Later Sunday afternoon

Maybe thirty seconds or so after leaving the house to go for a walk:

Mom: Your hair looks better down.
A.: Are you going to keep talking about my hair in fifteen-minute increments?
Mom: I'll continue to talk about you get the message.
A.: You do realize that I'll continue to put my hair up to get it out of my face, as needed?
Mom: Do what you want, but your hair looks better down. With your hair up, you look... "unappealing."

***
Did I ever post that somewhat meh piece from last weekend about finding one's wording in a foreign language? I've been thinking about that a lot this weekend--for some reason, more so than I have during other weekends with my parents. There really are things that are too much work to phrase, such that by the time you phrase them, they lose their impact. There's a single word in Russian for losing oneself in thought: задумаца. On our way back from our walk, mom stopped in the middle of the street--she's always done this, or at least I remember her doing it decades ago and thinking, "could you please finish crossing the street and then continue philosophizing, or remembering whatever you just remembered?" Mom stopped in the middle of the street just now and called upon dad and me to behold the rich colors that the setting sun was casting, by interaction with the colorful leaves. I said, "I'll look at them when you're on this side of the road. I hate it when you get lost in thought in the middle of the street."