(vintage sunglasses, circa 1980--they were my dad's)
Friday nights here are unpredictable and boring. David has the lovely job of chaperoning a dance--oh the joys of being a high school administrator. So he's off watching teenagers trying to suppress their raging hormones and I am home with three children trying to suppress their need to drive each other bananas. The first week of school was fantastic. Really, I couldn't have asked for a better start. I love, love, LOVE public education and love our elementary school so much I could cry. Our kiddo with dyslexia is doing well. We are setting them up to succeed and then (hopefully) going to step back a little bit to see what they can really achieve on their own. Most importantly, they need to learn how to communicate to their teacher by themselves when they are feeling overwhelmed or unable to do an assignment. Zinabu survived his first week of kindergarten. He's a little tired and probably constipated from having to squeeze his mouth shut all day to keep from talking, but other than that he's wonderful.
And many thanks for all the compliments on my hair. Really. Those comments will get me through many a grouchy day. Yes, I chopped my hair off. I got so tired of staring at magazine covers of models with long locks, mocking my thin, stringy hair. Why (even now) am I still so concerned about my hair? I confess, I am. I know it's shallow and stupid and there are other things in this world to worry about, but my hair is a constant disappointment. So I cut it off--to make it easier and, hopefully, to not think about it as much. Perhaps when I'm 80 I won't care so much what I look like. Is it possible?