4 Stories - Hairdos

One - The Perm

When I was in 5th grade my best friend Laura got a perm.  This was back in the day of feathered (not to be confused with teased!) sides and bangs and Laura's perm was awesome - the absolute pinnacle of 1980s hair.  I begged my mom to let me get a perm.  Repeatedly.  She finally repented and allowed me to get one.  The catch?  Grandma Rosalie would be my hairstylist.  Looking back, I have no idea what grandma's credentials were, but she got me all rolled up and processed without any trouble.  After sitting for what seemed like hours with foul-smelling chemical fumes wafting from my noggin, I distinctly remember kneeling over the edge of my grandparents' bathtub (it was either pink or rosy red) while grandma helped me rinse and towel off my hair.  Moments later I gazed eagerly into the mirror, certain that I was going to see my very own perfectly-feathered coif.  But instead of Farrah Fawcett's flowing feathers my head was covered with Little Orphan Annie curls!  I cried.  A lot.  Uncontrollably.  Looking back I feel absolutely horrible about my reaction.  It was actually a very good perm and I would kill to have those adorable curls now, but back then I was devastated.  My grandma and I never talked about the perm, but I would like to hope that she didn't take my tears too personally.  She passed away several years ago.  Do you think she's forgiven me?

Two - The Braid

Fast-forward to the early 1990s.  It was the time of big blown-out hair featuring bangs that towered inches above the heads of teenaged girls, bolstered by cans upon cans of Aqua Net hairspray.  Not this girl, though!  I opted instead for the asymmetrical 'doo complete with what simply became known as "the braid."  Picture a rat tail located not on the back of the head but on the left side, just behind the ear - frequently braided, often beaded, always fabulous!  The braid was an essential part of my look for quite a while.  It started as just a section of my hair woven into a small braid, but as my hair grew and was cut the braid remained untouched.  Before too long the braid extended four or five inches below the rest of my hair.  That was the heyday of the braid and good times, indeed, but it was not to last.  'Twas a sad day when the braid and I were separated.  I'm pretty sure Ang even went into mourning for a while.

Three - What Hairdo?

For the last several (10+) years my hairdo can best be described as no hairdo.  I get my hair cut maybe twice a year, but aside from washing, occasionally conditioning and very rarely deep-conditioning, that's about it.  I own a blow drier which is most frequently used to clear the fog from the bathroom mirror.  I think that I still have hairspray somewhere, but if Malorie hasn't stolen it it is only because it's not Aqua Net or some other super-shellacking aerosol.  I'll throw in a barrette or a bow or other accessory every now in then but that's about as exciting as it gets. 

Four - The Next Generation

I think that the kids have been surprised at what they've been allowed to do with their hair.  While Malorie isn't as adventurous as she used to be - probably because her hair is gorgeous and she knows it! - Andrew still wants to experiment from time to time.  In the last year he dyed his naturally dirty blonde hair black, then shaved his head, then wore a faux hawk.  Right now his hair is back to his natural color with a fairly standard style, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came up with something different to do.  I think Malorie's haircare routine may be more elaborate than the greeting rituals for most heads of state - straightening, curling, teasing, spraying, etc.  Andrew is definitely much more simple - wash, comb (sometimes!) and go.

4 Stories - Color

Okay, you all know the drill on the "4 Stories" thing, right?  This one is about Color.

One - Orange Yellow

The orange yellow crayon was generally the most used color in the box.  Point dulled by constant use and paper jacket ripped halfway down, orange yellow was my go-to color choice.  No picture was complete until there was at least a hint of this happy little color.  Halloween picture?  You'd better believe there would be an orange yellow moon or that the spooky black cat would peer at you with orange yellow eyes.  Underwater scene?  There's nothing more natural than an orange yellow fish.  Picture of a black hole?  The artist must sign her work in orange yellow, of course!  I still remember Jennifer's squeaky little grade-school voice when she asked, "Does every picture that you do have to have that yellow color in it?"  The answer, of course, was yes.

Two - Hair Color

I went through high school with every conceivable hair color that could come out of a box.  For the most part I was blonde, but I also flirted with dark brown, red, medium brown and most of the shades in between.  I'm sure that if the wilder colors would have been more available back in the day, I would have also given blue, green, orange yellow (!) and white a whirl.  One thing that I did learn very early on - do not use kool-aid to dye your hair.  In 5th grade Tricia used kool-aid to dye her hair green to go with her witchy Halloween costume and weeks later she still had a nice green tint to her locks.  Now my hair is naturally brown with a few gray hairs mixed in and I color it when I get bored - not to cover the gray.  I kinda like the gray hairs - they're sparkly!

Three - Mom and Dad's house

Growing up in my small town, it was often easier to give directions using locations and landmarks rather than street names or numbers.  The only problem was that for a number of years I lacked the ability to describe the color of "my" house.  Mom will tell you that back then it was a color called chamois and I can tell you now that I think the color was best described as "peach," but back then I lived in the tannish, yellowish, orangish house.  And if you think about it, isn't peach just a mix of tan, yellow and orange?!?!?

Four - Why is it always green?

For some reason I seem to attract the color green.  Not in all parts of my life - in fact, not in most parts of my life - but good gosh, when I get it I get it!  Sadly, it is not the green of money.  :(  My first experience occurred upon opening the door to my dorm room.  I'm not sure who had the room previously, but they were apparently a big fan, because each wall, from floor to ceiling, was an almost indescribable hue of bright green.  Kinda like the knock your eyeballs out, stand there in awe and take it all in green.  I brought my second experience on myself, but I swear that the green on the paint card in no way matched the bright, almost lime green that our bathroom ended up being for a few years.  Finally, when we moved into the new house last year, we found that the room that we were planning to use for our bedroom was - you guessed it - bright green.  Is there a reason that the ugliest shades of green take so many coats of paint to cover?

4 Stories - Childhood Games

Another day, another new project.  This one is going to be more of a "catch when I can" endeavor - I've added a new button to remind me and so you can take a look at Leigh Ann's site - FreckledNest.  The basic concept is simple: take the prompt, write four stories based on the prompt and post!

This week's prompt ----- Childhood Games

One - Come Sail Away

One of the most interesting games that I remember playing as a child involved pretending that the whole world was flooding and my bed was a raft.  Of course a raft needs provisions, so I would pile all of my toys and stuffed animals on the bed so that they would survive the flood.  Not some of my toys - ALL of my toys - because no one gets left behind!  It seems like it took a few minutes to get everyone aboard (time was of the essence, naturally) but it took for-ev-ver to get them safely stowed away after the danger had passed.  I'm happy to report that no toys or stuffed animals perished as the result of the flooding.

Two - Family

My VBF recently reminded me that my mom used to make up scavenger hunts with clues that lead us from place to place throughout the house.  I seem to remember that the broom closet was a popular clue location.  Both of my parents always seemed willing to judge our diving contests as they sat poolside; however, as I've gotten a little older and been involved in raising kids myself, I suspect that some of the scores may have been given on dives that had not been closely scrutinized.  I know that some of the dives that got a 5.4 were more like 5.9s - my feet were together the whole time and there was hardly a splash!  Even my grandparents were pretty good sports about paying their $.10 or $.25 to enter our "haunted room."  I'm sure that my sister's eerie "woooooooooooooo"s and me grabbing their ankles from under the bed was not the most terrifying experience, but they always played along.

Three - Grade School Gym Class

Looking back, I was pretty lucky to be able to attend my grade school.  Our town boasted of about 800 people back in the day and throughout my grade school career it seemed like everyone discussed when (not if) we would consolidate with a bigger school nearby.  The classes were small - 7 people in my 8th grade class - so two classes would usually be combined for P.E.  We played volleyball, basketball, kickball, basically all of the gym-class staples.  My favorite activities were scooter tag and badminton.  In fact, my VBF and I made it to the finals of the badminton tournament my 8th grade year.  I know what you're thinking, and I'll have you know that not only were there were more than two teams in the tournament but we also beat some more athletic teams to get into the finals.  Sadly, we lost to Scott and Russell.  They gloated. 

Four - Saturday Night Volleyball

Almost every Saturday night a group of teenagers and adults, including my parents, got together at the grade school gymnasium to play volleyball.  I know that we usually left to go up to the gym near the end of Hee-Haw (and after The Muppet Show), so I"m guessing it was around 7:00 p.m. or so.  As the "big people" played volleyball, we roamed the gymnasium and school grounds looking for ways to entertain ourselves.  It was a very good night if the gym teacher forgot to lock the ball cabinet on Friday or if one of the locker rooms was open, but we didn't require such luxuries for a good time.  If the weather was nice we could go out into the school yard where there were slides, merry-go-rounds, monkey bars, swings and parallel bars;  if foul, we could play on the stage or read *ahem* add to *ahem* the graffiti under the scorers' table.  Some nights stand out more than others, like the night that my VBF broke Jenni's arm "launching" her into the air with her feet and the night that I broke one of the school windows with a rock because I was trying to hit the school bell.  Now that I think of it, I think that Jenni is the one that told on me for that little fiasco.  Thanks, VBF, for having my back and showing her what happens to snitches!  :)

You can play, too, if you want to.  Check out Leigh Ann's blog and pick one of the 4 Stories prompts to get started!