fufaraw: (J2)
So, I've been looking at pictures and not finding exactly what I want, and I haven't found a hair stylist yet, let alone one I trust, and I can't stand the idea of walking into a salon armed with magazines and hair site printouts and trying to explain like Muriel Blandings,

"I want it to be a soft green, not as blue-green as a robin's egg, but not as yellow-green as daffodil buds. Now, the only sample I could get is a little too yellow, but don't let whoever does it go to the other extreme and get it too blue. It should just be a sort of grayish-yellow-green. Now, the dining room. I'd like yellow. Not just yellow; a very gay yellow. Something bright and sunshine-y. If you'll send one of your men to the grocer for a pound of their best butter, and match that exactly, you can't go wrong!

"Now, this is the paper we're going to use in the hall. It's flowered, but I don't want the ceiling to match any of the colors of the flowers. There's some little dots in the background, and it's these dots I want you to match. Not the little greenish dot near the hollyhock leaf, but the little bluish dot between the rosebud and the delphinium blossom. Is that clear? Now the kitchen is to be white. Not a cold, antiseptic hospital white. A little warmer, but still, not to suggest any other color but white. Now for the powder room - in here - I want you to match this thread, and don't lose it. It's the only spool I have and I had an awful time finding it! As you can see, it's practically an apple red. Somewhere between a healthy winesap and an unripened Jonathan."

So, "I want it layered, but choppy. Some length left on the back, but not blunt length, more a layered length--not even layers, more like I chopped it off sort of at random. Imagine if I'd buzzed my head about nine months ago--hair grows a half-inch a month, so that would be about four and a half inches long, now, that's about the length I want. But the top has to be shorter, for volume, but the front needs to be a little shorter than that. I hate hair on my face, so it has to be either long enough to pin back, or short enough to brush off my face. Just long enough in back I don't have to shave my neck, but sort of straggly, not a lot of weight," and etc.

I quailed at trying to communicate all that to a stranger.

tl:dr, I just whacked a foot off my hair, and then chopped the hell out of it, all over. OH promises to help me do the parts in back I can reach but can't see this evening, after he's done installing the neighbors' storm door, and before the vegebarleybeef soup on the stove is ready to eat. 
fufaraw: mist drift upslope (Hostage J2)
It was all sunshiney this morning, and now, Thunder! Hail! Torrential rain! Wow, very rain, much wet!

We were staring dully at each other last night like we'd forgotten how to language. "What do you want for supper?" asked OH.

I'm on a raft of different meds right now, and my appetite is verschimmlt. "Nothing. What do you want?"

"I had those cookies. I could probably just eat a banana."

I nodded. "Banana sounds okay."

Both of us fully aware we need to eat with our meds, and if we don't eat, by bedtime we'll be crunching on the furniture. In a little while there's rumbling and thumping coming from the kitchen, and then something starts smelling good. In a little while longer, he brings me a bowl of OMG SO GOOD soup. Frozen chicken breast, nuke for a minute, shave off the thawed bits, return the rest to the freezer and cook the thawed bits in canned broth with shaved ginger and carrot, minced celery and garlic, green onions, rosemary, thyme, savory, wide rice noodles, a crap-ton of cracked black pepper, and a dash of sea salt. Serve.

Both of us operate on the principle that making people laugh helps them see you as human and not just another case, and they'll remember you fondly. I am attentive, as a client or a patient, I'm just not reverent. And OH is, well, me squared. We had the receptionist, two techs, and the doc in bursts of laughter, riffing back and forth on one-liners. The rest of their patients for the day should thank us.

The eye is much improved--I can read...well, recognize letters, rather than just smudges on a white page. The inflammation is much lower, and the adhesions are fewer. I'm to drop two doses of steroid per day this week, two more next week. She's referring me to a rheumatologist to determine the cause and possible treatment, if necessary, of the inflammation, since the relevant part of the determining blood work wasn't back yet. Luckily OH had the same rheumatologist several years ago and likes her. So it looks like we're taking this show on the road. Spreading cheer wherever we go, Smartass & Smartass, pull my finger.

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fufaraw

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