I cut my hair again. Short. About 3 inches long all around. The cool, light feeling I get from it is pure bliss. No more curling irons; it curls by itself at this length. I shake my head just to feel the strange sensation of having almost no hair. I feel gamine, childlike, spirited. Alors!
I called around to various former co-workers to let them know I'd returned to the biz. Seven months of gossip to catch up on! It was surprisingly cheering to hear about everyone. I didn't feel particularly prodigal while I was away, but I definitely felt welcomed back into my work family's arms as I was being filled in on the scandals. In my case, absence made the heart grow fonder. I give it six months until I stop caring again.
Work is slow but that's welcome to me right now. I'm not having any problem adjusting to the physical time spent at work. There's always something to do, book, read, or fax. I catch up on the latest travel advisories or read about the Bahamian crime rate. I do tend to come home and lie around like a beached whale until dinner time. The excessive humidity could be contributing to that, though.
A touch of local color: the first bales of tobacco are being auctioned this week. Seems like just yesterday they were setting out the seedlings and now they're going to market. Tennessee's a tobacco state. I think soybeans are the biggest crop, but tobacco's second. I take a city girl's interest in the local crops. If my yard got even four hours of sun a day, I'd be growing tomatos, but it's entirely shaded. So I like to watch the crops rotate on and off the market, going down to the trucks off the highway and buying my peaches and corn fresh from the fields. I don't buy tobacco bales, of course, but I admire them at the state fair each autumn, along with the 400 pound pumpkins, the 4-H Club's projects, and the mule-driving competitions. Sometimes Tennessee seems like a foreign country to me.
