Lie back, daughter, let your head be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you.
Spread your arms wide, lie out on the stream, and look up,
laugh at the gulls.
A dead man's float is face down.
You will dive and swim soon enough where this tidewater ebbs to the sea.
Daughter, believe that when you tire on the long thrash to the island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you and let go,
Remember when fear cramps your heart what I told you:
Lie gently and wide to the light-year stars,
Lie back and the sea will hold you.
Phillip Booth
Friday, February 10, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
one year.
I can't believe it's been one year since I left the woods. In honor of the 375 days I spent in the woods, here's a little blog I found that takes me back to the days when I sent out mass texts each day documenting the hilarious quotes my kids would say. Enjoy:
ghettohikes.tumblr.com
ghettohikes.tumblr.com
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
two thousand twelve
In 2012, I am deciding my highest priorities, saying no to other things, and saying yes to the best.
I am:
Saying NO to unhealthy food choices, and saying YES to a healthy me.
Saying NO to a busy schedule, and saying YES to quality time.
Saying NO to easy, and saying YES to a challenge.
Saying NO to busy work, and saying YES to my responsibilities.
Saying NO to filler friends, and saying YES to relationships.
Saying NO to expectations, and saying YES to dreams.
Saying NO to extravagance, and saying YES to simplicity.
Saying NO to fast food, and saying YES to home-cooked meals.
Saying NO to guilt, and saying YES to a proactive and positive self-image.
Saying NO to skepticism, and saying YES to spiritual growth.
Saying NO to intolerance, and saying YES to acceptance and love.
Saying NO to violence and war, and saying YES to peace.
Saying NO to exclusion, and saying YES to inclusion.
Here's to a year of prioritizing the best for me and the life I want.
I hope you'll join me on a few of these and make some of your own.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
The Ultimate Post
This weekend I will play in my first Ultimate tournament since leaving Texas nearly two years ago. I somehow got lucky enough to land in a spot that has regular weekly pick-up and hosts a yearly tournament in November after living in an Ultimate-deficient wilderness for a year.
As I gear up for the tourney, I can't help but think of how strong of an influence Ultimate has played in my life.
I first played the sport at First Baptist Church in Magnolia during my Junior Year thanks to Mr. Moats who started up UFL (Ultimate Frisbee League). For the next two years, that's what I would call the sport, not knowing how big of a deal it was elsewhere. That year my best friend, Lauren Sepulveda, won MVP, and I was pretty jealous. I fell in love with the sport during my Senior year when I realized I was actually pretty good at it. That year, I won MVP, and I'm pretty sure I still have my trophy.
After seeing a group of hippies playing Ultimate at Southwestern University, I turned in my application and didn't bother to look at any other schools, convinced that this had to be the only school in the world that played Ultimate. I could not even risk going to another school. I gleefully submerged myself into the weekly pick-up games on the Mall, barefoot and loving it.
One of my best friends at college, Emily Taylor, introduced me to her friend at UMHB, a nearby private school full of staunchly conservative Christians. The polar opposite to my liberal arts school hippie Ultimate with no cones or lines, I was introduced by Dustin Kunz to the world of competitive Ultimate.
I quickly became addicted to the rules of Ultimate and the idea of the "Spirit of the Game." Dustin told me about a group of guys who played in Austin who called themselves Riverside Ultimate. I somehow weaseled my way onto their listserve and eventually into some of their lives. Through Riverside, I met Iram J. Leon who is basically the Ultimate Rockstar of Texas...not even kidding. If I think I have a story to tell about how Ultimate has impacted my life, it's a children's book compared to his. Another dude named Big Bad Bygone Paul was the first to offer me a nickname, Tattoo, in honor of the Marx song, and in honor of my full acceptance into the Riverside family. He and J have followed my journey and will both probably read this blog. Many hugs to you guys.
During the summers in college, I worked at Camp Cho-Yeh, a Christian sport camp, where a group of us would get up around 6:30 in the morning to play Ultimate. I continued to fall in love with the sport and realized that people who play Ultimate are just....awesome. I couldn't get enough of it.
At some point in my Junior year of college, Ultimate became my life. I started an Ultimate team at my school with the help of Jason Reitz and began traveling to tournaments with my team. I spent a good portion of my time that year trying to convince all of my friends that they should love Ultimate as much as I did. It worked for some, but not for others. At one of our first tournaments, I met some kids from TCU, including their captain, Daniel Bess. Over the next year, I was able to play with several different teams and leagues, thanks to Daniel, and would eventually move to Dallas post-graduation because of his influence.
When I decided to accept a job and move to Dallas, I joined all the Dallas Ultimate listserves before I even looked for a place to live. I started Friendship Recruitment 2008 where I met some of the best people in Dallas and probably in the world. I captained for a Winter League team, played both Coed and Women's Ultimate, suffered heat stroke, and traveled to Florida and Georgia, all in the name of Ultimate.
Then I got this crazy wild hair to move to North Carolina. I ended up in the woods, 3 hours from the nearest pick-up game, and lost most of my discs to the savage children I worked with in a matter of months. I traveled to Raleigh once to play a game in February and never went back.
It's been a long, lonely drought since then, and while so many other great things have happened, I am so happy to have Ultimate back in my life. It makes for a well-rounded Lydia.
As I gear up for the tourney, I can't help but think of how strong of an influence Ultimate has played in my life.
I first played the sport at First Baptist Church in Magnolia during my Junior Year thanks to Mr. Moats who started up UFL (Ultimate Frisbee League). For the next two years, that's what I would call the sport, not knowing how big of a deal it was elsewhere. That year my best friend, Lauren Sepulveda, won MVP, and I was pretty jealous. I fell in love with the sport during my Senior year when I realized I was actually pretty good at it. That year, I won MVP, and I'm pretty sure I still have my trophy.
After seeing a group of hippies playing Ultimate at Southwestern University, I turned in my application and didn't bother to look at any other schools, convinced that this had to be the only school in the world that played Ultimate. I could not even risk going to another school. I gleefully submerged myself into the weekly pick-up games on the Mall, barefoot and loving it.
One of my best friends at college, Emily Taylor, introduced me to her friend at UMHB, a nearby private school full of staunchly conservative Christians. The polar opposite to my liberal arts school hippie Ultimate with no cones or lines, I was introduced by Dustin Kunz to the world of competitive Ultimate.
I quickly became addicted to the rules of Ultimate and the idea of the "Spirit of the Game." Dustin told me about a group of guys who played in Austin who called themselves Riverside Ultimate. I somehow weaseled my way onto their listserve and eventually into some of their lives. Through Riverside, I met Iram J. Leon who is basically the Ultimate Rockstar of Texas...not even kidding. If I think I have a story to tell about how Ultimate has impacted my life, it's a children's book compared to his. Another dude named Big Bad Bygone Paul was the first to offer me a nickname, Tattoo, in honor of the Marx song, and in honor of my full acceptance into the Riverside family. He and J have followed my journey and will both probably read this blog. Many hugs to you guys.
During the summers in college, I worked at Camp Cho-Yeh, a Christian sport camp, where a group of us would get up around 6:30 in the morning to play Ultimate. I continued to fall in love with the sport and realized that people who play Ultimate are just....awesome. I couldn't get enough of it.
At some point in my Junior year of college, Ultimate became my life. I started an Ultimate team at my school with the help of Jason Reitz and began traveling to tournaments with my team. I spent a good portion of my time that year trying to convince all of my friends that they should love Ultimate as much as I did. It worked for some, but not for others. At one of our first tournaments, I met some kids from TCU, including their captain, Daniel Bess. Over the next year, I was able to play with several different teams and leagues, thanks to Daniel, and would eventually move to Dallas post-graduation because of his influence.
When I decided to accept a job and move to Dallas, I joined all the Dallas Ultimate listserves before I even looked for a place to live. I started Friendship Recruitment 2008 where I met some of the best people in Dallas and probably in the world. I captained for a Winter League team, played both Coed and Women's Ultimate, suffered heat stroke, and traveled to Florida and Georgia, all in the name of Ultimate.
Then I got this crazy wild hair to move to North Carolina. I ended up in the woods, 3 hours from the nearest pick-up game, and lost most of my discs to the savage children I worked with in a matter of months. I traveled to Raleigh once to play a game in February and never went back.
It's been a long, lonely drought since then, and while so many other great things have happened, I am so happy to have Ultimate back in my life. It makes for a well-rounded Lydia.
Friday, August 12, 2011
A Love Affair With Bread
My Breadman and I have been going steady for 5 months now, and I'm pretty sure Breadman just told me he loves me.
Using a bread machine isn't as easy as it looks. You've got to really take the time to get to know your machine, how it operates, what you need to adjust in the recipe to make it happy, what it needs to adjust to make you happy. It's truly like a relationship. I've been switching out butter for oil, liquid for powder, beer for water, sugar for honey, syrup for molasses, and on and on and on.
This week, after 5 long months of adapting recipe after recipe from "Bread Machine Baking: Perfect Every Time," I finally hit the jackpot.
I wanted to share our love affair with you. It's an adaptation of "Millie's Basic Whole Wheat Bread" for the Breadman.
Ingredients:
1 extra-large egg plus enough warm water to measure 1 cup liquid total
2 tbs butter (I used unsalted stick butter)
1/4 cup molasses (I used No HFCS Syrup, Log Cabin I think...)
2 tbs honey
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached white flour (all-purpose, not bread)
1 1/2 tbs powdered skim milk (I used liquid 2% milk)
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tbs gluten (I did not use this, but I did add 2 tbs wheat germ)
2 1/2 tsp yeast
Place all the ingredients (liquids and salt first, yeast last) in your bread machine pan. Program for Dough, and push Start. Check the dough after the first ten minutes of kneading, and add flour or water by the tablespoon if necessary. If you follow this recipe, you shouldn't need to add a thing. After the first dough cycle is completed (1 hour and 20 minutes), you'll want to run it again. Program for Dough, and push Start. I read that two cycles is good when you use whole wheat flour, and I agree. It allows the dough more time to rise, and gives you a higher, less dense loaf.
When the second cycle is complete, remove your dough and place it on a lightly floured surface. Try to keep it in it's original ball form. Punch the dough out into a rectangle, trying to get all the air out of the dough. Then roll it like a jelly roll starting at one of the smaller sides. Make sure that wherever you end the roll is the bottom center of your loaf. Tuck the sides of your roll down, trying to make the ends meet on the bottom of your loaf. The top of your loaf should be smooth. There are lots of ways to form your loaves--this is just my favorite. Ok, ok...it's the only one I've tried. Search YouTube to see some other options.
Place your loaf into an oiled loaf pan. Cover it with a clean towel, and let it rise for an hour.
When you have about 10 minutes left, preheat your oven to 375*. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes. After 35 minutes, remove the bread from the pan and thumb the bottom of your loaf. If it sounds hollow, you're done! If not, place the loaf directly on the rack and cook it for 5-10 more minutes.
Once it's cooked, let it cool for 15 minutes. This is important because your bread is still baking! After 15 minutes, slice away! If you're going to save it, put it in a plastic bag after it has completely cooled.
When I make this again, I'll take pictures like The Pioneer Woman, and post them in this recipe, so I'm legit.
Using a bread machine isn't as easy as it looks. You've got to really take the time to get to know your machine, how it operates, what you need to adjust in the recipe to make it happy, what it needs to adjust to make you happy. It's truly like a relationship. I've been switching out butter for oil, liquid for powder, beer for water, sugar for honey, syrup for molasses, and on and on and on.
This week, after 5 long months of adapting recipe after recipe from "Bread Machine Baking: Perfect Every Time," I finally hit the jackpot.
I wanted to share our love affair with you. It's an adaptation of "Millie's Basic Whole Wheat Bread" for the Breadman.
Ingredients:
1 extra-large egg plus enough warm water to measure 1 cup liquid total
2 tbs butter (I used unsalted stick butter)
1/4 cup molasses (I used No HFCS Syrup, Log Cabin I think...)
2 tbs honey
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached white flour (all-purpose, not bread)
1 1/2 tbs powdered skim milk (I used liquid 2% milk)
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tbs gluten (I did not use this, but I did add 2 tbs wheat germ)
2 1/2 tsp yeast
Place all the ingredients (liquids and salt first, yeast last) in your bread machine pan. Program for Dough, and push Start. Check the dough after the first ten minutes of kneading, and add flour or water by the tablespoon if necessary. If you follow this recipe, you shouldn't need to add a thing. After the first dough cycle is completed (1 hour and 20 minutes), you'll want to run it again. Program for Dough, and push Start. I read that two cycles is good when you use whole wheat flour, and I agree. It allows the dough more time to rise, and gives you a higher, less dense loaf.
When the second cycle is complete, remove your dough and place it on a lightly floured surface. Try to keep it in it's original ball form. Punch the dough out into a rectangle, trying to get all the air out of the dough. Then roll it like a jelly roll starting at one of the smaller sides. Make sure that wherever you end the roll is the bottom center of your loaf. Tuck the sides of your roll down, trying to make the ends meet on the bottom of your loaf. The top of your loaf should be smooth. There are lots of ways to form your loaves--this is just my favorite. Ok, ok...it's the only one I've tried. Search YouTube to see some other options.
Place your loaf into an oiled loaf pan. Cover it with a clean towel, and let it rise for an hour.
When you have about 10 minutes left, preheat your oven to 375*. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes. After 35 minutes, remove the bread from the pan and thumb the bottom of your loaf. If it sounds hollow, you're done! If not, place the loaf directly on the rack and cook it for 5-10 more minutes.
Once it's cooked, let it cool for 15 minutes. This is important because your bread is still baking! After 15 minutes, slice away! If you're going to save it, put it in a plastic bag after it has completely cooled.
When I make this again, I'll take pictures like The Pioneer Woman, and post them in this recipe, so I'm legit.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
the inspiration of freedom
~~~OK - first things first: I changed my blog up a bit, so if you are reading this from email or facebook, come visit! www.lydiarudy.blogspot.com ~~~ Ok...now on to the blog:
I moved to North Carolina for a number of reasons:
1) Adventure. I wanted to do more than sit at a desk and help people help people. I loved my job at the Food Bank, but it wasn't hands-on enough. It wasn't outside enough.
2) Oxygen. I lived in Dallas--the biggest metroplex in Texas--what I called a "concrete jungle." I'm sure I stole that term from someone, but I enjoy taking credit for things I shouldn't. Anyways, I needed smog-less air, trees, soil, nature, life outside of the city.
3) Balance. I had done (once again) what I always do. I had planned my life down to the minute, filling every spare second with something that I loved, but that exhausted me. I didn't have much time for myself, and though I felt like I was living and serving a fulfilling life, there was a lack of balance and a potentially unhealthy lifestyle looming in the distance.
I wanted to leave the country, but I had tried that a few times before and was unsuccessful in leaving Texas. (One of the hardest things to do in a Texan's life!) So I just packed up my things and headed east to live in the woods for a year with a group of rowdy, obnoxious, insulting group of teenage trouble-making boys.
Aside: My camp and every other Eckerd camp in North Carolina closed down this week for good. Maybe one day I'll post a final goodbye to camp, but currently, I am still lacking the eloquence to really explain how I feel about it closing. I do know this: it is unfortunate that camps like this have to exist. It is more unfortunate that priority is not placed on programs like this when budget calls are made. It is heart-breaking that at-risk kids will not be given the same type of second chance opportunity as the kids before them. It is even more heart-breaking that I now have no way of knowing how my boys are doing anymore, and may never be able to know again.
Ok. Back to the bottom line: I got all of these things from camp.
Adventure? Check. Every day was an adventure! Not only through the elements, but when you're surrounded by 12 kids each day, someone is always exploding, and sometimes it's even you! Whether it's laughter or anger, you never knew what to expect from those boys.
Oxygen? Check. I lived outside through all four seasons. I cooked my own food over a fire (sometimes). I lived without electricity, learned the phases of the moon, and became more in-tuned with nature.
Balance? Check. Balance! What a beautiful thing. For the first time in my life, I was able to focus on ONE thing at a time. 5 days a week, I focused on those kids. They were my life. Everything I did was for and about them. I loved them, taught them, cared for them, cried for them, fought for them. 2 days a week, I focused on ME! I went to different cities, rested, explored, fell in love, and found paradise away from the woods.
Now, I'm learning how to apply all of these things in my new life in Morehead City. I'm working two part-time jobs (both of which I LOVE!) one in the non-profit field, the other in catering. When I get home, I am gardening, cooking, biking, beaching, running, crafting and reading. There are a couple of things I'm not doing anymore that I miss, but in time, I think I can find a way to incorporate them back into my life, but in small doses.
Some pictures of my favorite moments from the last 3 months:
I moved to North Carolina for a number of reasons:
1) Adventure. I wanted to do more than sit at a desk and help people help people. I loved my job at the Food Bank, but it wasn't hands-on enough. It wasn't outside enough.
2) Oxygen. I lived in Dallas--the biggest metroplex in Texas--what I called a "concrete jungle." I'm sure I stole that term from someone, but I enjoy taking credit for things I shouldn't. Anyways, I needed smog-less air, trees, soil, nature, life outside of the city.
3) Balance. I had done (once again) what I always do. I had planned my life down to the minute, filling every spare second with something that I loved, but that exhausted me. I didn't have much time for myself, and though I felt like I was living and serving a fulfilling life, there was a lack of balance and a potentially unhealthy lifestyle looming in the distance.
I wanted to leave the country, but I had tried that a few times before and was unsuccessful in leaving Texas. (One of the hardest things to do in a Texan's life!) So I just packed up my things and headed east to live in the woods for a year with a group of rowdy, obnoxious, insulting group of teenage trouble-making boys.
Aside: My camp and every other Eckerd camp in North Carolina closed down this week for good. Maybe one day I'll post a final goodbye to camp, but currently, I am still lacking the eloquence to really explain how I feel about it closing. I do know this: it is unfortunate that camps like this have to exist. It is more unfortunate that priority is not placed on programs like this when budget calls are made. It is heart-breaking that at-risk kids will not be given the same type of second chance opportunity as the kids before them. It is even more heart-breaking that I now have no way of knowing how my boys are doing anymore, and may never be able to know again.
Ok. Back to the bottom line: I got all of these things from camp.
Adventure? Check. Every day was an adventure! Not only through the elements, but when you're surrounded by 12 kids each day, someone is always exploding, and sometimes it's even you! Whether it's laughter or anger, you never knew what to expect from those boys.
Oxygen? Check. I lived outside through all four seasons. I cooked my own food over a fire (sometimes). I lived without electricity, learned the phases of the moon, and became more in-tuned with nature.
Balance? Check. Balance! What a beautiful thing. For the first time in my life, I was able to focus on ONE thing at a time. 5 days a week, I focused on those kids. They were my life. Everything I did was for and about them. I loved them, taught them, cared for them, cried for them, fought for them. 2 days a week, I focused on ME! I went to different cities, rested, explored, fell in love, and found paradise away from the woods.
Now, I'm learning how to apply all of these things in my new life in Morehead City. I'm working two part-time jobs (both of which I LOVE!) one in the non-profit field, the other in catering. When I get home, I am gardening, cooking, biking, beaching, running, crafting and reading. There are a couple of things I'm not doing anymore that I miss, but in time, I think I can find a way to incorporate them back into my life, but in small doses.
Some pictures of my favorite moments from the last 3 months:
Beaufort at Sunset
Whole Wheat Pita and Lemon-Garlic Hummus
Vegetarian Pizza with Roasted Bell Pepper Sauce on Whole Wheat Crust
Whole Wheat Newcastle Bread
Refurbished Rocking Chairs
Fancy Macaroni & Cheese
My container garden!
Gouda Stuffed Chicken and Bell Pepper w/ Grilled Asparagus
Pretzel Buns!
And of course, last but not least, my fella.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
breaking news
It's on the news, on your facebook feed, overheard at the beauty salon, discussed in passing in the check-out line. You all know what I'm talking about. Our country is in a tad of an economic crisis called the "Oops! We elected people we don't trust again, and now we're in it deep...real deep!" crisis.
In the midst of all this chaos, I've decided to put my two cents in about a most disconcerting topic that is at the top of my priority list and should be at the top of yours: my hair.
I come from a long line of genetic crazy hair. If you really know me, you know my mom and my aunties. All covered in thick, dense, crazy curls. One day about 25 years ago, my mom's curly hair slow-danced with my dad's wavy, fine hair, and 9 months later, my confused mess of hair made its first appearance...
That's the story I was told about how Baby Lydia was made.
I believe it to this day.
I'm not jaded.
What?
So...my hair. You can ask my mama about what it was like raising a daughter like me. Poor Mom. She probably wished she had a girl who liked bows and ribbons and braids. I bet she would have even settled for a girl who liked to brush and wash her hair. Yeah, wouldn't that have been nice, Mom?
I hated anyone even touching my hair--it was wavy and ugly and ratty and brown. Poopy brown, and I liked it that way. And if it was going up, I wanted it as tight as I liked my shoelaces tied, and let me tell you---that was tight.
I went through some amazing haircuts--the mullet, the bob, the perm, the bangs, the tiger-striped highlights. Thank you, Father Time, for not making the 80s and 90s last forever.
Similar to technology, I accept hair tool and product change slowly and hesitantly. I owned an iPod for about a month before it died on me and I confirmed my belief that technology was out to get me. My iPhone is the only technologically up-to-date thing I own, and even that's now outdated. Geez.
I actually started blow-drying my hair in early high school. Now, let me clarify the definition of "blow-dry." This is not round-brushed, one section at a time blow-drying. This is throw your head at the ground, toss it around until it feels dry enough blow-drying. This resulted in some God-awful-big hair moments. I don't even remember the CHI coming into my life in college, but I'm sure glad it did. (I love you, CHI.) And for the last 4 years, I haven't brushed my hair except for a few times in the shower.
Now, all of you are probably thinking to yourself, "Self, I've never really noticed Lydia's hair to look awful. I mean, when she's dressed, it actually looks alright. I even think I've complimented her once before on how great her hair was." Let me first say, THANK YOU, to all of you lovely supporters of the hair. It loves you back. I love you back. Let me now be honest and say that for whatever reason, God chose me to have naturally OKAY hair as a grown-up. Put a little mousse in it, and it'll curl up for ya. Straighten it, and it stays there for a while. A little effort goes a long way for this mop.
Now, I find myself wanting better hair. I haven't reconciled this just yet, but I've made some progress. I think it may be a combination of detoxing from the woods as well as having a boyfriend (God bless that boy--he couldn't care less). I started using heat protecting spray and a de-frizzer and even started brushing it before styling. I even cut it off a couple of weeks ago, so it could be healthy and happy after it's year in the woods.
But none of this caught my attention as super strange until this:
I used a round brush.
I purchased said round brush about two years ago, hoping that its presence in my drawer would be inspiration to actually style my hair. Many times, I gathered my hair into the embrace of this brush only to throw it down with impatience and anger moments later thinking, "I have too much hair and not enough time for this crap!"
But a miracle happened three nights ago. I shut myself in to my bathroom and worked through my hair, little by little, brushing and curling. Externally, I seemed unaffected, but deep inside my mind, a battle was waging:
Ugh it's hot! And this is boring! Can we stop now? It'll look fine if you just throw your hair over your head! Just like the good ol' days! It doesn't matter that your hair is short and cute now! Look! You've only finished one section. We could have been reading a good book by now or drinking a glass of sweet, fresh lemonade! Puhhhleeeasse? Pretty, pretty please???
I pressed on, and I'm not saying that it looked perfect. In fact, the back could have used a bit of work, but I actually blow-dried my hair from start to finish with a round brush!
This morning, I even picked up my straightener and found myself trying to curl my hair.
What is happening to me?
In the midst of all this chaos, I've decided to put my two cents in about a most disconcerting topic that is at the top of my priority list and should be at the top of yours: my hair.
I come from a long line of genetic crazy hair. If you really know me, you know my mom and my aunties. All covered in thick, dense, crazy curls. One day about 25 years ago, my mom's curly hair slow-danced with my dad's wavy, fine hair, and 9 months later, my confused mess of hair made its first appearance...
That's the story I was told about how Baby Lydia was made.
I believe it to this day.
I'm not jaded.
What?
So...my hair. You can ask my mama about what it was like raising a daughter like me. Poor Mom. She probably wished she had a girl who liked bows and ribbons and braids. I bet she would have even settled for a girl who liked to brush and wash her hair. Yeah, wouldn't that have been nice, Mom?
I hated anyone even touching my hair--it was wavy and ugly and ratty and brown. Poopy brown, and I liked it that way. And if it was going up, I wanted it as tight as I liked my shoelaces tied, and let me tell you---that was tight.
I went through some amazing haircuts--the mullet, the bob, the perm, the bangs, the tiger-striped highlights. Thank you, Father Time, for not making the 80s and 90s last forever.
Similar to technology, I accept hair tool and product change slowly and hesitantly. I owned an iPod for about a month before it died on me and I confirmed my belief that technology was out to get me. My iPhone is the only technologically up-to-date thing I own, and even that's now outdated. Geez.
I actually started blow-drying my hair in early high school. Now, let me clarify the definition of "blow-dry." This is not round-brushed, one section at a time blow-drying. This is throw your head at the ground, toss it around until it feels dry enough blow-drying. This resulted in some God-awful-big hair moments. I don't even remember the CHI coming into my life in college, but I'm sure glad it did. (I love you, CHI.) And for the last 4 years, I haven't brushed my hair except for a few times in the shower.
Now, all of you are probably thinking to yourself, "Self, I've never really noticed Lydia's hair to look awful. I mean, when she's dressed, it actually looks alright. I even think I've complimented her once before on how great her hair was." Let me first say, THANK YOU, to all of you lovely supporters of the hair. It loves you back. I love you back. Let me now be honest and say that for whatever reason, God chose me to have naturally OKAY hair as a grown-up. Put a little mousse in it, and it'll curl up for ya. Straighten it, and it stays there for a while. A little effort goes a long way for this mop.
Now, I find myself wanting better hair. I haven't reconciled this just yet, but I've made some progress. I think it may be a combination of detoxing from the woods as well as having a boyfriend (God bless that boy--he couldn't care less). I started using heat protecting spray and a de-frizzer and even started brushing it before styling. I even cut it off a couple of weeks ago, so it could be healthy and happy after it's year in the woods.
But none of this caught my attention as super strange until this:
I used a round brush.
I purchased said round brush about two years ago, hoping that its presence in my drawer would be inspiration to actually style my hair. Many times, I gathered my hair into the embrace of this brush only to throw it down with impatience and anger moments later thinking, "I have too much hair and not enough time for this crap!"
But a miracle happened three nights ago. I shut myself in to my bathroom and worked through my hair, little by little, brushing and curling. Externally, I seemed unaffected, but deep inside my mind, a battle was waging:
Ugh it's hot! And this is boring! Can we stop now? It'll look fine if you just throw your hair over your head! Just like the good ol' days! It doesn't matter that your hair is short and cute now! Look! You've only finished one section. We could have been reading a good book by now or drinking a glass of sweet, fresh lemonade! Puhhhleeeasse? Pretty, pretty please???
I pressed on, and I'm not saying that it looked perfect. In fact, the back could have used a bit of work, but I actually blow-dried my hair from start to finish with a round brush!
This morning, I even picked up my straightener and found myself trying to curl my hair.
What is happening to me?
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