Show of hands if you think it’s been too long since my last blog.
Agreed.
The circus known as my life remains an ever entertaining act. There are times when selling admission tickets might be appropriate for the chuckles in return.
I wrote for a magazine…
For…?
Clark Kent to Superman.
Several weeks ago… maybe even a couple of months… the Lord blessed me with a vision of Himself through a spontaneous moment that I had with my son, Bennett. This vision -this revelation, if you will – has sat in my heart, periodically stirring, slowly growing, carefully maturing.
It all started with those freakin’ spider crickets. Cave crickets? What are their names? You know the ones that look demon possessed and indicate no clear direction of their jumping trajectory, popping as randomly as popcorn in a hot pan. There are few things worse in this world than an unpredictable cricket.
The Conditioner Incident.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been giggling and snickering and laughing my butt off thanks to my wonderful husband, Brian. Poor Corinne has had to hear me retell this story no less than ten times in the salon, but every time I tell it, it’s as funny as the first.
Everyone has a different opinion about this, but I’m of the belief that you should shampoo your hair as infrequently as beautifully possible.
Mason jars and ash pits.
This must be some kind of unfortunate record for Square Piece. It has been far too long since you’ve gotten a goofy update from me! Let’s close the gap, shall we?
Oy. Given the reality that my brain isn’t as quick as it used to be, we’re going to start with the ‘right now’ and think backwards. Right this very minute, my toesies are kicked up on a foot rest mostly because I made an immature shoe choice for the day. Having been a hairstylist for nearly 11 years, you’d think I’d know by now. And I do…
Just left of my feet is a mason jar of red wine. But a fancy mason jar. The goblet kind.