staying real : thoughts that really should have stayed thoughts

Well it’s Monday. And it’s snowing. And I have no heat. So it seems like a great day to share this story and bring some levity to life.

I’m not sure what came over me when I went to the closest and cheapest a new hair salon over the weekend. Perhaps it was the shock from being in sandals and a sundress one day to a winter coat and scarf the next. Perhaps it was errand-weariness from a day with 1,000 stops. Or perhaps it was just me being me…uncensored.

It was probably that.

For whatever reason, I was filter-less. Like, completely filter-less. It was a direct flight from thought to speech. Not in a charming way. More in a way that made me regret every time I decided to respond to a question. Which was frequently.

So here you are, friends. A little advice on what not to say out loud to strangers. Not that any of you need this advice; I’m sure you’re all capable of having perfectly normal conversations with your hairdresser. Or, you know, with humans in general.

Clearly, I am not.

Things You Wish You Hadn’t Said To Your New Hairdresser, Or To Anyone, Ever:


Hairdresser: Let’s get started! Do you want a wash?

Me: Um…yes. Definitely yes. My hair is a hott mess right now. Kind of like my life.


Hairdresser: So, do you have any fun plans for tonight?

Me: Well, I have sweatpants and leftover takeout waiting for me at home, so yes!


Hairdresser: Do you want me to put your purse over by the coat rack?

Me: Only if you want a mild strength and conditioning workout. I’m kind of a hoarder.


Hairdresser: So…when was the last time you had a haircut…?

Me: Um. August? Yes, August. The last month that started with an A. Which actually speaks more to my personal hygiene habits than to the busyness of my schedule.


Hairdresser: Ok! What would you like to do with this?

Me: If by “this” you mean the mop atop my head…I’d just like it not to look like this anymore, please. So do whatever you need to do!

It’s good that this experience ended by me taking out a $20 that had been folded into a small square and covered in masking tape…as it had been stuck to the inside of my running shoes as a surprise by my mom over Easter (thanks, Mom!). I’m sure that the full minute it took me to untape the cash I was about to pay with was just enough time for the hairdresser to jot down my name, age, and general physical description so that I’m put on a black list and never allowed back in the salon again.

Oh my word…oh my word.

Luckily it was all worthwhile since I skyped with my parents later that night, sporting the new ‘do, and my mom asked me when I was going to schedule that haircut I’ve been needing for awhile.

Apparently this was an effective outing on all fronts.

beka stays real : snow lover, part II

There is no sight more beautiful than this.

I went outside to clean off my car. It was completely voluntary because all previously scheduled activities have been cancelled today due to unpredictable amounts of lake effect snow.


So out I went to start unearthing my car. Half because it’s the prudent thing to do (street parking + plowing = vehicle igloo) and half because I just wanted an excuse to be outside. But it only took 10 minutes. That’s chump change to a girl who has been waiting MONTHS for winter to finally arrive!

Since I wasn’t ready to head inside just yet I decided to go for a walk around the block. I put my earbuds in and turned on the Zac Brown Band Pandora station I’ve been listening to all the live long day and then some frequently and set out into the falling snow.

An hour later, I came home.

And let me tell you…it was the BEST hour of the year so far.

Because I just love this. I love being the freak who is giddy with joy, laughing out loud while nearly faceplanting on the sidewalk. I love running noses, numb toes, tingling fingers, bright red cheeks. I love old houses with lots of windows, columns and wrap around porches trimmed by a layer of fluff. I love the slow thaw after returning indoors that necessitates hot beverages and oversized sweatpants and thick, soft blankets. I love being snowed-in, given official permission to not leave the house (or aforementioned sweatpants) from sunrise to sunset. I love the pure, bright BEAUTY of a world covered in sparkling white.

I love snow.


beka stays real : ten things

  1. I’m glad I turned the Duke/UNC game off with 10 minutes remaining because I was “going to bed,” wrote this instead, missed this as a result…and ended up not going to bed for another hour after the game had ended.
  2. But at least that proves that there are some legitimate sporting events going on now that football is over.
  3. And then there’s this. Can’t wait to see where Linsanity leads…love watching his story unfold!
  4. But really…watching every single Sound FX clip and obsessively following the NFL Films blog is what is really going to get me through the off season.
  5. This book is one of my favorites. I snuck it into the kids’ picks at the library yesterday. At least we can see snow in a book since apparently it’s never actually going to snow here this year. (I’m not bitter.) (Oh wait…yes I am.)
  6. If eating half a baked sweet potato and a defrosted slice of shoo fly pie for dinner is wrong then I don’t want to be right.
  7. But seriously…what I wouldn’t do for a Papa Murphy’s up in this joint.
  8. Or at least a Chick-fil-A.
  9. I’m still thinking about San Diego. Where they have Papa Murphy’s and Chick-fil-A. And Jamba Juice. And In-N-Out. And Pinkberry. It’s an embarrassment of riches, really.
  10. This weekend, there will be baking. Amen.

beka stays real : snow-lover

Something happens to me when it snows. It’s like all is right in the world again. I woke up this morning to huge flakes falling from the sky, which in turn put a huge smile on my face. There is literally nothing else in life that makes me quite as happy as the first honest-to-goodness snowfall of the year.

When Marissa walked into Simply Crepes she said, “This is like your dream world, isn’t it?!”

Yes. Yes it is!

Welcome, winter. I’ve been impatiently waiting for you. Please make yourself at home.

On a note that is completely separate and bound to ruin any sentimentality brewing from this post so far: Mice, you are not free to make yourselves at home. And if you think you’re going to scare me into hiding in my own apartment, you’ve got another thing coming. Namely: death. I’ve seen worse. You’ve met your match.