Remember all those things you worried about every day...?

Hair was one of the biggest events of every day of my life. Being blessed/cursed with thick, curly (no frizzy/wavy would be a better description), I have spent too many hours to count taping my bangs, ironing, straightening, curling, uncurling, perming, streaking, colouring, using orange juice cans to straighten , enough $$ and boxes of 'Curl Free' to build a small subdivision, walking around with a stupid bubble hair cap dryer and a 25' extension cord while talking on the phone (with Dad yelling at me that I'll probably electrocute myself), wearing a hat after said curling to straighten curls - go figure. Needless to say, it all got solved on Wed night when Kathleen and Chris joined us for a lovely BBQ and 'buzz night' to do in advance what nature will do within the next week - rob me of my lovely, frustrating, ' I don't even remember what my real hair looks like' locks. Many laughs, iron hand gripping minutes later, it was all on the floor (made the kitchen actually look like Woodie was still around) and I resembled many of my balding (but highly sophisticated looking) male friends. Still gray at the temples but surprisingly darker in other places - see I really didn't remember it's true colour. Well, they say I have a reasonably shaped head - good thing because that's one thing I can't change. Wanda still sits blissfully waiting for her debut into society but for now - combined with my way cool new specs - this isn't so bad. The only 'oops' moment occured as I was toasting with my requisite scotch realizing that I was also the recipient of my evening sleeping pill. Probably not a good idea unless I wanted to go for a more permanent nap so I passed the scotch along to Dave who forced it down reluctantly. It was the only real alcohol in the house for toasting since we forgot the beer store closed early and had to wash our roast beef down with Beck's non=alcoholic brew. Oh, Kat and Chris did toast my noggin with rum and cranberry which they agreed was quite passable. Well, I'll keep rubbing my bristles for a week or so and lament the day I wake up and it's on the pillow like a delinquent pet allowed on the bed.