I have several things to write about, to catch up on … important things to share that are in fact not a complete embarassment.  An update on what Miller’s nose looks like now, my spin on Bakerella’s Christmas cake pops, a squirrel that I released into my private squirrel sanctuary, the awesome Ariat boots I won from Western Glamour … but …

For some reason today I thought I’d share this with you:

Once upon a time I had a mullet.  It actually had some staying power … I think this was my signature look for third through sixth grade, until I changed it up with a really chic bowl cut ala Jane from Melrose Place. 

It was kinda a fluffy, girl mullet … no wonder I look so preturbed.  I had a MULLET. 

My naturally straight hair took alot of abuse in the form of Ogilvie home perms to keep that style in it’s full glory!  I remember many an evening hunched up under a ratty, orange towel with the edges tucked over my ears, my thumbs pressed against my forehead, eyes squeezed shut against the fumes.  I know my dad remembers too … he had more than one passionate tirade about the home perm perfume (“perm-fume,” if you will … he he he ) that filled our home on these occasions.

Today, I got my hair cut for the first time in ages and it feels light, and fresh, and wonderful.  It is not a mullet.