"You're not REALLY shaving your head, right?"

Yes.  Yes, I am.

I've been known to do some weird things in my life. Maybe because I went to Europe when I was 18. Maybe cause I've always tried to get past fear, depression, or anxiety. That all changed when I read a post on my Up With People cast page. A Canadian friend posted that she's heard through the grapevine that another cast mate had found out very suddenly that her five year old daughter had a brain tumor.  It's hard to stay in touch with 170 of your closest friends from one of the most amazing years of your life, but I started paying attention. I watched every day for updates, and saw pictures of a beautiful, smiling little girl who was going through such a difficult time with such grace. I cried tears of joy on the day she finished treatment.

And I started thinking.

What can I do? What can I ever do to help someone so far away?

I do weird things for charity.  I created my own comedy show to benefit a cancer charity in Ft. Lauderdale. I jumped off a building for the same charity.  I had a member of the country club I work for come in and talk about an awesome event he participated in with the fire station where he worked.  The firemen shaved their heads. For kids. With cancer.

Sunday night I was sitting on my couch, pondering a next adventure. Would I jump off the building again? Would I plan another event? What could I do?

I made a quick decision and signed up before I could doubt myself.  I secretly have always wanted to experience the freedom of a shaved head. I kept eyes peeled in college for productions of Wit, as I love the show and thought I could be as badass as Emma Thompson with no hair. I registered. I posted on facebook. Added it to my website. And now, I'm blogging about it.

St. Baldricks donates 80% of all moneys raised to juvenile cancer research. 80%. Over 33 million dollars was donated last year alone. It is an amazing organization, and it deserves my support. And my bald head.

I'm nervous, but the support so far has been overwhelming. Yes, I am scared.  Yes, I'm nervous of how my bald head will look. I'm vain enough to worry that I will look like a bald chipmunk with giant, Disney-esque eyeballs and cheeks. But I know that it will be so worth it when I hold up a sign saying hello to Alex as I video my hair falling from my head to the whirring of an electric razor.

Living Single

This morning I woke to sunbeams shining on my face, caressing my cheek with their warmth as birds sang outside my window. I stretched luxuriously, grabbed Kevin's leash, headed down my new stairs and walked with my fuzzball for 40 minutes around a lake. There was a blue heron in flight as we turned the corner. Squirrels chattered at us as we passed. Neighbors said hello as we wandered. He pooped on our next door neighbors patio.  We arrived home, I got ready and arrived at work 10 minutes early. I made coffee for everyone. Then the day got weird, as our catering director got in a shouting match with a nasty member in the hallway outside my door. I gave her brownies. She also asked the mother of the bride at a wedding this past weekend if her daughter was pregnant.  She wasn't.  But I digress.

I'm not sure how, but my perspective has changed in the last few days.  The weekend was filled with stress, disappointment, and delight. Seeing my home come together...seeing Kevin get comfortable with an extra spring in his step from running up and down stairs...feeling my ass muscles hurting as I run up and down the stairs...it's wonderful.  I have cable. I have internet.  I have wireless. I have space.  I have the ability to sit around in my underpants.  I cooked the last two nights.  Not in the underpants. Grease spatter hurts.

I can't figure out how to turn this photo.

I've lived in apartments before.  But never one with this much character and space and potential. I have an office. A little nook where earlier I ordered Kevin's rabies tag while staring at Bruce Campbell's signature on an Army of Darkness poster I've owned since college.  It never seemed to fit. I never seemed to fit.

But I fit here, for now. I started paring down my life before this move, and I feel that the good times are about to start. I've gotten rid of the baggage. I bought new pillows today. PILLOWS. AND A WINE RACK. AND A BASKET. And I've never been more excited about a purchase. This place is me. The new me.  The happy me. The me that loves floral pillows that complement my poppy field poster hanging over my head. The me that loves wine.  And the me that is starting to love me, a little bit more every day.