7 days to go: foibles

Dear Jesse,

We've been truckin' along really well so far, but wow, I woke up this morning missing you! A week done but another yet to go. As with every trip, I harbor an irrational notion that you could walk in the door at any moment...that you've said two weeks but have planned a grand surprise of arriving home in half the time. I sheepishly admit this is in fact a fall-back irrational notion since I've already had to relinquish the original: Until the moment we parted ways at the train station last Monday I maintained a verrrry-back-of-my-mind hope—as I do before every trip, if we're being honest—that you were about to say, "Just kidding! I'm not going! It's all been a giant pretense, making you temporarily miserable as a foil for the joy you feel now!" (because you talk just like that. Ha.) Instead, I was left singing "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas...sigh.

With trepidation, I'll make one more admission. I had been thinking to wait until you got back for this, but it's occurred to me that allowing you some preparation wouldn't be amiss. It's rained all week, you see. And the scissors were just sitting there. And my increasingly thinning, scalp-revealing, frizzy hair....well....

Let's just say there's less of it there to offend anymore.

Gulp!

Honestly, the tiny pile of meager curl ends was notably smaller than the amount of hair swept up when I trim a scant half inch from your hair or Josiah's. But the effect was a tad more substantial. At the rate I'm losing hair I'll be bald in under a decade (although thank goodness the curls largely mask the situation in the meantime). Anyway, I give you that lovely mental image as a foil of my own for the physical image I'll drop in here, taken moments ago by the handy webcam in my laptop:

Eek! I hope you don't mind! It's actually still plenty long enough to pull into a ponytail (not that it looks it given how the curls shrink to half length)...but it's shorter than I remember having it since elementary school.