Fun Monday/Sunday Morning

This week's hostess is Gattina. She wants to know..... "What are you wearing when you get out of your bed on a Sunday morning. Of course I want to see a picture of what you wear, with you inside or not."

...et voila! Enclosed in the frame is what I wear. You are welcome for the discretion exercised in this photo.

Hair - So Very Visible

******Gattina will be hosting next week's Fun Monday. Please remember to stop by and check on Wednesday for the topic*******
For the Mr. Linky listing today's participants, please scroll down to the previous entry. Thanks.

There are no pictures to go with this post so you will have to use your imagination. Back in the day, I was not the person I am now. How do I know this?

My hairdresser, who did my hair every 4 weeks, cut and color and set, was married to a very dear friend of mine.

My hairdresser, who colored my hair beautifully for over a year, discovered how dear a friend her husband was to me.

My hair?

Metallic burgundy red. This was so NOT acceptable back then. Of course, neither was anything else I was doing.

Glad to be me now.

Fun Monday/Hair Today - Gone Tomorrow

Ok, this was going to be about hyphenated people but that will just have to wait for another time. Instead, I would like to hear and/or see hair horror stories. My daughter works with a guy whose sister's brother's cousin's mother-in-law's gardener is going to cosmetology school. This student needed a brave soul with long hair who was not afraid to have short hair.

I can hear the gasps and groans now.

Yep, my child volunteered to not just venture out of her cage but to just smash the whole darn thing down. The cosmetologist cut off the pony tail and all was good. She went to do some edgy layers on top of Juls' head. She forgot to put the guard on.

I can hear the gasps and groans now.

My child did not throw a fit when the scalp glistened through. She merely stated that as long as she (the cosmetologist) was evidently practicing barbering today, she might as well just go ahead and shave it all.

I can hear the gasps and groans now.

We like it. It makes Juls' eyes look bigger. There are no more different colored roots now. Still, I would like to hear about all the terrible, horrible, ill-conceived hair stories out there.

Thanks. In the meantime, just call me Marmee.

Perfect Autumn Weekend

Aside from my husband being under the weather, this has been the perfect autumn weekend. Moose stayed out of trouble in school last week so on Saturday, his mom and I took him to the Amazingly Fun Farm. This is our 3rd year going there and it just keeps getting better and better.

The weather yesterday was cool verging on cold. We left the house to about 36 degrees and finished up at the maze just as the cold front hit and it became about 20 degrees and the air was full of "wintry mix". We warmed up with chili at Wendy's and came home. Juls went to work and Moose and I tackled homework. How do you explain how to do word searches to someone who just doesn't see the words?

This morning, we (Juls, Moose, and I) went to 9:00 Mass. It was Moose's first week singing in the choir. Yep, he is now a Singing Saint. It was a brisk 25 degrees when we left the house. Then we went to Wally World for a few things and to Juls' house to light the pilot light on her heater.

Next we got new shoes for Moose who starts Basketball tomorrow after school. Believe it or not, the shoes that were new when school started are already blown out.

Then Juls went home to get ready for work and Moose and I went home. Grampits had cleaned the kitchen while we were gone so we just leaped right into making oatmeal cookies for the week. If you do them right, they are an absolutely nutritionally perfect, preservative free breakfast. Just ask his mama.

So here I am. My house smells like fresh baked cookies. My grandson is sitting in the chair in the living room with a plate of oatmeal cookies on his lap and a book in his hand. Nascar is on the TV and all is right with my world.

Hope your autumn is as nice as mine.

Mermaids of the World, Unite!

I have written before about not belonging - or feeling out of touch, somehow. I was thinking about this earlier today when I remembered this - Barbara Bush's Commencement Speech at Wellesley, June 1, 1990.

Some members of the university had attempted to rescind their invitation to former First Lady Barbara Bush. They said that she was not relevant.

The entire transcript of her speech can be found here. If you ever need to be reminded what class is, look no further.

The part of her speech that stuck with me is this:

"...related the story by Robert Fulghum about a young pastor, finding himself in charge of some very energetic children, hits upon the game called "Giants, Wizards, and Dwarfs." "You have to decide now," the pastor instructed the children, "which you are a giant, a wizard, or a dwarf?" At that, a small girl tugging at his pants leg, asked, "But where do the mermaids stand?" And the pastor tells her there are no mermaids. And she says, "Oh yes there are. I am a mermaid."

I must try to be that certain of who I am.

Happy Birthday

The Duck is 11 today!

Happy Birthday to my favorite (don't tell the others) dog.

Why We Live Here

Saturday evening, Shorty and I took Moose out to dinner and a movie. It was not a reward for the previous week as the previous week did not merit a reward. It was just that we had not done anything just for fun in a VERY long time.

We had dinner at Furr's and then went to the adjacent theatre complex to see "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs".

I pulled into the theatre's parking lot and there, on the sidewalk, was parked a police car. Actually, it was a Potter County Constable's car - a shiny new Dodge Charger with all the bells and whistles. Moose was jazzed, as in, "I have never seen one of these except on TV or in books". We all agreed it was a very cool car.

We went in, bought our tickets and proceeded to the ticket-taker station. The gentleman took out tickets and directed us to the correct theatre. Behind the ticket-taker stood two patrolmen, one in navy blue and one in khaki. We all said hello and turned to go to the theatre. Moose turned to me and said, "Oh, I wanted to tell him I liked his car". I said OK and Shorty and I stopped and waited while Moose went and spoke to the officers. They were very nice. The car turned out to belong to the khaki-clad officer who told Moose that he would show him the car when the movie was over. We thanked him (all the while I was thinking, yeah, right) and watched the flick.

The movie was good. The movie was snorting good if you're 9 years old. It ended and we exited the theatre. The officers were still there and, may my cynicism be struck down, remembered their promise.

Constable Jackson escorted us through the theatre lobby. We did get our share of looks from everyone else. Two old fogies and a child are evidently not the normal escortees for the constable.

We went outside and Constable Jackson showed Moose his weaponry, defensive apparel, and even let him sit in the driver's seat of "the fastest police car in Amarillo". Lights were turned on and sirens were heard.

Constable Jackson, sir, you are a hero.

Thank you.