I woke up early and started my morning excited as I had my hair appointment. I don't let just anyone put their hands on my mane. And my hairdresser is a very significant and important relationship in my life, so I look forward to spending a handful of hours with her. I woke up early, showered, managed to lift my leg up before noon to shave my legs even, made some chamomile tea to-go, crawled into my car, and put on some super sad slow music to cruise on over to my appointment. I love Friday morning hair appointments. I somehow fell into a consistent scheduling on Friday mornings with my mane woman. My left hip has been acting up beyond what I should probably consider “normal”, but after a rough go last year and the earlier part of this year, I have given up on doctors and lost my faith. So when I arrived, I awkwardly walked up the three steps to get to the porch of this tiny little 100+ year old house and she greeted me with a funky face. I thought perhaps I overthought our meeting and should not have shaved for her, maybe I should have dressed cuter, or perhaps she read one of my Open Journal entries and was about to seek some kind of sick revenge on my hair. That would be a fucking nightmare. I have always had this fear about that since I was a young child and was informed the school my cousins were attending had a female gang that would go around and cut girls ponytails off and wear them on their belt loops. Look, some shit really sticks with me. That one is one of the biggest. I always try and tuck my hair in and away when I sense a dangerous environment. Anyway. I gave her my best morning smile and said “hi?” She was brushing her pink tinted hair and said “I am all ready for you…” I knew something was off. No shit you're all ready for me. It is my appointment and no one is sitting in that miracle making chair. To make a long story short, which, come on, I never do. She told me she is moving out of state. I told her “fuck you” and that I needed some time to process all of my emotions but that of course I was happy for her. It is really hard for me to decide how much I actually meant that. The good in me is like yeah, Britt of course you mean it, the bad is like ah hell no fuck that nonsense don't call me when you move back either, and then my hair is like yes, call us when you move back and we will come running. She and I did not talk much in todays appointment, at least not anywhere close to as much as we usually do. I was pretty silent. I sat under my foils with tears in my eyes, and I usually use my fifteen minute in the bowl/sink to ask her funky questions and we laugh. Nope, today, I closed my eyes in the bowl and as she detangled my hair, I cried, but also loved it. Like girl, all that backcombing you did when applying color symbolizes the mess you have my head and heart in right now, and with each pull she made to untangle it, I felt the pain like never before. I felt somehow deserving and to be honest, I like pain. All kinds of pain…physical and emotional. So there I was just laying there and I had already been thinking about this loneliness I am feeling. This new disconnect that music is making worse and the lack of sunshine and feeling like crap all week definitely was not helping. And now, little miss is taking off and taking her magic working hands with her. Yes, I know. Shut up. Who cares. Well, I care. I care a lot. I care because of my hair of course, but I also care because it was kind of playing to the mood I was in, the loneliness. The idea of being left and leaving. How that is such a natural process in life and how in reality, no where really is home and so I question why I take so much comfort in being in my own and get sick when I am away for too long. She did the best she has ever done with my hair because she sucks, and clearly her goal was to rub it in and make me miss her. Is this pay back for the times I knew I was never going to see a man again and would make sure he would miss me somehow. I mean, I know how…but this U-haul renter has never been in my pants, she has a more important job and I love her too much. Yes, those are my priorities and thats how close we get. After I left, and went to see my friend Steven as I always do after my hair appointments. I cried a little, talked to the birds and the tiniest little light yellow butterfly that danced past me as I sat in the grass and picked all the dead leaves off his headstone and these tiny little bugs that always bite at me. I scoffed and asked so yeah, does my life look as bad as I think it does from up there?! I still hear his laughter. He has been gone for 20 years now and we are closer friends today than we were then. I really do not go about life the traditional way or timeline. So in a similar fashion, I waited until a couple of hours after I left my hairdresser to text her how I really felt. Duh. I am happy for you and of course another little paragraph with a lot of sentiment about what she actually did for me outside of my hair and just as a person. But whatever. Fuck you, don't even think of my hair when you leave. And then I changed her name to Sarah in my contacts and mourned another loss.

My sons and I went for a walk today. We took Chip. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, he calls me mom now. And all three of our dogs follow me around like some mother hen and I smile and tug at each of their ears, sing songs about them, snuggle-buggle all of them while they growl at one another and I dodge (thank you Code Monkey) their razor sharp teeth and random explosive fights. After I got my hair done today, I felt like some heroine in a crazy movie scene, dogs all strutting behind me, jazz music playing, I have a cigar in my mouth, the dogs all have hats on and the music stops after a high pitched horn (you know has me in tears), the dogs explode into a huge ball of fury and you cannot make out whats happening but I just keep my stride because I know damn well they are just fighting for my attention. The music started up again and we have resumed strutting together in a smoke filled room, my hair bouncing and the dogs all howling to the tune. I fucking love these dogs. Needless to say, we are figuring it out. But I am telling you, if the perfect home came about, I would have to think about it still! Fucking dog. So we take Chip to the park, which by the way, I never would have named him Chip if I thought we were going to keep him, but he is a smart little fella, learned it quick, and I don't want to cause anymore confusion (at least not while he is trying to learn rhythm and jazz for me). So sons, Chip, me at the park, and Averys memory lane kicks in. He asks if I remember when I drank lizard coffee. And I shouted, “Oh my gosh! Yes!” Chip is adjusting to my loudness and how easily excitable I am. Chip has a ways to go. I gave up using anything but a normal coffee pot about 8 years ago. I like classic coffee. Stop trying to make it something more special. It is already special. Why are we always trying to make things better when they already are in the highest form…this is where my Botox refusal (for now) comes in. So I ditched my Keurig and I got a motel lobby in the middle of nowhere kinda simple coffee maker. I used it for a year and my coffee had never tasted better. It was, coffee. I can be a real neighborly person, I go through phases. But for the most part, my neighbors become my family and I love them like they are truly a part of mine, because they are. So I see my neighbor out in her gorgeous front yard running around with the kiddos, and the boys wanted to play so I had them grab some miniature ice cream Drumsticks (the really fucking adorable addicting teasers from Trader Joes) and run on over. I bring my cup of coffee. I have no clue what time of day it was in my memory. I do know that I can drink a pot of coffee, climb into bed and instantly fall asleep no matter what time of day. Thanks to Sarah for the childhood goal and training. My neighbor asked if she could have a sip and I was like yeah, sure. She is gorgeous. I mean seriously. Once when my ex-husband and I were married we were having rooftop drinks downtown Portland and started talking about who we think the best looking man and woman we actually know are. I pulled her up back when I had Facebook and was like, she is just beautiful to me. Anyway, so yeah, you can have a sip of my coffee, just like in middle school after my mom spent my whole life telling me to never share drinks or I would basically die, but if some cute guy asked, I was ready to die and would share. Because him taking a sip of my drink and me taking one right after in my mind was like kissing. Ew. And I see Brad reading that in some plaid shirt and loafers and saying, mmmmm, yeah, you have not changed. Again Brad in the plaid, why are we so interested in trying to make some things better when they are already in the highest form. So my real life dream lady takes a sip and she tells me it is the best coffee she has ever had. I took that as she had a crush on me too, but I played it cool and I was like right?! I told her I would make her a cup and be right back. I went to my home, made a cup, went back outside and we laughed, and talked, and enjoyed ourselves after our first “kiss” on the rim of my coffee cup. I later went to empty the coffee pot and happened to glance in the water reservoir and was like hmmm what is that…and the curiosity grew into fear, the fear into horror and my girl crush day exploded into screaming as I grabbed a spoon and began to dig out whatever it was that was lodged and wedged into a place my hands would never fit. I pulled out the palest orangish-pink lifeless and yet somehow preserved lizard. My coffee had been so good for Lord knows how long due to the insides of this lizard slowing seeping out of its gorgeous colored skin and flavoring my water. So perhaps even the best things in life need a little something extra, and we should not judge what that is. Be it a beautiful woman’s coffee cup rim kiss, or lizard flavored coffee to make it all happen.

Like I was saying, some of my neighbors are pretty special to me. They are a part of this circle that surrounds me. And no, I don't serve them lizard water, usually booze these days. Booze and hugs. I can usually hug the shit out of my neighbors. I like how as life continues to go on, my circle gets more beautiful, more meaningful. Sometimes I find myself stuck in this moment of being alone in a dark but beautiful place. I feel light and airy here, pure and serene. I get stuck in an artistic awe, just silent and looking around at what seems like these smooth rock formations entrapping me, but I am aware and in disbelief and admiration it is the essence of my circle. What it feels like to me, and the joy it brings me to interact with it on a daily basis and observe all these lives happening around me in a near state of euphoria and total peace despite the turbulence of life. I had said in a previous entry that I have spent most of my adult life strategically placing people in it, but I don't think thats actually true. Rather, life has taken my adulthood and strategically placed people in it. I consider myself the most blessed in this regard. My sons and the people in my life. All the rest, I don't worry too much with because I feel like when you have this, you have everything that counts, and the things you are lacking seem to find their way to you anyhow. You can’t just make good people, you can’t go work somewhere because you want to be gifted lifelong friends (although this has happened to me), you can’t just order them online when you're lonely, and have an endless supply when you are rich. It's organic, earned, real, genuine, and it's my favorite thing about life. A lot of my friends are going through some painful times right now, it seems that has been true for so many of us in the last two or three years. This dramatic shift of the universe. Push came to shove. I always imagine the universe being some force of light in a DJ booth moving in its own dancing rays of light and shadows playing sound waves and changing them on us periodically to awaken us to the new moment. Telling us to hold on tight, to let go, to live, and to have faith in death as it swirls around with tangled hair, spindly fingers, and an endless flowing body mesmerizing us into each coming breath and even through the final one it takes from us. My circle is webbed together, I can talk to one about the other and they know exactly who I am discussing and what is going on despite how long it has been since they have seen them or how many times they have met. I like creating this world where we support and love each other and our kids and get each other through the inevitable pain life brings to each of our doorsteps. This is what I consider home. It doesn’t need a doormat that says “Welcome” because it exists all around us, it does not have a time frame of which it is acceptable to text, anything is possible, and nothing has to be made special because we already have that. I get my feelings hurt when getting to know someone new and they don't ask me for help with something, don’t text me something absolutely ridiculous and have faith I am going to fall in love with them for it instead of thinking they are a total nut job. I love nut jobs…shut up, Brad. I like odd people, people with depth and complexity, people who are not ordinary, yet don't strive to be different. They just are. I remember one time in 6th grade a friend of mine and me were squeezing our but cheeks together in front of the bathroom mirror and she was in shock I did not have cellulite, while I was in shock she still did not have boobs as mine came in the 3rd grade. We laughed, went and attempted to make a heart shaped cake as we boiled water and stuck our faces over the steam to open our pores as if that was going to be the biggest worry of our life. My friend Steven walked over to her house and he stood behind the couch and pulled pieces of my hair one at a time testing to see when I could feel it and him. Steven was beautiful. Steven was the earliest understanding I had of being surrounded by light, love and acceptance despite the turbulence in our lives. I had the surgeon cut my boobs off when I was 21, and I ended up not escaping the cellulite club, but Steven remained an integral piece of my circle and web despite his leaving and leaning into his last breath while being mesmerized as he was lifted from this earth. Things change, and beauty becomes something different. People can change too, but there are some people, the people who surround you like rock formations and take your breath away that stay forever. The people who make home wherever you are and wherever they are no matter the distance between you, be it in earthly measurements of miles, oceans, or sometimes in spiritual ones we have trouble comprehending. People who help you understand who you are and how to become more in this life, and hopefully after. My hairdresser is not one of these people for me, but fuck I sure am going to miss her.