Smokey the Magnificent

This week I gotta:

• Do my Bible study homework before Thursday
• Write two Suite articles every day
• Take my vitamins every day to stave off perishing
• Email editor re various writing thingies (attempting, incidentally, to wow her with the clarity of phrases such as “writing thingies”)
• Email hair care site guy
• Cut out more 5-inch squares for my patchwork skirt from the new fabric I got
• Work on the snortlepig’s pyjamas

Yawn. Too sleepy to write anything profound, so instead I offer you this:

They don’t make music videos like that any more, I’m fairly certain. Is it just me, or does one begin to expect the girls to start hefting machine-guns and gaily slaughtering at around 2:25 or so?

After revealing a few times on the Internet that I don’t use shampoo and conditioner, I occasionally get random emails asking what I do with my hair. Natural haircare is Coming Back In, whether for reasons of ecology, thrift, fear of deadly chemicals or just general hippieness. So for reference’s sake, here’s my basic spiel.

Natural haircare comes in many forms, and I’ve written a few Suite articles about various kinds.  Here they are:

Water-Only Hair Washing

Conditioner-Only Hair Washing

Different Kinds of Natural Haircare

Reasons to Use Natural Haircare Methods

Hair Feels Sticky After Water-Only Washing

Baking Soda and Vinegar Hair Washing

Gentle Hair Care Techniques

Does Brushing Damage Hair?

How to Prevent and Treat Split Ends

Mixing Henna to Dye Hair

Using a Boar Bristle Brush

Using Henna to Dye Hair

Facts and Myths About Henna

I’ve also written several about braids, one on traction alopecia, one on post-partum hair loss, a few on hair growth and length, a couple on Amish hairstyles… I have a Thing about hair. Obviously.

I came across natural haircare a couple of years ago on the Long Hair Community forums (a place I highly recommnd for all sorts of hair-related advice, long or otherwise).  I’d been using extremely expensive salon products after my wedding hairdresser browbeat me into buying them by lamenting the condition of my hair.  Not just shampoo and conditioner, but masques and leave-in treatments… the lot.  And not only was it not doing much for my hair, but it was costing the earth. Still, my main motivation to try water-only washing was the geeky experimental factor of it.  So I switched to WO without skipping a beat.

WO works better for some than others.  Some people find it makes their hair thicker (probably due to a reaction to SLS in hair products) - Helpdesk Man does, although I can’t say it did the same for me.  I found the regime fairly labour-intensive, as it involves a lot of grooming with a boar bristle brush; and if I neglected my hair for a few days it quickly went yicky.  As a result, after I had the snortlepig and barely had enough time to shower, let alone sit mermaid-style on a rock and finger-comb my hair, WO just became too much of a pain. I have sittable-on hair, which doesn’t help - long hair needs more brushing to spread the sebum from roots to tip.  Besides, I was getting sick of cold showers.

Having gotten used to not paying for shampoo and conditioner, I didn’t want to go back to regular products. So my current system is baking soda and vinegar washing - easy on the former, plenty of the latter.  It requires more frequent washes than WO (although still less than regular S&C), but the washing process is quicker and it cleans the hair more thoroughly, meaning it’s lower maintenance between washes.

Sadly, I don’t think I’ve yet arrived at the natural haircare nirvana of some of my long-haired friends, who have managed to concoct the perfect alchemy that keeps their hair bouncy, shiny, healthy and happy.  (Sometimes these alchemies are surprisingly complex, incidentally, and involve rotating several different products or washing techniques over a three-week period, combined with spritzes and moisture treatments. You know the law of the Internet: “No matter how into something you are, there’s always someone more into it than you?” Yup.) My hair isn’t as moisturised as it should be, and it tangles like a fiend. Which is almost entirely due to laziness on my part, as I know there are things my hair likes which I keep forgetting to do.

So last week, after an inspirational discussion with a friend who has nicer hair than me, I spent two nights with plastic bags over my head, soaking my hair first in henna paste and then in a mixture of yoghurt and honey.  My hair feels softer than it has for months.  Note to self: pay a bit of attention to your locks every once in a while, lest they flutter broken from your head like so much shredded wheat.

Bolder bloggers than I have no doubt given erudite and comprehensive reviews of the Star Trek film. I shall therefore in deference confine myself to the smallest of havers. Spoilers herein, kinda, I guess.

• They really need to do something about those Vulcan eyebrows. Merely shaving a triangle off the bottom outside corner doesn’t work - they need to have added extensions to make the brows extend past the corners of the eyes. Young Spock’s looked sort of truncated and fake.
• The woman who played Kirk’s mother, who turned out to be Cameron from House, looks eerily like Kirsten Dunst. Straighter teeth, though.  Not that I don’t like Kirsten Dunst’s teeth - a review once called her “snaggle-toothed”, which I thought was cruel. Pleasingly individual, I would say. Quirky. At any rate, Cameron did a decent job at childbirth. I wonder if she’s had a baby?
• What was up with casting Winona Ryder as Spock’s mother?? Not only did she not do anything, making the role hardly worthy of or (one would think) particularly tempting for a famous actress, but it seems a superb piece of miscasting to select an actress who a) requires age makeup and b) is well-known enough that said makeup just looks weird and wrong, because we know she’s not that old. Unless she really has aged horrifically in the last five years, which I doubt. Plus, her acting really wasn’t great. A nobody character actor would have served the part much better.
• The Spock/Uhura thing actually worked. Heh.
• As is far too common with Star Trek films, a stronger villain would have made a better film.  I mean, Captain Nero?  Really?
• Star Trek is also a title of momentously irritating proportions.  It’s Star Trek, but not Star Trek the series.  It’s Star Trek the movie, but not Star Trek: the Motion Picture, which is colloquially known as “the Star Trek movie”.  “The new Star Trek movie” will only work for so long.  Even a lame title like “Star Trek: Nemo’s Revenge” or “Star Trek: Return of the Reboot” would have been more functional.
• By and large, the in-jokes worked. The reference to Captain Archer and his beagle was great, as was the Uhura’s-mysterious-first-name running joke and the nod to the difficulty of remembering stardates. It would’ve been cool to hear a reference to redshirts, though! And I thought the Kobayashi Maru was slightly cooler in the retelling than the execution. Still, it’s nice to see that the writers had done their homework, both with the canon and the fanbase.
• Not sure about Bones. I’ve never been a fan of Karl Urban, and I didn’t think he fit into the character as seamlessly as, say, Scotty or Spock. He seemed to be forcing the mannerisms.  Sulu was OK but didn’t grab me unduly, Chekov was nothing like the “real” Chekov, but still engaging, and I liked Uhura.
• The set and costume design as a whole was a very nice cross between the retro TOS look and an updated, less cardboard-with-blinky-lights look.  Take Spock’s trousers, for instance - they hinted at the pegtop look but were ten times less hideous. And the skants gave a girlish Academy coed vibe that was vaguely appropriate given the youth of the crew (although what was with those sticky-up hairstyles??). I’m not au fait enough with ship design to give a considered opinion, but to my untutored eye Captain Nero’s ship was pretty cool.  “Like a giant space crocus”, as Helpdesk Man put it.
• I’m not sure a big budget does the aliens on Star Trek any favours.  Star Trek aliens are supposed to have natural physical limitations based on the number of possible permutations of people and latex ridges.  The odd blue Andorian or green Orion slave girl, sure; a wrinkly nose here, a funny ear there, a bit of bling or the odd flashing light or neck-tube.  That’s Star Trek.  On a really daring day, they hire an actor who’s shorter than average… and then put latex on him. The aliens in this movie, all dolled up with CGI eyes and funny heads, were a distraction - more reminiscent of the Star Wars prequels than Trek. Even though they generally only appeared for brief glimpses they were jarringly un-Trek-like - not to mention that they represented a far more diverse number of Federation species than seems likely given the time period.
• The “Space… the final frontier” speech at the end wasn’t as cool as it should have been.  The previous scene was neat; they should have left it there.  Usually I’m a sucker for that speech but this time it dampened the energy of the triumphant ending and didn’t make the cut to credits as upbeat as it should have.
• The film did have great entrances.  The first time Scotty and Bones were seen, especially.
• Also, even though it suspended disbelief a little timing-wise, the way they showed Kirk’s father hearing his newborn’s cry over the com for the first time was genuinely moving.  Nice to get some real emotion in Star Trek.
• Speaking of emotions, didn’t Leonard Nimoy seem just a little too free with his?  The joy of TOS is fighting for the payoff when Spock very occasionally lets slip his Vulcan facade.  Having him make sentimental utterances every ten seconds cheapened it. His acting’s improved, though.
• I’m of two minds about the more ridiculous, slapstick elements such as Kirk’s vaccine reaction.  It was funny, but way over the top.  I’m just not sure if that bugs me.  :p  Same for Scotty beaming into the water turbine.

I need to see it again, I think.  I enjoyed it thoroughly, but think I liked some of it because it was cool, not because it was good - you know? It might take a few more viewings to ruminate on.

Much of today was squandered on the manufacture of an obese pear.  Unfortunately, as neither Helpdesk Man nor myself is into photography, this was the best picture we could obtain of it.

Check out all its majesty!  I made it sans pattern after looking at a few tutorials online, and I’m thinking of making another once I’ve adjusted the template to be less squat and blunt and Neanderthal.  Still, it pleases me.  It pleased the piggy too - she discovered my cotton stuffing and made several very noble attempts to eat it.

Tonight Helpdesk Man and I are going with some friends to see the new Star Trek movie.  I don’t hold out great hopes for the film, but it will be nice to go out without the company of the snortlepig for a change - Mother very gallantly having agreed to babysit.  Gosh, I could even wear a non-breastfeeding-friendly top!  If I still have any, that is.  Will check dregs of wardrobe.  My, I’m daring.

Finally, let the record show that on this day the snortlepig uttered her first moderately English sentence.  It was also her first word, depending how you look at it: “There she is!”  As in, “Where’s Rowan?  There she is!”, which for some reason we say instead of “Peek-a-boo!”  Given that she’s learned to say it, of course, that’s probably a good thing.  “Peek-a-boo” is hard to work into a conversation unless you happen to be a psychotic serial killer; “There she is” has many useful applications, including answering the question “Where’s the psychotic serial killer?”, so there you go.  It’s parenting like mine that saves lives.

Today’s plan to arise early and work on my article was thwarted by a certain sleeping snortlepig, who decided that after all, the best way to sleep is nestled on one’s mother’s chest with a fist in her throat.  When I finally extricated myself I found that my desire to embroider a pincushion was stronger than my desire to write articles about cultural perceptions of sleep, so I fell back on my Aspie-housekeeping method of setting the timer for fifteen minute intervals and switching tasks.  This turned out to be a Good Thing, as the snortlepig was kept contented for some time following me from room to room.  The article took some heavy hacking at, but I eventually got it in at about 6PM,which for a freelance writer is darn punctual.  We’re a free-spirited, absinthe-quaffing lot.

As for today’s Challenge, I have pretty much done smeg all.  Does embroidering “roidery Darners Be” on a heart count?  No, I thought not.  Hmm.  It’s twenty past ten…  I know, I’ll go rip the masking tape off the floor in the living room.  It’s been bugging me for ages.

OK, here’s one.  Would you rather be mildly bitten by a smallish, largeish snake, or be sat on for a week by a particularly horrendous crocus?

If that seems like a bit of a no-brainer, bear in mind that in this context a crocus is not the benign lily-like object you expect.  I use the term to refer to insectoid beasties of malevolent disposition, including (but not limited to) daddy-long-legses, praying mantises, wetas and the like.  Roaches are not included in the category of crocus, and praying mantises are also colloquially known as Little Friends, so I can see how this might be confusing for you.  Suck a lozenge, it’ll come to you.

Helpdesk Man, incidentally, opted immediately for the smallish, largeish snake and I am inclined to agree with him.  I was surprised by his choice, however, given that he is usually unfazed by crocuses and only this morning terminated one of the large leaping kind on the bathroom mirror.  Our bathroom has been more than usually infested with crocuses of late, and twice in the last week, I kid you not, a crocus has tried to jump onto my head in the shower, missed its mark and gone wailing down the drain.  They’re bolder but dumber than crocuses of yore - question: is this an improvement?

For today’s making-the-home-less-repellent Challenge task I washed out some storage jars that had been sitting on the bench since the beginning of the Fourth Age, ie. conquering of Sauron.  Helpdesk Man refuses to wash them out on the grounds that his hands are too big to fit inside, which is a potentially useful piece of anti-theft intel if I ever wish to protect a batch of brownies; and I’ve been neglecting them for no particular reason except that they’re a pain to wash, having square corners that trap the gunk.  Now they’re clean and ready to be re-stocked with all manner of good and comely things.  If I had m’life over again, I wouldn’t have bought these particular jars: they’re pretty, but they were dashed expensive and for all that several of them were slightly bodgy.  The glass in the corners tends to be thin and cracks at the slightest provocation, and I’ve broken several, resulting in a waste of shredded coconut and some severe damage to my calm.

I have an 1800-word article due tomorrow, so naturally this afternoon I started making an embroidered patchwork heart to keep my needles in.  I think it will be quite fetching; perhaps I could send it to my editor as a peace-offering.

Today I did not one but two Challenge tasks.  I greased the hinge of the gate with WD-40 to prevent it squeaking; which turned out to be less mighty a task than I expected, as the stuff came in a spray can.  Emboldened by my success I cleaned the windowsill above the sink, which was besmirched with grime and foul to look upon.  It is now merely besmirched by flaking paint and moderately smeggy to look upon, which is an improvement.

Mum came over this evening and helped me work on my patchwork skirt.  We figured that it will be comprised of eight tiers of five-inch patches (the original was 10 tiers of four-inch patches, but I’m lazy): and that the top tier will contain nine squares, going through to 99 on tier eight.  We counted up my fabric squares, dividing them with much discussion into eight grades of colour and eliminating a few seditious shades that didn’t know where to fit.  Happily, it seems I have more than enough squares for the top five rows, and only need to buy more fabric for rows six through eight - or Coffee, Chocolate and Dark Chocolate, as we called them.  Rows one through five we named Cream, Shortbread, Scones, Biscuit and Milky Coffee, and it now occurs to me that I forgot to offer Mamma dessert.  Perhaps she was trying to tell me something?  At any rate it should only take a quick trip to Spotlight for dark browns and vast quantities of thread before I can start stitching.  Mum’s going to lend me her overlocker - a somewhat nerve-wracking proposition for the both of us.

In the meantime I’m stitching away by hand at my chevron quilt in a ploddy and uninspired fashion.  And as I’m sure my Gentle Readers came to this blog expecting inspiration and amazement (ahem), watch this instead:

This week my challenge is simple yet profound, clear, aromatic and peaty.  Every day, over and above my usual housekeeping and tidying, I am to do one thing that makes my house a little more pleasant to live in.

Cut out squares I did.  And how.  My table is now pleasingly full of five-inch morsels of brown, arranged more or less by colour gradient - which it turns out is a deceptively complex task requiring the courage and decision-making ability of the CEO of a weapons manufacturing plant, although not the moral ambiguity… I hope.  Is a tan square lighter or darker than a slightly darker tan square with slightly lighter flowers on it?  You tell me!  No, really.  This is the sort of thing which causes Aspies to gibber and run amok.

The party went well, thank you for asking.  I did have a kind of disturbing dream the following night about kicking one of the party guests in the head, but, well, I probably shouldn’t blog about that, now should I?  The snortlepig looked appropriately French and fetching in her beret and smock with a moustache drawn on with eyebrow pencil, and removing the palette tied to her wrist kept her pleasantly occupied for about half the party.

Oh, and while I’m updating, that dinner thing with my grandmother went pretty well too.  The only real tragedy of the evening was realising that my childhood atrociousness at Trivial Pursuit was due to dimness, not age.  I’m not keen on Trvial Pursuit… the questions seem to be geared towards *ahem* senior members of society, and far too many of them have to do with capital cities and Olympic medal winners.  Then again, our version probably came off the Ark - maybe the 2009 Trivial Pursuit is cozy and American Idol-related.  Not that that would help me…