Today on this dreary, rainy day in the city of Salt - I'd like to declare it a day of recognition for people with crazy-assed hair syndrome. And we know who we are...

I don't mean you people who purposely style your hair into some crazy oblivion, but those of us who have to manipulate our locks such that we don't randomly frighten people on the streets. Those of us who use styling devices, creams, gels, even expensive salon treatments all in an effort to contain the out of control growth on our heads. Crazy hair may come in the form of 'natural curls', which for me is a curse - or perhaps something like a cowlick, which can cause even the most well-dressed, serious-looking man to look like a total putz.

Whatever your crazy hair problem is, nothing can ruin your efforts to counteract it than the rain. People who are blessed with normal hair may suffer slightly if the rain messes up their style, but these people will likely just have 'flat' hair for the remainder of the day. However, if you suffer crazy-assed hair syndrome like I do - your hair gets wet and you're finished. It becomes imperative that you do something to prevent it from morphing into some unrecognizable beast.

So to all you unfortunate souls who suffer from the same affliction, please know that you are supported and understood.

I returned some books and CD's to the library today. This is significant because I've had problems with returning things on time in the past. In fact, I am still a Blockbuster, Hollywood video and Marriott library fugitive. I recently decided to come clean with the folks at the new city library downtown. I walked in ready to confess my sins - that I had lost my library card not just once but twice, and that I was pretty sure I owed a hefty amount in fines. To my complete surprise, the girl behind the counter did not call security to have me escorted out of the building. She did not even give me a stern, disapproving look. She simply gave me a new card which would permit me to check out items that very day! I immediately did so, and I got to use the self-checkout thingy. I was fully expecting some sort of alarm to go off once I scanned my card, but this did not happen. I simply checked out my stuff and walked out like a normal library patron. What an exhilarating feeling!

Mmmmm...coffee.

I love coffee. It's so comforting. I love the morning coffee ritual of grinding my beans, allowing the aroma to circulate throughout my apartment, and the much anticipated sound of the precious liquid boiling to the top of my little stovetop coffee maker. (I have 3 of such coffee makers in case I need to make a lot at once.)
But here in America, as is our habit with just about everything, we consume too much coffee. Drinking too much coffee is apparently not so good for you. Since I am somewhat of a health nut, I try to limit myself to just that one savory cup in my apartment every morning. But lately I've found myself enjoying a cup at home, and then another cup at the snooty coffee joint across the street. Somehow I'm there almost every day lately. Ah sensory overload! The sweet scent of java fills my nostrils as I walk in the door. The sight of coffee beans from all corners of the world being poured into cute little one-pound coffee bags and sold to fellow coffee lovers. The sound of beans grinding, espresso machines and people stating exactly what they want because they've ordered it 100 times before. "Viennese - room for cream!" ..."Soy latte, 1 extra shot"...and on and on. What a beautiful addiction we have! I haven't gone over there yet today, it's 9:42...

So?