Enough said. Actually, if you have a minute, I have a short story (honest) about my hair.
Ocho, I, my brother and his cute wife went to the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss concert at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley last night. We had to park far away, and the air was smoky (from all the NorCal fires) and foggy. So foggy, in fact, that it was misting. After about three minutes, you could see my hair curling. Like slow-motion photography of a tender little shoot pushing through the earth and growing into a plant. Only faster. And curlier. By the time we got to the Greek, I was Linc (see Totally Mod).
Fortunately, Ocho thought it was cute. Yet another reason to love him.
The concert last night was stunningly beautiful. As I sat there in the dense fog, listening to the improbable but perfect duo of Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, feeling my hair curling and twisting, I felt a peace settle on me and sink into my soul.
PS: To my big sis: Jannie, doesn't my hair like this remind you of when I was in sixth grade--minus the wire-rimmed John Denver glasses?