March certainly whirled by, didn’t it?

Last week was my long-awaited trip to San Diego. It was my first-ever trip there and I’m in love. The view from my hotel room was unbeatable — straight across the water to Coronado Island. It was late in the week before I discovered that it was, in fact, the island but hey, a country girl can get dazzled and discombobulated by all of that ocean blue.

My Texas bestie Dawn has a big job that allows her to work from anywhere, so she met me in Socal. Dawn’s been to San Diego many times, so she acted as my tour guide. We both worked during the day, then we met up for drinks and dinner and donuts after 6 p.m. each night.

I’m serious about the donuts.

There was so much buzz about San Diego’s Donut Bar, we had to experience it for ourselves. The joint serves donuts and craft beers. We could resist the beer, but not the sugar high. The sprinkle donuts were normal size. The others were about the size of your head. Dawn and I shared our choices and didn’t even finish the box (that made it “healthy”, since we didn’t finish, don’t you agree?) The sugar bombs were light and flavorful (candied bacon long-john anyone?). Definitely worth the walk (ahem — twice).

We found some other great drinks and food elsewhere in and around the beach. We ate ramen and sushi, roasted octopus and curry dishes. It was food heaven for a girl who lives with two chicken tender/pizza/hamburger/and when they get crazy– spaghetti-eating family members. My taste-buds were shimmying with happiness and gratitude, and not just because of the adult beverages we were able to procure.

Sadly, we did not have time to find the local quilt shop. Unfortunately, we got a little side-tracked.

You see, part of my personal March Madness had to do with my hair. I’ve been working on going back to a natural color (bring on the gray) with a local stylist here at home. For some unknown reason we decided that bleaching all the color off of my head was the best way to do this (and right before a big trip, don’t you know). In case you’re thinking “what the heck were you thinking?”, you would be correct, it was not a good idea.

Dawn observed that I looked a tad green with my new ‘do. She gently suggested that the mistake was fixable (“and right away, because I can’t stand to look at you, my little green friend”). How lucky am I to have such a good friend in my life — you know, the kind of friend who feels comfortable speaking truths in the kindest of ways. The freaky, brassy, strangely green shadow-casting, bleach blonde thing was not a good look for me– yes me–the once militantly proud brunette who never, ever dreamed of sporting amber waves.

From a sociology standpoint (when I wasn’t in all out panic mode, followed by catatonic depression), I found my predicament an interesting example of human nature and friendship boundaries: less good friends and random co-workers preferred to avoid eye contact and pretend that everything was normal. My true and long-time friends, and a few acquaintances who are truth-tellers, met my new state head on (so to speak), often with a “WTH have you done now” exclamation. It was kind of fun to watch! I think this is how you can sort out your real tribe from the pretenders.

Thankfully, not only did Dawn speak the truth, she took the initiative to find me a master colorist in San Diego for a Saturday appointment. He was extra patient and kind and skilled — the fact that he reminded me so much of an ex-boyfriend was just a bonus. I’ll share my shame with you now below, because we’re friends.

Never coloring my hair again!

With this little episode behind me and fond thoughts of returning to San Diego sometime soon swirling through my now appropriately colored head, on to spring we go, leaving March to circle the drain along with that hideous dye job. (Love you Dawn!)

My sewing machine is back from repairs and I’m itching to finish a few projects. And it’s time to decorate the house for Easter. I’ve got a bit of a head start. The original chick artwork is by my cousin Jeanne LaCasse. The chalkboard art is all mine. Can you tell we’re related?