My weekend wasn't as frightening as I had anticipated.
The stylist's name was Nathan, not Chris or Adam or whatever, and as soon as we met he told me I looked familiar. This is something almost every stylist I've ever had has said to me upon first meeting. After telling her that she did not know me from anywhere, my last stylist, Meredith, chalked it up to me having "one of those faces."
I refuse to believe that I have one of those faces, one of those ordinary faces that gets confused with every other ordinary face. Maybe I need to spend more time in the sun, accumulate more freckles on my cheeks. That would make me distinguishable, right?
So Saturday, after some confusion about whether I was welcome in a certain home or not, I finally made it over to my brother's house where my dad and step-mom were visiting The Baby.
The Baby is part monkey and part alien. He squirms and wiggles and squeels like a piglet when his pacifier pops out of his mouth. He smells sweet and has soft feet. He's warm and snuggly, but too fragile to squeeze. Really he doesn't do much, except sleep and eat and cry.
After visiting family and The Baby, Dave, Mike, Lauren and myself headed over to Borders for the David Sedaris reading and book signing. We almost made it to the front of the line when DS had to go read. Afterwards we were told to get back in line if we wanted our books signed, but this line was much longer, and we were towards the end. So we left with unsigned copies of DS books. Oh well.
I spent Sunday feeling perpetually annoyed and happy and on the verge of tears all at the same time. I don't know what's wrong with me.
We watched "Hotel Rwanda." It was beautiful and painful to watch.
So here I am, at the beginning of another week. This one is as unknown as the last. Anything can happen. I will keep you posted.


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