Vignettes

In lieu of a post with any deep meaning or insights, I offer you three short stories from the past two days, all of which I for some reason feel a need to share.

1. $7 of Happiness. Despite having a well paying job and no credit card debt or impending foreclosures, this economic downtown has me feeling a bit introspective about just how much STUFF I have and how little I need it, which has then led me to a moratorium on shopping. There have been gift cards sitting in my wallet since Christmas and even though they're free money I can't even bring myself to spend them. However, Landon needed bigger shoes so I forced myself to the mall on Monday and while there, decided to stop in Ann Taylor to spend my gift card and add at least one more pair of pants to my "pants that fit" collection. I've been looking for a pair in dark brown but didn't hold out much hope once I saw the clearance section was pretty wiped out. There was only one pair in a size 2 and even though I knew they wouldn't be long enough (for some reason their 4's are plenty long but their 2's are like 5" too short), they were the perfect shade of chocolate brown so I headed to the dressing room anyway. And they fit! And then I noticed they were Longs, which means someone had ordered them online and returned them to that store, just so I could find them! They were marked down to $49.99 from $98, and I had a $50 gift card- perfect! But then I convinced the clerk to let me use a 20% off coupon that wasn't effective until next week and then he actually rang up the pants and it turns out they had been marked down to $9.88, so my total came to $7.90. I know it's just a pair of pants, but it made my week- I'm still glowing as I wear them today. Bargain shopping is my Prozac.

2. The Hair Cut. I've been needing a haircut for quite a while- it was getting way too long and increasingly unruly, but I was never able to grow long hair until law school (I think because I stopped soaking it in a vat of chlorine for 5 hours a day) and I'm living some long lost girlhood dream. But I'm a lawyer now and lawyers shouldn't have hair that is thrown up in a messy bun every morning, so off to the stylist I went (and by stylist I mean Visible Changes- cut and style for $26). A flamboyant gay man greeted me with "Happy Obama Day!" and I figured I was in good hands. I explained that I needed a good cut, something I could style with no tools or skills in 10 minutes with a toddler clinging to my knees (I also missed that part of girlhood where you play with each other's hair and learn how to handle mysterious things like curling irons and round brushes- I am absolutely inept at all that.) He took his challenge seriously and proceeded to hack off my hair. At one point I looked down and realized there was more hair on the ground than on my head. He patiently talked me through styling, even making me practice curling the ends with a flat iron, and though I was in a state of shock, touching hair 6" shorter than it was mere minutes before, I liked it. I think. I find the layers intimidating, but I purchased hair rollers yesterday and now feel like an almost grown-up (true grownuphood comes when you drink coffee, I'm working on it) because I can "do" my hair. Kind of. I'll keep you posted. (Update: pictures here)

3. From Mother to Son Yesterday when JP and I picked Landon up from daycare we found him walking about the room with a silk purse dangling from the crook of his arm. JP laughed but I puffed with pride - why? Because the purse was a deep red which perfectly matched his striped sweater and jeans. Sure he may have grabbed that one because it was bright and shiny, but as a woman who carefully coordinates her purses with her outfits, I like to think I have passed on something important to the next generation.

So there you go, three stories that have nothing to do with each other and should be three separate posts except that none of them seem worthy on their own. I'm not even sure they're worthy of public perusal when grouped together, but I really am still giddy about my pants, vacillating between mourning and celebrating my hair, and grinning proudly at the memory of Landon with his purse. And if you can't share such feelings with the internet, then what are you supposed to do with them?