After a little more than a week of suffering with an extremely awkward and frumpy haircut, I was ready to throw in the towel with regard to growing it out. The process is generally not so pretty, but why start with not-so-pretty at the gate.

I thought a quick consultation at the MAC counter would revive me, but no luck. Bad hair puts me in a bad funk.

There are times in life when you have to cut your losses and move on. Inspired by Beverly and guided by Amy (Ravelry link), that is precisely what I did. More than two years after giving me a winner cut and loser highlights, I walked into a salon, and I rediscovered a good stylist.

It was another glorious weekend in Dutchess County. Even though the leaves were a little less spectacular than they were last week, and even though I did not trek to the New York Sheep & Wool Festival, I did have a lovely weekend.

The festivities began Friday when a package arrived from one my favorite people, Tanya. Tanya sent a unspeakably soft hat that I want to snuggle until late May. In addition to the softest hat on the planet, Tanya included five balls of Muench Touch Me in Celery, which is slated for Lisa Daniel's Vintage Velvet Scarf from Scarf Style (lower left photo).

Joe and I attended the Beacon Pumpkin Festival Sunday, and it was a good deal of fun. We did not buy or carve a pumpkin, but we did buy chard and other vegetables from Stony Kill Farm.

The hat is more attractive in person than the photograph above would lead you to believe. Actually, I am more attractive in person than that photograph would lead you to believe. Tanya is calling this the Lightbulb Hat, and when it is not stretched out by my egg, you can clearly see why.

I refuse to belabor the point of how horrifically difficult it is to find someone who can consistently deliver the goods on a haircut. For approximately one year, I have been attempting to grow my hair to look like this (left).

I tend to favor a classic bob with a twist, as it can be simultaneously retro and modern. However, this seems to be the Sasquatch of hairstyles. A bob can flip from sassy to frumpy in a snip of the scissor. Too often I have looked more Hilary Clinton or Marilyn Quayle when I was aiming for Louise Brooks or Mary Pickford.

As if the awkwardness of the growing-out phase were not enough, nearly every haircut in the past year has resulted in the appearance of short, choppy layers where there once was smooth, longer hair. It has occurred to me that the best plan of attack maybe to cut it short and begin again. The Sartorialist's is not help in debunking this with his insistence on posting photos of this woman.

All photos courtesy of The Sartorialist.

The weekend is approaching, and there are so many events happening this time of the year that it is impossible not to start dreaming about the weekend by Wednesday. One heralded event is the New York State Sheep & Wool Festival, aka Rhinebeck.

Last year, I skipped Rhinebeck to attend to a friend having surgery. This horrifies me because the project I was working on (Beryl) is still languishing in a bag. I only need to seam the damned set-in sleeves!

As for trekking to Rhinebeck this year, I am still undecided. Joe has a work outing Saturday, and there is the Beacon Pumpkin Festival. I visited Beacon twice this month, so why break the trend?

Should I become a rapper, burlesque queen, or pop icon, this is a potential stage name.

While so many complain that living elsewhere in the U.S. would rob them of the seasons, there is only one season I would loathe to miss, and that is Autumn. New colors and textures are revealed daily, and it is magical.

Our weekend was a wonderful mix of time in town and time in nature. After a delicious lunch at Homespun Foods, we chanced upon an open house at the Shambhala Yoga Center in Beacon where I got my first mehndi tattoo. At my request, the artist improvised the design. The design is lovely. Getting the tattoo before hiking Mt. Beacon was not so smart.

While attempting a hike post-henna tattoo is not entirely wise, the hike would have been a failure regardless. Due to my lack of conditioning, and I was unable to venture much beyond the base of the northern peak trail. The ascent is steeeeep. The hike is a mere one mile from trail base -- minus vertigo-inducing access stairs (see photo left) -- but that one mile is a 1,531-foot ascent!

As I struggled up and then down (my fear of heights is triggered more during a decent or when looking down), a young woman in running shoes zipped by without a slip or slide. Joe needs a different girlfriend; my idea of adventure is finding an intact and inexpensive 1920s cloche.

Sunday was a better day with lunch by the Hudson River at Lake Taghkanic State Park. After lunch, we drove further north to Schodack Island State Park. From there, we went to Grafton Lakes State Park and did a 2.5 mile hike around one of the lakes. From there, we drove south to Olana in hopes of catching a sunset. We just missed it, but the light was still shining from from behind the mountains.

Evidence that Joe loves me even when I am a super-crankypants.
Yes, that is a scientific calculator.

Recently a college friend contacted me in need of a "day in the country". Actually, "recently" was September 2007. We tried this September, but the month was gone before plans were set.

Finally, plans were were made, and we settled on meeting in Beacon, New York. While Beacon may not consider itself to be very country, it is smaller and less frenetic than any section of any borough of New York City.

Matteawan Railroad Depot 1930
We strolled up Main Street to the area that was once the The Village of Matteawan (which later joined with the Village of Fishkill Landing to form the City of Beacon) is now known as Upper Main Street.

At Upper Main Street, Fishkill Creek is flanked by abandoned mills and the abandoned track of the Matteawan Freight Line. The Mattawan Station Depot has been converted to offices and shops. As much as I fear trying a new hair stylist outside of NYC, I might try the shop in the old depot -- just for the sake of visiting a piece of history.

We sat along the banks of Fishkill Creek listening to the waterfall and talking about life. The sound of rushing water is so comforting, and it was that moment that I realize how difficult it would be for me to return to living in the chaos and the crush of New York City again.

Unwise Decision

The knitters in my life have walked the fine line between ignoring me and badgering me about my extended knitting hiatus.

Projects have tempted me, but it seemed that the "right" yarn for a project never presented itself. If the gauge was right, the color was wrong. If the color was right, then the fabric or hand of the yarn would be completely wrong for the project.

After a string of failed knitting projects, I knew I had to get it all just so in order to guarantee a success project, otherwise, I could imagine myself bitterly walking away from knitting. Pressure. Pressure.

One thing was certain, knitting a garment was not the ideal "back in the saddle project". Something small and pretty -- a certain success -- was needed to win me back into the avid knitting fold. A scarf or wrap seemed the perfect option, and I settled on the Alpaca Silky Lace Tube Scarf from Classic Elite Alpaca Stories.

I cast on Thursday night, and I lacked the focus to work the lace segment, so I cast on for the stockinette segments. While proctoring the LSAT exam this morning, I decided to fiddle with the lace segment. I can say without hesitation that having spent the better part of the day repeatedly casting on and ripping out has me *this* close to selling anything in the house that is remotely related to knitting.