First day back in the ocean.

Last night I dreamed I went surfing, which would be the first time in years. Many years. I arrived at the beach to find big giant waves crashing directly on shore. There’s no way, I thought. No one else was crazy enough to be out there, so I wandered the beach looking for a better break to paddle out to. Out in the crazy waves, one lone guy popped up on a wave. “Wow!” I said out loud.

Then I woke up. The day had finally arrived when I would find a decent surf spot to make my comeback after a 5-6 yr hiatus. Mind you I have never been very good in the first place and now it’s been forever since I’ve surfed. Also, all the surf reports advised a 4/3 wetsuit and I only had a 3/2. The surf shops wouldn’t be open until after I got out of the water. Early morning is usually the best time to go surf, because that’s when the sharks like to feed.

To make matters worse, I have never quite figured out how to turn right on a wave. I’ve got the left turn down real well, but this right turn is another story entirely. It seems like all the surf spots out here break right. What the hell? Well I guess I’m going to learn to turn right.

I drove out to Santa Cruz with only a slight idea of where I was going (west right?). I had planned on heading out to a total beginner’s wave and start there. Pride swallowed. At first I couldn’t find it and drove up and down the cliff side road looking for a beach. Finally I typed in Cowell’s Beach into my non-updated GPS. Apparently Cowell’s Beach has been there for awhile because my GPS actually knew where it was.

It was flat. So flat it was ugly. After watching for awhile I got back on the freeway and headed south down the 1 to 41^st St, pulled into the small parking lot and walked over to the cliff to watch the surfers. The break itself was somewhat beachy, but mostly rocky. The surfers looked to have longboards which was a good sign since I was not in the mood to grapple with a shortboard local who didn’t want to share his wave. I have found in general that longboarders tend to be slightly more friendly than shortboarders.

The waves didn’t look very threatening, they were mostly small and infrequent. I watched a few attempt to pop up and then wipe out. Nice, they aren’t very good. I will fit in perfectly.

I saw some stairs off to the side and went to check out the entry. I am not a fan of trying to time waves and jump off rocks to paddle out to a spot. Thankfully there was a very small beach spot (and I mean very small) that had a clear line out and into the break. I wondered if it ever got blocked off in high tide.

I walked back up the stairs, got my wetsuit and booties on, grabbed my board and headed back down the stairs. My nerves were worked up pretty bad, but I figured I could paddle out just fine and if I was uncomfortable going for a wave, I didn’t have to.

Comebacks are hard. Apparently being in great shape in other areas of your life does not follow over into surfing. I have one of the easiest boards to paddle, the waves we laying low and I only had a short distance to go. But I was tired before I even got to the line-up.

I spotted some friendly looking people, so I paddled over, trying not to look like I was about to snake their wave. They all watched me paddle up, so it must’ve been obvious that I was heading straight towards them (a gutsy move, but being super nervous about the ocean, I was in need of an instant friend). As I got to them, I smiled and said good morning and asked how they were doing. They were friendlies. I was safe. I did not get the feeling like they were going to kick my ass, wax my windshield or slash my tires. I sat up and faced the ocean.

Since it was fairly flat, I took in my surroundings as I listened to the people around me talk. A big kelp plant swayed just underneath me. God I hope I don’t squeal like a girl when that thing grabs me. Don’t embarrass yourself Carrie. Two people took off and I started up a conversation with the guy next to me. He asked if I was new and I told him a brief version of my story. Which really helped explain away why I looked so pathetic when I attempted the next wave.

I forgot how scary the ocean was. I forgot how intimidating waves could be. And apparently I forgot how to pop up on my board. Enough so that the guy offered to let me try a couple on his longboard. I declined, saying the biggest problem was my nerves, which after 5-6 years out of the water is pretty understandable. And on the next wave I remembered why.

For some reason, although I have great cardiovascular fitness right now from my marathon training, that does not necessarily mean I can hold my breath very long under water. That is unfortunate. I picked the first wave of the next set since it was slightly smaller than the subsequent ones. I caught it and attempted to pop up, but due to some serious flaw in my technique, I completely bit it and got plunged hard underwater. These were certainly not big waves, 3-5 ft, so I was shocked to find myself pushed so hard under…and then held under. Immediately I felt panicked. I opened my eyes and saw light above me, so I swam toward it, reminding myself to stay calm, but also remembering there were several waves following that one that if I didn’t make it to the surface soon I’d be held under by the next one.

My head popped out of the water and I sucked in air and looked out to the next wave. It was nearly on top of me so I took a couple quick breaths and dove under, waited until I felt the tug on my board and popped up again. Another wave was coming, so I gave a quick tug on my leash to get my board back into my hands, flipped my board over and paddled toward the wave. Just before it hit I rolled over onto my back and pulled the nose of the board under. After I felt the wave pass, I rolled back over on top of my board and paddled out. I was crazy out of breath and felt exhausted. Holy moly, how did I ever do this?

I sat up on my board to catch my breath and looked out into the sun (by the way, just like in Santa Barbara, the sun rises in the west in Santa Cruz). I saw a big black fin pop out of the water and go back under. Man I hope that’s a dolphin. I kept watching and it came up again, this time with a friend. They looked to be dolphins and they didn’t seem interested in us.

When my new friend, Billy, got back to the line-up I mentioned the dolphins, which led to a shark discussion. He said it was too shallow for great whites at this break, and if one came into it, it would have plenty of other tasty things to snack on first. There were seals, dolphins and sea otters that frequented the area. I asked if the sea otters attract sharks like seals do. He said if I saw any otters around I was perfectly safe because those guys would scatter if a great white came about. And anyway, when it’s your time to go, it’s just your time. Whether it’s a car accident or a shark.

That brings up an interesting conversation I had with a guy in my lab the other day. We were talking about great whites (that live in the area). He was saying that it was like if grizzly bears could just fall from the sky and attack you. That’s what it’s like with the possibly of getting attacked by a great white. It’s not at all that you’re likely to get attacked by one, but the fact that they would just come up out of nowhere, completely unseen and unprovoked, and eat half of your body with one little nibble. You would just be sitting on your board, waiting for the next set and suddenly, BAM! You’re hit by what feels like a semi-truck, and as you’re thrown into the air, you’re probably with it enough to realize that that truck is actually a shark and it is about to pull you deep down to the bottom of the ocean and finish eating you. Gnarly.

So anyway, Billy had to head to work, so I was left alone with my thoughts with just a few other surfers out in the line-up. I looked over to my left and thought, Oh now what the hell is THAT?! I squinted at the thing coming towards me and decided that at least it was not coming with any great amount of speed. Maybe it’s an otter. I watched it for awhile then looked around at the other surfers who seemed to not see it. 

Snorkler? Hmmm. I continued to watch it as it got closer and realized it was indeed an otter. I remembered what Billy said about the otters being there meaning there’s no great whites. As he lounged past me on his back, chewing on something between his paws, I wanted to beg him stay. Just to hang out beside me for awhile so that I would know there were no great whites.

By this time I was getting pretty cold. My hands were numb and I was shivering, which is a good indication that I should get out. One more wave. I waited around with my hands shoved into my armpits until I could catch another wave, which I stood up on but then had to sit back down as it rolled under me. Ok, just one more then. You can’t leave without catching a wave.

This continued another 20 minutes until I was shivering uncontrollably. I still had to paddle to my exit, this wasn’t one of those spots you could just ride the next wave in. I decided to call it quits and go buy a warmer wetsuit. I paddled in and as I walked up onto the sand I reached down to unstrap my leash. My fingers were so numb I couldn’t grab the tab. I tried again. Nope. Damnit. I took up the slack in my hands and started up the stairs and realized my feet were completely numb as well.

When I got to the jeep I set the board down and made a few attempts at the strap until I finally got it. I shook my key out of the pocket and grabbed my towel. I tried to rinse off but the cold shower was not too welcome on my freezing body. I attempted to get my wetsuit off but it wasn’t going to happen until I warmed up a little. I dried my hair as I stood in the sun and then rested my hands on the hood of my car to warm them up.

It was so hard to get my booties off that I almost went up and asked a stranger for help. God Carrie, don’t be so embarrassing. I wrestled them off, one by one and then still shivering like crazy, went to work on my wetsuit. Ten minutes later I was out, and with my feet still numb, went to the bathroom to change into dry clothes.

When I got to the surf shop I was still freezing, had a down jacket on and my toes were still completely numb. It was maybe 60-65 degrees out. The guy in the shop was shocked I had surfed in a 3/2. Uh yeah. No kidding. I didn’t warm up until I was halfway home. Then I took a hot shower to warm my bones. I’m ready to go back out again tomorrow. The only problem is I also have a 6 mi run to do tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes after a couple hours in the ocean.

Back when my surfboard was new...

I'm sitting on the couch in my new apartment in San Jose with a Bicycle magazine on my lap and I find myself repeatedly staring at my newly naked surfboard leaning against the wall in front of me. With the exception of a few stubborn smudges of wax that refused to budge after an hour of scraping and 2 hot water baths, it shines clean in all its glory: a bright sunny yellow lined all around by sky blue.

On Wednesday I plan on waxing her back up and taking her out for her first ride in years. Storage has been hard on her and left behind dings and cracks in the fiberglass and old hardened wax. Freshly repaired and cleaned, she's ready to go.

I had to laugh today when I thought about the first time I waxed her up and took her out- brand new from Rusty Board Shop in La Jolla. I bought a couple bricks of Sticky Bumps and rubbed her down with wax. "Nose to tail and rail to rail" the package instructed me. I didn't like how the coat of wax covered up her beautiful colors, so I skimped. I wanted that bright yellow to shine through in all its sunny splendor...

Everything I know about waxing a surfboard, I learned from not following instructions on how to wax a surfboard.

It's important to note here that I learned to surf on a soft board that required no waxing and was somewhat forgiving in the all too common event of a wipe-out. My new fiberglass board was fairly different.

When they say "Nose to tail and rail to rail", they actually mean it. My first indication that this was important information and not merely a catchy slogan, came as I placed my hands on the (unwaxed) rails and attempted to pop up on a wave. As it turns out, unwaxed surfboards are quite slippery when wet and when you're on your stomach on said board and have transferred your weight to your hands in an attempt to do something of a push-up, the results are tragic.

Imagine, if you will, the beginning of a fast, high powered push-up. Now imagine that due to an unwillingness to follow directions, one hand is very rapidly pulled out from underneath you. Can you imagine what that looks like? Let me tell you, because I know, because I was there. It looks like an extreme close up of your surfboard. ON YOUR FACE.

Noted. Wax the rails. Lesson learned.

Taking great care to pop up with my hands on the deck instead of the rails, I continued on.

Lesson number two. The tail of your surfboard is used for steering. Not so if you have failed to wax it.

I ever so carefully popped up to a standing position and set my left foot back to prepare for a bottom turn down the face of a wave and swing left. The perfect place for my foot was exactly where I had refused to wax it. I very quickly landed in a split position on top of my new, not so soft board.

Hey, look at that! "Nose to tail..." yadda yadda. No joke dude. Wax your board "Nose to tail and rail to rail".

Mind you, I do not wax all the way to the nose, which being a non-nose riding board has yet to become an issue and I've owned this board for about 14 years. I've also noticed that a lot of people stop just short of waxing the nose of the board. My board is not really meant to be ridden with my "toes on the nose" and the times I've gotten my weight too far forward have resulted in an entirely different disaster anyway. So I think I'm good on that one...so far.

After Awhile

After awhile
you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand
and chaining a soul
and you lean that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't always promises
and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much,
so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure,
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth.
And you learn and you learn,
with every good-bye
you learn.

Veronica A. Shoffstall

Sticky Bumps

The man behind the counter at O'Neil Surf Shop handed me the two bars of Sticky Bumps surf wax (one base coat, one cold) and a wax comb. Instinctively I brought it to my nose and inhaled.

In an instant I was standing in the cool sand on an overcast day at Tourmaline, reaching back to pull the long zipper of my wetsuit over my shoulder. I could feel the cold water seep into my wetsuit as I tentatively waded in with my surfboard at my side. When I got in to my waist, I flopped up onto the board and paddled out with the salty spray of the waves hitting my face and the smell of Sticky Bumps beneath my nose.

The guy behind the counter caught me taking a whiff and smiled. I smiled back, slightly embarrassed.

"Thank you." I said as I left the store.

I drove around Santa Cruz, smelling the bar of cold wax and it reminded me of home.

Coming along slowly...

Little by little my apartment is coming together. I thought it would be weird being in a totally different place, but it feels pretty comfortable here. It helps that I still wake up in my same bed and have my coffee from the same pot. Plus it's warm. I've been here 4 days now and have not used my heater at all. Which is a good thing because I have a bunch of stuff sitting in front of it.

Here's my little kitchen. It's small but mostly functional.

My bathroom is coming along as well but I'm having some storage issues with it. Nothing fits under the sink because of the plumbing in the cabinet. I'm looking at getting one of those shelving systems that fit over the toilet but the leg of it can't be more than an inch in diameter or it won't fit. I saw one at Bed Bath and Beyond as well as one at IKEA (biggest IKEA I have ever seen...got lost in the parking structure). Now I've got to go back and look at the legs. It might work.

Still working on my bedroom, so there's a bunch of stuff stacked on my dresser and the chaise lounge. I'll post pics when that gets all cleared up.

It's fairly quiet around here, especially considering I'm wedged between several major streets. There are however, two feral cats that howl long into the night. I'm almost tempted to bring them in and have them neutered/spayed myself. I also see that the neighbor has been feeding them. Insert frowny face here.

Also, it is daylight in my house 24/7. 1 am (which I have seen a lot of lately) looks exactly like 8 am and noon, and 4 pm. It's a little disconcerting. It's good in that my complex is incredibly well lit. Daylight all the time. Bad in that I'm so out of tune with what time it is. I think the neighbor on the other side of my bedroom either goes to work or gets home from work at 1 am.Three nights in a row now someone is moving around in there between 1 am and 2:30 am. Not especially loud, but definitely moving around.

Went to an awesome car wash yesterday. I was going to try to find a do-it-yourself one but by then I was pretty low on patience. I drive by one that said it was $8 for exterior only and I'd be in and out in 5 minutes. 5 minutes? Sweet, I got 5 minutes! Best $8 I've ever spent.

The Big Move

I've arrived in San Jose and the majority of my stuff has made it into my little apartment. A few things linger in my car but I don't have the energy nor the motivation to do anything about it. The move was not without incident, to say the least.

Yesterday morning I awoke on the floor of my house in Montague to the gurgling of the coffee pot. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and drank coffee in front of the woodstove. I ate breakfast and then finished loading up the last of my stuff. I unplugged the fridge and opened the doors to air it out, winterized the house and then Jen and I were on the road.

Not too far down the freeway, Jen, who was driving behind me, called to let me know the turn signals on the trailer were not working. We pulled over at a rest stop to check it out. All cables seemed fine, so we headed to the Uhaul in Redding to get it looked at.

In Redding, the Uhaul guy told us the electrician didn't come in until 11am so we'd have to wait. I was supposed to be in San Jose by 2pm to sign my rental agreement and get the keys. This was not going to work. So I decided to risk it and hoped I didn't get pulled over. We continued on.

Since it was Saturday, traffic wasn't too bad. As we pulled into the tight cul-de-sac at my complex I stopped the truck and got out to walk around the little alley that I would have to pull the Uhaul and trailer through (I was driving a 14 foot Uhaul truck pulling my jeep on a 16 foot flatbed trailer). It looked a little tight but I figured I could make it. We should've just dropped the trailer off at the nearest Uhaul before attempting to go to the apartment complex, but we were running short on time.

I made it around the first tight corner, but not the second. Feeling more than a little frazzled, we attempted to back the trailer back out the way I came in. After about a half hour of trying to maneuver it back, we decided it just wasn't going to work. At the same time, Jen and I both thought of unhooking the trailer, off loading the jeep and manually maneuvering it back out the alley.

Oh that just went splendid. Mind you, this was a 16 foot flat-bed tow trailer.

Jen and I couldn't manage to move it more than a few inches at a time and we had about 20 feet to move it. There was a nice young lady moving in on the same day and offered to help. We gladly accepted. So the three of us women would lift and move the trailer, 4-6 inches at a time, trying to steer it so the tongue pointed out. That way I could pull the truck around, back it up to the trailer and just pull it out.

Jen and I switched off at the tongue, which for whatever reason seemed to be the hardest part. During my turn at the tongue, we were attempting to swing the tongue around to point back out the alley way. We pulled it towards me and smashed my knee between the tongue of the trailer and a concrete post next to the building. I started yelling and we backed it off and dropped it. We had to take a break while I hobbled around for awhile.

We picked it up again and worked at getting it turned. A guy in a car pulled up, apparently wanting to pull into the alley way and sat for awhile and watched us. The three of us girls mumbled obscenities at the guy for sitting there watching all of this and not getting out and offering assistance. Finally as we got it almost in place, he got out and asked where we were trying to take it. Right here buddy, right here. Thanks. What a jerk.

I backed the truck up to the trailer, having to collapse my side mirrors and had about an inch between the truck and a metal fence. We struggled to get the trailer hooked back up and after about 15 minutes of swearing and jumping on it, moving the truck inch by inch and tugging and pulling on the trailer, we got it. However, we may have failed to tighten the hitch.

By this point, Jen, who had quit chewing tobacco for her New Years Resolution, was screaming for a chew. I told her it was perfectly acceptable for her to take up chewing again, this 4th day of the New Year and that I was about ready to take a chew myself. We hopped into the truck to go get gas, chew, and drop off the trailer. We found a gas station but it didn't have chew. Jen walked down the road a ways to find some but to no avail.

As I went to pull out of the gas station on a busy street, a lady in an SUV was not paying attention and was sitting in the road digging through something. I considered going but figured she would notice traffic had moved and then drive off just as I decided to enter the road. So I waited, but then saw more cars starting to come up the street behind her. This was my only chance. She looked up and saw everyone had moved and slowly started moving herself. As she drove past me, I pulled this cowboy maneuver with the truck, squealing across a two lanes of traffic to make it on to the freeway. Not a good thing to do while hauling a trailer. Especially one that you have inadvertently forgotten to tighten the hitch on.

While Jen howled, I sped onto the freeway. We drove on for a couple miles before I noticed the trailer fish tailing like crazy behind me. I tried to make it off the freeway, but alas, that was not to be. The tongue of the trailer started to bounce off the highway, held on by only a couple of chains. I managed to pull the truck and trailer into the triangle divide between the off ramp and the highway. Cars whizzed by us on both sides at 75 miles per hour. I looked over at Jen, ready to cry. "Is this all because I moved into apartment 13?"

We got out to survey the damage. The tongue of the trailer sat beneath the truck and still held on by one chain. I tried to release the chain so we could try to re-attach the trailer, but it was too tight. With all the cars zipping by us so close, we decided to get back into the vehicle where it was safer and just call roadside assistance.

After talking with the lady (who was probably in Alabama) for 15 minutes, she hung up the phone to call a service provider and Jen got out to set up warning triangles.

We sat in the truck waiting for the lady to call me back. Jen looked out the window and said she was going to run across the off-ramp, hop the fence and go find some chew. "Don't leave me!" I yelled.

"I'm not going to leave you." she said. "I'm gonna try to hook that thing up again." And out she went.

The phone rang and it was the lady from across the US with a service provider on the line trying to figure out what was wrong with the vehicle. How hard is it to understand that we just dropped the trailer on the freeway? How can that phrase mean anything other than the trailer came off the truck while driving? Apparently it's very difficult. I got a little terse with them. I was pretty done by this point. And adding to the complexity of the situation, the lady could not figure out where I was located.

"I'm on I-280 southbound in San Jose, on the Bird Ave off-ramp."

"I just don't see that on my map here. I'm going to text you a link that will get us a GPS hit of your location. Just click on the link and it'll tell us where you are."

"Ma'am, my phone doesn't have that capability (go ahead and laugh people, at least my battery doesn't die every day)."

"Oh, you just click on the link in the text message, I'm sending it right now."

"Ma'am, no. My phone doesn't have that technology."

"Your phone what? You don't have internet on your phone?"

"No ma'am. Look, I can pull up a Lat and Long on my GPS. Can I just give you a Lat and Long?"

"Well we can give it a try."

What did she expect to get when she got a GPS hit from my phone? A legal description? Lady please. I gave her the coordinates.

"That didn't work. I'm sorry, I just can't seem to figure out where you are."

"I'm on the I-280 south on the Bird Avenue off-ramp. Just before the 87 off-ramp."

"Ok, I don't see that here. I see the 87, so you're on the 87?"

"No ma'am, I'm on the Bird Ave off-ramp."

"Ok, I just don't know where you are. I see the 87 and the only thing I see before that is the Bird Ave exit."

OMG. "Ma'am, I am on the Bird Ave exit."

"You're on the Bird Ave exit?"

"Yes!"

"Bird as in "ir" or "yr"?"

Are you kidding me right now? "IR. BIRD Bird. Bird Ave."

"Ok, thank you ma'am." Mother of God.

Jen hops back in. "What's up?"

"It's gonna take them 45 to 50 min."

"Ok, I think we can get this back on. I got the chain off, so you'll have to pull the truck forward, over and back. Can you see me in the mirror?"

So the lady said she'd call back in 5 minutes to see if we were able to get it hooked back up. Jen managed to get the trailer hooked back up again (my hero!) and we drove back onto the freeway.

"Can we just get some chew please?!" Jen yelled.

"Can we please just drop this trailer off first? Please?"

"Ok, yeah, but if opportunity presents itself on the way..."

"Yeah, ok. Of course."

We dropped the trailer off and went to find food. We scored some pasta, a sandwich, bean soup and chips at the nearest Panera Bread. (Jen also got chew at 7-Eleven.)

We decided to only unload what we felt like that night. Namely just the frozen food. And sleep on the floor and deal with the rest in the morning. By the way, this was all after a 6 plus hour drive down to San Jose in the first place. 

We unloaded a few things and realized it was still fairly early. It was 5:30pm, just 13 hours after our day had started. We could do this! Plus, we had to at least get access to my dresser as I had forgotten to pack clean underwear in an overnight bag. 

"However" Jen said, "As soon as we find the box with the rum in it, we have to take a shot."

"Deal". 

We found the bottle not too far into the unloading phase and each took a swig out of the bottle. We managed to haul some fairly heavy things up the flight of stairs into my apartment and pretty much just dropped things where we could fit it. The chaise lounge fit perfectly in the kitchen and I came back upstairs to find Jen curled up on it.

I thought about how that would be the perfect place to sit and have my coffee in the morning.

We finished hauling everything upstairs and realized there were 20 minutes before the Uhaul place closed and we could be completely rid of it if we hurried. Off we went. We returned the Uhaul and then headed home to clear a place for us to sleep. The bed was out of the question being as my bedroom had transformed into something out of "Hoarders".

We managed to move stuff around enough to set up the futon and get the chaise lounge into the living room. This is definitely the smallest apartment I've ever lived in and by far the most I have ever paid in rent (even more than the mortgage on my 3 bed/3 bath house). Today I decided to forgo my 6 mi run and do it tomorrow. I am far too sore and exhausted to make much at all happen today. I have unpacked a few boxes, Jen and I set up the bedroom and living room, so it's all fairly functional now. I just have to put more stuff away and sell some of my belongings. I'll post more pictures as rooms get into place.

By the way, it was about 70 here today. In January. 

Jen also put a good luck charm above my door to even out the whole "13" business, but gave me explicit instructions to promptly remove it if things start to go bad.

Hair Again....

Well it had to happen. I badly needed my hair cut again and I was far away from my beloved stylist in San Diego. I don't think I'll ever get over losing her. Sometimes I time it just right and get my hair cut while I'm down there and everyone lives happily ever after. Other times I just get desperate and my hair gets so out of control that it just needs to be cut.

My last hair cut was a cut/color combo. It didn't go horribly but the fact that it's only been two months and already my hair needs to be cut again tells me something. Usually I go six months. She also managed to get two different color dyes in my hair (not on purpose) one of which was too dark for my complexion and she ended with putting something in my hair (probably hair spray) that made it so sticky that I couldn't even run my hands through my hair to get rid of the part she put down the middle.

The last two weeks my hair has been refusing to cooperate in the slightest, so I knew I needed to do something about it. I didn't want to go to the last lady and I was really nervous about trying some one new (we all know how that goes). There's a lady about a half hour south of here that generally does a good job but I really didn't feel like making the drive, especially now that I've got a miserable cold and I'm trying to get packed for the big move.

So I chose going to someone new. But I had a plan. I would go in with specific instructions. Merely saying "the layers need to be freshened up" is not specific enough. I realize that most stylists like to express themselves and showcase their talents, but that would not be happening on my head, not today, no ma'am.

The stylist (we shall call her Michelle) noticed me looking through a book of hair styles that I had settled down with being as I was 15 minutes early. "Did you find a style you like?" Oh boy. "Oh, no. I was just browsing, I already know what I want".

So we went back, got all tucked into my cape and discussed what needed to be done. I told her I wasn't looking to go shorter and the big problem here is mostly with the layers. I need 1 to 1.5 inches taken off the overall length and the shortest layer should be no shorter than shoulder length. She clarified by pulling my hair to my upper arms and asked "You mean shoulders here, or shoulders here" and rested her hands on top of my shoulders. Right, see now we're communicating and being specific. I put my hands on top of my shoulders. "Shoulders here. Also, my hair is really curly in the back but totally straight on the sides. The curls relax as my hair dries and flatten out (I'm now seeing where this conversation took a wrong turn). Usually I wear it straight."

We got my hair washed and went to cutting the hair. I could already tell I was not in love with the way she was cutting my layers. I've noticed there are two types of layer-cutters. One will leave all your hair down and grab at sections, lifting them up above your head and cutting them at an angle. I suppose that's a perfectly acceptable way to go, but that's not how my hair looks best and I'm just now beginning to realize this. The other way to cut layers is to separate hair into how it falls off your head, cutting the longest layer first, releasing and cutting the next layer, then the next and so on. It layers beautifully and grows out well. The first technique layers ok but does not grow out well.

After cutting, she grabbed what looked like mousse and put it in my hair. Damn-it, she's going for the curls. This is another thing that my stylist in San Diego has never done to me. Why do some stylists do this? Did I go in with curly hair? No. Well then unless I specifically ask for it, then it probably means I do not want to leave with curly hair.

As I watched myself in the mirror and she fluffed my hair and dried it, I got a little irritated. Let it go, it's just style, you can wash it out when you get home. I thought about running home to shower before I went to the store, but decided to go ahead and see how I liked the unruly curly look (never mind the fact that the reason I went to cut my hair in the first place was because it had turned unruly). And just so you know, I sometimes like the unruly curly look. It can be cute and sexy. Sometimes I even like it on me, but mostly I like it on other people.

So here's what it looked like when I got home. Mind you, I am sick and don't look so fantastic at the moment, and the pictures are lacking in quality.

The only actual curling that she did to my hair was two chunks in the front that don't curl naturally. Now, I haven't seen the movie, but it reminds me of the girl in "Brave". Crazy curly red hair. Maybe after a day of surfing, not this day.

When I got home I washed and dried it. Usually I let it dry on it's own and comb it as it dries so that the curls will flatten out, but for the purpose of this blog I decided to actually do my hair.

So the two photos above are after just drying it. It doesn't look bad at all and if for whatever reason I dried my hair one day, I would just stop there. It's still a little poufy though and would need to be tied back. 

Then I took a straightening iron to it which I normally reserve for special occasions. It doesn't change it much but takes the pouf out of it so I feel comfortable leaving it down. As I straighten it, I give it a slight curl at the end.

See that? Simple. Maybe that's the problem. I don't think stylists want their clients to leave with a "simple" do. But I am not incredibly concerned with how other people like my hair to look. I am however, very concerned with how I want my hair to look. 

When I move to San Jose I'm either going to have to find a new stylist or only get my hair cut when I go to San Diego. I might just wait until I'm in San Diego. Looking at the layers that are in it now, I can forsee a haircut in the next few months. This one won't last 6 that's for sure.