One thing that you might not know about me is that I can be highly impulsive.  For example, Steve and I have been known to decide that we need a new car and go out and get it that very afternoon.

This fact about me probably goes a long way to explain my crazy crafting capers.  I get an idea and I must. start. it. Right then.  And hang all the other projects waiting in line or in various stages of completion!  Right.  So that clears up that little mystery.  Well, at least that in conjunction with my utter lack of organizational and prioritizing skills.

There is perhaps no other area where I tend to be more impulsive, then with my hair.  I don’t know why, but this has always been true.  I suppose because it’s the one and only area of my appearance that I can radically change instantly.  Well, that and curly hair can be a royal pain in the you-know-what and sometimes it just pisses me off.  My stand-by solution in these situations is just to hack it all off and be done with it.  If nothing else, it’s a highly effect cure for the problem at hand.  It should be noted that on these occasions, I generally start growing my hair back the very minute that the last strand hits the floor.

If you ever see a picture of me and find yourself thinking, “Good God, she looks like she cut her hair herself, while under the influence, at 3:00 in the morning, using a pair of kiddie scissors while checking her reflection on the back of the spoon.”  Sadly, you are probably pretty dead on.  Except I don’t imbibe in influencing type substances.  Alright and I’ve never actually used the back of a spoon, though one desperate night in the Little House, I did resort to using my reflection in the door window.  But the kiddie scissors, the 3 o’clock in the morning, etc, can not possibly be denied.

So, no one in real life was particularly surprised when a couple of months back, I chopped off a solid two feet of hair.  I went from being able to hold the end of my hair in my hand and stretch my arm all the way out to the side to sporting what I fancy and hope to be a somewhat cute, 1920′s-esque, bob.

You’d think that would be enough of a change, but what can I say?  I’m feeling daring these days.  I’ve been toying with several ideas.  One was to play around with some henna and go red for awhile.  However, my sisters informed my that in that event, they would be forced to refer to me as Mrs. Weasley.  And not just behind my back like they do now (they still haven’t forgiven me for giving birth to Màiri instead of twin boys).  Option number two was bangs, something I haven’t had since, mmm…probably the 5th grade or so.

This is going to sound weird, because it’s probably one of those things that people don’t tend to say out loud, much less post to the world at large, but as I’ve gotten older, I think that my face has gotten somehow more angular or something?  Somehow a bit harsher?  And I had the thought that maybe bangs would soften things up a bit.  Plus, other people look good with them.

But no matter how many weeks I walked around holding hair in front of my face every time I was at a mirror and asking Steve and the kids what they thought, I just couldn’t seem to pull the trigger.  Until one night when I just did.

And now I guess I should tell you what I think.  Well, sometimes I really like it and sometimes I’m not so sure.  And sometimes I think they should be thicker and sometimes not so much.

Mostly, my forehead just feels hot.