Shower Caps

Shower caps are so overrated. That's what I discovered ten years ago when I wrapped up my track career.

During my years of college track, I trained for hours everyday in the hot sun, and my hair needed daily washing. But when those long, sweaty workouts ceased, the hair-washing skies parted and glorious light shone forth: I could wash my hair every other day — or maybe every two days. Think of the time and effort I could save! And then I inched toward middle age and decided that a hair-wash every 3-4 days was acceptable because DRY SHAMPOO.

What a luxury.

But here is the thing about shower caps: the free shower caps hotels give you are big enough to cover your bangs, if you have them, but if you have a pony tail: good luck keeping that baby dry with such an itty bitty piece of plastic. I suppose you could run to Target and buy a shower cap big enough to cover your ponytail, but that seems like a waste because GROCERY BAGS.

What I am about to tell you may change your life.

When it is shower time, grab the nearest plastic grocery bag and slip it over your hair, with the handles down near the nape of your neck. Tie the handles into a nice, firm knot, and voila! You are ready to shower.

Folks, this trick will save you money — at least $3 (go buy yourself a latte!) — and time, and it will save you if you're in a bind. For example, if you have traveled to your college roommate's hometown for her wedding, and you do not want to wash your hair before the rehearsal dinner because you intend to wash it the next morning before the wedding, all you gotta do is borrow a grocery bag from your roommate's mom.

My college roommate's dad surreptitiously took this photo because, well, because I was standing in the hall talking to his family with a plastic bag on my head.

College roommate, Rach and I

It's easy as 1-2-3.


Happy Monday, folks.

-SJ

P.S. I don't buy dry shampoo either. Noooo waaay, Jose; I save myself a dollar (and exposure to the additives in dry shampoo) and use a family trick. Click here for all the deets.



© by scj

Sunday evening

Sunday evening dreaming:

Connecting

The teenagers in my life are so hip. They use words like "lit" — as in "that song is lit" — and they totally don't say, "on fleek" anymore— as in "your dance moves are on fleek"— because that's so last year. I was just beginning to grasp what "on fleek" means when it went out of style, and it doesn't even matter that I one hundred percent understand how to use the word "lit" while it's current, because I am too old and un-hip to get away with it.

I've been blaming lots of things on my oldness these days. Last week I was grading essays in my bedroom when I heard an alarm go off. It sounded like it was on the other side of the wall my room shares with the neighbors' condo, so I assumed it was their alarm clock. When the alarm continued to beep for several minutes, I wondered if I should let the neighbors know.

And then I went downstairs to get some water and realized my oven timer's alarm was going off because I'd set it when I put pecans in the oven to bake 15 minutes earlier.

Don't mind me, neighbors. Apparently turning 32 inaugurates a whole new set of memory problems. I can't even begin to wonder what 80 will feel like.

Old person brain is the reason I accidentally wore my shirt inside out on Sunday, and it's the reason I decided to print my boarding pass for my flight back to L.A. a few days ago. "Why don't you just download the JetBlue app and pull up your boarding pass on your phone instead?" my mom asked.

MOM, WHY ARE YOU A TECHNOLOGICAL GENIUS, I WOULD HAVE NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT IN A MILLION YEARS.

Somehow, my mom's case of old person brain is less severe than mine.

And that's why I am so proud to say that I finally created a Facebook page for my blog AND I added social media icons to my blog's right margin so you can connect with me on social media. I found, linked, and embedded those icons all by myself, you guys. My technology game is totally on fleek this week.

Over the last couple of years, my readership has grown to the point that I don't know a lot of you. Some of you have emailed me to introduce yourselves, and I love that. Connecting with you is my favorite thing about blogging. So, would you connect with me on Facebook? Just click HERE, or click on the Facebook icon in the right margin, and you'll be directed to my new page.

And keep those emails (and Facebook messages!) coming. Seeing your face on Facebook is lovely, and hearing your stories is even lovelier.

 Hopeful, grace-filled Wednesday, my friends. I hope your day is totally lit.

Cheering for you, Home Skillets.

-Sarah



© by scj

Where's Waldo?

Hint: "Waldo" is fluffy and cute as can be.

Did you spot her?


© by scj

The Story of a Leaf

 



© by scj

The Story of an Apple

Please, may I have a bite of your apple?

Ah, now we can all live happily ever after.

The end.






© by scj

Roo

I'm in Washington for the week, and I'm relishing daily puppy snuggles and glorying in the expansive sky and flaming color.

Upon my arrival earlier this week, Girlfren/Triangle Face/Dingleberry Girl/The Child/Golden Princess/Fluffy Face MaGhee (whose actual name is Roo!) greeted me with such affection, she literally bowled me over.

Roo the Red Rocket: I missed you, too! There ain't nobody or nothin' cuter than you.

Happy almost-weekend, my friends!

-SJ

© by scj

Rach

My college roommate, Rachel, got married the weekend before last.

Because of the progress I've made with DNRS, I was able to make the trip to northern California for the wedding.

What a delight it was to watch Rach marry her guy.

Rachel lived down the hall from me our freshman year at APU, and after a few months of enjoying deep conversations, mastering Crocodile Dundee impersonations, and concocting three-course meals with my hot-pot, we decided to live together the following year.

Taking Rach to the airport for an international adventure

We lived together the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after that, too. Also, we may have lived together the year after that; we can’t remember. We are getting old, and timelines are growing fuzzy.

The ol' tape-up-the-nose trick

Several of us lived together in an apartment throughout those years, but Rach and I always shared a room. I suppose our propensity to use the floor instead of the closet (we'd have to take a running leap to get from the door to our beds, so tremendous were the piles of clothes on the floor) and our tendency to burst into random song made us suitable living buddies. Our shared love for Jesus, sports, music, outdoor adventures, and late-night conversations made us kindred spirits. 

If you ever meet Rach, you will notice she is tall and beautiful and absolutely radiates the Light of Christ. You may also notice she has a deep sense that her words are one of the ways Christ's light streams out. Rachel's words have always felt like ribbons of light to me; and one of the gifts of her friendship is being regularly wrapped up in those ribbons of light. 

Just after the wedding ceremony rehearsal

One day, about ten years ago, Rach, our other roommates, and I predicted the order in which we would all get married. We predicted Cara would get married first, Stacey would get married second, Rach would get married third, and I would get married last. Well, we joked that God might bring me a husband first. I had grand ambitions requiring many more years of singleness, and we thought maybe God would be funny and upend my set of single girl dreams. In the end, though, we settled on our original predictions. And guess what? We nailed them! As of last week, Rach was the third to get married.

The bride catching the first glimpse of her groom through the window

Happy, glorious wedding month, Rach.

Love you big time.

-Sar






© by scj