Rain. Wind. Cold. I stare glumly out the kitchen window, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. I miss the garden’s lush color! Bleak November has blown in six months of mostly monochromatic landscape- reason enough to feel blue. (Actually, I revive nicely in December. Snow means snowmen, sledding, wee-hour walks, snowshoeing through lovely landscapes…)
Right now, though, boring inside tasks beckon. Clean bathrooms. Scrub floors. Dust. Iron. Water all these plants. Pay bills.
Bleh!
When was the last time I did something silly? Something fun?
Hmmm. The fact that I have to think hard is answer enough. Every day should have a smidgen of fun mixed into it. Otherwise, Dee’s a dull dame.
Sighing, I visit the mirror to pull a comb through my hair. Look at that saggy mug. Pale skin. Pale hair. Pale eyebrows. Blair, you’re fading to gone...
My eyes, though, still flash a nice, bright blue…
And then, in mid-comb, Ping! I have an Idea.
A dopey, delightful idea.
I ring my sister, a talented hairdresser and skilled colorist, and tell her I want my hair to sprout bright streaks of azure blue. That pale, hairy forest of Blairblah needs a boost!
She should search for Lake Michigan blue on a gorgeous day- a rich, royal blue.
Oh- and I tell her one more thing- make it permanent. (Which, for my hair, isn’t long. Here’s the thing: my thatch grows so fast it wants bushwhacking every couple of weeks or so. That’s my bailout. If this silly session goes south, I’ll simply scissor off any offending bits then.)
After a surprised silence, Kath laughs and says, “What fun! Let’s do it!”
First thing the next day I bike two blocks to the Styles Inn, settle into her salon chair, and we’re off.
Vivid is the name of the product she’s chosen. The blue in that tube certainly isn’t timid, or apologetic. Nosir.
You know, old ladies seem to favor blue hair; it’s practically a tradition. (Why is that?!) Well, I’m honoring it, sort of, but not everywhere- just here and there.
What fun Kath and I have, deciding where to paint! She does a wonderful job. It takes patience, skill and a steady hand to keep that vivid blue stain away from the rest of my pale hair. One wet touch in the wrong spot by her gloved hands would mess up her art. (That’s why ‘sillycolors’ are more commonly added to dark locks; mistakes aren’t as obvious.)
Two women having their hair done watch the process with incredulity that evolves into fascination. They wind up cheering me on. The other stylists are equally encouraging. When I finally walk out of that salon I’m springbok-cheerful. Oddly, I feel taller, and at least a year younger. A morning filled with streaks of absurdity has that effect.
Who needs coffee to wake up? Now, an amused glance at the mirror does the trick!
I have no clue what Joe will think. Huh. He’ll simply have to adjust, and so there. Life is full of surprises.
Happily, he’s flexible. And no doubt secretly relieved. I could have thrown in Kelly green and fire engine Red! (I did think about it. In for a penny…)
Today I’ve chosen a bright blue v-neck sweater and crisp white shirt to set off this hairy mischief. Wow! These almost-forgotten-about electric blue-green earrings really emphasize what’s going on up top. Bonus: my teeth seem whiter, too!
Now, with the weather still relatively mild for November, I’ve foresworn my usual hat and stride out bareheaded.
A tiny, conservative part of me nervously notes all this nonsense, wincing. What might she do when it grows out, hmmm? Winter lasts a long time…and idleness is the Devil’s workshop…
So right!
Here’s my philosophy: if it’s fun, and eventually ‘fixable,’ why not fiddle a little?