Curly Girl.

Ever since I started using hair products -- because yes, my friends, there were many verrrrrrry scarrrrrrrry teenage eons before I ever knew they existed -- my favorite and old standby has been Matrix Sculpting Glaze, now known (and in sale at regular stores) as Biolage Gelee'.

This has worked great for my hair in its all-one-length-ringlet days as well as during times of layers, and I can't imagine not always having a bottle in my bathroom cabinet, just in case.

I have tried other products over the years, and recently found one that really works for me. I'm not sure it works as well as Biolage (the results aren't the same, but I don't want them to be, right?), so it's hard to gauge. I do, however, love the combo, and have received many curly compliments on it.

My hairdresser's niece (who also does hair) turned me on to it last time I was in Jackson at Social Agenda: Aquage Sea Salt Texturizing Spray. It gives the hair a great beachy, tousled waves look, and I'm really enjoying the variety! I do have to use some sort of smoothing/silk gel with it (CHI or another brand works for me), and it doesn't have the lasting effect of Biolage for my hair (as in lasting past one day and overnight -- it's easier for my hair to get tangled with this, much like at the beach), but it's fun!

So if you're a curly girl, and are looking for options, maybe it could work for you.

Also, if you have curls, and solutions, please share them! I'm always looking for new ideas. :-)

The Turnaround.

My adorably hilarious nephew is 6, and he's a pretty brave kid. He did inherit his mother's preciously tender heart, which I love with all of my own semi-tender heart, but he also is all boy, so the sweetness comes out when you least expect it. And I love that.

This year, Caleb graduated from kindergarten. My sister teaches language arts at a school near his campus, so getting him to and from class has been an interesting set of logistics to work out. At first, he was expectedly sad to see her go. Then other older students of hers started walking him to class, and things smoothed out a little.

About a month ago, my parents visited them for a weekend and took Caleb to school on the Monday morning before they left to go back home. According to my parents, he was super big and brave, and walked to the door with his backpack (looking much like a little man, I'm sure), then turned around and waved bye and proceeded into his building. My parents lost it. It's hard saying goodbye to kids anyway, but their only grandson, and looking so grown up, and being so brave... You know. Tough stuff.

Later, my parents learned that after Caleb entered his school building, he lost it as well. School starts early (I'm not sure how early, but you remember the outrageous times those first bells would ring), and apparently Caleb's teacher could not get him calmed down until around 8:30. In kindergarten time, I'm pretty sure that's like 4 days.

Later, when my sister talked to my nephew about why he was so upset, he explained very simply, "I don't know, Mom. I'm always ok till the turnaround."

Thankfully, things like his sweet teacher, recess, and even math can help distract him.

This weekend, I am in a place I love deeply and that I resided in for nearly ten years. Ten very crucial post-college, growing up years, I might add. Jackson, Mississippi holds a plethora of beautiful memories and coming-of-age markers for me, but it also holds some bittersweet pivotal life points, as well.

I knew before this visit that it wouldn't be 1,000% rosy. A friend was dying. His wife is aching, while still trying to function and work at her paying job, and work even harder to take care of him and their children. And even aside from that, I've had enough emotional precursors over the past few months to realize that this trip would hold more than just a feta dressing fix from Keifer's and long laughs with my best-good girlfriends.

This trip to Jackson is definitely a turnaround for me. Change was in my air before I even got in my car to make this drive, and I am really, truly happy about it. I've been given a few opportunities for some new beginnings, and much to my own surprise, I'm lapping them up like an overplayed puppy would a fresh pan of cold milk.

Even so, Caleb is right. Athough I'm walking into a wealth of opportunity for learning and life experiences, the turnaround is hard. I know that when I turn around, something beautiful will happen, it will further my life education, and I am prepared to make the absolute most of it that I can. But a look back at the old can still make one cry -- whether one is a 33-year-old career chickadee or 6-year-old kindergarten grad.

After thinking a lot about Caleb's and my own situations, I think it's ok to get emotional at the turnaround -- it honors the good times you had in the past, and lets your peeps know they're loved and valued. In fact, it might be odd to NOT get emotional at the turnaround.

But part of the turnaround is in the actual turning, and the bright, unlimited possibilities that await.

Which will be super cool, much like kickball at recess.

Baton Rouge.

I always surmised I'd live in Jackson, Mississippi, for a couple of years. No more, no less.

Don't worry, though; I was there NINE years. NINE. That, as my wise, 6-year-old nephew would say, is a LONG time.

Nine years, however, taught me how to appreciate the familiar, and the comfortable, and the unfamiliar, and the newness that comes with a new place.

I was more than ready for the Red Stick when I moved here. I love it. Its flavor, sites, and sounds feel like home, and the people and personalities seem to fit the coast of Mississippi so well, so I constantly feel relaxed. That's nice.

Tonight, at a community/benefit outing, I realized something new: I know people. I recognized peeps across the room, and never felt alone, and never felt new, even though it was my first time at that venue. That was nice, too.

I like being "new" (ish). I like having things to discover and explore. But I also like the familiar and the recognizable.

So I might just be in the perfect stage in the Red Stick. There's tons here to discover that I haven't touched yet, but still enough that I'm familiar with to be comfortable.

:: happy sigh ::

Maybe there are some gypsies in my geneaology?

Hometown Boy or Hometown Team?

The Mississippi Gulf Coast (and maybe even more of the state and region) has a dilemma this weekend.

We've watched our hometown boy, Brett Favre, go from cocky (but talented) high school and college football player to somewhat settled NFL quarterback to more mature, valuistic, family-oriented star football player.

This weekend, Brett Favre's current team, the Minnesota Vikings, are playing our hometown team, the New Orleans Saints, in the NFL playoffs.

Nearly everyone I know from home is a Saints fan. If they're not, they probably just don't like football. Many of us have remained faithful to our Saints, despite years of losses and disappointments. Some are more fair-weather, but everyone would love to see this team with a heart of gold (and a little black) go to the Super Bowl.

I can remember as a little girl, riding home from church with the family listening to the games on WWL (News Radio 87). My poor Daddy might've been outnumbered in gender, but that AM station, then the game on TV once we got home, won out every Sunday afternoon during football season.

I didn't really get into football until the past few years, but have always kept up with the Saints. I've been teased endlessly: "If you're going to be loyal to one team, why THEM?"

My question is: "Why NOT?"

To me, the Saints feel like home just as much as the Gulf of Mexico, and gumbo, and boiled shrimp. My high school and college both had the Saints' black and gold colors, which just worked out nicely. In fact, until I moved to Baton Rouge and got caught up in LSU, purple was just another shade of the rainbow.

When I moved to Jackson, MS after college, I distinctly remember being in the mall one Sunday afternoon and passing a TV that showed the Saints nearing a win. I was so excited that I ran to the nearest pay phone -- remember those? -- and called my Daddy while jumping up and down and screaming, "The Saints are going to the Super Bowl! I knew it! I knew it!"

With the pride and grounded nature of a true Saints fan, my Daddy said, "Ok, Rebekah... But remember, it ain't over till it's over. They've just reached the playoffs."

And he was right, of course... But now, 2010 might be THE YEAR!!!! :-)

So, back to Favre. Most of the people I've talked to and heard from like Brett Favre, and are proud of his successes, but are die-hard Saints fans, and want to see them go all the way. I can imagine even Brett Favre himself, having grown up in Kiln, MS, less than an hour from New Orleans, secretly wants the Saints to go all the way. I mean, it's the SAINTS!

So, we'll see, come Sunday. But for now, the chant continues...

Who dat! Who dat! Who dat say 'dey gonna beat 'dem Saints?! :-)

Fort Hood.

I'm still devastated when I think of the disgusting, uneccessary shooting at Fort Hood in Texas last week.

I caught up this morning on Marshall Ramsey's cartoons from the weekend, and found this one particularly touching:

As usual, MR does a fantastic job of depicting what we all felt, and still feel when reading/seeing the coverage.

I hope that like Columbine, and Virginia Tech, and the Oklahoma City bombing, and 9/11, may we never forget.

Falling Back.

I love gaining an hour, but am not the hugest fan of the early winter darkness.

I happened to be in Jackson when the time changed, and thoroughly enjoyed a blissful, drama-free weekend with true friends who love me and who aren't afraid to say so. (Who'd have thunk that was so EASY?!) ;-)

So in light of a very cathartic trip back to a place that helped me become who I am now -- for better or for worse -- my locale for the time change this year seemed quite appropriate when I saw the following quote from a friend:

"Sometimes good things fall apart so even better things can fall together."

:-)