Orange and Flaming Red continues

        For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with baptisms for the dead, this site will be helpful information 

        I was asked to join a group of ward members to go down to Medford Temple with our newest member.  I had gone with the youth a few times but had never physically been in the font since I had lived in Utah.

        I had ridden in the car with our former RS president and our newest member.  On our way down the car encountered something – though none of us seemed to know what it was.  It felt like a pothole.  Our driver continued driving hoping to make it to the next exit.  Unfortunately the tire lost all air and he didn’t wish to continue driving on the rim.  We were a quarter of a mile from the rest area.

        Fortunately the tire was on the passenger’s side and he managed to remove the burnt mangled rubber that had once been a tire and replace it with a donut.  That is a few many miles to be driving on a donut!  But we made it to the temple when all the others arrived. 

        I hadn’t taken my “Wendy” hair into consideration as I entered the font.  It wasn’t until I removed a towel from around me that I saw large orange splotches and was mortified.  I had orange on my white clothes.  All the while my hair is dripping like carrot juice all over the floor.  Oh, gosh.  I remember only one time when my hair bled after I had colored it.  What was happening?  Ahhhhhhhh!

        This morning I took a shower and realized I had never added the conditioner to my hair after it had been dyed.  Perhaps if I had there would have not been the problem of bleeding out and becoming even more flaming red.

        When I exited the car (a different car than the one I had gone down in) Jaime was on the porch laughing.  I asked, “It’s my hair, isn’t it?”  YUP.  I’d take a picture, but the photo really doesn’t do it justice.

change in hair and morning sky

        The roots of my hair are white like they were when I was one.  My last dye job was a brown or red.  The white is more noticeable against the dark color.

        I am sick of my hair.  Sick of changing the color.  Sick of putting it up.  Sick of the weight of it on my scalp.  I told Roland that I need it cut.  We cannot afford the expense right now. 

        He tells me to cut my own hair.  What?!?!?  I can't see the back of my head.  How am I supposed to make it even?

        I've been cutting his hair for the last six months.  I don't think I've done a good job.  As I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder.  What if I cut my pigtails off?  How would that work?

        I take the scissors to my hair.  There is no turning back.  I'm surprised at how it turned out.  I had a similar haircut before.  My head is no longer weighed down by a mass amount of hair.  I am happy with how light it feels.  

        I have a bottle of blonde hair dye.  It was on sale.  I may put it in next week to even out the contrasting colors. Jenna doesn't want me to be blonde.  I don't know why.  Could be because her sisters' mother tried to maintain a blondness and we don't want the reminder. 

        On the other hand, the white roots that are there are the same as my mother's.  The white hair she had when she died.  I can live with that.

        This week will be the last week that the pool will be opened this year.  I thought I would complete the summer by going. 

        The clouds are heavy and the air is filled with moisture - finally.  I notice all the gravel in the driveway is wet  - except for under the car.  I like the misty fog surrounding the hills and watching as it lifts into the air.

        Beautiful!