What I Did On My Summer Vacation...in October

I did not visit my grandmother. Or go to camp. I did not get you a shirt that said "My Blog Friend Went On A Break And All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt," though I would have had I thought of it before now because for some reason I always coveted *those shirts when I was ten. No, this Summer Vacation...in October I did not kiss a boy, catch a fish or work evenings at the DQ, though I did start a new job. A kick ass happy new job, which is all that needs to be said about that. A job that makes me happy.

I also ruined my hair on my Summer Vacation...in October. One fine morning I flat ironed my hair, as I have been doing since I was 15 and slid the crimping plates off my Conair Hair Styler to try out the flat plates. It was a revolution, let me tell you, and now all these years later I am still ironing out the cowlicks and the frizz. In a fugue state, it would seem, as that fateful morning it took me a few thick sections to register the dead body stench of burnt hair. To make a long story short, my faithful 4th generation flat iron (now with tourmaline!) had gone on the fritz and singed half my head into a Brillo pad of aw fuck, no. 4 hours and don't tell Bryan how much $$ later, I have much shorter, darker hair that is still brittle and iffy and, no, I am not happy.

Of course there was also the traditional Halloween festivites that occur each Summer Vacation. Zoey was Medusa.

A stunningly cute Medusa, if I do say so myself, though she did turn me to stone when she suddenly wanted to pull the snakes from her hair. I had a bit of a Toddlers & Tiaras moment when I yanked her into another room to hiss at her that she had to wear the snakes, you are not Medusa without snakes, no one will give you candy when you trick or treat if they can't tell you are Medusa. Because apparently Medusa's mother was the suburban Gorgon Susannakaplolis, a split-tongued sea monster who waits off the Isle of Hormonos to feast on the flesh of little girls who just want to look pretty.

Baby steps, people. Tomorrow I will be back with something better, I promise. Big. GER. And better...

*Also? Inexplicabley those Go Climb a Rock shirts. I have not climbed many rocks in my time, nor have I harbored a secret desire to do so, but those shirts always seemed so freaking cool to me.

xo,
S

p.s. I missed you.