I paid for roots

I can count on one hand how many people care about this topic.  So Megan, Alana, Mom(?)...this post is for you.

He's done it again.  About eight months ago Mark tried to talk me into getting roots...on purpose.

Mark: It's really in right now.
Me: I'm here to get RID of my roots.

So I stayed blonde-blonde.  Because blondes have issues with dark roots.  It's who we are.

A couple weeks ago I told him it was time...I was emotionally ready to pay for roots.

Mark: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Mark: Are you going to come back asking for more blonde?
Me: Maybe.

But I didn't.  I love it.  He colored the roots of my hair a darker color that gets lighter at the bottom.  I like Mark because otherwise my hair would never change.  For more on Mark, read here.  Go pay for some roots.  I want more next time.

Indulge me

Today I planned to post about the day Tod and Lennon spent together doing yardwork...but then I thought instead I'd post about
my mom's new flowers she planted last week and how pretty I thought they were and then I realized all I wanted to talk about was

me. I'm turning 29 tomorrow so I get to have one post about something only I care about. My hair. I cut it almost seven years ago when we got married and it was short for too long. (This is when most of you are going to click over to another blog because who cares but I don't care if you don't care.) I liked it short but sort of always hated it short at the same time. Like I hated the time when I was eight months pregnant with Lennon. I was addicted to chopping my hair that entire pregnancy until a lady at a wrestling tournament commented, "Wow! Your face keeps getting bigger and your hair keeps getting shorter!" So I went to Mark.

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Mark is the other man in my life because the guy knows about hair. Initially his salon seduced me -- it's pretty awesome. And I don't use that word lightly. As time passed and my hair started growing Mark taught me all kinds of tricks (I had ONE look in high school -- long and straight). I became obessessed. Obsessed with Mark and my hair. He's honest, too. Remember the time I showed up and told him I wanted bangs to which he replied, "No you don't." And no, I really didn't.

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Megan will call clear from Canada and almost every conversation asks, "How's your hair?" That's why I love her. Another reason I love her is because she met me in SLC last weekend and ran a half marathon. I used to ask her to walk the three mile loop with me and she'd ask, "Do we have to walk the WHOLE THING?" And now she's a freaking marathon runner. Who asks about my hair. Moving on...

Go see Mark if you want to love your hair. He works in one of the best salons in Vegas yet his prices are affordable. I'm sending Ann Dee there next month, I've sent my mom in the past and now you're next. I can't say enough good. Look how happy I am in this picture; isn't it true that when you like your hair your life is just better? Is anyone still there?

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Info on Mark's salon here. He has a local deal going -- let me know if you're interested.

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I'll blog about my kids later.