Consternation over Hair

Do you scan the bookshelves of people you're getting to know?  When you're visiting a friend, do you check out the front of the refrigerator door?  If there's a scheduling calendar or a to-do list prominently displayed, do you notice it?  

What we see tells us a lot about who that person is.  



So, I've lost a lot of hair over the past year or two.  A lot.   My ponytail looks thin like a rat tail.  My bun is tiny and flat.  My hair looks scraggly when it's down.  I need a haircut.  Not 6" trimmed off.  But a completely different haircut.  A haircut that works with old-lady hair.

And I don't want one!    [waaaaahhhh!]

Everybody says, "It's just hair."  
Everybody says, "You can always grow it back."
Everybody says, "It will be fine."

But my boring hairstyle that I've had for 20+ years says something about who I am.  It reveals who I am just like my refrigerator door and the contents of my bookshelves.

Okay, so gazillions of American women change their hairstyle and their hair color every few months or every couple of years.  That's great.  But it's not me.  So I'm, like, having this identity crisis over the upcoming appointment for the haircut, fully anticipating a week or more of mourning.

And everybody thinks I'm silly. 
    
 

The Amazing, Lovely, Awesome Fireplace

Zoe quickly became attached to the fireplace.  Three times in a row (Dec 22, 23, 25) when she was here, there was a fire.  When she arrived on Tuesday, she looked at the cold and lifeless fireplace.  The expression on her face was clear: "What's up with THAT?!"

Papa made her a fire.

Life was good again.

The Trailers at the Movie

I really like living in LalaLand.  I don't want to notice the degradation of society.  I can't change the world.  So I pretend not to notice.

We went to a movie last weekend.  Before it started were ads for five movies.  Every single one of them was twisted.  Every. single. one.   Every one was about the apocalypse.  Or gaining power to take over the world to destroy and conquer.  Witches.  Zombies.  The attempt to annihilate mankind.   Or fighting for survival after everything else has been annihilated.

1)  THAT's what we, as a society, watch for entertainment?  For fun?  Oy!

2)  I couldn't figure out why they would choose those kind of movie trailers to accompany the Hobbit movie.  Well, that should have been a clue as to the action-focus of the movie we were about to see.



PS:  It seems that world domination was often a part of movies from years past [I'm thinking of Lex Luther here], but it was always recognized that Good Guys had to stop the ones who want to take over the world.   I think we've changed: the quest for power (which used to be recognized as bad) is now seen as perfectly acceptable and normal.

The Hobbit

And now for something completely different ...

I suspect I may be the only one, but I didn't like the movie.  It was definitely an ACTION movie.  And I don't like action movies.  I'm thinking Anthea will enjoy it.  :-)

The Lord of the Rings had lots of action, lots of battle scenes, ... but it seemed like there was more story than in Hobbit.

Andrew and Maggie told us that it was such a good film that Gary and I would have no problem staying awake to the end of the show, even if we attended a 7:00 movie.  (Yes.  I know that makes us sound like old fuddy-duddies who go to bed ridiculously early.  So ... sometimes the truth hurts.  And embarrasses.)  Even though we went to a 3:30 showing, I was bored 3/4 of the way in, and forcing myself to stay awake.  All that slashing, fighting, lopping off heads, running, stabbing, and more escaping -- it was getting old.

That said, the arkenstone was magnificent, as was much of the scenery.  Bilbo was marvelously cast and played, as perfect as Samwise in the LotR.   I still love Gandalf.  The dwarves' singing (particularly the night in the Shire before they headed off on their quest) sends shivers down the spine.  And I tried to convince my mathematical brain to enjoy some of the escape scenes, where the choreography reminded me of complex Rube Goldberg machines.

So there were bright spots.  But I have no desire to head back to the theatre for another showing, and I doubt I'll be talked into seeing Part 2 and Part 3.

 

Mugs

Gary with his TARDIS mug.

Mandy showing off the disappearing/reappearing TARDIS.

Dr Who?  Why, Doctor Matt, of course.  Accompanied by the Supreme Empress Dictator of Life, the Universe, and Everything.

Christmas Pictures

Rachel and Alia (early in the day)

Zoe borrows an FS hat

The fire is captivating!

Pirate Paul has a Polly Parrot on his shoulder.  Squawk!

Evidence that little girls were here!  Horses on parade, headed to dinner.

End of the day meltdown.  "But I don't WANT to go home!  I want to stay at Nanna's and Papa's!!!"

Humble Cattle

The English translation of "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" used to read:
... that Thou dost choose Thine infant bed
where humble cattle lately fed.

I noticed this year that the new translation goes:
... that You should choose to lay Your head
where lowly cattle lately fed.

Lowly.  Humble.  It's the same thing.

But somehow we've turned "humble" into something to brag about, something to admire, something to work toward, something for which we [oxymoronically] pat ourselves on the back.

In the modern definition of "humble" it must sound mighty queer to anthropomorphize the cattle by suggesting that they possess the quality of humility.  But that's NOT what humility is!

Someday I'm going to have to 

tell the story of the Humble Girl.