Trying to hold a smile till the damn camera on the computer does its thing. This is my morning hair, I'll point out, but I'm going for a long-overdue cut today and thought I'd show you the "before."

Heaven knows what the "after" will be, because I'm tired of the same old same old but there are few options for straight-haired women like myself, who refuse to spend any time in front of the mirror fixing themselves up. No curling, no blow-drying... why, I'm not even willing to apply "product" and even if I was, I'm no good at the whole thing. I can never make it look like the stylist does.

It's almost enough to make me consider letting it grow long again. Ah, the good old days when a simple elastic took care of the mop! But no ... no, no, no ... the memory of the jerk on my neck when the long tresses would be caught under my bedmate's shoulder when I tried to move is enough to vanquish that idea. Or the shedding ... as soon as my hair is collar-length, it is everywhere, worse than a cat's. I have lots of it so there will never be a shortage, but still.

I have an idea, but with my luck the hairdresser will know some reason why it won't work. Bet I come home with the same old same old, again. Wish I looked good in a ball cap, that would solve the problem.

***

At the back of the November issue of Vanity Fair, which I bought because it contains a two-page photo of Joni Mitchell, there is what the magazine calls a "Proust Questionnaire." One of the questions asked of actor/writer Shirley MacLaine is, Who are your favourite writers? She replies, "Those who tell the truth about themselves."

A couple more:
"What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?"
MacLaine: Prison.
"What do you consider the most overrated virtue?"
MacLaine: Monogamy.

Now Playing: James Taylor, One Man Band," which I gave Emil for Christmas