Frankly, I knew it was coming. I’ve been a bad girl and I was due. When it came, it came and hit me horribly. Without going into all the details, life came crashing down and the effects are long-lasting and hard. Sickness and horror upon friends and acquaintances, hard times, school frustration, you name it. The business of life has been quite a lot to bear lately.

However, I’ve taken my licks like a woman and not a child and I think that I have just about had enough. Tonight, we’re in the black, karma. In. the. black.

I just went to take a shower. I was stank. Truly. My hair was greasy. I have been inside with the dogs all day due to snow and I just needed to feel clean. I leave tomorrow for a conference and if I don’t shower tonight, my long, thick, wavy hair will never dry in time for me to make my flight. It’s why I take my showers at night unless I want to have a bad 80s perm all day.

After making my way upstairs, I gathered my pajamas and went to the bathroom where I noticed that one of my two major sources of light was out. This wouldn’t be a problem but I needed to shave my legs. I know this is too much information, but bear with me. You have to know this part of the story. I’m 5’11″ and my body is all legs. I need that light to see and, quite frankly, I’d been waiting to shave until the night before the trip so I’d be silky smooth. Ladies, you know what I mean.

With a dubious look to the light, I started the water and figured I’d soldier on. How difficult could shaving be in the semi-dark? I could still see the legs, just not the hair.

This is the part where karma laughs at me loud and long.

We’re all good until the shaving part. I’ve put my conditioner in to set while I shave. With the first stroke, I know I’m in trouble. My blade is dull. It’s the last blade I have left before a trip I’m going on tomorrow and all I have is a dull blade, hairy legs and a dark bathroom. I make the unwise decision that if I shave MORE SLOWLY the blade will still do the work of a sharp blade.

I’m a smart person. This was not a smart moment.

I cannot see the leg, so I shave some areas and not others and then shave over some parts and make them sensitive and tender to touch. Nicks are everywhere.

This is when karma and I become even.

Someone in my house, either the 9-year-old or the 32-year-old, makes the unwitting decision that I need to be put in my place once and for all: They turn the water on. As I’m sliding the dull blade up my leg, yet again, the water goes from luke warm to scalding in about 2 seconds. I jump, the blade skips up my leg and…you can see where this is going.

I still have conditioner in my hair.

I’m hurt.

I’m angry.

And this is not funny.

Eventually the water turns lukewarm and I throw the razor across the bathroom and wash my hair out.

We are even, karma. Even Stevens. Do you hear me? It’s over.

However, Tuesday rolled around and it was time for some change. I’d scheduled a cut, color and highlights with my friend Chris, who is an awesome stylist. He’s been taking care of me for almost 2 1/2 years and, beyond being good at what he does, we have a good time when we are together. He’s one of those people that I feel like I can be myself with in that he’s going to get my jokes and he might even laugh at them. We’ll sit and talk for 3 hours with no awkwardness and I’ll leave feeling like I’m caught up on his life and, hopefully, he’s caught up on mine. It’s a good relationship and there are precious few of those around lately.

I got to hear about old women and dirty Subway jokes, political jokes that we have to whisper, just in case the other patrons might hear and I can tell him that my theme for this haircut is “Hot. Just make me look hot. I don’t care what you do to it” and know that it’s going to happen. And it did. And he’s awesome. At one point, his co-worker, who’d kept himself in the majority of our conversation, had commented that he liked to laugh, too, because we were both laughing so hard that Chris had to stop working.

Rare friendships. I love those.

Well, what do you think? It’s got some red in it, as well as some blonde. Oh, and there is a Chris in the picture, too. I’m not getting rid of anyone that says “You already are” when I tell him to make me pretty. Nope. He’s a keeper. I’m not telling you anything else that was said. We share an odd sense of humor.

Besides spending time with one of my favorite people, as well as the best stylist in the area, I got to see one of my besties, Kristin. I rarely go to her neck of the woods, as it’s almost an hour away and there is more to do in my area. However, it’s where Chris is and my hair isn’t going to take care of itself, though wouldn’t that be awesome? “Hair, color yourself!”

Anyway, I happened to choose the day that Kristin only works until 3, which was awesome because I was done around 3:30. I hugged Chris goodbye and set off to the mall. Leon and AJ, who’d both taken a couple of days off for fall break, decided to meet us there after Leon hurt himself playing golf. I’m not going to say a word about golf. Nope. Not a word. It was a somewhat last minute decision that Leon and AJ would come to do some mall-wandering and ended with all of us going to Olive Garden.

I love Olive Garden.

I want to marry Olive Garden and have little olive-ettes.

Then, on the drive home, which was blissfully quiet except for some *whispering* country */whispering* music, I was treated to a sunset that literally brought me to tears. One of the reasons I love Nashville so much is the scenery. There is something so beautiful about the rolling hills and the trees and the natural rocks. When I turn a corner, I’m treated to something new and amazing with every breath. Sorry for the junky windshield pictures. I’m too lazy to clean it and too mystified by the beauty of it to not share it with you.

As I pulled into Franklin, I swore I heard bells. The closer I got to Five Points (an area of historic downtown), the louder they pealed. As I checked for signs of neurological disorder, I realized that I was driving closer to one of the beautiful historic churches in the area. Someone was ringing the bells and it was glorious. The bells and the sunset and the sky and day I’d had…it was all too much.

What a wonderful day. Can I please have more of these?

Really picky.

Some people, none that I would ever hang out with, but some people, might even call me spoiled.

But I don’t know any of those people. Mom, I’m talking to you.

Anyway, I’m picky about many things, but one thing that I don’t compromise on is my hair care. There are about 3 brands I will use, after testing almost everything out there. One of them is the Redken brand. I like the way it makes my hair FEEL and the way my hair works WITH me instead of against me when I use it. I don’t always like the different scents, but, again, I’m picky. I’ll put up with a scent if everything else works, and in most cases, it does.

I found redken products in which everything, including scent, falls together nicely. Those products are the Smooth Down line.

Even though I’m picky about my hair, I’m fairly low maintenance about it, too, as anyone that has met me in person can attest. I like to ponytail/bun/braid/scrunch and go. These allow me to do it.

So, because it’s been a while since I’ve done a giveaway and because I like this stuff so much, I up and bought you a present. Yep, the giveaway is sponsored by yours truly and no one is paying me to say the good stuff, though Redken, if you are out there, I’ve already done the dirty work and if you want to throw me a bone, I’m here.

Here’s how to enter and the types of chances you can take to win:

1) Leave a comment before September 30, 2009 at 5pm CST telling me who you’d give this set to if you won. It can be you, your wife, your sister, your mom, whomever.

2) You can tweet this giveway and/or link it on facebook and/or link to it on your own blog for extra chances to win! Make sure you leave individual comments so all of your entries count.

3) New blog followers/subscribers get one extra chance! Make sure you leave an individual comment letting me know how you are following/subscribing.

4) Loyal blog followers/subscribers (meaning you’ve been here for at least the last week) get three extra chances. Make sure you leave an individual comment for each of these.

5) Follow me on twitter or already following me on twitter earns you 1 more. Don’t forget to leave an individual comment for this.

Things to know:
**US only for this one. Sorry, it is super heavy and I don’t want to try to ship liquids internationally.
**Comments posted after the deadline won’t be included in the drawing.
**If you win, you must email me your mailing address within a week of the drawing end in order to receive your prize. I am not responsible for anything that happens once this stuff leaves my hands. If it explodes, leaks, gets lost, etc., I’ll feel really bad, but I can’t replace it.
**I will be using a randomizer to choose the winner of the giveaway. As long as your answer fits the criteria, you are eligible (unless you are me, Leon or A.J.)

Things to remember here: 1/You can always follow me on twitter to get sneak peeks at giveaways and find out when they are coming and 2/the giveaways are made possible by me.

I’d like to make my giveaways more frequent/more awesome, but that will only happen if I receive support via my paypal button or my wishlist (not required, but if you are happy with the site and want to support me, that’s awesome), both of which are located on the right hand side of your screen. If you wish to sponsor a giveaway item yourself or promote your own store/site, please contact me. Thank you!

I am so digging the new earrings Leon got me as part of my early birthday presents. What? I didn’t post about those? Oh ho ho, I shall have to do that promptly. My birthday presents this year are KICKIN. I know, I know, the big 3-0 isn’t until the 11th, but we don’t do well with waiting in this house. Immediate gratification is king.

Happy Monday my friends.

Already, I’ve had the fantasy about his wedding and it’s not a pretty picture for me. It starts with me bawling throughout the ceremony, objecting that she’s not good enough (though she’s going to be a peach, if his tastes now are to remain the same) and ends with me attached to his legs and him dragging me down the aisle with them–him trying to kick me off like an uber-friendly dog who thinks he wants to be frisky.

No. It’s not pretty.

So, when I make comments about ways I think parents might consider allowing children to grow up, just a little bit, believe me when I say “I get it.” You don’t want your baby growing up too fast. However, there are some things in life that are too cruel to allow, even when you want that small bit of control and forcing your child to have a unibrow because it’s “too grown up” to fix it, isn’t kind. I’m talking to you, Madonna. I’m talking to my own mother, MOM. And I’m talking to every mom out there that thinks their baby looks cute when their baby looks like a yeti. It’s not funny. It’s not nice. And it’s not winning them friends or helping them socialize.

At 20-something, I deal with the small animal on my forehead every 2-3 weeks. Mine needs to be taken care of right now and while my personal grooming isn’t your business, I want you to know that this plea for help is a personal one. I remember, vaguely, children making fun of my unibrow as I was growing up. My repressed memories will only let so much come back to me, bless their hearts. What’s scary about this is that I didn’t understand what the problem was. I didn’t realize that my brows were an issue or why. To say I was sheltered was an understatement.

I grew up on a farm and it’s not like anyone ever said “Your brows are nas-tay!” When we moved, puberty frowned further on me and it all went downhill. Part of being a parent is helping to properly socialize our children. If you are down with the naturalistic approach, that’s cool. At least educate your child as to what is happening and allow them the choice. If you want to be in charge and say “No, I’m not going to allow it” that’s cool, too. Explain what’s happening, explain why you aren’t allowing it and allow your kid to have their say. And listen to it and consider it. If you still feel the same, explain that, too.

It’s not often I give advice, but as an adult who lived it, take it from the yeti: if our childhood has to be more complicated because of a decision you make, at least let us understand why.

Unfortunately, my hair is such a dark ash brown, that light blonde isn’t possible without, essentially, beating the soup out of otherwise fantastically healthy hair. I love my hair. I don’t want to beat it into submission. So, what we agreed upon, is that I would do some beautiful caramel colored highlights and continue building them into my pre-existing brown until it lightened up. This will happen over the course of the next several months.

Chris, my stylist, also gave me a nice level light brown base to start things off. I adore my stylist. He’s wonderful in every way and I enjoy spending time talking with him. He’s just a genuinely nice person and those are hard to come by nowadays. And he’s magic with color.

So, because I don’t want to bore those who don’t care, the results look like this picture. The picture isn’t great because my family is in town and, in my zealousness to take a picture of me and my wonderful sister, I dropped my beloved camera. Now my coloring is completely off, but I’ve color corrected as much as is possible. Yes, I really am this pale. More so, as the color actually gives me some jaundice yellow, when, in actuality, I’m white as a ghost. The picture’s bad, the color is great. Chris scores again!

Thanks again for all your help on this. I know my limitations and creativity is one of them.

All of that changed yesterday and turned into this.

Artist rendition of the tragedy

While I sat there waiting for the stylist, AJ was hitting my last nerve. I examined my greasy hair and hugely split ends and became even more resolved to do something about my current hair state, if for no other reason than I needed a break from the constant chatter of a hyper 8-year old. Nothing exotic or large was going to happen. I just wanted the split ends removed and no layers. I’ve been growing my hair out for over a year.

What my stylist heard, her of the 1993 Meg-Ryan-duck-butt-blonde-hair-flare that had grown to her shoulders, was that I wanted 4 INCHES OFF OF MY LENGTH AND A FULL SET OF LAYERS. I think my first inclination that something was wrong was when I asked her how much she’d need to take and how bad my split ends were was that she giggled nervously and replied, “Oh, I can’t really tell how split they are when your hair is wet. The water mends your ends so unless it’s dry, I won’t know.” She said this while cutting. I started to fidget nervously and watched a hunk of hair fall off the scissors.

Your author with the infamous hair cut

That was the end. She started cutting like a madwoman. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her already squinty eyes became irrationally beady to me. I started to sweat. She kept trying to talk to me about AJ, but all I wanted to do was leave. When she was done, I threw my hair back into a ponytail and jetted. I got home and stewed. That Delilah! How dare she cut my hair like that? It was specifically what I said I DIDN’T want. Cutting a woman’s hair is like cutting off a man’s penis. Ok, maybe not that bad.

When I finally had the courage to take it down and look at it, I winced and slowly turned to Leon. His response, “It looks great!” The response of my friends, “It’s hot. I love it! I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted, but I really like it. It brings out your natural curl.”

Hrmph. But like a petulant child, I want what I want, dang it! Don’t do what I don’t want, even if I look better. I look hot? I look great?

Ok. Maybe it’s growing on me. I might go back.