Well, after a month and a half in the mountains of western North Carolina I am back home in Florida. Several people have asked me why in the world I came back home, and frankly I've wondered about it myself. I missed my son who is boycotting NC until we get wireless internet and cell phone capability. I missed my husband who came up alternate weekends. I missed my shower in Florida which features good water pressure and water hard enough to actually get the soap out of one's hair (oh come on! that's valid!!). I was tired of bug bites, and I needed a hair cut. The fact that several other groups of people are going to use the house in the coming weeks also meant that I had to come home. So here I am. The morning we left North Carolina I woke up to 54 degree temperatures. Let me assure you that 54 degrees has not been seen in these parts for some time. QUITE some time. The heat is debilitating. On Monday I went grocery shopping, cleaned up the house and generally bustled about until I literally became ill. I don't do heat well. I plan to stay in the air conditioning until sometime in mid-October.
As for the son who I have missed so much. Well, he moved out. I knew that this plan was afoot, and he has only moved about 5 blocks away. From the condition of his room I could surmise that he took none of his clothes with him, and none of his toiletries. Still, moved out is moved out. The house seems empty even though between school, work and social commitments this kid wasn't here much anyway. On the bright side I won't be tripping over his size 12 shoes and won't be subjected to the boom-thumpa-thumpa of his music at all hours. The house seems awfully empty though.
My hair was, as I mentioned, in a state of complete disarray. 9 weeks without a cut or coloring. NOT attractive. I had an appointment set for the Thursday after my arrival home, but my hair dresser's daughter is apparently ill, and she isn't working right now. This isn't as big a tragedy as you may think since this woman took over my hair when the lady who I ADORED moved away. This stylist was..... okay.... but not great. As luck would have it tho, I saw an ad in a magazine for a salon that boasts people WILL ask where you got that incredible hair cut so I gave them a call. Attempting to be as honest as possible I described myself as a plump rutabaga with feet and 4 inches of pure white roots. My new, and FABULOUS, stylist is named Jim. If you ran into Jim on the street and had to guess what his profession was, you would NOT pick hair stylist. (English teacher comes to mind for some reason.) First thing he did was to pick a new color for me that is FAR more flattering than the faded blonde that my old stylist used. Second thing he did was give me an adorable hair cute that, wonder of wonders, I am able to recreate on my own! HURRAY for stylists who are talented that way. We are pleased.
So. Here I am. Mid July in Florida. Welcome home to me. Now turn down the a/c and pour me some iced tea!