I have a tendency to worry about things far in advance. For instance, when I was 12, I began to worry about leaving for college.

Though recently, I've been very good about taking life one day at a time because if I didn't life would be a little much to handle right now and I'd be worrying too much about next year, last night I jumped far into the future with a new worry. I was out for dinner with my mom and began worrying about my hair. I've always had very fine hair. When I was a little girl, people were surprised to hear my mom say that, because something about the color and the cut made it look very thick. Then when I hit my teen years, it was kind of hard to hide how very thin it was. The light would hit my part in a way so you could see what I called "my bald spot." But, really, it isn't just one spot. I just have truly thin hair.

I choose who cuts my hair based on how sensitive they are about discussing how fine it is, because I'm very sensitive about it. Some hairstylists have been very blunt and exclaimed, "OH my!! I have never seen hair so thin!! This is going to be something to work with. How do you deal!??" So I nixed them. But I do want someone who will acknowledge it so they will at least cut my hair according to its texture, so I've nixed those who didn't say anything when I mentioned it and, therefore, didn't even cut it with the fine texture in mind.

Anyway, so I was talking to my mom about how it does come out in chunks sometimes (right now due to an epilepsy medication) and how I worry about what I'll do when I'm in my 60s, if it just falls and falls and falls until it looks ridiculous and I have more baldness than hair. This problem does run on one side of my family. We discussed extensions, but I imagined trying to put extensions into the 20 hairs left in my head and how that just wouldn't work. Then, finally, we found my solution.

A very nicely made wig.

A weight was truly lifted off my chest. When I hit my llate 60s and you can really see my scalp, I'm heading to the nearest fine wig store and buy an expensive wig that looks real and will keep me young.

I'm so glad I've got that settled right now.

(don't) Let it snow

How is it that I was born and raised in Iowa, I have never lived in any other state, the furthest I've lived from my hometown is a three hour drive, and I absolutely hate snow. Really, I just despise winter. The years come and go, and every year, I act like it's new and unexpected that it is going to be freezing, it is going to snow/freezing rain/ice/mixture of it all, and I'm going to be displeased with it all. I act like I don't know it's coming, even though I spend the rest of the year being so happy it isn't winter.

But I was born here. It's not like I know a whole winter without awful temperatures and terrible weather. I realize it happens in other places. I've spent a Christmas in an outdoor pool staring gleefully at palm trees while fellow Iowans told me they couldn't possibly imagine Christmas feeling right without snow. But it felt more like Christmas to me because the gift was that there was no snow, you see.

I've tried to blame my yearning for yearlong perfect weather on genetics. Could it be that because my dad was born on the equator that I just am destined to grumble, mumble, and stomp my feet at this snow and ice and subzero temperatures? That must be it.

Other people are all, "Oh, yeah, I don't like this weather. I hate driving in it and it's so cold. But, you know, ya gotta appreciate the four seasons!" And then I'm all in their face and say, "BUT NO! It could be BETTER! I hate this!! Places exist where it is 70 degrees ALL THE TIME! GENETICALLY, I crave it!! Why do I stay here and suffer so?? My genes say no! *pant pant*"

But I know why I stay here. Because my family is nearby and nothing is more important to me than family. My best friends are a hop and a skip away. Winter is different every year... sometimes it might only last from January through March and sometimes it can last from October through the very beginning of April, so I always have the hope that it will be one of those Two Month Winters. And finally... because hot lattes and macchiatos don't taste right in any other weather.