Woody Cavenaugh

I realized sitting in a chair watching the world unfold around me yesterday that I am in a play called, "Life" its one show only and its really very funny.

Let me tell you about a scene.

When I got the call to come home, I was dressed for work, business casual, same as I ever dress.

I load up, get home, come inside give my mother a hug and my dad a hearty handshake and mom says to me, "You're not going down there like that are you?"

I'm wearing a t-shirt, with a button down shirt over top of it, slacks and black leather shoes. I'm looking down at myself and I'm thinking that all of my outfits look like this, so if it isn't going to work, I'm screwed. So I finally ask her, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" It wasn't asked defensively, it was asked in mild shock, I was truly curious.

"Your hair?"
"My hair?" I had styled my hair with product the way I do every morning. I looked in the mirror and it was truly perfect.
"Mother, what exactly is wrong with my hair."

"Its sticking up." And she reached up and tried to flatten it, the way mother's do by licking their hands and pressing down. You know exactly what I'm talking about. If you are a mom, you've done it too. Otherwise, you have certainly been a victim of mom spit, universal solvent and wrinkle remover.

So after some work in the bathroom, I was deemed passable and I haven't been able to put product in my hair since. Mom says I look fine, but I feel...unfinished.