On Lots of Ideas; and Nothing to Say

Inspiration is a funny thing. I feel the need to write this morning; my brain is literally buzzing with thoughts. But nothing is lining up to march down my fingertips at the moment.

It's raining as I write this and the sky is low and gray. Which probably has something to do with the mood. Things like that swing me. Markedly.

I just discovered a new blog and have been reading it voraciously. The author shares my name, Jennifer, and is also currently an American expat. That's about where our similarities end, other than the basic we both have a nose and two arms kind of sameness. Or maybe not. I look forward to knowing her better and finding out what else we share. She lauds the fact that she is a stream of consciousness writer, and having been swept into the magnetic pull of her words, I am fully in support of the style.

Maybe that's why nothing is lining up this morning. It all wants to come at once.

I have been in close e-contact this week with another Jenn (just what is it in my life with all these Jennifers?) who sent an incredibly touching note after reading my post about Grandpa's passing. She and I share that experience now; the heart wrenching experience of losing a loved one when you are far away from home. In her email she told me,

"One of my friends described grief of someone important to you as a perennial emotion. That it comes in intense waves, even long afterwards. I thought it was a good way of putting it."

I think it's a perfect description.

Sometimes those waves seem capable of pulling you under.

Generally in my life, I respond to events and happenings with emotion. I wear them all on my sleeve, so to speak. When something is pleasing to me, or I like what I see, I get goose bumps on my skin; and tears in my eyes.

When I am angry, I cry.

When I am happy, I cry.

When I am sad, I cut my hair.

I stepped into the bathroom yesterday to put some finishing touches on getting ready for the day (at noon, after my shower, which was at eleven.) and in studying my reflection knew I was overdue for a trim. It's been on my mind lately, this need for a haircut. In fact, I dreamed that I was pulling great handfuls of hair from my head just the other night. But as I stared into the mirror, I figured I would just give it a whirl myself. Who needs the salon with its trained technicians when what you really need is a cathartic experience in the privacy of your own home?

I started at the front with my bangs and then moved to the longer bits at the outer edges of my head. Soon great sweeping strokes were being made with the scissors and hair of varying lengths was tumbling into the sink and onto the floor.

The sound of the scissors cleanly swiping at my locks was fabulous. It was electric and charged and I was having a blast of the most personal kind.

After the cut, I colored it with a box of "warm blond" hair dye I found at the back of the bathroom supplies shelf. And strangely enough, after changing the length and altering the color I looked in the mirror and felt more "me" than I have felt in awhile.

It was fun. Really.

And now I am a red head.

And I survived that wave.

Today, my husband is on his way to the States to reunite with his family and support his Mom and pay honor to his grandfather. It was a virtual impossibility for all of us to go. A flight across the ocean is no small matter, and traveling with a pre-schooler, makes it an even bigger deal. So we send the dad of this clan with our prayers and hopes. And our well wishes for everyone in the family as they celebrate the life of our dear Grandpa.

I have my concerns about the week I am facing of single parenting. Usually in our lives, the children have reserved the moment of head injury, or stair tumbling, or emotional meltdown, to coincide with there only being one parent around to manage the crisis. I really hope we break with that pattern this week. Also, I love the company of the man I married, and find that when he travels I just don't sleep as well. In spite of the fact that no one is hogging the blanket.

Tomorrow I get the chance to meet a blogging friend in real life. In person. For the first time. Marloes is driving across the country to rescue me from reading boredom, and has promised she will arrive with boxes of books. I am really looking forward to the moment; to sharing a cup of coffee with her; and to chatting in person with a supportive new friend.

That should carry me through the next wave.

This is pure honesty here isn't it? And after all of this putting it out there, my brain buzz is quieter .

That feels good.