Tomorrow morning I’m getting my hair cut.  Trimmed.  Whatever.  It’s been a super long time since I’ve been to my hair stylist and I look like a woman who lives in a tree stump in a deep dark forest.  Or like a hippie prancing around on an organic farm back in 1974.

I expect I’ll look like a middle-aged housewife when she finishes with me.

Recently, a couple of people have been snatching purses at the mall where the salon is located.  I fully expect to run into them but they will not snatch my purse because I will fight to the death and one mom-glare from me will reduce them to a puddle of fear.  Also?  My purse is not an expensive designer purse, which is apparently what they target.

I was alone in my house this afternoon, thanks to an alignment of events.  My daughter spent the afternoon at a friend’s house–she rode the bus directly there after school.  My son was at school late because once a month he and his buddies have to stay after school while the neighbor-lady runs a PTA meeting.  I sent my teenagers outside for a walk.  They are supposed to walk every day for exercise, but I forget to make them and they conveniently don’t remind me.

So, I was alone for about an hour.  It was glorious and rare.  When we adopted babies fifteen years ago, I had no idea that meant I would hardly ever be alone again.  For you extroverts, that is a dream come true.  For we introverts, it’s exhausting.  Or maybe I should just say I am exhausted.  I am.  Exhausted.

But at least tomorrow at this time I won’t have such an unruly mop of hair.   And there is something to be said for that.

My husband is in New Mexico tonight.  He’s driving a new-to-us red Cadillac home from Texas.  He expects to arrive here on Wednesday night.  Normally, he prefers not to share driving duties when on car-trips–when we drove to Disneyland, he drove the whole way there and the whole way back.  Hello?  I have had my driver’s license since I was seventeen.  (I failed the written test only once.  Ha ha ha.)

Anyway, a friend of his flew to Texas to help him drive home.  “Are you going to actually let him drive?” I asked.  He laughed and said he wasn’t sure.  I pointed out that this friend flew airplanes for a living and could probably handle a red Cadillac on the Interstate system.

And tonight, my husband reported that Keith drove about half the day.  Good job, Mr. Safety.  See?  You didn’t die, even though someone else drove the car!

Meanwhile, since he was gone, I left home twenty minutes late.  Our drive to Seattle takes an hour, depending on traffic and I sped the whole way, wondering why other people were not in such a hurry.  We arrived in our seats just as the pastor began the sermon, so I count that as being pretty close to on time.  Nevermind that we were actually the full twenty minutes late.

After church, we had lunch at Dick’s Drive In and then stopped by Costco for Superbowl snacks.  We’d set the DVR to start recording the game, just in case, and sure enough, by the time I had set up everything and made Rice Krispie Treats, the game had been on over thirty minutes.  So, we watched it on time delay.  And by “we”, I mean me, my three sons and two other teenage boys from the neighborhood.  My daughter spend her afternoon at her friend’s house down the street.

I wrapped up my night by giving my 1o-year old a haircut in the kitchen at 10:00 p.m.  I really have no training in cutting hair, but whenever I take him to a barber, the barber cuts his hair so short that my poor blond boy cries his eyes out.  So I trim it myself and wish I had sharper shears.

Well, I’ve pondered whether to add more to this entry and wondered if I will ever have anything clever to say again.  I’ve decided no on both counts.