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The florescent lighting in the bathroom at work is just sooooo flattering. It’s also the perfect lighting to accentuate all my grey hairs silver highlights. Now that I’ve discovered this, it’s like I can’t stop searching for those beautiful signs of age. Can you guess what follows?

a) I can’t stop admiring how those random silver hairs glint in the light. And spring from my ponytail in a deceptively youthful way.

b) I hunt them down like the traitors they are to my brown locks and pluck them out. No mercy.

c) I don’t give them a second thought. I’ve got work to do!

d) I run out of there. It’s like the first time every time. Horrifying. And proceed to request more flattering lighting in the bathroom. Surely I’m not the first one to point out that florescent lighting should be outlawed.

Did you guess B? It’s turning into quite the pastime. And it’s strangely satisfying, and a great way to pass the time at work. I wish that I could say I took the high road and embraced those wayward strands as a sign of wisdom. It just seems strange to have grey hairs when you still don’t know what the heck you want to do with your life. So until then, it’s sayonara suckers. Until tomorrow.

So, I got my hair cut at a barber shop and it was awesome. To clarify, Arrow is a not straight-up barber shop, options are offered for all sexes. But the vibe definitely leans toward the masculine sex. It’s a modern barbershop complete with a complimentary beer and straight razor shaves. Not the place you’d envision me (I have long, wild, thick curly hair and I’m scared to death of hair cuts because I just know they are going to screw it up like that one time my mom took me to Fantastic Sam’s when I was a kid) voluntarily booking an appointment.

What had happened was, I booked an appointment for Garett at Arrow and tagged along because I’m not only crazy about my hair, I’m also crazy about his. Probably because the last time I took it upon myself to organize a hair cut for him it was a bit traumatic for the both of us. And this time actually started off a bit rocky too.

The first go round, we arrived to find out the appointment was actually the next night. I booked the appointment that day, and I still stand by the fact that the computer said it was indeed that day. I might have been on the verge of a massive argument with the receptionist, but the voice of reason Garett questioned if I really wanted to make a scene at the establishment that would soon be in charge of his hair. Yeah, probably not. So I conceded the point and we went to the ABC store for some scotch. I am so easily appeased.

The next night was game on for the hair cut. To be honest, I was a little intimidated by the hipster environment. Imagine my surprise when I proceeded to hit it off with the receptionist. It helped that he was an enthusiast contributor to the conversation that centered around my hair woes. And he was happy to provide a recommendation with a stylist at Arrow.

When I realized that the stylist he recommended worked at the location right around the corner from my office, it was a done deal. I’d nip out of the office during lunch for my haircut and be all ready for the impending holiday photo opps. The night before the big event, I dreamed of hair disasters. Before I knew it, the time had come. I was used to a salon full of women populated with gossip and hair spray. This was a room full of men drinking beer and getting their hair buzzed. Errrrr, what was I getting myself into?

Since I had to go back to work I couldn’t even attempt to fit in by drinking a beer. Soon enough I was in the chair and McKenna was bravely struggling through my dreaded locks. Unphased she noted that a few inches of dead and frizzy hair needed to come off and she got to the task at hand. As she snipped away, we chatted and I relaxed. Hey, so what if I was the only girl here? The guys around me didn’t seem to care I’d intruded.

Before I knew it, she announced she was done. I’d survived. It was quick, inexpensive and the best haircut I’ve had in a long time. Sometimes you gotta try something different. The only thing I’d do differently is go after work and have a beer…

First of all, we had a fantastic New Year’s Eve. Dinner at a fancy restaurant and then a concert. Sheer perfection. And then I went to the bathroom, and missed the NYE countdown. Horrifying. Who does that? In my defense, anyone who knows me knows that I go to the bathroom a lot. So maybe it’s kinda fitting that’s where I spent my first few moments of 2015??

Needless to say, I burst out of that bathroom like it was on fire to find Garett. He was waiting for me ever so patiently to ring in the new year together. Even so, I think it’s going to be a long time before he lets me off the hook for that one…

Where’d you spend your first moments of 2015? I hope it was wonderful!

As I reflect back on Easter weekend, I realize that there were some major life lessons to be had and shared. ( Irealize that this post is a bit late. But hey, I never professed to have any rhyme or reason to this blog)

1)  I should not be in charge of pumping gas.

2)  There is a right and wrong way to cut the egg when making deviled eggs. After cutting my first egg incorrectly (really, is this a thing??), I was informed that I was doing it wrong. Well, I have news for you. You are supposed to prop the carton of eggs on its side in the fridge for at least 12 hours so that the yolk centers.

3) You are never too old to partake in an Easter Egg Hunt. Just change what you’re hiding and hunting for. Basically, my parents best friends had the brilliant idea to start a Beer Hunt so that the adults could get in on the Easter hunting action. The most genius part is that they make the grown children hide the funsies (beers and airplane bottles). I guess it’s payback for all the years they had to prep and hide Easter Eggs.

4) Beer Hunts go much more quickly than Easter Egg hunts. Go figure! We were pretty proud of ourselves for the sneaky hiding spots we found, and knew that we’d be keeping the parents busy while we kicked back and enjoyed the show. Imagine our surprise when they ran outside like a bunch of vultures and swept all the goodies into their baskets in about a minute. With the tables turned, we realized how our parents must have felt when we made quick work of their carefully hidden Easter treats. We did get the last laugh as the “adults” wore ridiculously adorned “Easter Hats”. Pretty good payback for all the Easter get-ups I was forced to wear.

5) Not to ever let the ham rice–or Mema– out of my sight. (Ham rice is the most yummiest, holiday treat made with the juice of the ham. It’s salty goodness.) I somehow managed to snag the leftover ham rice this year, and packed it up to come back to Raleigh with us. Being the sweet granddaughter that I am, I also made my Grandaddy Neil a to-go plate since he couldn’t make Easter lunch. When my Mema left she grabbed his plate, and made a play for the ham rice as well. Luckily, I saw her play and sweetly offered her the ham rice too. She politely declined like the good southern woman she is, and I promised to think of her when I ate the leftovers.

Ok, that’s enough walking down memory lane. I want a Beer Hunt and some ham rice NOW.