Things I've daydreamed about this afternoon: 1. Frittering away time and money on ancestry.com.
A lifetime ago I browsed around the website as far as I could for free, after catching the last part of that show where celebrities try to figure out "where they came from." Now they keep sending me emails - enticing me with phrases like "new Civil War era records," "reconstructed census records," and "new Irish records; discover your true Irish roots." I delete the emails immediately, but can't bring myself to unsubscribe...
2. Owning a Borzoi.
Then I remember that I don't ever want to own an animal that I have to potty train. Or one that can't stay home alone. Or one that smells like dog. Or one that requires any amount of exercise. Or one that costs any amount of money. So that pretty much eliminates these beauties on all counts. What a shame, though. Because I'm smitten. My alter-ego really really wants one.
3. A brave haircut.
When the black crater of burnt flesh on my head finally heals (BLINDSIDED you with that one, didn't I?), I'm making an appointment at a salon to get these locks hacked off. Shorter than they've been since my own toddlerhood. There is no talking me out of it. Unless you show me pictures of myself circa 2004, when I was the victim of the worst haircut in the history of haircuts in America. Then I might reconsider. It was so bad that I demanded my money back. So bad that I cried the whole way home. So bad that my own sweet, compassionate mother had no words of consolation; she could only stare. The heinous highlighting job made me look like Mr. Mint from Candyland.
But that's another story for another day.
I think it's good that I'll have another infant to care for when Madeline goes to school full-time. Or else I might become this "other" Kate who spends her afternoons compiling family records and jogging with her borzoi, Mr. Mint hair blowing gently in the breeze.
Back to reality...