Of no interest and no import

Is there some sort of connection between hair colour and food preference?

About a week and a half ago, I decided I was tired of being a redhead. General maintenance just became more effort than I could be bothered with, not to mention that all the touch ups were destroying my already thin hair (I mean, it’s fairly fine anyway, but Crazy Thyroid Time resulted in quite a lot of it falling out and it’s only started to grow back in the past couple of months).

So I bought a box of dye that approximates my actual hair colour without all the grey bits and applied it with the vow that, however it turned out (or looks once my roots come in), that’s it for a year on the colouring front, even if I go entirely silver.

… and if I do go entirely silver, I’m going to embrace it like Emmy Lou Harris, because LOOK.

But apparently I need a little ginger heat in my life, because since I did away with the ginger hair, I’ve been craving ginger food in the worst way. Ginger and lemon tea? Yes, please. Jamaican ginger cake? Another slice, please. The Whiskey Mac has become my tipple of choice except for when I just have a taste of straight green ginger wine. Yesterday, while hobbling around Dulwich (foot doctor day), there was a stand selling chutneys. Chutneys – and ginger curd. So ginger curd on toast was breakfast this morning. The German department at work kindly gave me a piece of Stollen on Friday, but if they’d offered lebkuchen I might have mugged them for the full bag. I love ginger so much at the moment that it’s ridiculous. 

When my hair wasn’t brown I was enjoying hummus in bigger quantities than usual, but I thought that had more to do with summer and salads or something. I’m wondering now, though. All theories on hair colour and flavours are welcome – except pregnancy. My cramps and hot water bottle promise that that’s not what’s causing it. Also, all ginger recipes welcome, if you know of anything.

I spent all week waking up in the morning and feeling as though it was the Friday morning of a long week (that even happened on Saturday), and this morning I woke up to a bit of necessary culling on Twitter (the Clutha Vaults tragedy and Paul Walker’s death showed me that I’ve been following a few people who are clearly fucking wankers who have no humanity and/or lack the self-control to leave it a reasonable amount of time before making shitty jokes about horrible events.) So apologies if this writing isn’t sunny and happy – I’m a bit internetted out today.

Despite the ongoing exhaustion (seriously, Christmas and a break cannot come fast enough), it’s been a fairly good week. Here – have some bullet points:

  • I didn’t win NaNoWriMo, but I do have the beginning of an actual honest-to-God novel to work on. I haven’t actually thought to myself, yet alone admitted out loud, that ‘I’m working on a novel’ in over a decade. For me, participating in nanowrimo is not the same as working on a novel (I’m not speaking for all nano’ers, here, obviously.)
  • I got some good news connected to some other writing stuff I applied for, but which I will not be mentioning again until roughly March next year.
  • I managed to get both a poem that I’m pleased with and a short story that I’m less pleased with sent off to the good people of Mslexia. (Wish me luck.)
  • I’ve started putting together spreadsheets of publications and competitions together (a sign of seriousness).
  • This morning I worked on a couple of highly derivative songs (one’s sort of a waltz, for heaven’s sake).
  • I’ve agreed to babysit my nephew on Christmas eve. Unsure of the wisdom of this, but I’m sure the basic auntie approach of filling him with sugar and then letting his parents deal with the aftermath will work just fine (I kid, G, I kid!)

Yeah, I threw you a non-writing bone at the end there. Don’t worry, people who are getting bored of me harping on about words: my enthusiasm will fade soon and I’ll be back on other subjects. I’m just still in the honeymoon phase of remembering how much I love all this stuff, combined with the mild high of remembering that I’m also not entirely bad at it.

All this while sniffling away with a cold and suffering from a slightly pulled stomach muscle after getting all over-enthusiastic with the New York City Ballet workout video.

Running continues sort of runningly, except for the way my nose is trying to do all the running for me.

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