I had a bizarre dream last night in which I begged a lady I didn't know to cut my hair, right then and there in the cereal isle of the grocery store, because I just couldn't stand it anymore. She did, I thanked her, and went about my day. I didn't know what my new hair looked like until I caught my reflection in a mirror at some social event (odd, since I rarely attend such things). It looked, for lack of a better example, a bit like this:
Not as flattering on me, and in the dream it was even weirder.
I went into panic mode. I found the woman who had cut my hair (of course we were at the same party-- or was it in the grocery parking lot?) and screamed at her. She said, "You said you wanted it short," and I said, "Yeah, but not this short! And what's with the color?" (In the dream, in was almost jet black.) She said, "I knew you wanted it colored." Like that was an answer. I said, "I wanted it auburn! It looks like-- like--" I never found out what my dream self thought it looked like. I woke up and saw that it was 9:00, which is when I was supposed to leave.
I was ten minutes late to work because my hair issues have entered my subconscious. Also, because I ignored my alarm.
Oh my goodness, today was incredible. Okay, at first it was pretty typical (big plans in the morning, sucked into Netflix by 11, big plans lose their draw, the usual), but I let the typical happen because I knew we would be going to the fair later.
And I like fairs.
Before going downtown to meet Joshua at work, I thought I would attempt something productive, so I went to The Book Eddy on Chapman Highway. Funky place. I only saw about 5 books published in the last 15 years. So, if you like old books, you'll like this place. It even smells like old books.
Joshua and I got to the fair at about 4:30, and stayed till almost 9:30. We pet some goats (a must when the opportunity presents itself) and saw a "Zonkey." Yes. It's a zebra crossed with a donkey, and it made me pretty sad. Then I got to pet baby ducks and super-soft bunnies. Made me miss the cat.
We drank Orange Juliuses (surprisingly filling) and ate this mysterious yet tasty sour rope candy. I choked on a piece and coughed all over somebody's 165-lb. watermelon. We saw a lot of prize-winning food we couldn't eat, but I wasn't too hungry right then because my throat tasted like Orange Julius and regurgitated cherry sugar.
Then we went to the circus. For a 45-minute fair show, it was awesome. Except for the clown bit. Why does there always have to be a clown bit?
I wanted to ride at least one ride, but we never got around to it because Joshua got distracted by that wild instinct to win a stuffed animal for his woman. I mean, it's necessary, right? So he popped like 12 balloons, and I got this:
I had no idea about Domo until my husband won one for me at the Tennessee Valley Fair. Granted, it's stuffed with paper, but I <3 it, anyway. I've also just discovered that things like this exist, as well:
I love Japan. Don't you? I would have posted one of the videos, but it wasn't working for some reason.
So, now that I had my Domo monster, we needed some dinner. How's this for fair food: A bowl of beans, a cornbread muffin, and a basket of fried pickles with barbecue sauce. I'm still thirsty from all that salt, even though I stopped eating the batter a quarter of the way through. For dessert, Joshua had a root beer float and I fulfilled my duty as a true Arrested Development fan and got a frozen banana. And it was delicious, even if some crass jerk made an off-color comment when I posed for a picture with it. People are idiots. If only he'd watched AD, he could have said something more tactful and humorous, like, "There's always money in the banana stand!" and then we could have high-fived or something. Oh well. His loss.
By the time we got to the Ferris Wheel, the line was so long that we decided to skip the rides altogether and go home. We had had a great time, and definitely didn't need to spend any more money. Especially since we knew we still had books to buy. Yeah. Book Eddy is super cool, but if you're looking for something from this century that isn't The Lovely Bones or The Road? You might not have too much luck.
We got to Borders with 15 minutes left before closing. Joshua bought The Death of Ivan Ilyich and Other Stories, by Leo Tolstoy (which he could have easily found at the Eddy), and I bought the whole stinking Hunger Games Trilogy Box Set. You can see how our literary inclinations differ from time to time. I also got a cup of water.
At home after a long evening (and here's where the story gets good), we sat down to read our new books/half watch TV/Joshua fall asleep on the couch, just like most nights, when, Raaahw, raahw! Meeaaahr! I shot up. "Did you hear that?" I yelled. Joshua looked up from the other couch all groggy faced. "Hear what?" Before he could finish, the cat fight noise started again, and I said, "That!" and rushed to the door.
I don't know. Maybe after all these weeks of hoping that whatever noise I heard could somehow, magically, be Adelaide, I had finally given in to despair. I honestly did not expect to see her there on our porch. Or maybe I knew it was her, this time. Who knows. Maybe both, somehow. I threw open the door to scare the fighting cats away, but recognized Adelaide (who bolted into the bushes) and started screaming, "Joshua it's Adelaide! Joshua it's Adelaide! ADELAIDE! JOSHUA, GET THE FOOD!" I absolutely flipped. I think I started crying. I walked around our front yard shaking the food bag and calling her name through giddy almost-tears. Joshua got a headlamp and we found her purring by the picket fence. I picked her up in my arms and all the stress I had accumulated over the last three weeks just fell away. No more dreams about finding her swimming in a lake or at my parents' house or in a mall somewhere, and then waking up to find it wasn't real.
So there you have it. We didn't have to put up posters, after all. She probably never even got too far from home. Three whole weeks. Dang. We had said, pretty much from the beginning, that if God wanted her to come back to us, she would. And I am so glad he did.
"Identity crisis" is one of those terms that makes me roll my eyes and think, "You're only saying that because you thought it was cool when others said it." And yet here I am, using it, too.
Have you, you lucky few, noticed that I keep changing the look over here? It's the crisis.
Not only do I not know what to blog about, but now I can't decide what the page should look like. I'm pretty sure it's just going to have to change with my mood, and today I'm feeling paint-flingy. And perhaps a tad rosy, though the reason for that one evades me. Rose is not typically my color. I do like it best of all the pinks... though I generally hate pink.
But isn't rose far better than plain, awful pink?
Well, now that I've exhausted arguing with myself over which shades are best within one color, here's a list of things:
1. I got excited for Christmas today. I know, way too early.
2. I had to remind myself to dread Christmas instead, because now I work retail. At one of the most popular and awesome and (come December) Christmasy stores in Knoxville. I.e., holiday madhouse.
3. Adelaide ran away two and a half weeks ago and still hasn't come home. *frowny face*
4. I'm going to spend half of next week on LeConte with Katie and that makes me happy, even if my cat did disappear forever, and Christmas is going to suck this year.
5. I want a Phineas & Ferb water bottle. Laugh all you like. I am a FAN. In fact, I'm going to reference it at the end of this post.
6. I heart.heart.heart watching The Dick Van Dyke Show on Netflix.
7. I finished the "Moon Trilogy," which is actually called The Last Survivors Trilogy, I think, and it was... meh? I mean, the great kind of meh where I wished it would keep going, but still meh, because I know it won't. Perhaps I should review it? I don't know. It won't be as glowing as I would have liked.
Speaking of things glowing, I sat through the latter 2/3 of Gone With The Wind last night, and I must say, I enjoyed it quite a bit. I'd never seen that much of it in one sitting before. What a long movie. But everyone already knows that, so I don't know why I'm blogging about it.
I cannot lie, I love September. It is an excellent month, and even better since I no longer have to associate it with the beginning of the school year. But, even as a kid I enjoyed September. It was always the best month to go to the lake, especially at the end, when it was almost October and everyone else on the planet had resigned to it being fall, but it was still warm enough outside to go on the boat.
Also, if you've known me for more than half an hour, you probably know that I love the changing of seasons, especially the big ones. Summer to fall, winter to spring. I can't get enough of it. I can't imagine living in a place where it was always winter or always summer, or even always spring (though I'm sure there are worse things than eternal spring). Maybe I would enjoy living somewhere where it's always fall, but I don't think that's deciduously possible.
I do love fall. Apples, though not always my favorite to eat, are a delight to see and smell. And pumpkins. Please. Gourds in general just tickle me, but pumpkins win because they are sweet and goopy and seedy and fun to carve. A butternut squash might be more difficult to carve. Also, our wedding cake was pumpkin chocolate chip, and pumpkin chocolate chip is my favorite.
Don't even get me started on the orange and red and yellow leaves. I remember in college getting to see a friend of mine, who had grown up in Africa, experience autumn colors for the first time. It was an all-around giddy day for me. It's kind of sad here in Knoxville that no one sees orange for the great color that it is. All people see here, when they see orange, is UT football. Gross.
I guess that's all I wanted to say today. I could rant a little more about Knoxville's obsession with UT, but maybe I'll save that for later.
I'm going to go buy some new clothes and hole-up to read/write some where, if I'm lucky.
Oh, and if you see a little black and white cat with a brown and green polk-dotted collar, that's Adelaide. Tell her to come home.