She's always changing the color of her hair. . . .

November 25, 2011


Days are now a blur of paper, ink, email and human contact that only occurs when I'm in class with my students.

Other than that, I'm in my office behind closed doors marking, marking, marking.

Yesterday was productive.

I was able to return the second advanced qualitative interviews.

The intro qual interview guides.

Grade the film classes' film autobiography questions.

Now I just have to let them know their grades.

But that may not be until later this weekend.

I still have to mark the intro qual participant observation assignments.

Unfortunately, this is just the tip of the iceberg.

The rest of it will reveal itself from the depths of the icy waters at the end of the term.

With my ship steering towards it, ready to crash and burn and sink.









Today, however, there will be an opportunity to connect with people I don't teach.

I've been asked to give the introductory remarks this afternoon at the book launch for my mentor's latest book.

An introduction to qualitative research methods book, that I'm currently using, enjoying and hoping, hoping that my students are enjoying too.

Or at the very least have read it.

The remarks I've yet to actually prepare.

Hence while I'll be at my office by 6.30 am.

As my office is about the only quiet place in my life right now.

At least at 6.30 in the morning.

And I'll look good while doing it, as I have an appointment with Norma-the-most-amazing-hairdresser-in-the-world at Klub Soda.

Holding back the grey for another 6 to 8 weeks.

An ever present battle, always waging, and the older I get the more they grey seems to be winning.

An hour of pampering, massaging my scalp, where for a brief moment in time I am someone else's priority.

Instead of the other way around.

I can't wait.

Because while Norma does her magic with my hair, she is attentive.

But in the in between times, when I am slathered with the stuff that keeps the grey away, she leaves me alone.

In peace.

I read, watch the passersby as I sit in front of the big window lost in my thoughts.

Hoping no one recognizes me as I look like an 80s throwback to the "wet look."

Out of touch with my real world for a few minutes.

Ahhhhhhhhhh. . . .









Stephen will be working at the Ten Thousand Villages sale http://www.tenthousandvillages.ca/cgi-bin/category.cgi?template=fullpage-en&item=pageFestivalsTGN this evening but the sale will go on for the weekend, in the gym of the Wilmot United Church, downtown Fredericton.

And it's a pay weekend.

Meaning I'll be perusing the tables laden with jewelry, walls covered in tapestries, little kiosks with hanging planters, Christmas decorations, and all sorts of other goodies just waiting for me and my debit card to show up.





Title Lyrics: She Don't Use Jelly by The Flaming Lips