Welcoming myself back

Jeez, it's been so long since I've stopped by here that I wasn't sure I remembered my user name or my password. I hope you all haven't given up on me ever opening my mouth here again.

The elbow's much better -- the dog who broke it isn't. He's as unrepentant as they come. So he knocked me down. Big deal. I shouldn't have been in his way. If I do it again, he fully intends to knock me down again. He knows it, and I know it. I've been warned.

I'm so glad cooler weather is here! I hate being cold, but I love cold-weather clothes and cold-weather foods. Let me put on a thermal shirt, a sweater and my orange coolest-cowboy-boot/houseshoes-in-the-world, give me a book and put a pot of beef stew on the stove, and I'm in heaven.

The grandson is due in another ten or twelve days. My mother and I are heading south as soon as we hear that DIL has gone into labor. I can't wait to see and hold the baby-kiddo. Of course, the good thing is when he needs feeding or changing or just wants to exercise his lungs, I can give him back to his parents and walk away smiling.

I do like little kids more than I used to. I went to my cousin Colton's third-birthday party the other day. He's a cool kid -- has faced some really tough times in his short life -- but he's always smiling. His five-year-old sister gave everyone a good laugh . . . at my expense.

After years of wearing really short hair, in the last couple years, I've been letting it grow. It's halfway to my waist, thick and has just enough natural curl to look as if I'd stuck my finger in an electrical outlet, so I always wear it up. Always. It's just too quick and easy -- a ponytail, a braid, or twist it and clip it.

But this was a lazy Sunday, and for whatever reason, after showering that morning, I just combed my hair and left it to do what it wanted, which, of course, was to frizz. Mega-frizz. I didn't realize it was the first time Caitlin (or anyone else there) had seen me with it down, until she stood and stared at me through her little Coke-bottle-lensed glasses and, in her sweet, little-girl voice, asked, "Rachel, what did you do to your hair?"

Okay, so it looked like an explosion in a wig factory. ("Oh, my God, it was horrible!! There was frizzy red hair everywhere!! Split ends, natural roots -- oh, the inhumanity!")

One of my sisters actually asked, "Is all that yours?"

Yeah, there's a huge market for long, frizzy red hair pieces.

I have to admit, as much as I like the ease of putting it up long, I find myself eyeing the scissors sometimes. Mind you, I can't even cut my bangs straight. I'd look I'd barely escaped some slasher movie. Or maybe I should just go straight to the razor. The shorter it is, the less there is to frizz. And less frizz is a good thing, right? Rachel10:55 AM