Two Christmases ago my mother looked at me and said "you are getting grey hair. I am too young for you to have grey hair. Do something about it."
My mother's hair is light brown, as it has been for more than a decade when her hairdresser suggested a change from her previous platinum blond. I'm relatively certain that I have never seen her "real" hair color.
I was blessed with my father's coloring, which included the auburn brown hair that actually looks brown until the sun (or stage) light hits it. Then it is a flaming blaze of autumn that bears out the Scots/Irish in our blood.
My favorite part of getting my hair cut is the moment the hair dresser, in the process of blowing it out, exclaims "oh my it really *is* curly...and beautiful." I can promise you it wasn't that way when I walked in. I almost always enter the salon looking like a homeless woman. I don't know why. I just do.
My hair is now its natural color. Long gone are the days when I would make it darker or lighter or more red. It has gotten lighter as I've aged and the red is still there but no longer blazes with Irish fury in the sun.
Instead it is turning grey. The single streak that rested down my right cheek, a gift from my ex-husband's harrowing aneurysm adventure, has been joined by scattered white threads throughout my hair. It appears that it will not be turning a true grey but instead will become a silvery white.
For a moment yesterday I considered coloring it. But I know that matching my natural color is an almost impossible task and the maintenance of haircolor would become yet one more thing to fit into an already busy schedule.
So this morning, after re-straightening my hair, I picked up a strand that had fallen and wondered how strong it was. It must be very strong I think for it has come from a head of many adventures.
Somehow that grey hair did not make me feel old or as if my life will be drawing to a close soon. Instead it reminded me of the woman I am still becoming. The woman I hope to be.
I am going to go grey and I am not going to fight it. I've earned that right.
NL
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Presents and Rules = Ruckus
I grew up in a house with five kids, two adults, 1 bathroom and 4 bedrooms.
My mother had one bedroom. My father had one bedroom. The other two bedrooms and were shared by me and my two sisters and my two brothers, respectively.
When I was young the fact that my parents each had their own bedroom seemed odd to me. Once I'd been married for a few years, to a man who snored, I fully appreciated the sanity in separate beds. With walls.
Ours was a house with rules.
Ours was a house that, in addition to seven people, also included a dog and cat.
The dog was allowed in the house but not upstairs.
The cat was not allowed in the house.
That didn't stop us.
One morning we'd snuck the dog upstairs while my father was sleeping. I think he probably knew and wasn't saying anything but at the time we thought we were being sneaky and enjoying dog time. There the dog lay, on a bed (shhhh, don't tell Dad) enjoying the petting from five sneaky kids when the cat, noticing the open window, decided to deliver a present.
It was fresh.
It was so fresh it was still alive and wiggling in her mouth.
The dog spotted the cat, the cat dropped the bird, the dog went tearing after the cat, the cat hightailed it down the stairs and the bird began to fly frantically around the bedroom while five kids dove around trying to catch the bird and get to the dog and cat to shoo them outside - all the while praying that Dad didn't wake up and catch us.
No dice.
Within moments we heard my father's roar - "What the HELL is going on up there."
Cripes.
I think it was my brother, Jon, who managed to get the door open and put on an innocent face. I know for sure it was me who caught the bird because I still remember having to crawl under the bed to get it.
"FRONT AND CENTER"
Oh, we'd heard that before. The five of us lined up in front of my father, sure we were in for it.
But somehow the humour must have been enough for my father. Because although I clearly remember the sequence of events, I'm pretty sure we didn't get in trouble.
However, from that point forward when ever we snuck the dog up stairs we made sure the window was closed.
NL
My mother had one bedroom. My father had one bedroom. The other two bedrooms and were shared by me and my two sisters and my two brothers, respectively.
When I was young the fact that my parents each had their own bedroom seemed odd to me. Once I'd been married for a few years, to a man who snored, I fully appreciated the sanity in separate beds. With walls.
Ours was a house with rules.
Ours was a house that, in addition to seven people, also included a dog and cat.
The dog was allowed in the house but not upstairs.
The cat was not allowed in the house.
That didn't stop us.
One morning we'd snuck the dog upstairs while my father was sleeping. I think he probably knew and wasn't saying anything but at the time we thought we were being sneaky and enjoying dog time. There the dog lay, on a bed (shhhh, don't tell Dad) enjoying the petting from five sneaky kids when the cat, noticing the open window, decided to deliver a present.
It was fresh.
It was so fresh it was still alive and wiggling in her mouth.
The dog spotted the cat, the cat dropped the bird, the dog went tearing after the cat, the cat hightailed it down the stairs and the bird began to fly frantically around the bedroom while five kids dove around trying to catch the bird and get to the dog and cat to shoo them outside - all the while praying that Dad didn't wake up and catch us.
No dice.
Within moments we heard my father's roar - "What the HELL is going on up there."
Cripes.
I think it was my brother, Jon, who managed to get the door open and put on an innocent face. I know for sure it was me who caught the bird because I still remember having to crawl under the bed to get it.
"FRONT AND CENTER"
Oh, we'd heard that before. The five of us lined up in front of my father, sure we were in for it.
But somehow the humour must have been enough for my father. Because although I clearly remember the sequence of events, I'm pretty sure we didn't get in trouble.
However, from that point forward when ever we snuck the dog up stairs we made sure the window was closed.
NL
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Organizing My Thoughts
Anyone who knows me knows that music is a pretty important part of my life. In addition to 8 guitars, 1 piano, a couple of wooden flutes, a hog-nosed psaltry, tibetan bells (okay, actually those belong to Chris - I bought them for him last year as a birthday gift) and several other instruments used in the making of music, I also have about 40 gbs of music. I think.
Actually, I have roughly 6 "music" folders scattered between computers and each of those folders averages 22 gbs.
For some reason they are not all the same. So at no time do I have all of my music in one spot. I need to organize my music, be able to catalog every tune and find a way to efficiently load up my iPod.
My iPod Touch to be specific since I still also have my classic iPod. I gave my sister my Zen, which had a bunch of music that I really hope she likes. And there is my phone AND my blackberry, both of which also play tunes.
Technology was supposed to make this all easier but somehow it's more complicated. Sigh.
So I'm searching for some software that will help me compare everything I have and then keep my MP3's and my AAC's separated so I can load my iPod.
I was searching for this software when I decided to log on to Facebook. There I saw my sister. Which made me think of my other sister. Which made my thoughts get all jumbled up again.
So I'm just going to say it and take whatever comes my way for being "public" about it.
I love her. I love my brother-in-law. I love my nephews. But I cannot figure out what, for the love of God, that I have personally done that my sister (not the one on Facebook) is so peeved at me that she thinks it's okay to hurt my daughter.
Because while I was in Albuquerque with my daughter I got a call from my sister-in-law, a woman whom I love with all my soul, asking if I wanted to have a "girls night" since my younger sister (not the one on Facebook) was in town with her son.
When my daughter found out that her Aunt was in town with her beloved cousin, the cousin who is exactly six months older than her, the cousin she loves with ever fiber of her being, her face crumpled. She said "why didn't you tell me?" and I said "I didn't know she was coming."
You don't travel from across the Ocean on a whim...usually...so the fact that my sister elected not to tell us had to be kinda on purpose. Not that we could have done anything about it, after all we were half way across the country, but it would have been nice to know. Especially since even though I was out of town, my daughter didn't join me for several days after my sister and nephew arrived. I know my ex-husband well enough to know that he would have gladly taken our child for a visit.
My daughter held it together. She finished packing for our trek up to Taos. She spent the weekend learning to snowboard with some friends. We didn't mention it again. We haven't talked about it at all.
But my God my baby girl was hurt. And this is where all of my "good person, caring person, brush it off" skills are brought up short and my thoughts are all jumbled.
Because I don't know what the hell is going on with my sister OR what I have apparently done to her. But I do know this...I'm pretty mad. I was mad two weeks ago and pushed it down to some place where I didn't think about it but the minute I was reminded again tonight I just got mad again. Thoughts all jumbled up mad and I'm digging around for that voice of reason I'm kinda known for - the voice that brings people through my door for advice or just to talk through things - and I just cannot find it.
So I'm going to go back to organizing my music and trying not to remember the crumpled look on my daughter's face when she discovered that her beloved Aunt didn't care enough to let us know she was coming into town with the cousin my daugther adores.
NL
Actually, I have roughly 6 "music" folders scattered between computers and each of those folders averages 22 gbs.
For some reason they are not all the same. So at no time do I have all of my music in one spot. I need to organize my music, be able to catalog every tune and find a way to efficiently load up my iPod.
My iPod Touch to be specific since I still also have my classic iPod. I gave my sister my Zen, which had a bunch of music that I really hope she likes. And there is my phone AND my blackberry, both of which also play tunes.
Technology was supposed to make this all easier but somehow it's more complicated. Sigh.
So I'm searching for some software that will help me compare everything I have and then keep my MP3's and my AAC's separated so I can load my iPod.
I was searching for this software when I decided to log on to Facebook. There I saw my sister. Which made me think of my other sister. Which made my thoughts get all jumbled up again.
So I'm just going to say it and take whatever comes my way for being "public" about it.
I love her. I love my brother-in-law. I love my nephews. But I cannot figure out what, for the love of God, that I have personally done that my sister (not the one on Facebook) is so peeved at me that she thinks it's okay to hurt my daughter.
Because while I was in Albuquerque with my daughter I got a call from my sister-in-law, a woman whom I love with all my soul, asking if I wanted to have a "girls night" since my younger sister (not the one on Facebook) was in town with her son.
When my daughter found out that her Aunt was in town with her beloved cousin, the cousin who is exactly six months older than her, the cousin she loves with ever fiber of her being, her face crumpled. She said "why didn't you tell me?" and I said "I didn't know she was coming."
You don't travel from across the Ocean on a whim...usually...so the fact that my sister elected not to tell us had to be kinda on purpose. Not that we could have done anything about it, after all we were half way across the country, but it would have been nice to know. Especially since even though I was out of town, my daughter didn't join me for several days after my sister and nephew arrived. I know my ex-husband well enough to know that he would have gladly taken our child for a visit.
My daughter held it together. She finished packing for our trek up to Taos. She spent the weekend learning to snowboard with some friends. We didn't mention it again. We haven't talked about it at all.
But my God my baby girl was hurt. And this is where all of my "good person, caring person, brush it off" skills are brought up short and my thoughts are all jumbled.
Because I don't know what the hell is going on with my sister OR what I have apparently done to her. But I do know this...I'm pretty mad. I was mad two weeks ago and pushed it down to some place where I didn't think about it but the minute I was reminded again tonight I just got mad again. Thoughts all jumbled up mad and I'm digging around for that voice of reason I'm kinda known for - the voice that brings people through my door for advice or just to talk through things - and I just cannot find it.
So I'm going to go back to organizing my music and trying not to remember the crumpled look on my daughter's face when she discovered that her beloved Aunt didn't care enough to let us know she was coming into town with the cousin my daugther adores.
NL
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Change is in the Air
So I'm blogging from New Mexico. I've been busy. I've been ignoring my blog.
To be honest - tonight I wasn't planning on blogging so much as I was planning on catching up on blogs. There is one I really like by Laura over at thespectrum.org and so I was catching up on her goings ons when I caught wind of her really spiffy new blog design and I thought "I must have one for me!"
Even though I have been working for as long as she has been ALIVE and therefore I feel very, very (very very very) old - there is a sort of "old soul"ness about her that I love. And now I'm thinking that I need to hunt Gisele down and beg her to make me one!
But meanwhile I am in New Mexico and enjoying myself. So is my daughter. Here she is, dressed in the snowboarding gear she borrowed from the amazing Irene! I think she looks like Speed Racer. For a kid who hasn't seen "real" snow in several years I hear that Lil Miss did a pretty good job! Her ski instructor's name was George. He called her "cool" and I think I am going to have to embrace winter sports.
During all of this, for the record, I was in the Lodge -which was not as warm and comfy as I expected.
This is the ski valley is Taos. In case anyone still thinks New Mexico is always hot, it's not. Last week our highs were 40. This week things are warmer and it's ALL over the news.
Before heading back to Albuqueque we traipsed out to the Rio Grande Gorge. Paul (Chris's brother) was the only one of the bunch brave enough to walk to the bridge cut out with me. I'm still learning this camera (a third one - a Canon that falls between my Nikon D40X Digital SLR and my Nikon Coolpix S550) and I still haven't figured out how to get it to capture depth.
Tonight we made our way to Sandia Peak - again. We went last week and I liked it so much I wanted to share the experience with my daughter. Things are a bit high...but only 2.7 miles so!
And with that - a desire to shake things up a bit with my blog look and feel (and maybe a new site altogether, I'm looking at WordPress) - and some pictures of our adventures in New Mexico, I close tonight tired but happy.
NL
To be honest - tonight I wasn't planning on blogging so much as I was planning on catching up on blogs. There is one I really like by Laura over at thespectrum.org and so I was catching up on her goings ons when I caught wind of her really spiffy new blog design and I thought "I must have one for me!"
Even though I have been working for as long as she has been ALIVE and therefore I feel very, very (very very very) old - there is a sort of "old soul"ness about her that I love. And now I'm thinking that I need to hunt Gisele down and beg her to make me one!
But meanwhile I am in New Mexico and enjoying myself. So is my daughter. Here she is, dressed in the snowboarding gear she borrowed from the amazing Irene! I think she looks like Speed Racer. For a kid who hasn't seen "real" snow in several years I hear that Lil Miss did a pretty good job! Her ski instructor's name was George. He called her "cool" and I think I am going to have to embrace winter sports.
During all of this, for the record, I was in the Lodge -which was not as warm and comfy as I expected.
This is the ski valley is Taos. In case anyone still thinks New Mexico is always hot, it's not. Last week our highs were 40. This week things are warmer and it's ALL over the news.
Before heading back to Albuqueque we traipsed out to the Rio Grande Gorge. Paul (Chris's brother) was the only one of the bunch brave enough to walk to the bridge cut out with me. I'm still learning this camera (a third one - a Canon that falls between my Nikon D40X Digital SLR and my Nikon Coolpix S550) and I still haven't figured out how to get it to capture depth.
Tonight we made our way to Sandia Peak - again. We went last week and I liked it so much I wanted to share the experience with my daughter. Things are a bit high...but only 2.7 miles so!
And with that - a desire to shake things up a bit with my blog look and feel (and maybe a new site altogether, I'm looking at WordPress) - and some pictures of our adventures in New Mexico, I close tonight tired but happy.
NL
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
I'm in Love
You know the signs. Suddenly you are talking about him all the time. To your friends. To your family. To complete strangers. You are talking about him all the time because you are thinking about him.
It can't be helped.
Everything he does is so adorable it makes you melt. Even his bodily functions are of interest. You look for his favorite foods. You miss him when you are apart. You wonder what he's doing, if he's happy, how his day is going.
You feel like a fool and yet as soon as you get home you look for him. You can't wait for some cuddle time. You know that he will look at you with adoring brown eyes (eyup, BROWN) and you will grin and hold him close.
You will stay up too late. You will get up too early. Suddenly parts of your day and most of your night revolve around his needs.
You introduce him to your friends. To your family. You are deeply pleased when they agree that, yes, he really is a handsome fella.
It's a sad state of affairs and the only thing that sustains you is that you know you are not alone. Millions of others have fallen just as deeply in love and understand exactly what you are feeling.
Eyup - it's true - I admit it.
I am in LOVE with Beau.
Isn't he cute?
NL
It can't be helped.
Everything he does is so adorable it makes you melt. Even his bodily functions are of interest. You look for his favorite foods. You miss him when you are apart. You wonder what he's doing, if he's happy, how his day is going.
You feel like a fool and yet as soon as you get home you look for him. You can't wait for some cuddle time. You know that he will look at you with adoring brown eyes (eyup, BROWN) and you will grin and hold him close.
You will stay up too late. You will get up too early. Suddenly parts of your day and most of your night revolve around his needs.
You introduce him to your friends. To your family. You are deeply pleased when they agree that, yes, he really is a handsome fella.
It's a sad state of affairs and the only thing that sustains you is that you know you are not alone. Millions of others have fallen just as deeply in love and understand exactly what you are feeling.
Eyup - it's true - I admit it.
I am in LOVE with Beau.
Isn't he cute?
NL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
