Gray is Beautiful

Call it vanity, call it what you will, but I think my natural (gray) hair color makes me look old. In other words, it makes me look like I'm 51.5 years old.

Something happened this morning that shocked me to the core and pushed me to make a decision I really didn't want to make. I will explain.

I "colored" my hair like I always do every couple of months. I used the product I've always used. The one with "no ammonia." I donned the gloves, applied the dye, rinsed my hair and conditioned it. My loving husband then noticed that I had somehow gotten just a dab of hair color on our new bathroom door. As he wiped off the SMALL amount of dye, the door paint peeled off with it. Horror of horrors!

This begs the question: if my "gentle" no-ammonia-based hair dye is strong enough to peel paint off wood, what is the dye doing to my scalp? My blood? My brain? Yikes!!!!

Now for the decision: I will no longer dye my hair. There I said it! This means that when you see me gradually turning gray and staying that way, you'll know why. Try not to stare. I hope I will stay strong and committed and will stick with this decision. Try not to stare. (I know I just repeated myself.)

Hypothetically Speaking

I wonder if anyone has sued their child/children for mental anguish? Just doing a bit of pondering today.

Blood Draw and Writing

I have deep, hard-to-find veins. If I'm dehydrated, it makes finding those veins next to impossible. Just ask the nurses that tried to start an IV before I had my colonoscopy a few months ago. I'm always thrilled when I encounter someone who knows how to get my veins to cooperate, someone who will listen to me when I tell them to use a butterfly needle. I really don't mind getting my blood taken. It's never bothered me. Needles have never scared me. But, I don't like it when health professionals dig around in my arm for minutes on end trying to find a vein. It begins to hurt after a while.

Imagine my delight today when I showed up at LabCorp and was greeted by the same phlebotomist who drew my blood a few months ago. He was a pro. He still is a pro. He is one of my new best friends. I should have asked his name.

Before lunching with a group of friends today, I met up with one of my dearest friends, Julie, for a little chat. We talked about our kids and a few other things before she asked, "Are you writing?" She knows I completed a 2-year course in writing children's literature. I was a little embarrassed to tell her that I really don't write much. I should write. I want to write. But it's probably important to have something to write about. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .

Stay tuned . . .