Hair You Go

Upon moving to Chicago, I started doing something I hadn’t done since I was about 10. I didn’t mean to do it, it just started happening. My hair just started growing and I started rocking longer locks (except that one time in San Francisco when like a hippie child, I cut my hair at a music festival because it seemed like the right thing to do).

Though after the winter static, the battle of sitting up properly in a chair without catching it and running out of bun options, I’m going to chop it all off.

With a date sent (the end of March, so I can have one more family wedding with Southern Belle curls), an organization picked (Children With Hair Loss) and the mentality I’m ready for the shorter look, I’m way too excited. Here I come bob!

48-Hours of Firsts

After befriending a musician and Celia getting booked to werk the Treasure Island Music Fest, fate dealt some sweet cards and I was on my way to the west coast for 48 hours. Where I had a weekend full of first times.

-First trip to San Francisco
-First time navigating a new city without a map
-First time eating and drinking total German cuisine at Suppeküche
-First time walking up “hills” and being completely out of breath
-First time having a rooftop party that felt like a movie
-First time hanging with Kacee in America (Dublin reunion 4 years in the making)
-First time at a Music Festival
-First time movin’ and groovin’ in the Silent Disco (San Fran calls them “Silent Friscos”)
-First time using a sewing machine to create a beer koozie in the arts & crafts tent
-First time on a Ferris Wheel that was so old-school, it didn’t have a cage around it keeping you in
-First time getting a haircut on an island. At a music festival

And the big one:
-First time I bought a journal and started writing my book. While gazing at the Pacific Ocean.

Needless to say, I’m in love with San Francisco. And leaving was horrible. The music fest wasn’t too bad to boot either.