I just returned home from a grueling ordeal. No, not school although the kids were trying my last nerve today. Last week was, "Oh, we are so glad that other teacher is gone." This week it became, "Our teacher last year didn't do things that way." I calmly stated that there was a new sheriff in town. When I told this to Grasshopper on Wednesday night while swilling down cocktails and swapping war stories (Did I ever mention that Grasshopper is a preschool teacher? Yep, we teachers know how to party.), she said that it reminded her of Blazing Saddles. Today the kids tried me so hard that a few times I had to bite my tongue to stop the expletives from escaping my mouth. You should have heard the gasps when I said, "I swear to God..."
Enough about the kids already. It's the weekend and I'm trying not to think about them even though I brought a ton of work home with me tonight per usual. School got out and it was all about me. This would be thanks to B of D (Bank of Dad). Yeah, that's right. I hit dad up for some money. I don't get my first real paycheck from the district until the end of the month and suddenly realized that I was low on food/partying funds. My mom likes to give me crap about this, saying that I'm too old to be calling daddy for funds. First of all, if they had hooked me up with a trust fund, all of this would be moot. Secondly, she divorced him over 30 years ago. Stop hating because you can't ride the gravy train anymore. Of course, the funds come with a price. I'll be driving to Sacto on Sunday to celebrate my stepmother's birthday. I guess I can't use the excuse of not having funds to fill my gas tank anymore.
OK. So that was about me but not in the way that I meant. Once I received the funds, I realized that I was in desperate need of a hair appointment. I mean I had roots. One cannot pass one's self off as being 20 something if one has white roots. I think there's some of that other color somewhere but the first thing you see is the white. Last weekend while at the coworker's family's picnic, one of her relatives said that she would have thought that I was younger if it hadn't been for my roots. I hate honest people. The debate became whether to re-braid with the OPH (other people's hair). I decided it was time to see my real hair.
Now removing braids can take just as long as it takes to put them in. (Mine took six to eight hours going in.) Therefore, I started the unbraiding process when I got home from work on Thursday night. Two buck Chuck rode shotgun. I would like to give thanks to Chuck because I think that Chuck is the reason that I did not end up with "tennis elbow" during this process like I usually do. I left in enough braids that I could pull my hair back into a ponytail and most folks would not know what I had done. Except for my eagle-eyed kids. They realized instantly what I had done and then proceeded to give me their recommendations of what I should do with my hair. Past experience has taught me that students are often shocked when I remove my braids. It seems that my own hair is much longer than what they had imagined.
After work, it was off to the shop. I figured it was going to be a three-hour ordeal once I removed the remaining braids. My appointment was for 6:30 but I went there straight from work to start working on the remaining braids. They were all removed arond 6:45. Then there was the surprise. It seems that my ends were in horrendous shape and my hair was really dry. By the time my stylist finished re-coloring and straightening (That would be pressing comb. I gave up chemical relaxers years ago. Thus my love of braiding.), it was 11. That's right. 11 at night. On a Friday. As the process dragged on, she was kind enough to run to the corner store. I gave her money and she purchased some Chardonnay for us. I must say that my own hair looks mighty cute. It's a shame I am too tired to go out now after the 30 minute drive home. There's always tomorrow though. And I love the color. It's a bit lighter than what I usually go for. In fact it's so much lighter that when I return to the shop in two weeks, my stylist is going to lighten up my eyebrows. I always thought that they were too dark for my face anyway.
Now I have to go and admire my hair -- the stuff that grows from my head, not some stuff that I bought -- and try to stop myself from thinking homicidal thoughts about the neighbors. Because in removing braids last night, I only had four hours of sleep. And the neighbors have decided to throw a party tonight. I have thought about throwing a Halloween party and Grasshopper says that I should be a good neighbor and invite them all. Screw the neighbors. Then again if it hadn't been for the hell of removing the braids, I probably wouldn't care that they were throwing a somewhat loud party because I would be out somewhere partying myself. I don't think I'll be going back to braids anytime soon.