"What's different?" my friend Joyce asked me at Bible study the other night.
I replied, "I don't know. What do you mean?"
"You're hair!" she exclaimed. "It's down, it's beautiful."
Yes, my hair was down. I put my hair up. A lot. I put it up because although I love it long and sweeping along my back, I can't stand it when it falls in my face.
I was going to cut my hair short right after Christmas but
during our Christmas visit to my sister in New Jersey, I discovered something. Or more specifically, re-discovered something.
The curling iron.
Curling my hair made me love my hair! I no longer wanted to cut it. Now I want to grow it out like Lady Godiva. All I need is a horse. And a tax loving, oppressive nobleman husband.
After I burned my temple I remembered why I gave up the curling iron. Don't fret, I have become more dexterous in the past few weeks and have kept the head traumas down to a dull roar.
Look to the finish!