Hair We Go Again!

I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at people's heads. I'll admit it, I have hair-envy. Yes, I do have hair but no, I don't have hair that people look at with envy. I was "blessed" with thin, wispy semi-wavy hair. I think it's from my mother but since she always wears a wig, I can't compare. How can I describe my hair? Think "cow licks" - a whole head of them. When I picture "wavy" I think about old time movie stars like Betty Gable and Rita Hayward. When I look in the mirror, I see that wavy means that each section of my hair is waving to people all around me.

In fact, my hair is so bad that I recently took a trip and when I went into one State Welcome center and told her I had my dog with me, she automatically assumed it was a service dog. Do they have service dogs for hair and make-up impaired? No matter how nice I get my hair to look at the beginning of the day (thanks to "product" overload) by lunch time, I look like I just pulled into the fast food drive-through madly pushing my shopping cart.

By the time I got home from my trip, I knew I had to do something. Most people would make an appointment with a stylist but I've done that before. It's hard to watch a stylist holding a tissue to her weeping eyes as she sprays enough hair spray on my head to allow me to go on a motorcycle without an additional helmet.

I was either going to cut my hair really short and let each little wave play whatever havoc it wanted to play as a 2 inch long strand - or I was going to give myself a perm. God must have rushed into high gear because for some reason I could not find my curling rods. Luckily, just after God's bedtime, I finally found them and started on the perm-fix.

I now look like Little Orphan Annie's old, slightly off Aunt, but at least I have a controlled head of tightly wound but somewhat angry waves. Now I have to find my hats.

Family Issues

Like most people, I have had some issues with my family. It's always "he said", "she said" and you can't really prove anything. But I was thinking about the Pear Family. You know how kids are always yelling "Mom, he hit me", or "Mom, he pinched me". Usually there are no marks to prove these statements so you have to go with your gut "You both go to your rooms!"

But in the Pear family, if a little pear tells the Momma Pear that his brother hit him, that bruise shows up immediately. Unless it is a self-destructive little pear, Momma Pear can be pretty clear about what happened to whom. I would hate to be in the Pear family.

Now the Banana Family can also tell if the siblings have been fighting but it usually takes about a day for the brown bruising to show up. "Momma, Chiquita pushed me against the tree." Momma says patiently, "Let's talk about it over breakfast but try not to bump into anything before then."

The Orange family can fight til their last breath and there is no sign of a disturbance - not a bruise in site. The siblings don't even bother screaming to their Mom because they know they will both be in trouble - just like in my family.

Maybe I should read a book while eating my fruit salad next time.

Halloween with Seymour

I'm starting to get the feeling that my relationship with my dog might be becoming obsessive. (I can just hear my friends say "becoming??) I was invited to a Halloween party and went as a newbie gardner who grew her first pumpkin. I was the gardner and guess who was the pumpkin? Luckily the party was outdoors and the host was gracious about me coming with my dog. Well, "gracious" might not be the right word. "Tolerated" the crazy lady with her costumed dog is probably more accurate. But overall, Seymour was a hit with the kids and seemed to fit right in - playing ball, eating from the buffet and sniffing private parts. OK, I only saw one kid doing that and I'm sure it was an accident. At least I didn't take him "trunk or treating" with the rest of the kids - although I would have enjoyed snatching a bit of chocolate from his bag.

I've already planned the next few Halloweens with Seymour:
A taco and a chef
A skunk and a flower
A dog and a fire hydrant (with me as the dog, of course)

Now I just have to find a Halloween party I can go to that hasn't heard of that crazy lady with her dog-son.