Wednesday, 8 July 2015

On being a slack, intermittent, haphazard blogger

I was thinking maybe I should change the name of this blog to "The Lazy Blogger", but that name's gone. Then I thought "The Haphazard Blogger" - that name's available, "The Slack Blogger" - it's available too, or how about "The Intermittent Blogger" - hmmm, not available. 

Then I though nah, being lazy, haphazard, slack, and intermittent at times is all me, I'll own it. There are times when I'm ridiculously productive and enthusiastic as a blogger and a writer, and times when other priorities come into my life, or there aren't enough hours in the day, and unfortunately something has to give... for me it's personal blogging. That's not to say I don't think about blogging, I just don't get around to doing it.  

One of the hugest impacts on my blogging has been having one of my kids home on a semi regular basis. My son, Mr. J, is now a uni student! 

Back in my day (*gasp* I just said back in my day didn't I) full time uni was literally full time: 40 hours a week, Monday to Friday. Not so these days, and I do see benefits to it. I'm trying to see more benefits, I'm a work in progress with this okay.

Anyway, when I am sitting at my computer trying to write I demand complete silence in my home. I don't mind the noises of nature from my semi rural surrounds, the odd sound of a car going past, but nothing electronic is allowed to so much as beep - no TV, radio, music, phone, microwave, oven; no domestic noises whatsoever. This works well when you're home alone, as in the days both kids were out of the house. As you can tell that isn't working very well for me at all. I get frustrated, he gets frustrated, Miss. G gets frustrated, and as much as they try to accommodate me, it's been a failure. I don't seem to be in an insomia state at the moment so writing in the quiet darkness of the night isn't an option. So, I'm working on trying to assemble my thoughts and get my fingers going over the keyboard with noise around me. Realistically it's not deafeningly loud, it just niggles and I'm being a pouty bum whinger.

But I'm getting words out, when I read over them they seem to make sense, and my fingers aren't making any obvious spelling mistakes, maybe subtle ones I'm skipping over on re-reads but not obvious ones.

I have been keeping up with my pole blogging for the most part because it is my sport, it is the way I move and challenge myself - physically and mentally, I enjoy being an active part of the community, and it takes over quite a bit of time during my day. This is only going to increase in the coming months as I get out of my comfort zone, and that isn't a bad thing. Challenge is good they say, even if I experience epsiodes of what-the-hell-am-I-thinking in the many weeks ahead of me, I do sincerely believe challenging yourself and getting out of your comfort zone is a must. Proves to yourself you're alive and kicking and not ready to give up or be complacent.

In the blogging world I've noticed all the people who's blogs I follow through this blog... no one has posted anything in over a year! I swear, a full 100%. And I know they're alive because I'm Facebook friends or Facebook stalk quite a few of them. I saw a great quote on Facey that I will steal and put here, it sums up how I feel about the moment.
Borrowed from Daniel Amos's page

I think some of the blogging absences come from people using Facebook Pages and Instagram to reach an audience. It's quick and easy to write a smaller spiel, add pictures, and keep your audience engaged. I do it myself with poling and find it incredibly beneficial. 

But there is something about banging on in a rambling blog post that's almost soul cleansing for me. I've often said writing helps me figure out my thoughts and develop my opinions, and it still is. The bigger issues I will sit and write about, just to seek my own clarification. But I am a bit of a scaredy cat when it comes to hitting that publish button. It's one thing to have an opinion, to make a stand, but to be confrontational and potentially risk inflaming others, offending, or being trolled... yeah, I have a bridge to cross in that scenario. Hopefully I'm too small to ever be trolled, but it is in the back of my mind when I skirt controversy, so I tend to not hit the publish button. 

Well, this was a test blog post to see how I coped with the TV on, Miss G is watching her beloved Criminal Minds - I love it too but she likes to re-watch each episode a million times. Mr. J is laid up in bed with a bunged up ankle gaming and talking online with team players; Destiny is the flavour of the year for him, I hear laughter and dirty banter that does make me smile, he is a chip off this old block with his language skills. The fridge has been opened the usual one hundred times - two teenagers in the house makes this a mandatory, daily event. The microwave has cooked noodles, defrosted bread, and reheated left overs. With all this noise I have written and my head hasn't imploded. I've not sworn at my children, I've not stormed off in a tantrum all whiney and pouty, and I have typed. 

If you've made it this far just know I love you.

I'm feeling pretty confident I can do this again, even with noises surrounding me that I would rather weren't.

Yeah, this is good.

Thursday, 14 May 2015

Lost in the blogosphere

I've been absent, obviously. And it's definitely been quite a while since I've written anything, again obviously. Now here comes the but... 

But there's been a change. 

I'm not speaking of a physical change, though I do once again find myself walking through the hell that is dieting (by choice, give me no sympathy, I know what I'm doing). I've upped the exercise too which is actually doing wonders physically and mentally all things considered, and I hate exercising, more on that in another post.
So true, so true
I've had time off where I've questioned lots of things in my life. I think there are significant times in our lives when we all need to make the time to reassess where we're going. To question if where we are on that journey is really where we want to be. If not, plans need to be thought out and a change has to occur.

I'm amazing at the thinking stage. I own it. I can do that shit for weeks and months even. I like to be thorough and because change can be scary, really you're taking a risk and trusting your own judgement (meaning you have no one else to blame should poo and fan collide), I like to make sure that I'm certain in what I'm doing. Basically, you're backing yourself that yes, I'm doing the 'right' thing for me at this point in time. The last thing you really want to do is "Yes, okay I'm doing this", to suddenly be going, "Oops, my bad, change of plan". If it needs to be done you make that change, again, but really no one chooses to do that from the get go.

Anyway, in this deeply thoughtful, consciously aware thinking stage, I may look like I'm doing nothing, I have kind of a glazed, vague look on my face but mentally I am stomping about inside my head kicking shit over, demolishing the unwanted crap, changing directions; I'm making a HUGE web of plans. I'm talking HUGE, GINORMOUS is even an appropriate word here. I'm a person who doesn't just have plan A, B, then C... I do the whole damn alphabet and then start on numbers if I have too.

So I've found myself away from the blogging keyboard, do remember I live on Facebook - it's my social scene so I'm at the keyboard, just not to blog. And I've been procrastinating while thinking, I find these two activities go hand in hand for me. The only exception is long road trips - life changing decisions get made on long road trips. 

When I procrastinate EVERYTHING stalls; the housework, the ironing, the serious cleaning. God, I haven't washed or vacuumed my car in forever, sacrilege I know. I've managed to keep the superficial stuff going, just. I do laundry, fold, but don't iron. I vacuum but haven't mopped in ages either. These are important, eventually. I find the clearer my thinking, the cleaner my house. I think it's all linked in with motivation, the total opposite to procrastination.

I found a quote that speaks to me. I love quotes: motivational, funny, serious, inspiration. Sometimes I even make up my own. But I stumbled across this one as I was coming out of my thinking funk, had made choices, plans were starting to come into action, and it just truly spoke to me. It made me pay attention. It is now my desktop background on my computer, meaning I get to read it multiple times throughout the day.
My current mantra. Cool, huh!
Deep and speaks volumes, hey.

Well, to me it shouts!

And the timing is impeccable.

So decisions have been made, books have been read - on blogging, life coaching and blogging, and motivation and blogging, of course. A significant life event gave me a shove - unexpected death has that power, and as always I've got the most amazingly supportive people around me, even though at times I ignore them whilst building webs in my mind. 

I'm glad I've finally got fingers to the keyboard. To be honest it feels awesome, like catching up with a much loved friend. Thank you for letting me back into your world.

Deb... xox

Saturday, 24 January 2015

A False Start

Well I had the best of intentions.

I'd had my lovely long overseas holiday with minimal blogging. I had spent significant time well removed from my every day routine. I was back home. I had got over my jet lag. I was invigorated, motivated, had a plan, ready to amp up the blogging and get back into it all. Yep I can say it... I had the best of intentions. 

... and then I sliced off my finger tip!

I couldn't believe it. 

There staring back at me on the wooden chopping board sat the tip of the third finger of my right hand. I can recall the feeling as the blade sliced deep into the tip, slicing off part of the nail too (and I have short nails) but my finger was moving at such speed over the blade I couldn't stop it even if I knew at the time. It's been ten days and only now I'm finally able to put pressure on the end of my finger to type. 
10 days healing from injury to this blog post
It has been sooooo frustrating.

I've pretty much been an invalid. No seriously, I'm such a sook when there is pain. I've been super cautious because whenever I bumped or even gently tapped the bloody thing a sharp stinging nerve pain would shoot up my arm until it reached my elbow area. It brought tears to my eyes. Every. Damn. Time. 

And two finger typing, oh don't go there. When you've been typing as long as me going back to two fingers is like no longer using a pen and chiseling notes into stone tablets instead. Soooo slow, and soooo unbelievably frustrating, so I pretty much didn't, and I've had stuff to say too... grrrr.

Anyway, things are finally back on track, enough that I can start posts at least, spend a bit of time working on them here and there. All I need is to get rid of my children so I have my quiet writing environment back again during the day and I can finally, finally, finally really get back in to it. Lucky me school's back mid next week so not long before I can really get into it. I'm going to enjoy being alone and just writing again so much.

Besides that I have stuff to say and things to tell, just you wait and read.

Friday, 19 December 2014

Paris Musings

It hit me today as I relaxed into my seat on the train, I've been travelling around Europe for three weeks now.

It doesn't seem that long. Most likely because the first part of our travels was with a bunch of footballers so it was more like hanging out with friends, watching football games, laughing heaps, and doing the odd touristy thing.
The Football crowd
Now that my family of four are on our own I've had to be more organised, had to pay attention, and can't goof off as much.

We've just left Paris, the first stop in our White Christmas holiday. I'm sitting in the very spacious first class carriage on a TGV train on my way to Munich. There is a 12 minute dash in Stuttgart to get to our connecting train. Will we make it? I really don't know but will let you know.

Is it rude to say the best thing about Paris is sitting in this luxurious train seat heading out of it? Yeah, probably is. I should put it into context I suppose.
Waiting to leave Paris
We arrived in Paris from London via the Eurostar. I've never travelled so fast in a train before, I've never had to equalise my ears so much either as we rapidly went to and from 250km/hour. We were only in the Chunnel (Channel Tunnel) for such a brief time before popping up in France. I didn't realise how far inland Paris was before the longer, slower train ride into the city.

We disembarked at the bustling Paris Gare du Nord train station, a large mixture/interchange station. The immediate vibe was tension. Soldiers fully armed patrolled in groups of three, similarly the police. Groups of older teens with their hoods up seemed to take delight stalking menacingly through the crowds of people. There were no gentle conversations, it seemed as though everyone was being confrontational with everyone else. In amongst all this, we quietly stood.

The phrase "Circle the wagons!" was used for the first time. Our suitcases were pushed against each other to form a tightly packed box shape with our carry on bags placed on top and we stood casually at points around them. This allowed two or three of us to go away knowing, whilst not impossible, a bad guy would have to work to get something of ours.

As we had been given instructions to phone with an arrival time to be let into our Paris apartment, Dear Hub went on the hunt for a public phone. He approached the Information service and was given a bum steer, and then a business owner was incredibly rude when he asked for directions (strike one to the French).

Luckily Miss G had credit and roaming available on her phone so we used it to make contact.

Next came the taxi ride. Our apartment was only a kilometer away but not knowing the area we thought a taxi was the way to go. Fortunately we got one that was able to fit all four suitcases in the back and us in the front and middle. GPS got us to the address and the meter read €8.30, it was only a kilometer after all. Next thing the driver pushes a few buttons and the tally changed to €20!
What do you do?
We weren't about to debate and haggle over the price, so Dear Hub gave him the amount he asked for (strike two to the French) and we stood in front of our building.
Our Paris apatment, way up the top
The agent greeted us and let us in.

Immediately we hit the stairs, as in physically... it was a tight squishy two person space.

They were a narrow, steep, uneven, oval shaped, spiral staircase that took us up to our apartment, which of course was on the top floor. Mr J helped me with my suitcase, it was the heaviest at 26kg's.

With a staircase not much wider than my suitcase I led the way. I climbed while holding the top handle, Mr J lifted and carried the back end with one hand whilst the other lifted his own case. Dear Hub did the same with Miss G. I made it to the second level when the giggles burst forth. The absurdity of what we were doing struck me along with the picture in my head of how the hell do we get them back down again!

The apartment agent gave us the tour inside, surprise more stairs even narrower and steeper to get to the attic level bedrooms and bathroom. The apartment looked lovely, decorated very French, very provincial, even though we were just down from Notre Dame Cathedral. A €750 bond was taken (hope we see that again) and we were left alone.

Then Miss G crumbled.

Her knees had been aching throughout the football tour but for the most part she coped really well, her only struggle was going up stairs. She'd just done five flights while half hauling her suitcase! It's so easy to forget she has pain because she looks so perfect.
More stairs, leading to the bedrooms and bathroom
Tears and a cuddle, nurofen, and the boys were off searching for easy food to bring back to tide us over for the evening.

They were shouted out of KFC, they had no chicken! McDonald's was too complicated, electronic ordering and only in French. A small grocery store, like a tiny IGA, provided cheese, meat, pizza, water, crackers and chips, life's essentials. It got us through.

Then I started laundering... two and a half weeks worth of washing... in a front loading machine... that took two hours for one load... that took a maximum of ten items per load... that I now hate and vow as long as I live I shall continue to love, and adore, and exclusively use top loading machines until the day I die!

The new day saw the sun shining and us up and ready to explore. We had pre-purchased a hop-on/hop-off bus tour and had our tickets ready to go. We strolled down towards Notre Dame, along the way ordering fresh crepes to eat and picking up some souvenirs. A walk through the cathedral, some quick snaps, and we hopped on the bus.

Best. Thing. Ever.

The bus took us everywhere. We also learned quickly when the people up the front moved, grab their seats. The front seats are sort of protected from the wind, certainly better than anywhere else on the top level of the bus. We half listened to the English guide through our complimentary fluoro green earbuds. I found the continuous 60's French music too much to bear and gave up on them so missed out on vital stats like how high the Eiffel Tower is (320 meters) and the Revolution stuff (which luckily I read up on to help Mr J with a school assignment a few years back).
View from the front of the bus
We got off at the Eiffel tower, had a walk around and found all but two food stalls closed. They would all be open the next day as part of a Christmas market. So one that was open we battled through the line and got some hot food and drink. We'd learned the French were very receptive to me so I was shoved up to do the gesturing and smiling. A frozen Miss G got hot chocolate and hot chips. I ordered a small hot wine and expected a 200ml cup I'd seen others walk about with. The gentleman shoved a 500ml cup, oh hell let's just call it a bucket, of steaming hot wine into my hands with a wink and a nod. I just smiled, what else do you do. And shared, I shared it around the four of us trying to lessen the burden.

Within ten minutes I was slurring a little bit, my children thought it hilarious. I had to hang on to Mr J while I walked, I couldn't keep up with Dear Hub. I got a bit giggly when we couldn't find the bus stop, but that didn't matter. When the bus started to approach us, and even though we weren't at a designated stop, I drunkenly smiled and waved, lo and behold the bus did an unscheduled stop on the side of the road and collected us... take back one strike against the French.

The rain started by the time we left for home. Dinner was pasta and pizza while the laundering continued slowly... and continued... and continued.

The rain settled in for the next day. Miss G's knees were achy, and Mr J's ankle had swollen up quite a bit. So dear hub and I did some recon. We found a post office and found how to get to the train station for the next day's departure.

Two parcel boxes were brought back to the apartment and Mr J unloaded all his now clean football gear into one, and I did the same. So much room has been freed up in our cases now, room for other stuff we haven't got yet. And they are so much lighter to haul about now as well, bonus!

Dinner was again supplied by a local grocery store and the last load was completed by bed time.

This morning saw us clean the apartment in the hopes of getting our bond back, that will remain a mystery until we check the credit card statement. I did do a photo run around the apartment to have some sort of proof of the lovely state we left it in... score one for the thinker.

We walked the one kilometer to the train station this morning. It wasn't raining, we knew where to go, and so we took it relatively easy as it was a gentle uphill slope plus we didn't want to push Miss G's knees too much.
Our suitcases all still have four functioning wheels on them,  none of them tore off on the walk/drag, winning!

Things were smooth at the train station. Our Euro rail passes have been activated and we can travel freely within the EU on the train line. We had time to grab some food and enjoy a Starbucks drink. Though the lovely gentleman who served me when given my name, Deb, three times, managed to hear and write down Sem... yeah, I don't know what to say about that one. And Miss G's Vanilla Frappuccino became a Caramel one, and then a Strawberry one, which she took in the end just to have something to drink. It's wise to know when to cut your losses.

So we are on the TVG train, and in the first class carriage. Much like the airlines we've been served a lovely three course meal, we have very large, luxurious, electronic seats, and power cables to plug in our devices... noice, right! The toilet's fancy too but too squashy for my phone's camera and I didn't want to stand in the hall taking a pic of a loo, got to maintain some mystique.
First class meal service and comfy seats... awesome!
So Paris, and now France are long gone.

I think in hindsight our approach to Paris was, and even when we booked it, was to be a catch up zone. A place to sort out the football gear and get ready for the White Christmas trip coming up. We didn't count on the injuries flaring up, we didn't count on an apartment in the sky, and we didn't count on our location in relation to the things we would have been keen on seeing in Paris. Luckily though there will always be a next time. I'm not ready to completely wipe a country because it has some arseholes in it... hey, I'm Australian and we have plenty of them too. Next time I won't be a novice, I won't be coming from a football tour, and I will know better.

In a nutshell I'd do it again, but do it differently.

Addendum... we made the train change over at Stuttgart, but standing room only. In first class people are sitting on the floor, or 3 squashed into 2 seats and the like. Suitcases and bags everywhere... wow Calcutta much!!!
The lads, standing in the 1st class passageway.
Baby girl resting her knees in the train doorway... yep, 1st class!


Monday, 15 December 2014

My Football Tour 2014

I've spent the past seventeen days on a football tour with some wonderful people. I've made new friendships, gotten to know people I only knew superficially beforehand on a deeper more intimate level, and I've been able to reveal parts of myself that I have kept guarded and hopefully not made too many of them shake their heads or mutter "What the fuck!" (snuck my favourite expletive in, let's move on).

As it's a football tour I should tell you about the footballers. There are fifteen of them in total, fourteen lads and Rach who is a very talented female player.

How do I describe these footballers?

Well, there's the Alpha's, the jocks, the creatives. There's the loud ones, the attention seekers, the quiet ones, and the dreamers. There's the die hard footballers, and the ones who play for the fun of it. There's the ones who smell great and the ones who need to put in a bit more effort and their level of awesome would skyrocket. There's the life long friends, and then there's the new besties. There's the warriors, the fighters, the wounded, and the sheep.

Above all the differences and things which separate them, there is a spirit and a strength within them as a team that I've witnessed first hand and that I envy and admire. That dig deep and do it for the team, that keep going - don't give up, and that grunt that comes from a bond forged through uniting in a common cause: to play Football together and to play it well.

The quality training, the strategies, and tactics, they've applied really well and just grown so much, individually and together. They really are a team to be reckoned with now.

I've felt so privileged to have been allowed to share this experience, more so when these wonderful footballers have invited me into their world and I've been able to hang out for a while. These opportunities are so rare and I cherish them when they happen.

And laugh! Oh god, how they've made me laugh. I've roared with laughter and cried tears, barely able to catch my breath, because they've had me completely caught up in some shared joke, or on the outside looking in, or unashamedly eavesdropping.

I'm going to miss them all as the tour ends and we disperse to different parts of the globe to spend the festive season with family and friends.

I have no connection to the football world anymore, so once this tour ends a lot of connections with these people will end along with it. I thank goodness for my addiction to Facebook in this instance and their willingness to accept me.

Those who have wanted to have created connections with me...and I love they've trusted me enough to do that. I get to stay in touch and revisit the connection when I want. I get to see what they get up to, the choices they make in life, big or small. Even the mundane, everyday things like a whinge about study, or life, or whatever.

My curiosity about how things will be for them is huge and I'm grateful they are allowing me to continue to remain connected to them on some level.

You never know I may get the odd coffee date out of it, which I would love I will add (yes, yes I am unashamedly suggesting you SHOULD message me occasionally for a catch up, I'm secretly interesting).

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

A proper salon experience

Well I finally did it. I sound much braver than I am because I was actually forced to do it, being abandoned by my former home hairdresser or dumped whatever works for you... but I did it. I went to an unknown and unfamiliar hairdresser. It's been almost two weeks now and I've coped far better than I thought I would. So let me share my experience with you.

First off here are my before pictures.

Before: at the start of my 'salon' experience

So, in a nutshell how did I find things overall?

*sings loudly* AMAZING!

I forgot what it is like going to a quality hair salon and to have that whole 'salon' experience. 

Had it really been that long? 

Yep, it's been over five years since I last went to a salon, and even longer since I went to a higher quality one. Bear in mind I had been going to a basic in-home set up for quite a while, by choice, and it cost me significantly less because it was more basic, but this also limited my choices in what I could have done and definitely lowered my expectation level: leaning back in a study chair against the laundry basin while the washing machine thumped away washing the dirty laundry for example. Again, this was by choice and if I hadn't been dumped I'd probably still be doing the same old, same old. 

You certainly get what you pay for and it's nice to be indulged after not having done so for so long. I had forgotten and was taken aback by the littlest of things, but little things that really, really make for a quality salon experience. 

The little things that had me humming, are you ready for it... I had a cup of coffee made FOR ME from a quality coffee machine, with froth, served in a cute cup with a freshly baked cupcake. I know, simple yet elegant and that little bit of indulgent pampering.

Purple, my favourite colour

The next little thing to have me humming was when I was in the luxurious lay back lounge seat to have my hair shampoo'd in the ergonomic protect-the-clients-neck basin, I was given a head massage. 

Talk about total bliss out! 

It wasn't a quick rub either, or the nails scraping into my scalp, or claws pulling my hair out. It had been years since I had a head massage and it took all my strength not to moan out loud, inwardly that was all I was doing, silently moaning constantly. It was done perfectly too, not rushed at all, the perfect amount of pressure, nice and firm, not hard, and seemed to go on for just the right amount of time. Long enough to have me totally relaxed and gooey, it was divine.

I had been toying with the idea of hair extensions for a while but didn't have the opportunity with my former hairdresser, so I was encouraged to go see Skye after being told she was the best. Personal recommendation is the way to go. 

I can say I wasn't disappointed at all. Skye explained how the extensions would be put in, mine is a weave so they are sewn into a very thin braid she made underneath some of my hair. A colour was put over top to hide the purple foils I had previously and to match my hair closely to the extensions. They are almost identical, I think if you didn't know you couldn't tell that's how good Skye is, and exactly what I was after. She used a hair straightener to create a curl and showed me how and I was done. In less than 90 minutes! 

Can you believe it, how quick is she!

After: coloured and styled

Initially, Skye was going to cut it a bit shorter but I asked her to leave the length for now, I'm coming back in a few weeks. Just so I can have a play around with it so long. It's been almost two weeks and I'm ready for that little bit of length to come off, not too much, just what Skye suggested. It's been fun playing around though.

Thank goodness for YouTube. It took me three days before I washed it and another two before I was confident to have a crack at styling it with my own straightener (which I had to buy, didn't have one before). Each time I get less fearful I'm going to burn the hair off in clumps, and each time the curl gets better. I've done some basic upstyles as well and they held well too, again with YouTube as my teacher.

Me and Skye, I'm the stunned one suddenly having all this hair

I'm truly grateful to the universe, Karma, fate, or whatever that I was abandoned by my former hairdresser. Truly it's been the best thing. I'm enjoying these new experiences, having fun, getting creative, cocking up, and when all else fails chuck my hair into a ponytail and it still looks fine. That's how hair is meant to be, a reflection of who you are. Some days I'm a hot mess, others I'm organised and sorted, sometimes kinda feral, sometimes more formal. I'm loving it, and above all it's not too serious and it's fun. I don't know how long I will keep it, or what my next plans will be but for now this is suiting me just fine.

The photo of the hairstyle I took in for Skye to work on, I think she did great!

Thursday, 6 November 2014

Finding a new hairdresser

Argh...

It's every woman's nightmare, well one of them, we have a few nightmares in common.

This nightmare becomes more terrifying when you've been with your current hairdresser for quite a few years and then out of the blue, BAM, she's not available anymore. No referral on, no suggested new hairdresser to go to, no one you may even know. So, you find yourself on your own, wandering, aimless, lost, abandoned in the wilderness that is hair limbo. 

You're now the weakling of the hair consumer pack. You're susceptible to the aggression of the product pusher. Susceptible to the "Let's give this a go" ones who want you to try something different, you know the type - uber perky, the funster. But most of all you're now incredibly susceptible to your own unthinking stupidity because you no longer have that solid rock foundation of a hairdresser who knows you. One who knows the finer details of your hair personality, knows you're too lazy to style your hair daily, knows you don't use the products you should, who knows you don't come back like clockwork, who knows you need things practical, simple, and easy to do; basically a paint by numbers hairstyle.

I can say in all honesty THIS time... NOT ME!

I have this sense of freedom.

I have the thrill of being able to try something new, finally.
I'm no longer limited to what my former hairdresser had available in her tiny home salon.
I no longer have that sense of obligation to keep returning because of a misplaced sense of loyalty, or fear of getting caught out seeing someone else and it not being to her standard.

Yep, I'm feeling relief, freedom, and even excitement.

IT'S FREAKING AWESOME!!!! 

So with reckless abandon I'm thrusting myself back into the open market. I'm prepared to spend money, I'm ready for a change, I'm open to creativity, and I'm potentially setting myself up for a huge, huge, ginormous, did I mention HUGE, hair mistake.

While the creative part of my brain is screaming, "Rainbow colours, dip dye, lots of curls, fun, fun, fun". The sensible side is saying, "Remember you need to function in the corporate world, private school world, your sports commitments, and be confident in all of these roles". Yes, sensible is making sense, piercing through the happy clapping of the creative thoughts so much so that I'm actually seriously considering what she has to say as being valid. I need to come up with something that satisfies both sides of my personality. Ah, one of the many dilemma's of womanhood, trying to find balance, we seem to be always looking for or trying to keep hold of that balance.

In all my years of hair experience, as someone who moved frequently and changed hairstyles just as often, the number one way to find a quality hairdresser is to get a recommendation from someone whose hair you admire.

I messaged a friend who I've noticed always has impeccable hair, had a bit of a to and fro with her and am booked in to see the hairdresser she suggested. And I am so excited. To make it even better the hairdresser and I have messaged each other on Facebook (gosh, I love Facebook, so practical) we've discussed what I'd like to do, I've sent pictures, possibly too many pictures, possibly flooded her inbox; I'm nothing if not enthusiastic and keen. She seems confident and competent. I've determined this based solely on the fact that she replied to my rambling paragraph long explanations of what I'd like to try. Her replies may have been only a short sentence, but that she replied screams interest to me. Am I being too generous, who knows. I feel like a puppy who's racing into the yard to play, all excited, tripping myself up, peeing on anything. This is all figurative by the way, I truly don't pee in my yard, truth.

Oh! Did I mention I'm EXCITED!!!! 

A bit of serious wisdom now: change isn't something to be frightened of, it's an opportunity to throw caution to the wind and see what will happen. If I don't like it I can always, always change it, and good or bad I will certainly learn from it. On the other hand what if it's all good and I love it. It will expose me to a whole new experience, new people, new environment, and new feelings within myself. Bring it on!

I can't wait.

Yes, there will be pictures, after all this there MUST be pictures.


Here's the before and after... I'm loving it at the moment, next week may be another story but at the moment, love... xox