so, it was a semi-crazy, eventful weekend. I'll spare you the details, but, in summary, the bro and the future sister in law are happily planning for married life, the baby is sick for the third time this month (what's up with that??) and the me is tired. good friends visiting from out of town, lots of family, a haircut, nice weather... so, the weekend had its ups and downs, but, all in all, it was pretty good. it's kinda nice to be back at work for some uneventfulness, though.

I found a white hair on saturday. it was after I'd come home from getting my hair cut and had showered and was greasing up my head in the bathroom. all of a sudden, I noticed a particularly bright gleam in my hair. after gasping loudly and squinting at the mirror to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me, I ran downstairs to my brother and demanded he pull it out. I can't say I'm that upset about it, but this is my first white hair ever! that's kind of momentous, isn't it? I really should have taken pictures or gotten it on video or something.

as long as we're on the topic of hair, I just want to state for the record that I love my hair stylist. and, if I were a gay man, I would most certainly propose marriage just so I could keep him in my house and have him at my beck and call 24 hours a day. how wonderful would that be? as it stands, I really can't afford to keep going to him since his rate has almost doubled since I started seeing him back in 2000, but I just can't pull myself away. I am convinced there isn't a single stylist out there besides him that can do my hair justice. so, instead, I just try to drag out the spaces between appointments until my hair gets so shaggy, that I have no choice but to go back. this is starting to sound like some kind of sick addiction. but it's true... my name is susan, and I'm addicted to my hair stylist.