Wednesday, January 6, 2010

We Can Shake the Dawn Until the Sun Rises.

Warning:  Light reading ahead.  I will not reach into the bowels of the human spirit or prick the finger of Conscience.  All I care about today is the latest issue of my New Yorker, (Top of the Pops, Did Andy Warhol Change Everything?), my bangs and my brother's music.

All three were highlights of the otherwise typical no-job-just-yet-day for KayMills.  And I loved all three experiences.

Andy Warhol has always intrigued me.  At the National Gallery in DC this fall I had a little talk with the Campbell's Soup Can.  I flippn fell into Like with his Pop Art.  It's not quite love.  He draws me in then turns me off.  His work is genius but so convincingly simple.   I feel like either he's been cheated or we've been fooled.  And I can't place my finger on how that happened.  Andy, I am intrigued that your nickname was so well thought out, "Drella", after the two sides of your personality: Dracula and Cinderella.  Makes me want to know more about your Jekyl/Hyde-iness.  Really, read the article.  Good stuff.  

Bangs.  First, please know that my hair grows faster than a dozen dandelions in June*.  Anyway, the last month has been a treacherous war between my growing-too-l ong Fringe and my i-feel-like-I'm-being-stabbed-Eyes.  They disagreed horribly with each other and my poor very long forehead sat there, exposed and unsure what to do (this is why I had bangs in the first place)   I'd finally had it.  Off to the hairdresser for a cut and color.  And it was there, under the hot lamp in the comfy chair with my glass of wine and the latest issue of Us that I realized why the majority of women will dole out a serious sum for a great haircut:  It's the process, it makes you feel special and you always inevitably look like you could walk the runway with Heidi and Giselle.
Two hours later (yes, men, TWO) I loved the haircut and could not help but catch my reflection on my way to the car, on my way in to my favorite coffee shop, and as I backed into my driveway.  I felt like a million bucks.  I had to wonder, “There are a million women out there who’s day could be lifted by a simple haircut.  Women who maybe can’t afford it or who can’t find someone to babysit the kids for that long.”  I spoke with Lani about this.  I think there’s a great opportunity to offer haircuts to women in the area.  Local hair salons partnering with soup kitchens or working with non-profit groups (ie Dress for Success) to give them that little self-esteem boost in the form of some fabulously shiny, swingy healthy hair.  I may look into this.

*Sidebar:  I have terrible memories of Mary and I and our best friends on our hands and knees Saturday mornings pulling dandelions out "By the roots, girls! By the roots!" after sleepovers because we still had to take care of our weekend chores.  Lovely.

Bro’s Music.  Saving the best for last in today’s blog.   
Peter Miller is my incredible and gifted younger brother with ginger colored hair with an astronomically cool Martin guitar and a beautiful talent for songwriting.  He’s currently up in Stowe helping out his former employer, Fuse, with an event and sent along a song he’s been working on for a while, Daydreamin’, which he recorded up there with his friend, Will, from the band Barefoot Truth.  When I heard it for the first time I got chills and it made my entire morning/afternoon/evening.  He’s a mercury rising and I am so proud of him.

UPDATE:  I had a moment of panic:  I need Pete to approve my posting the song first.  Hold you're breath only if you were a free-diver in a past life.  Otherwise, check out old songs at petemillertime...until I get permish:)

Pop Art, Bangs and Bro.  It’s hard to tell what can make your day, daily.  And today, it was eclectic enough to warrant a post.  


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