't I? Come on, admit it. You were worried.
It's Sweet Tea, with green tea bags and spearmint tea bags. It's Sweet Tea because we make it the southern way: you make a kind of simple syrup to sweeten with, none of this sugar-after-the-fact stuff. I was raised on sugar-after-the-fact, but my husband was raised in the south. In the south, they make it sweet first. The very first time I visited his family, his mother offered me real sweet tea out of their fridge. One sip and I was hooked.
Then I discovered, this stuff is everywhere in South Carolina. His Nana made it, his mom makes it, everybody makes it. Now I make it.
I'll turn into a southern lady yet, just you watch.
Just one nature photo today. In an earlier entry, I had this photo of a pine tree with juniper berries, all pale dusky-blue and pretty. Well, the photo below is what happens to those berries, over time.
I have never looked this closely before, so this is new to me, too. Look at the little spine-y bits!
Oh yes, I have all the technical terms down.
That's all for today. I'm going to go collapse in the shade somewhere while my husband plays video games. His days off are exciting, right? Today involved cookies, so I'm marking it a winner.