A Series of Unfortunate Hair Decisions

A few months before my return to Texas, I was planning an ambush on my hair.

I have extremely straight hair, which resists existing in any other form. My stylist and I had been waging a war, trying to get it to hold even a hint of curl. We were running out of options, and still my tresses laughed in our faces.

I was really looking forward to the next 2 months, because it was going to be a whirlwind: a Maui trip, John and Amber visiting, a family wedding, a road trip with my sis, and then finally, another wedding of one of my favorite people from high school. Fun! With the high volume of pictures I was sure to be in, I wanted to look nice. What? Just because I regularly post pictures in which I haven't taken a shower in 2 days doesn't mean I'm not completely void of vanity.

So, one day as I was getting my bangs cut, I was flipping through a hair magazine and noticed that there was this treatment you could get that gave you nice, big curls. I brought it to Aya's attention.

'Oh, you mean a perm?'

Now, the world perm is pretty scary. I immediately conjured up images of frizzy side ponytails, neon colors, and leg warmers. That is not what I wanted. However, Aya assured me that they'd come a long way from the 80s, and we could do a test on a strip of my hair to see if it would take.

Why not? I had visions of myself meeting family with this fabulously curly mane of hair.

So, the test went well, and we made a date - May 2nd I went under the solution.

First, Aya thought it would be best to cut my hair much shorter, so the curls wouldn't be weighed down. I reluctantly agreed. It was all for a good cause, right?

It took for freaking ever. 3 1/2 hours. The things we do to look good.

When it was finally over, she turned me around in the chair to look at myself, and my eyes eagerly met....

A blast from the past. I felt the need to go out and buy leg warmers and listen to Michael Jackson. I love Aya, and she was so proud of herself, so I managed not to cry until I got to my house. Thank you Lord, David was not home yet. I couldn't tear myself away from the mirror, staring in some kind of fascinated horror. What was happening on my head?!

At the time, there was a song being played non-stop in Hawaii. I don't know what it's called, but whenever I turned on the radio I would hear, 'p-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face' which is about how long it took me to change the channel. Now, my brain had lovingly changed it to 'p-p-p-poodle head, p-p-poodle head', and put it on repeat. I was distraught. I could not be seen like this! So, in desperation, I jumped into the shower. Perms nowadays aren't supposed to wash out, but I was hoping for faulty technology. I scrubbed the crap out of my head.

Which, in the end, left me with 1/2 poodle, 1/2 straight. Random sections of my hair would be straight, and others would be trying to imitate a curl. It turned out to be really curly in the back, which was random.

I went back to Aya the next day, and she offered to re-perm my hair. I politely declined.

In the end, I had to spend 30 minutes each morning trying to get my hair to look exactly like it did before I paid someone lots of money to pour chemicals on my head. And it was much shorter than I preferred. You can't tell now, but I really wish I had the foresight to take a picture when it was first permed.

I think I am officially done with perms. I don't care what 'technological advances' are made.

You can keep your leg warmers.

English is Their Second Language

This is not my college experience.

That fact is thrown into sharp relief when after exams my classmates invite me out to go out, and I can't go because I need to go make dinner for my husband.

My college days will forever be at A&M, where I had girl roomie parties, went out dancing at The Hall, played pick up games of Ultimate frisbee, and generally was young and mildly stupid.

I am attending UNT this summer, and it's kind of crazy to be back in the student world. I walk through the library filled with students and truly realize that higher learning never sleeps - it's being forced upon unsuspecting students 24/7. It's an easy concept, but it was pretty simple to forget about this aspect of society once I'd been removed from it.

Although I'm so relieved to finally, FINALLY, be finishing my degree, I'm definitely having to dust off the saddle to get back on this horse.

I'm currently in the middle of the first summer semester, which is 5 weeks, and I'm taking French I and Calculus.

Calculus.

Oh, how I loathe thee.

It's no secret that I'm a Math Moron. I sucked at math back when I was taking it consecutively. Try to imagine my difficulties with Calculus 8 years after taking Pre-Cal.

I'll let you ponder that for a minute.

IT SUCKS.

I mean, it's ridiculous. Everyday, I study from 12 - 6:30 pm, which is how long it takes me to do the 25 problems assigned for homework. I spend about half that time in the math lab, where graduate students have to tutor us lesser, retarded students. I know them all by name, and their schedules. I like to go in after 3, which is when the long-haired old guy who hates me has already left. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm too stupid to breathe. At 6:30pm, I run to Calc class, which lasts until 8:45. That's a lot of calculus in one day. I get home at 11 pm, and I usually need to study for a few more hours before hitting the sack and doing it all over again at 6:30 am the next morning, which is when we need to get up to head over to work/school. (I have French from 9 am - Noon).

Actually, I eventually get all the calculus parts. It's the algebra and trig that have long since vacated my brain that screws me over. You'd be amazed how quickly Calculus degrades into these two things.

So, I have issues. This is not helped by the fact that my teacher didn't grow up speaking english. Actually, neither of my teachers did. Of course, that is kind of to be expected for a language teacher. Christophe is a very soft-spoken french guy. Half the girls in class have a crush on him, because when we have open sessions and we are supposed to be asking about the cultures of France vs America and his transition, they ask him things like 'who do you live with' and 'do you have a girlfriend'. Teenagers.

Tanjar Das (Math) is a completely different story. Before I say anything else, let me preface it with this: I like this guy. Honestly, if he wasn't so in love with math, we could be friends. He's a nice guy, and has a kind of self-deprecating humor that is funny.

But he sounds just like Arnold Schwarzenegger with an Indian accent. He knows it too. He is just kind of kooky in general. My math notes are covered with random things he says that makes me laugh. Here are some:

• The first day of class: ''I need more colors!" He kept muttering this to himself under his breath.



• The next day he showed up with a veritable bucket of colored chalk, and every day since then it's been: "I know, perhaps I should use more colors."



• On his handwriting/accent: "If you don't understand something I've written on the board, feel free to come and ask me, and I'll be glad to confuse you further."



• We're learning derivatives of functions, so his big thing is to replace f(x) with 'smileys'. We hear "Now take the derivative of smiley'' and ''divide smiley by the derivative of smiley'' several times a day. He actually draws it on the board in the equation. My notes look like they've taken Zantax.



• "Don't let your mind go there dirty." Someone was moving tables in the adjoining classroom, and it was a loud, banging sound.



• One day we were all looking stressed and lost, and he had this pearl of wisdom to pass on about why math isn't hard, just looks long and scary: "It's like Adam and Eve - all those kids? Looks complicated, but it's a simple concept."

Sure, these aren't knee-slappers or anything, but when you've been in math class for 2 hours and your brain is leaking out your ears, you take what you can get.

So that's my life these days: Mon - Thurs out of the house from 7:30 am- 10:30 pm, followed by more studying, and then passing out. Fri - Sun I try to catch up on some sleep, and in math. French is definitely getting the backseat. Actually, I am spending so much time with Calculus, it's starting to seep over into my everyday life. I was speaking with someone, and tried to make a joke about prayer sometimes being a function of desperation. They looked at me like I was crazy.

Although it's entirely possible that's because my formula made no sense whatsoever. I'm still getting the hang of this.

Do It Yourself - it's the Girl Scout Way. Probably. I Wouldn't Know.

Actual Cookies (Not actual size)

Look at that picture. You know you want one.

GIRL SCOUT COOKIES.

Sometimes, you get a craving and there is nary a girl scout in sight. So, you have to take things into your own hands.

I present to you - Homemade Samoas.

Overall review: Tasty, but not a replacement for the real thing. Also, they are a pain in the ass.

I apparently did not take any pictures of making these, probably because I wanted my camera to be free of carmel and chocolate. Delicious, yet messy.

Deconstructed Review if the process:

The cookie

The actual batter produced a light, crumbly, melt in your mouth cookie. However, shaping it into anything other than a ball is pretty difficult. Making it a uniform disk with a hole in the middle is darn near impossible. I was going through drawers and cabinets trying out anything vaguely circle-shaped to help me make the disk, and remove a small hole from it. In the end I was using a cookie cutter with one of my tips set in the middle, and had to hand-form EACH cookie this way by pressing the dough into my ghetto-fabulous mold, which I had placed directly on the baking sheet, because a transfer would be laughable. A sane person probably would have thrown in the towel and bought some Oreos, but I get inordinately determined when cooking is involved.

The Topping

First reaction - toasting coconut is the best-smelling thing on earth. Also, no one is going to notice if there are a few less carmels in the mix. Nom nom nom.

Second reaction - holy heck, it is like napalm. Seriously. The carmel, mixed with condensed milk and the coconut, produces a fast-hardening, boiling hot mass. As I was frantically wiping off tenacious bits sticking to my fingers, I was forcibly reminded of my encounters with hot glue guns. Getting that carmel onto those cookies is a trip. It easily took 2/3 of the total time to complete this step. Of course, 1/3 of that time as spent chasing David, trying to keep his fingers out of the carmel and away from the cookies. If he's this bad, I can't wait for his kids. I'm going to be like a mom ninja.

Anyway, the dipping/drizzling chocolate part was a relief. Dip. Drizzle. Repeat. No burning or breaking. I was too lazy to use an actual piping bag, so us home cooks just used a Ziploc bag with a corner snipped off. Easy cleanup.

In the end, you get these:

They are pretty impressive, if you don't reveal that they nearly killed you to make them. It was fun to have around, and David reported that they lasted a whole 2 1/2 minutes at his office. Always a good thing.

I think I will probably just stock up on Samoas the next time I'm confronted by a little girl in a green beret. But in case you want to attempt this yourself (they DO help the craving) here's the recipe. I recommend making 1 1/2 times the topping amount, or maybe even 2x as much. I felt that I had to skimp a bit to make sure all the cookies got covered.

Homemade Samoas

Cookies

1 cup butter, soft

1/2 cup sugar

2 cups all purpose flour

1/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

up to 2 tbsp milk

Preheat oven to 350F.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Mix in flour, baking powder and salt at a low speed, followed by the vanilla and milk, adding in the milk as needed to make the dough come together without being sticky (it’s possible you might not need to add milk at all). The dough should come together into a soft, not-too-sticky ball. Add in a bit of extra flour if your dough is very sticky. (They definitely have a theme here - 'Stickyness! It's the New Black!')

Roll the dough (working in two or three batches) out between pieces of wax paper to about 1/4-inch thickness (or slightly less) and use a 1 1/2-inch cookie cutter to make rounds. Place on a parchment lined baking sheet and use a knife, or the end of a wide straw, to cut a smaller center hole. Repeat with remaining dough. Alternatively, use scant tablespoons of dough and press into an even layer in a mini donut pan to form the rounds.

*Tiffy Note* Maybe I did something wrong here, but the second this dough met my rolling pin and wax paper, it clung on for dear life. Just find what works for you!*

Bake cookies for 10-12 minutes, until bottoms are lightly browned and cookies are set. If using a mini donut pan, bake for only about 10 minutes, until edges are light gold.Cool for a few minutes on the baking sheet then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Topping

3 cups shredded coconut (sweetened or unsweetened)

12-oz good-quality chewy caramels

1/4 tsp salt

3 tbsp milk

8 oz. dark or semisweet chocolate (Candy melts are even better, easy-wise)

Preheat oven to 300.

Spread coconut evenly on a parchment-lined baking sheet (preferably one with sides) and toast 20 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes, until coconut is golden. Cool on baking sheet, stirring occasionally. Set aside.

Unwrap the caramels and place in a large microwave-safe bowl with milk and salt. Cook on high for 3-4 minutes, stopping to stir a few times to help the caramel melt. When smooth, fold in toasted coconut with a spatula.Using the spatula or a small offset spatula, spread topping on cooled cookies, using about 2-3 tsp per cookie. Reheat caramel for a few seconds in the microwave if it gets too firm to work with.

While topping sets up, melt chocolate in a small bowl. Heat on high in the microwave in 45 second intervals, stirring thoroughly to prevent scorching. Dip the base of each cookie into the chocolate and place on a clean piece of parchment paper. Transfer all remaining chocolate (or melt a bit of additional chocolate, if necessary) into a piping bag or a Ziploc bag with the corner snipped off and drizzle finished cookies with chocolate.Let chocolate set completely before storing in an airtight container.

Makes about 3 1/2-4 dozen cookies.

Fairwell Hawaii, Hello Texas

So, we're back. It's freaking flat here.

When I first landed in Dallas, the first thing that stuck me was the sky. It was just...wrong. It seemed faded, washed out, and tired. A pale imitation of the real thing.

Since then, my perception somehow altered. The sky looks perfectly fine now, and I have no idea how it could possibly look any different. It's amazing how quickly you can adjust.

When I picked up David from the airport, on the drive home he turned to me with a bleak expression and said, ''there are only.... 3 shades of green here.''

We are still adjusting. I usually only have some desperately aggressive thoughts towards Texas in general when I am walking the 2 miles from the car to class, and it feels like I'm standing in an oven. Literally. The wind, as it blows in my face, is a perfect imitation of how it feels when I open an oven to check on my cakes. Except instead of a quick blast, outside I'm getting non-stop oven action. It's killing me.

Texas is beautiful, it's jut a different kind of beauty, and we have to go a little bit further outside the confines of Dallas to find it. I see lots of road trips in our future.

I do revel in the little joys of being back. Proximity to family and friends is of course, a given. But it's the little things that help the transition. Thus:

TOP 10 THINGS I DON'T MISS ABOUT HAWAII

1. Outlandish grocery store prices. I love shopping now. I may or may not have done a dance in the produce section the first time I shopped, which was repeated with more vigour shortly thereafter, in the checkout line.
2. The lack of those little levers on the gas pumps that let you walk off while your gas is pumping at the station. I don't know what the deal is, but no gas station in Hawaii has those little levers. Apparently, they have decided that Hawaiians can't handle that kind of responsibility. It's annoying.
   
3. The highway system in general. I freaking hate it. Texas Turnarounds are the best thing ever. I want to give them a big ol' hug.
4. Constantly having to eat at 'local' places with friends, which always involved mystery meat from some part of the animal I don't normally eat from.
   
5. Dry Cleaners. It was so expensive there, we couldn't afford to dry clean David's shirts. Whenever he got sent to California for work, he would take an extra suitcase over, stuffed with things we needed dry cleaned. This was a great system, until the one time I sent some pants and things over, and David forgot to pick them up. He wasn't going back to California for a least another month. Lovely.
6. Fake BBQ places. When we first got there, I was often fooled by places advertising 'BBQ'. What they really meant was 'Korean BBQ' which is possibly the last thing normal people would want to eat.
7. Spam. People were always trying to get me to eat Spam. Mainly Spam musubi, which is is fist-sized wad of rice with a slice of Spam on top, held together by a belt of seaweed. They could be found in any gas station in the state, right next to the necrotic hot dogs.
   
8. Homeless people constantly trying to make off with my shoes. There was a park right across the street from where I worked, and I like to go lay down in the shade and listen to the ocean some days while eating my lunch. Hawaiian grass is too nice for shoes, so I would take them off to fully enjoy myself. I quickly learned this was just asking for it.
9. Lack of A/C. Sure, it's really nice here. But occasionally we would have to lie around in the house, not moving, so we wouldn't immediately break out in a sweat. Just getting up for a glass of water would do it. All hail modern technology.
10. Being an outsider. It was really interesting to live there and be a minority, since it was such a different culture, but after a while, sometimes it was lonely not quite fitting in with most of the people around me.
    

Anyway, no place is perfect. I do miss the beach and the outdoors a lot more than I was expecting, which is kind of surprising, since some weekends I didn't want to go out of the house, but felt that I had to since we lived in Hawaii. Perhaps that is just because I do nothing but school here, and that would depress anyone.

We'll see.

Snow White

So, I spend basically all my waking hours on campus or in my car, so the only material I have is pretty boring.

Sucks for ya'll!

(I love being able to say that again, by the way)

Anyway, I am constantly being beleaguered by the wildlife on campus. Sure, 85% of said wildlife is made up of squirrels, but still.

One day I was eating lunch outside (before it became ridiculously hot) and a cute, inquisitive squirrel started to show interest in my lunch. Like many before me, I caved to the cuteness and shared a bit of apple.

Within 5 minutes, I have a veritable sea of birds and squirrels surrounding me, like some kind of riot squad. Squirrels were running up on the table, sitting on the book I was attempting to study, and demanding their fair share of what was rightfully mine. While I sat, feeling very conspicuous, I started noticing lots of people walking by in groups -new freshmen and their parents, touring the campus. Man of them began exclaiming things along the lines of 'Oh, look at all the squirrels!"and ''There are so many of them!" etc. I was drawing a crowd.

I felt like the Rodent Snow White. Squirrels and birds were covering every surface within 10 feet of me, jockeying for position. I quickly finished my lunch and ran indoors before they started crawling into my backpack. What if I accidentally carried a stowaway in to class? That seems like one of the things that would happen to me.

Several days later I was walking to class, when a squirrel that was 50 yards away suddenly sat straight up, zeroed in on me, and ran at me, stopping directly in my path. I stopped, stared at him, and he stared right back. He did a slow circle around me, gave me one last good stare, and then wandered off. I heard someone erupt into laughter, and looked up to see a couple looking at me and laughing.

The squirrels gave me a break for a week, probably to make me lower my guard so I wouldn't be ready for their assault. I was back outside, enjoying a food-like substance from Taco Bell, when out of nowhere, a pair of kamikaze squirrels ambushed my table. I scooped up the taco to protect it, and those little jerks grabbed both the crumpled wrapper and the plastic bag and ran right up a tree.

Dammit.

I couldn't just leave them to choke on the plastic, and I kind of felt like I was Littering Via Woodland Creature. So I had to stand under the tree, like an idiot, and watch them attempt to find any edible molecule on their precious haul. I would occasionally yell helpful things up at them like, ''It's not edible, you stupid idiots.'' I had to stand under them and wait for them to realize this little helpful fact themselves, and then I clambered up into the plant bed to fish their discards from the shrubbery. Of course, all of this to the sound of more laughter from entertained bystanders.

I'm eating inside from now on.