So last night I was blogging with henna in my hair, and had mentioned that traffic cone orange wasn’t working for me. Now, this week has been kind of a learning experience for me, in that prior to Sunday, I had never messed with henna.
Those of you that know me, also know that I am going the “no-poo” route in hair care, and rolling with the natural waves that are in my hair, rather than spending boat loads of time on blow-outs that don’t last, anyway. I have thin, baby-fine hair, and have been pretty picky about what I have been putting on it since the latter part of August. Well, my friend, Crocus, got me hooked on the no-poo routine and alternative (read: natural) hair care solutions. Crocus has gorgeous, glowing red hair, not the Bozo the Clown kind of red hair, but this rich auburn-y hair that I would kill for. And she gifts me my first package of Henna ever, while I am in Raleigh visiting with her and the gang. 🙂
So I come home Sunday night and do the beginner adventure in henna, which is a henna gloss/glaze, in which you mix a little bit of henna with hot water/tea, and conditioner. It’s not balls to the wall henna, and safe for someone like me who adores sporting red hair and doesn’t appreciate the fade that traditional red hair color is known for. At any rate, I wrap my hair in plastic wrap, place a towel over it, and go off to my studio to do a little work until rinse time. Long story short, it comes out looking a little carroty, and I mention this to Crocus, who tells me to give it a day or three because henna oxidizes and will get darker as it does. It did get darker…but not as dark as I would have liked. So I decided last night to go ahead and do balls to the wall henna.
As I’m rinsing it out, Johnny walks in, looks at my hair, and says, “Wow…THAT is red.”
I mixed up a batch of honey conditioner, and went to comb out my hair so it isn’t all knotty when I smooth in the conditioner and take the towel off of my head.
I got the conditioner in, wrapped my head in my second plastic shopping bag of the evening, and proceeded to go to bed. Johnny shook his head even more. I told him, “You know you think I’m hot, and this bag just really does it for you, doesn’t it?” I am now known in certain circles as Bozo the Bag Head.
I got up this morning, let the dogs out, poured my coffee, and saw where 2 of our dogs were almost ready to jump in the pool, barking and whining, and I thought to myself, “Crap…Frog.” It was cold, it was damp, but I went out there in my nightshirt, anyway, to see what the commotion was all about. There was a….well….black THING in the pool. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it wasn’t a frog. The little black thing found a way to get up on the vacuum hose, and I see where it almost looks like a mouse, but it’s…black, and it doesn’t really have a tail to speak of. KNOWING I am going to be late for the day job if I try to pull this furry little thing in, I chase the dogs in the house and tell Johnny there is a mouse-like creature in the pool, please save it.
I rush out of the house, get to work a couple minutes behind schedule (who knew a little rodent thing in the pool could distract me for so long?), and come walking up to the building, where I see my boss’s husband.
“Wow,” he exclaims, “new color?”
I fly into my office. The girls do a double take, as I am telling them, “Not one word!”
After many Halloween, Great Pumpkin, Pumpkin Head comments, things finally settle down and I Google, “Vole,” as I remember having heard my mom tell me about these little rodent-things that she has seen in her yard. Yup….that is what it was. Cute little booger, too.
Johnny calls me and tells me he’s rescued it and put it over the fence. I was kind of hoping we could keep it as a pet. Peri’s always wanted a hedgehog, and this little thing looked kind of like that.
I frequent a forum regularly with some of my besties, whose names will be protected until such time I get the okay to actually NAME them, which would be cool, because then I could actually link to their blogs, too. And I am REALLY excited to be able to update this to share the blog of my Bay Area Born bestie, Squirrel, aka Skwarl.
The following topic came up yesterday: It’s not Thanksgiving without (blank). Most people are throwing out traditional Thanksgiving fare. I responded with, “It’s not Thanksgiving without the kids; they taste like chicken.”
My friend, ML, says she is going for the obvious and throwing turkey out there. I responded by telling her that I just can’t get the ex to come to my house that day. She replies if her ex comes to her house, that it would be called, “ass hole.” I told her she could always call it rump roast…
In all seriousness, tho, what makes it Thanksgiving in your little corner of the world? Inquiring minds (and mine) want to know!