Sunday Morning Coming Down

That’s a song reference, for those who don't know 1970s country tunes--not a drug reference:) Actually I do feel a tad shisty...not because I drank too much while dancing with the hordes of mini-skirt/angel-wing clad, mid-thirties, bachelorettes last night at Club Coco, but because I drank and then decided immediately after to go home and sleep...fun. Well, I do have an entire paper on the CIA to research and write today. Which brings me here, to our small but charming, stained-glass library on an early Sunday morning.
Oh, and I chop-chopped my hair off. Well not I, but a lovely young stylist-girl in town. She would cut a couple inches off, and then I'd say 'well maybe a little more' so then she'd take a couple more off. I figured I rarely have the guts to do anything really different...so I should step up to the plate. I was thinking it hasn't been this short since I was 10, but actually age 6 may be more accurate. The feeling of watching her slice away all the previously dyed portions was exquisite. Leave it to me to turn getting a hair cut into some deeply symbolic - cleansing experience.
Okay...to the CIA I go...well, at least I'm not writing about British policy from 1815 to today anymore.
My love to all-thanks for seein how I'm doing:)