I’ve been a little stressed. Between performing, editing book three in The Tethering Series, and getting the blog tour for the release of book two ready along with brushing my teeth, I’ve had a lot on my plate. And I’ve found more and more lately that when I’m really stressed, I want a plastic poodle barrette. You know the ones I mean. Those cheap little hair clips that come in a pack of different animal shapes. I want a pink poodle, and I want to clip it in my hair, dammit.
When I was three we had a Swedish exchange student. I loved her. I wanted to spend all of my time with her. Unfortunately, though the exchange student spoke English, she was not well versed in overexcited three-year-old. I would talk to her for hours, and she would smile and nod and let me do whatever my little toddler heart desired since she couldn’t understand enough of what I was saying to tell me no.
The exchange student had very fine hair that was cut into a bob. I would invade her bed room with my entire tub of plastic animal barrettes and not stop until I had every single poodle starfish and pony clipped onto her head.
My mother would come in to make sure everything was fine, and the exchange students would say in her guttural accent, “I think she is fine. She is not crying,” while shaking her spiky, tufted, barrette laden hair. I would think it was hysterical and repeat the procedure the next day, making her “pretty” with my thirty plastic barrettes.
Sometimes during tech for a show, or during edits for a book, I long for a time when happiness could be defined by how many plastic barrettes you could fit onto a Swedish girl’s head. I don’t want to lose sight of the simple joys in life. And I think I would look bangin’ with a pink poodle barrette.