Nine years and counting

Every year, I try and do something special on February 13th, and this year it’s a lot of lovely things: I saw Pan’s Labyrinth with my brother on Friday, went to cheer on a beautiful senior sermon on Shabbes, and went to dinner with my family last night. My mom got me roses. And on Thursday, I have dinner with Teresa to look forward to! Mmmm, Popovers.

This was a hard year, a year with a lot of stress and self-doubt. It makes it all the more important to me that I acknowledge the things I do right, and the people who’ve been there for me. Here’s hoping next year is a cause for joy.

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Lost weekend

I had all these plans for the weekend. I was going to go to shul, and babysit for this wonderful toddler, and write the story that’s due for class tonight, and oh yeah, get work done.

Instead, I spent the last three days in bed with fever, chills, night sweats and aches, unable to string two thoughts together. When I did have lucid moments, I spent them doing the work I’d brought home, but there was no way in hell I was going to risk getting anyone else sick, especially not little kids, and I couldn’t think straight to write, so everything I’d planned was a wash.

On the upside, last night my mom came over with soup and butternut squash salad from a local restaurant and we talked for hours. I really love her.

Hairy situation

I’d totally forgotten about this during the long period when I had either straight hair or short hair, but apparently my hair has now grown past some indefinable Rubicon and has started getting comments again.

Let me explain: When my hair is either straight or short, men might or might not notice me, but they’ll be polite. Longer, curly hair seems to send some sort of signal, so that middle/upper class men ignore me and lower class men stare and make comments like, “Damn, that’s hot,” or “Yeah, come over here and back that up.” Today I got bombarded with it.

Dammit, I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with my long, curly hair (simply because it’s an unmanageable force of nature), but does it really send out signals that I’m some kind of lower class slut? I was looking forward to wearing it long again; am I going to have to cut it just to avoid this kind of thing?