It's April, my month. I'm happy to welcome it. It's completely committed to spring—none of this one tentative foot in front yard violets and one foot still in winter business. Even if April happens to bring us a chill here and there, we're going forward into budding and blossoming life, and not backward. I woke up this morning feeling green and interested in putting extra energy into positive thoughts and language. Last month I was sick a long time; this month I want to be very well.
Ironically, I spent the 1st day of my month stomach-sick. Rob too. I had a reprieve long enough to have a lunch date with Bec o' my heart and spend a couple nice hours just talking. That was a break I was grateful for. She's such good company, and the sweet potato fries at Guru's are worth getting sick again for.
(Yesterday, the first day Rob and I came down with gut rot in earnest, all either of us could get successfully down was dried mango, a gift from our friend Paul. If you get this bug, I suggest you have somebody pick up a bag for you from Costco. And drink lots of water.)
(Not many left. See?)
Bec o' and I were celebrating our birthdays today—that was the excuse we used to go out anyhow. Before she came by to get me, I spent the morning cooking up a batch of an ancient Mediterranean beauty treatment—Halawah—to give her along with a cheesy note. Has anybody else tried sugaring before? It's strange and wonderful, not too painful, and is even nice on toast. I tested the stuff out to see if it actually works, and—voila!—I am defuzzed! I'm going to test out an original recipe next time, with rose water. Interested?
(Sorry, no action shots. Maybe next time.)
My other project today was finishing up an announcement design for my cousin and his bride-to-be. One more reminder of the season—pink! green! Their wedding colors! The combo puts me in mind of tulips. Two lips, get it?
(Last night was Pick Yer Pantones night. That's always fun.)
Speaking of colorful, Bec o' and I were discussing an idea for one of our next meetups: a trip to the wig shop to try out some new hairdos. This is actually more than just fun for me, though it's sure to be that. This alopecia I've been wrangling since my surgery has turned aggressive in the past few months, and if it keeps going this way much longer, we're all of us in for a rude shock. Baldness! Ack! Devastation! O, vanity! It's funny, and I do so try to appreciate the humor in the situation, the way the current attack has played out; this go-round all the big patches which have ejected hair are hiding beneath the veil of my part. I seem to be crossing the line between alopecia areata and alopecia totalis in a sneaky way. The people who know I have this disorder say, encouragingly, "Oh, you can't tell at all! I don't see a thing wrong!" All the while, a quarter of my head and rising is attemtpting to embrace my inner Sinead. It's as if my scalp is trying to spare us all the sight for as long as possible. One day I'll wake up and it will be like my hair fell out overnight.
I'm working on coming to terms with what seems inevitable. Rob tries to downplay it, bless his loving intentions. I have one friend who seems to get it, and he is losing his hair himself this week to chemo. He tells me he is "pissed on women's behalf" because it's not so acceptable to go around sans hair as it is for men. He tells me, perhaps a little too optimistically, I'd look "fantastic and boldly beautiful without the bandana." But this is a man who has yet to see me in person.
Anyway. I asked Rob yesterday what color wig I should get if I ever go that route. He joked, "Chartreuse." Don't put it past me. If I have to lose my own, I may invest in technicolor. I'll take a flamboyant wardrobe of coiffures, thank you. Lots of people are stocking up on beans and wheat to see them through hard times. Me, I think I'll put away some henna tattoo kits and some synthetic bobs for leaner days.
For now, I've decided to adopt the philosophy that any day I have hair is a good day. If my hair finally goes, then I'll pick something else to appreciate.
Like tulips. Two lips, get it?
(I look positively shaggy in these! The grand illusion!)
Anybody want to donate some locks of love?