I'm a Deaf vagabond currently living on Vancouver Island. Bicycles dominate my life, but I also make time for climbing, hiking, camping, and cats. And if I have time left over after all that, I write about it.
More things than just my hair are now yellow. I realized yesterday morning that my hair had stained my grey-blue pillowcase.
I’ve included a picture in case you were imagining something resembling a piss stain.
So, this is a definite drawback to having bright-coloured hair. Randomly staining things isn’t supposed to be a part of the regular human experience.
The best thing about having yellow hair has been the attention. I’ve mainly been in a good mood lately, enabling me to receive attention well. People drop what they’re doing to stare, including children during recess. Two weeks ago, as I walked by an elementary school, a group of kids ran up to the fence and collectively gawked. A girl with her two front teeth missing jumped up and down, waved at me, and said, “I like your hair!”
Had she not said that, though, I’d have assumed they were star-struck; after all, I am the Local Legend for the Strava segment that ends in front of that school. That means I have the most efforts on the given segment over the past 90 days. Hardly an impressive feat when the segment happens to lie along your daily commute, but the kids definitely don’t know this.
“When were you going to tell us about your secret Strava?!” –Zack
It was shaping up to be a slow week when it seemed that trying Icelandic yogurt (skyr) was the most exciting thing I did all week. The thrill lay within my lactose intolerance: Is this going to cause gastrointestinal distress? Will it be worth it? (It was delicious.)
Then on Friday night, I started painting the modeling clay tongue that I made earlier in the week. I’d pierced it with two barbells while the clay was still soft. To make painting easier, I removed the jewelry and placed them in one of the wells of my paint tray so that they wouldn’t roll off my adjustable desk. I forgot about this when cleaning up: I dumped the tray in the kitchen sink and washed the leftover paint down the drain, along with the barbells.
I was not high when I did this. Truthfully, I hadn’t realized what I’d done until I was high.
I was in and out of the lab within ten minutes. Now I need to wait three to four days for the doctor to hem and haw before confirming that I have osteoarthritis. That’s my guess. It’s been my guess since I was in my early twenties. I’ve already had this self-diagnosis rejected by several doctors. I was too young, they said. Ideally, yes, but I’ll bet I’m an early bloomer when it comes to geriatric ailments. I mean, because of dissolving tooth enamel, 30% of my teeth have already been capped with either porcelain or gold.
The following three paragraphs were going to be whiny, but they’re gone now. My mental well-being is dependent on my level of physical activity: too much rest leaves me restless. I’m going to try not to spend my recovery time sitting around writing depressing blog posts.
Today’s throwback post is from the time a Boomer judged me for buying avocado. The incident took place in 2008, long before the avocado toast controversy. Perhaps it was me who sparked the whole debate?
Do you know the saying about how it takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown? Well, I’ve figured out an even easier way to smile at people: squint. Squinting your eyes looks indistinguishable from smiling from behind a mask.