I’d Rather Have it Red Like Wendy’s than Wilma Flintstone’s Color

         The other day I went to the hair salon to get my hair cut and colored.  I had  made an appointment for 8:00 but had forgotten I had made it for that time and did not show up until 9:00.  I think the stylist was mad – which she had reason to be.  I was upset with myself – and here I’ve been taking this Prevagen (which by the way does not seem to be working; at two dollars a pill, I would think my mind would have cleared that first day). 

        She said she’d color my hair and reset the appointment for my haircut.  But it was the cut I needed more than the coloring. I had purchased only one bottle of hair coloring and was willing to try it by myself – but with less hair.  She agreed to cut me and commented on the thickness and length of my hair.  She then read the directions of the hair dye I had purchased and proceeded to get it ready to add to my head.  I was a bit concerned when the shaken up formula bore a strong resemblance to that of carrot juice.  I didn’t want my hair that color.

        I’m okay with my white hair – I really am.  I had it white the entire time I subbed at the school district but after the “Stay at Home” order was given, Richard and Jaime begged me to change the color and so I did.  I often use a different shade of red depending on what my choices are.  When living in small town America there are often limitations to one’s options of brand or selection.

        The dye did darken I’m happy to say – but still nowhere near the color on the box.  Instead of orange hair like Lucille Ball or Wilma Flintstone, it came out more of an unnatural red sort of resembling the Wendy’s icon.  That is what happened with my hair at the end of March, but instead of orange-turning-red, it came out purple-turned-maroon.  I think it was  supposed to be the same color in each case – though the picture on the box was closer to purple/maroon than it was to anything that resembled the color of flames.

        Yesterday morning all three of us went to the pool.  Richard had decided that he wanted to go to Costco right afterwards and so I packed my clothes (which I normally don’t do – I just wait until I return home to change) and had a problem removing my suit.  As I was getting dressed, I realized I had forgotten my pants and wrapped a towel around myself.  I presented Richard with a few choices: He could continue to Costco and I could wait in the car.  He could take me home and drop me off.  He could take me home and wait for me to change.  If, by chance, Vinny de Paul’s was open, he could stop off and purchase something he thought would fit.  The problem is he and Jaime never seem to put size into consideration.  She does know me better than Richard does and so I sent the both of them in and waited in the car.

        I was near enough the window that I saw them holding up items for purchase.  Apparently they both missed the expression on my face.  Richard held up a pair of red sweatpants (though darker than my hair) while Jaime held up a blue paisley-printed skirt.  It looked like something I would wear – but not with a printed tee that said “Barn in the USA”.  When they returned to the car, I told Richard he was not allowed to move the car until I had on said item.  I started with the pants which were not sweatpants but more like pajama bottoms.  They were marked 2X.  2X for who? 2X should be a size indicating you may be a little paunch around the middle.  Not a tall and somewhat thin person.  There is no way I was getting that thing over my gut.  I ended up wearing the skirt. I felt l looked ready to go to Walmart. 

       It didn’t look as terrible as I imagined.  (I am NOT a Trump supporter - though I have seen many that do seem to have that "Walmart" mentality;  I do kind of look like one of those) Not that anybody was looking.  My flaming hair received more stares than anything.  Richard and Jaime are the ones that have to look at it and both seem happy with it.  I don’t dislike it but I haven’t learned to love it either.  I am happy to have it all evenly distributed unlike I’ve been doing on my own (as I can’t see behind my head) and it does feel so much better.  So that’s a plus.

       

Crazy Morning

                 When I left the house this morning the view was clear and I could see to drive.  There were clouds surrounding the hills across the way, but nothing obstructing my view. That is until I drove nearer to the church.  The fog seemed to descend upon Myrtle Creek as though the limits were completely swallowed.  I am grateful I did not have to drive up North or South Myrtle as the roads seem to disappear into the whiteness.

          When Jenna and I returned home the fog had thickened our surroundings in Tri City.  It was as though the process of lifting was reversed.  It wasn’t particularly cold outside – or at least my body didn’t think it was.  It was nice to get home and off the road.

          I had paid off a loan with my bank in Oregon.  I had written a check before December 7^th.  I had even made a transfer of money into my Utah account – which is the check I meant to use.  Roland asked me to check the account to see if the money went in.  He meant the Oregon account but I had gone to the other site out of habit. I noticed the check I had written had not yet cleared.  When I went into my Oregon account I learned my error – I had used the wrong account.  So I called the bank to see if I could come to the bank in person to get the error resolved.

          My cell phone was still in my hand when I leaned down to unplug the tree.  In the process I inadvertently hit a button on my phone that I wasn’t aware or had forgotten existed.  It made the sound of a siren.  It took a few seconds to get the sound off – although I don’t know how I did that either.  As I was trying to figure it out, I received a phone call from the RS president followed by the first counselor.  Both had received a text from me that said that I needed help.  Both laughed when I explained my error.  Roland said he had also received the text.  Did my phone notify everyone in my system?  Oh, no!

          I had worn a long sleeve pullover when I had gone to get Jenna. As morning progressed I somehow felt too hot and had changed into a tee shirt before I went to the bank.  The sun was out.  The air felt cool but not cold. That lasted less than two hours as the skies started pouring down rain during the afternoon.  When I could no longer hear the rain I looked out the window. I could see that it was still overcast.  

          Only three chickens have wandered into our yard for the last three days.  No roosters.  No turkeys.  No more eggs.  Roland wonders if the brood has been butchered as we don’t see them in the neighbor’s yard either.  The pigs may have been sold as Christmas hams as only the smaller ones can be seen.  Or perhaps they have built a more solid section for their animals.  There have been a few mornings we haven’t any the roosters crow.  There was also one morning this year that I couldn’t identify the animal or the tormenting sound it made – as though it was being tortured.  It was torture to my ears to wake up to.

          I ended the day with a virtual meeting that took place in Roseburg.  It was a missionary meeting.  I have many thoughts about what has taken place.  That will be for another post.