The blueberries always help.

So far the highlights of my morning have been removing a tick off of my basset hound Esther, rereading the story of David and Goliath and perusing an insert I found in the Washington Post.  Really, I was just looking for the grocery sales papers, but I got distracted.  (More on my frugal living later.)

Perusing the Washington Post isn’t a normal morning ritual for me.  On Wednesdays, however, I tend to make an exception to all the morning ritual rules.  You see, Wednesdays are the days that I recover from Tuesdays.  While the rest of the world laments the woes of a Monday, I start my work week on Tuesday.  Not only do I start my work week on Tuesday, I usually stand for a solid 12 hours.  Mentally, I absolutely love those 12 hours.  Physically, my body wonders how on earth I ever agreed to this. 

I’m a hair stylist.  I don’t normally refer to myself as a hairdresser, and certainly not a barber.  And while I am an American Board Certified Haircolorist, I just stick with plain ol’ ‘hair stylist.’  (Except every now and then, just for kicks, I like to sound fancy and throw people off by telling them I’m a cosmetologist… which I am, technically, but who really refers to anyone as that anymore?)

There’s never a dull moment in the world of hair styling.  No two days are the same.  No two clients are the same.  And very few people speak the same language when it comes to hair.  One person’s “long layers” means lots of layers from top to bottom, while another person’s “long layers” means no layers except the few along the bottom.  It’s like cracking a code.  And I love to win.

So don’t get me wrong.  I’m not recovering from not enjoying a 12 hour Tuesday.  I certainly did enjoy it.  I even got to use the bathroom (more on my jam packed schedule later)!  I’m simply recovering from standing and stooping and bending for 12 hours on Tuesday.  And once I got home, wouldn’t you know my husband Brian made breakfast for dinner!  *sigh*  He even put fresh blueberries IN the pancakes.  (More on how and why I love my husband later.)  And once I finished, I headed into the living room to plug in my new-got-it-on-clearance-from-a-Tuesday-Morning foot massager.  Except this time I didn’t use it for my feet.  Testing just how useful this new device can be, I carefully stretched across the floor and situated the foot massager under my lower back.  And while it took a few tries to figure out how not to accidentally turn it off and on with my rear, at last success.  A good Tuesday.

Did I mention this is my first blog?