Deva 'Do, Or, The Bride of Frankenstein

I got my hair cut on Wednesday at a salon where a Deva-Inspired stylist works. Deva cuts are a technique for cutting curly hair that involves cutting the hair dry, and cutting individual curls. A daunting task with my hair, which is very thick. At 50 minutes into my cut, the stylist said "I can see why you keep it short--styling this long would take a lot of time every morning." And every Gentle Reader knows I am lazy and would prefer to walk my dogs and eat a hearty breakfast in the morning than take an hour to do my hair.

Now, my normal stylist George is very good with curls, and this spring we'd gone back to an inverted bob, which is a curl-friendly style that I'd had 2 years ago. This stylist didn't like the bob at all, reshaped my hair, and after a frightening 50 minutes during which I bore a close resemblance to the Bride of Frankenstein (complete with white streak), gave me this. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. Luckily, my hair grows really fast and, as my friend J's friend's husband, a stylist, says "The difference between a bad cut and a good one is two weeks." One of my coworkers said she hadn't noticed I'd cut my hair at all, although it did look shorter and curlier. I guess all curls look alike.

Cables Meet Blue Yarn

I mastered something this summer. Well, almost mastered. My sister gave me a knitting book last year, and I decided that in 2012 I would master either cables or color work. I had only made two cabled items: the first, a knit square for Warm Up America to learn how to cable in the first place; and the second, a scarf for my brother-in-law. Neither was a challenge. I had two skeins of Caron One Pound in azure that I had earmarked for a larger boys' Project Linus blanket stashed away.

And so cable met blue yarn and the following was born:

Yes, there area few mistakes in it, but I love it. I think it came out great. It's 54 inches by 48 inches so the perfect size for a pre-teen, slightly heavy so it'll be warm, interesting texture-wise but not girly. I definitely plan on making another one. But I need a break form cables for a while as I worked on this on and off for three months.

No, now I face my Ravellenics Game challenge on Ravelry, for which I will make myself a sweater during the 2012 Olympic Games. Now I just have to decide what Englishy-type food to eat during the opening ceremonies when I start my challenge: tea and scones? Fish and chips? American Cadbury chocolate that I pretend is the superior English Cadbury chocolate? Pimms?

Clouds, Monday Evening

Dessert Under False Pretenses, Or, the Harbingers of Humiliation

We have a little tradition at work amongst several women in different labs. We celebrate birthdays by going out to lunch and treating the birthday girl, who gets to pick the restaurant (we have an amazing number and variety of restaurants within a mile or so of the office, yet another perk to this great job). We've been doing it for years. It used to involve a backpack of birthday stuff that the birthday girl got to keep in her cubicle to play with until the next birthday, at which point she added a new toy to the backpack and passed it on (yup, you know that whole thing was my idea). One year I was given spray-on tattoos--super fun. I was always happy to wear the birthday girl sash and tiara, although some limited themselves to the hot pink feather boa for the duration of the lunch and that was it. Eventually the number of toys in the backpack became too numerous and the backpack became too heavy (and we were getting older, too, and lazy), so that part of the ritual was discarded but the eat, drink, and be merry portion remains.

My birthday was a while ago, but between vacations, field projects, and other things, my lunch was put on hold indefinitely. Until today, when it became definite. Naturally, I chose Mexican. Naturally, someone wished me a  happy birthday as we were seated. Naturally, Jesus the waiter heard that, so naturally, a dessert and singing waiters appeared half an hour later. Dios mio!  It was an unspoken rule we never told anyone it was a birthday celebration so as not to embarrass the birthday girl with this kind of kind exhibition. Dessert was tapioca pudding (which I like) with chunks of pineapple and whipped cream. I was nice and shared it with those Harbingers of Humiliation even if they didn't deserve it.

But I feel guilty, having been given an undeserved dessert, when my birthday was weeks ago. Sneaking sweets under false pretenses.

Jesus said "Happy 21st birthday!" I said, "Oh, er, thank you, yes, er, 21 in dog years."

In Honor of the Higgs Boson, and Ourselves

Happy belated birthday, Higgs boson, and welcome to the science world. Your discovery will just lead to one thousand new questions--ah, the joy of science. In your honor, a sequence to show the beauty you allow to exist.

My Rosa Perfume Delight:

Saturday

Sunday

Monday

And happy Independence Day, USA! And thank you to my great, great, great, great grandfather Jan van Orden and his brothers, who fought in the Revolutionary War, poor farmers who put their own 'lives, fortunes, and sacred honor' on the line.