Yes, Officer, I Know My Roots Are Showing (with Update)

I drive a mini-van. I'll just get that out in the open right now. I never thought I would, but I do, so there...I'm a mini-van mom. Just because my mini-van is currently sporting two booster seats and one toddler seat (Britax, in case you're curious) and the floor is lined with Eggo remnants left behind during our busy shuffle to school each morning, does NOT mean I can't still rock out to some great tunes when I'm all by myself.*

Take today, for instance. Journey came on the radio, and I just don't see how anyone can restrain themselves from turning the volume up a notch or two, rolling back the sunroof, and singing along tune by tune (on pitch, or not). While singing along and driving to make my 2pm meeting, I was vaguely reminiscing about some 1980's bus trip to Girl Scout Camp during which someone had loaded her boom box with 8 size-D Duracells and a Journey tape, volume knob turned all the way to high, and the entire bus-load of girls hitting those high-pitched notes.

Anyhoo, I passed a motorcyle cop, admittedly glanced down at my speedometer to double-check my speed (not that I'm a speeder...but, I do tend to view Speed Limits as minimums, not maximums), breathed a sigh of relief to see that I was actually doing the Speed Minimum, and then panicked when I saw his lights flash & his hand motioning for me to pull over. What the??

Turns out the tags on our license plates had expired back in December - oops. Just to be clear, I honestly don't recall getting the usual reminder notice from our Clerk & Recorder's office...I'm guessing it got lost in the mail. Obviously, I need to stop relying on our county government to tell me when to renew our plates, and should perhaps put it on my calendar each December: "15th: Amidst the crazy holiday shopping, cooking and gift-wrapping, try to remember to shell out $500+ to the government for new license plate tags. 16th: return all the purchases at Toys R US, the boys don't really need gifts this year, anyway."

After filling out the pertinent info on my "citation"**, the officer glanced once more at my driver's license (presumably confirming whether my license "stats" were still holding true), looked up at me, and asked "So, is your hair blonde, or brown?" I'll admit it's been a couple of months since my last highlight appointment*** and I have been meaning to call my colorist to (1) remind her who I am, and (2) see if she can squeeze me in before summer, but to have a cop (a man cop, mind you) point out the fact that it's difficult to tell which color I'm going for...that's worse than the $93 fine I have to pay.

I'll post photos of my new highlights next week.

* This isn't entirely true. Occassionally, I force my 3 year-old to jam out with me...but, in my defense, he rarely protests.

** Using this term makes me feel better than saying "ticket"

*** Also not entirely true. I remember I had worn capris & flip-flops to my last appointment, which means it may have actually been August(ish) the last time I went. Which makes that how long? Oh, nevermind.

UPDATE 4/28: I decided on "blonde" (although, not necessarily "polished". Remember, I only get 12.8 minutes in the morning to primp & preen). Lovin' my new, much more consistent look now...