It absolutely amazes me that women *still* color their hair! Why? What’s the point? Does anyone think our true ages can’t be seen on the backs of hands or throats that are, sometimes not so faintly, reminiscent of a turkey’s beard? I’ve got one by the way…turkey beard, jowels, wattle, whatever you want to call it, and it’s a link to my Daddy’s Hamrick side of the family. If I weighed fifty pounds less /yeah right, in my dreams/ I’d still have this wattle throat/neck. It’s as much a part of who I am as my hair that’s about four different shades and/or colors of gray, blonde, silver, red and possibly brown.
I colored my hair, once, in the seventh grade. Remember Sun-In? It was, probably still is, if it’s still around, a, mainly, peroxide based, spray on hair lightener. I used it because that’s what *everyone* was using in the seventh grade.
UGH! Nasty stuff turned my hair green and no, I wasn’t going to the pool, the ocean, the lake or even to the back yard. Whatever the formula, it turned my hair green. Not all over mind. Just in spots. It would have been terrific for Haloween…maybe.
Back to my Roots: A Diary of Going Gray is one woman’s “struggle” to accept her hair color and, maybe, to accept herself. Anne Kreamer chronicles her eighteen month change from dark, dyed hair to gray, her natural color for MORE magazine. It’s a good article and I enjoyed listening to her strength becoming stronger as her hair became more and more “Anne” and less and less “Clairol”. Or whatever she used. Going Gray: What I Learned About Beauty, Sex, Work, Motherhood, Authenticity, and Everything Else That Really Matters is the book she eventually wrote of her experience. BTW, she has beautiful hair…naturally.
It’s always amazed me that women colored their hair; it seems such a waste of time and money. There’s a lot more I’d rather spend my hard earned cash on than a bottle of dye…unless, of course, it’s for my fleeces.
Here’s a question I’ve been pondering…when, exactly, do freckles become age spots?
On the knitting front, I’ve just finished a hat for the young feller down the road and a shawl for me. The hat is in camo yarn /his dad’s a hunter/ and the shawl is in a lovely, deep purple wool. It’s a trifle small, not as large as I like my shawls but it’s warm and cozy. This big ole farmhouse is chilly, even with the vast sums of money we send to the oil man, and a shawl is just the ticket on a cold winter’s night.
I’ve been working on a moebius scarf using some of Leslie’s angora and mohair yarn. The yarn is a lovely combination and uses the finest of her angora with some of my merino plus it’s hand dyed! It traveled with me to Spain where I enjoyed knitting at a tapas bar in Ronda. The chocolate croissant and cafe au lait made the perfect combination…knitting, chocolate and something to drink…lovely!
Thanksgiving was lovely and the alter at church even more beautiful by the gift of someone’s hands.
For the last three weeks I’ve been sick. It seems I say that a lot lately, hmmm. Anyway, I’m finally on antibiotics and feeling some better, at least better enough to check e-mail and blog update. Quilting has been put on hold and I’ve only two quilts ready to hem and pack for Christmas. That means I’ve two more quilts that need to have their blocks sewn together, then pieced with batting and back, then hand quilted and hemmed.
Panic is seeping ’round my mind’s edges and the evil thought that I might not be finished in time is niggling at my brain. I wanted to visit family between now and Christmas as some of them aren’t doing well and their time is growing short.
Ah well…time for my supper of mashed potatoes; it’s the only thing my throat can stand.
Blessings – quilting, knitting, gray hair, hopefully…wisdom, Thanksgiving, the time we’ve got coming to us and, always, love