Lemme get this straight.

She can control two dummies/puppets/whatever-you-call-them, remain utterly poised, rock a one-shoulder sequin jumpsuit and yodel without moving her mouth?

Somebody needs to give that girl a crown.

You know how sometimes characters in movies will decide that they want to pursue something with their whole heart? So they’ll resolve to be the very best gymnast or lawyer or inventor or football player that the world has ever seen? And then the audience will see a minute-long montage of their progress, starting with the first grueling days of training, then cutting to a point where they become pretty competent but are still easily frustrated, then cutting to a moment where they’re gaining some confidence (complete with a slow grin that lets the audience know YES! I’M DOING THIS!), then cutting to a moment where they realize HEY! I AM TOTALLY A CONTENDER NOW! I MADE IT!, then cutting to a scene where they’re waiting in the wings for the big gymnastics meet / mock trial / robotics contest / National Championship game?

You know how they do that in movies?

Well, I would really like to see one of those montages for a singing ventriloquist who’s preparing for the Miss America pageant.

The end.

That’s THREE BATONS.

THREE.

And the way she picks up the second and third batons is absolutely seamless. Inspiring, really.

If they’d been on fire, I probably would’ve leapt to my feet in a fit of uncontrollable weeping.

Well played, Miss Iowa.

Before I address anything else going on in the here and now, I feel like I need to get this tidbit-o-information out of the way:

I am currently in the middle of a profound hair crisis.

I know that’s a tough piece of news to process, but there’s no point in pretending that I am walking in any sort of hair victory when the reality is that I’m feeling somewhat defeated and discouraged, especially when it comes to the two-inch expanse of roots on the top of my head. Part of the problem is the inevitable post-Ecuador wrestling with OH SWEET MERCY IT IS KIND OF EXPENSIVE TO MAINTAIN HIGHLIGHTS; the other part of the problem is that I’m pretty sure that I want to change salons. I love the woman who has been doing my hair for the last year, but the salon environment is super upbeat, and I have realized that it stresses me out a little bit.

(It stresses me out a lot, actually.)

(I blame my need for a super-relaxing salon on Nello. Nello cut my hair when we lived in Baton Rouge, and his preferred haircutting method was to cut approximately two strands at a time. After about five minutes of the two-strand method I would be like a wet noodle, as evidenced by the fact that I would frequently doze off in his chair. Plus, he would pause at certain points in the haircutting process to speak in soothing tones and rub my temples with a rosemary mint concoction, which basically means that he spoiled me for life.)

(The Hair Wizard also spoiled me with her perfect cuts and inspired color, but I can’t justify driving to Mississippi every single time I need a haircut. However, if you live anywhere in east Mississippi / west Alabama, email me and I’ll pass along the Hair Wizard’s name and number. She will change your life forever.)

(That was a lot of parentheses.)

(This is a story with a lot of sidenotes, apparently.)

SO. I’m going to try a change-o-salon for my next haircut. Hopefully it’ll help me snap out of my hair funk. And I will keep you posted as I forget what it behind and press on to what is ahead in my hair goals for 2012.

Thank you, Lord.

The hair stuff isn’t all that’s going on around here, though. OH NO MA’AM. In fact, there was a mighty fun and exciting development in our lives late yesterday afternoon around 5:30. The little man (who, by the way, isn’t so little anymore considering that he’s only about 6 inches shorter than I am and seems to be on track for being 7 feet tall by the time he’s 12) and I ran a quick errand to drop off something at a friend’s house, and despite the fact that all of Birmingham was trying to get home to watch the National Championship game, we didn’t have any trouble with traffic.

However, there was a slight hiccup with my driving skillz when I thought that I was in the correct lane to turn left, only to realize that OOPS! LANE ENDS!, so I had to plow through a small-ish stretch of weeds in order not to hit the car to my right. Alex piped up from the backseat and wanted to know WHY ARE WE DRIVING THROUGH THE GRASS, MAMA, at which point I calmly explained that I’d gotten my lanes mixed up and decided that a little off-roading was preferable to being involved in an unfortunate six car pile-up.

Parenting is loaded with teachable moments, my friends. And sometimes those teachable moments occur when you are quite literally in the weeds.

As we were leaving our friends’ subdivision, I took a look at all the headlights on the road in front of us and reminded myself to pay extra close attention since 1) it was dark 2) I was about to turn onto a road without streetlights and 3) NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP GAME CRAZINESS. I drove a couple of miles all eagle-eyed and Defensive Drivers Unite!, so when I turned onto the main stretch of highway that leads back to our house, I exhaled a little bit. Granted, there was tons of traffic, but it was a straight shot to the house. Smooth sailing ahead.

Until a very large deer showed up in front of my car, of course.

It happened so fast that I didn’t even have time to react. I was just driving along, then BIG DEER! BIG BOOM! – and a very loud OH! MY! GOSH! from me. I didn’t hit the brakes because somehow I had the presence of mind to know that if I tried to stop or slow down the car behind me would slam into us, so I kept moving up the road and then pulled over at the next parking lot. I was just as shaky and jittery as you might imagine, what with BIG DEER! BIG BOOM! seemingly showing up out of nowhere, not to mention that it was a small wonder that we didn’t cause a major accident on that busy road. I called my husband and told him what happened, then got out of my car to survey the damage. Thankfully it wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounded. I’m going to need a new bumper – which, ironically, we replaced about five years ago when I had my first run-in with a deer – but unlike that first time, the hood of my car is fine.

Judging by the dent on the right side of my bumper, though, I’m thinking that the deer’s hind quarters didn’t fare so well.

I have to say, though, that if there was a bright spot in the whole unfortunate incident, it was Alex’s reaction. He was totally silent until we were a couple of hundred yards past the spot where I hit the deer, and then he very calmly offered his assessment of the situation: “Well. That was unexpected.”

Yes. Yes it was, Papaw. And I’m betting that the deer would probably agree.

So, to sum up: my hair is in a sad state, I drove through weeds, I hit a deer, and clearly I have no business operating a moving vehicle.

Happy Tuesday, y’all.