heads up.

recently i have been pondering the shape of my head. not in the i want to shave my head, so i am worried about lumps and bumps kind of way, but in the why on earth do headbands and headwraps not fit properly way. i mean, i can put them on and all is well, but then i bat an eyelash and the damn things go sliding around and i end up looking disheveled or lopsided or both.

i have tried skinny headbands and fat headbands. the skinny ones get shoved around by my wily hair. the fat ones are demonic torture devices. i mean seriously..the teeth in those things are painful. don't even get me started on the pounding headaches that ensue if i try to wear the things for more than an hour. since headbands were not successfully taming the mop i tried the scarf avenue. if i position the wrap so that it goes over the center of my head, it invariably slides right off. so i tried moving it forward a bit. that just makes me look like a wanna-be eighties rocker. or like jane fonda in her aerobics heydey. using a wider scarf, moved forward to the forehead region was the perfect solution until i looked in the mirror and realized that it just looked like i was trying to cover up a bad hair day. while the headwrap might indeed be covering up some shenanigans, i do not want it to look like i have anything to hide. so then i moved on to the elasticized headwraps. you know those hair rubber bands that appear to be five miles long. uh huh. they are not nearly as long as they appear. they squeeze my head to within an inch of its life as they slide right off the back of the noggin. i even tried the elasticized bands with a rubber coating, which squeezed my skull and then ripped out all of my hair as they too descended to the nape of my neck.

i have tried countless experiments trying to attire my head with some sort of wrap. all to no avail. naturally i started thinking that there was something wrong with my head. perhaps my skull is misshapen. okay that makes me sound grotesque. there is nothing disturbing about my head shape, at least not in my opinion. however, why is it that the rest of the head-decorating world can attire themselves in an array of head gear without experiencing obvious pain or the topsy-turvy effect my head so quickly attains?

alas, i thought today was one of triumph. i discovered a head wrap that stays put. or so i thought. it is an elasticized band, but is a wee bit longer than the ones that i had previously tried. this means that it does not put my head in a vice grip and so is less inclined to rocket off the back of the noggin. it also features some rubber "thread" woven through it which helps to keep it in place without yanking my hair from the roots. thank you very much to the folks at the goody hair accessories company. unfortunately, i discovered that my hair has to be a bit disheveled for it to stay put, so while it effectively holds my hair out of my face, the majority of my hair, which resides behind the wrap looks a bit like it was caught in a massive windstorm. i am not sure that this is the effect that i was aiming for. this headband is a dream for a housebound hermit. unfortunately when i venture out into the world i am hoping to look a little less like a hedgehog and more like a proper lass. conclusion? i need a new head.

nothing. nada. zilch.

on the third day of a long weekend i cannot help but pondering what i have done the last couple of days. the answer on the surface appears to be: absolutely nothing. then again since i have not just laid prone like a lump of flesh, i must have been doing something. i suppose the great question is what. possessing a tendency to be a hermit, i have discovered that there are a number of people who are patently curious as to what on earth i find so entertaining within the confines of the eight hundred and fifty square feet the mister and i call home.

this weekend i made a point of trying to avoid anything bearing even an iota of stress. some folks consider partaking in stressless activity akin to doing nothing. so be it. however, if we choose to analyze the four thousand twenty minutes since i arrived home on friday evening, i feel as though i have accomplished a great many tasks. i watched gads of tennis from the united states open. i spent an inordinate amount of time creating the perfect schedule for the reading portion of my teaching. i cooked potato pancakes. i read the news. i baked cookies. i read a book. i snuggled with the husband. i sewed. and i wrote letters.

yes letters. you know, you pick up a pen and write a message on a piece of paper. you fold up said paper and carefully slide it into an envelope. write the recipient's address on the envelope, write your own address on the envelope, and secure some stamps on the top right corner. put in mailbox. this is becoming a lost art. i am one of those wonky folks who believe that email, while amusing, is not the end-all-be-all of communication. i am still passionate about writing letters, although the time i have for such a delicious activity seems to dwindle more with each passing day. that doesn't stop me from collecting paper to create envelopes and cards. oh no, that supply grows almost daily. the mister views this paper collection as if i am collecting and storing trash. naturally, i do not see garbage, i see possibilities. lucky for me, my husband loves me so much that he puts up with my paper-hoarding habits, with hardly a complaint.

one sandwich short of a picnic.

i am no longer in love with julia child. what's to love? she is divine. amazing. brilliant. a genius. nope, i am no longer in love. i have simply decided that i am her. i came to this conclusion yesterday evening when i trekked to the grocery store in search of a boneless round rump roast. perhaps you are curious why i am procuring rumps...because i am julia child and i decided my husband would enjoy eating boeuf bourguignon. our oven is on its annual fritz. yes, annual. every summer it starts acting funny and then in august and/or september it ceases to work, merely uttering an occasional pathetic beep. but, since i am julia child, do i let this bother me? no ma'am. i simply slide over to the dark side and whip up the betty crocker version of boeuf bourguignon, which only requires the use of the stove top.

now of course, since i am a famous chef, i am sure you are trying to determine why you do not see me on television. as we all know, any person who can cook worth a darn has a television show. it seems that since i share a personality with a deceased person, the networks are finding it difficult to stomach my entrée into their lineup. until i find an enlightened executive, i fear that i am sidelined from presenting my cooking prowess on the telly. do not despair. as a preparation for the day when my presence is desired on the small screen, each time i enter the kitchen i hone my presentation and imaginary audience skills, so as to maintain a constant state of readiness.