Last week, my BFF and I went shopping for a wig. Because even though I hate shopping, I was a little bit worried about how the children might react when I suddenly go bald. Also, how I might react. I mean, we all know my hair and I haven’t always been on the best of terms, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to sever all ties. Surely we could work out a mutually agreeable arrangement.
Anyway, I already have a few bandanas I got at Target for the really hot days when having no hair is an actual blessing. But not every occasion lends itself to a bandana. Like all of the fancy wine tastings I never go to. Also, events at exclusive country clubs I’m not a member of. Job interviews I don’t get. Prom invitations that never materialize. I need to be prepared.
So we went and I tried to keep an open mind, she who has never dyed her hair in her life nor changed her hairstyle in 15 years. The wig lady showed us lots of options. There were dark chocolate bobs and pixie-ish cuts the color of flax seed. There were sleek cascades of mahogany with cherry highlights, and mad tangles of curls in strawberry blonde. I thought I wanted a black blunt cut à la Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, but I wasn’t sure I would have the intensity to pull that off. I never win in staring contests. Especially not dancing, staring contests. And certainly not dancing, staring contests with murder lurking in the air.
Husband had put in a vote for the pink wig that Natalie Portman wore in Closer. I did try on the pink wig. I did, but there were about 100 reasons why that wasn’t going to work, starting with the pink color. If you ever want to look like death warmed over, put on a neon pink wig. Sorry, Natalie, but I don’t need any more help in that department, and, frankly, your luminousness is a long shot for anyone on a good day.
Believe it or not, trying on all those wigs was not depressing at all, and, in fact, was quite fun. Like I could just up and decide to be anybody I wanted. It made me fantasize about being a spy in a really, really non-dangerous type of situation. Like if my client, let’s call him Charlie, very badly needed to know what Jon Hamm of Mad Men orders when he goes out to eat. Then I would be your woman. I might be very interested in such an assignment, actually, which would be fine with Husband because he would be over at the bar courting January Jones, and whatever happens in the restaurant bathroom stays in the restaurant bathroom, no questions asked.
In the end, I couldn’t decide, so I got two: one short, cropped wig in my regular chestnut brown and one shoulder-length blonde one. Well, not blonde so much as straw-colored (but on me it looks BLONDE!). Does it look ridiculous? Kinda. But, guess what, I don’t care. I’ve always heard that blondes have more fun and now’s my chance to find out. Of course, there are probably more boobs involved in that equation normally. And less vomiting. But I’ve been wrong about stuff before.
So, this recipe goes out to all my blonde friends (and one particular red-head). We’ll compare notes later.
For maximum fun, make a pan of these and a pan of your favorite dark chocolate brownies and let your guests duke it out over which is better and why. That always gets the party started.
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2 cups brown sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. kosher salt
1 cup chocolate chips
½ cup butterscotch chips
1 cup chopped pecans
Sea salt for sprinkling
Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 9”x13” pan and line with parchment paper.
Cream butter and sugar with an electric mixer until smooth. Add eggs, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla and mix again. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking soda, and salt. Add dry ingredients and mix on low until just combined. Stir in chips and nuts. Spread in prepared pan and sprinkle top with a few pinches of sea salt. Bake for about 30 minutes, until top is golden brown and the middle yields slightly to gentle pressure.