and no ‘poo

Oh, before I write something else, I want to wish my parents a happy 53rd anniversary. (!) Their big day took place in downtown Eugene, in a church with a dome, back when women wore hats and gloves and everyone looked cute in black and white.

Mom and Dad celebrated their 23rd wedding anniversary the day before Tim and I tied the knot, in Tacoma, in a church with an English style chapel, back when people were recovering from disco and in between Stars Wars, A New Hope and Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back.

Life’s interesting. Technology surged forward last century, all of us caught in its tractor beam. The universe whipped by. We landed here, where foods come in pouches and people stare at their palms to socialize and we’re chemically sanitized each morning.

I’m not complaining, really. The choice to opt out of techno-experience still exists. Though my usual routine is to continue sampling gadgets and programs and Trader Joe’s tasties, sometimes, in spite of myself, I take a different path.

I don’t, for example, receive texts from anyone. I don’t think my cellphone has that capability. (Tim bought it for my birthday, um, possibly not long after the disco era’s demise.)

Last summer I stopped eating gluten. Not my plan at all, but after a glorious night of food poisoning, I decided to try recovering via my daughter’s new food regimen. My digestive system loved me for it.

Most recently, as in this past week, I started trying a shampoo-free lifestyle. This I also had not planned, though I’ve been intrigued by Marianne’s posts about using baking soda and apple cider vinegar on the hair. I’ve always had strong allergies to some hair products. The “sensitive” products cost quite a bit, and I buy mine at the mall. But they ran out of my “sensitive” product at the mall and don’t know when more will come in, so one recent morning I did the salad treatment to my head. It felt, I kid you not, really good. The hair’s soft. No scent lingers. Most importantly, no itching happens.

So far, I’m still using one product, a dab of mousse on my stubborn, kinky bangs. But that sounds like nature, anyway, right? Bulwinkle, anyone?

I’ll let you know when I stop showering and move into the back yard with my snakes, so you can give me a wide(r) berth.

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