Scene - Dane Co Farmer's Market Oct 29, next to the last of the season. I'd just been hovering around the Antique Apples tent eating my cinnamon bun as Towneley picks out heirloom apples to send to his mother in Houston.
On the east side of the Capitol a band of ghouls play. They are made up for Halloween with skeletal faces. We run to hear them. It is kind of a brass band with an accordion. They play Dem Bones, When the Saints Come Marching In and some kind of Mideastern tune, among others. The market-goers pause in their shopping for Indian Corn, gourds, squash and pumpkins - what else? - to enjoy the show. I leap out and start dancing wearing my black velvet witch hat with a stared black veil. I soon and warm up have to take off my jacket dancing in my t-shirt. A cookie monster has joined in the dance along with a couple of guys, one wearing a huge, fake Afro wig. We dance apart and together. Many people are snapping photos, but only few are applauding. I find this curious, and truly "too bad," so lead by example - to little avail. At the end of the performance the band leader thanks me for dancing and invites me to a Freedom March around the Capitol that was starting soon in protest of Gov. Walker's misbegotten reign. I politely decline.
Later in the evening my friend Ky joins me and I prepare my Turkish nargile (water pipe) that we smoke with Egyptian peach tobacco. I have a cat costume of sorts for him and a Gypsy outfit with a layered, more than full circle skirt decked with ribbons that match the various layers of the bright printed fabrics and a black camisole. I dig out a bunch of jewelry with the full component of rings, bracelets and necklaces of garnet, pearl and turquoise faience scarabs, finishing off with a fringed Turkish scarf in reds, gold and pinks and a pair of burgundy velvet slippers encrusted with beads and sequins. I wear a lavender Islamic skull cap with my golden hair hanging free. Sadly, no crystal ball (maybe next year?)
We head out to the Harmony Bar. To my dismay the place, though decorated for the festivities, if filled with Badger football fans who are witness to getting their a** kicked in the last 5 minutes by Ohio State. Soon the revelers drift in, many in costumes. There is Tinkerbell and Peter Pan, he is Tinkerbell (all 280 pounds of him) in a green satin dress complete with hairy decolletage and no need of bra padding with a 6 foot fairy wing span, his full figured wife is Peter Pan. He said she had made the costumes. He had forgotten his magic wand - so sad.
One couple are dressed in underwear over black tights with sticks of dynamite in the waistbands. It took us a while to figure out what this was - terrorists! - the "Underwear Bomber." There are plenty of sexy vamps of mysterious lineage flashing fishnet swathed legs in high heels - of course. Also Fred Flintstone. I asked him where Barney was and he said he was lacking Wilma - she had a wardrobe malfunction. Several sets of Blues Brothers move through the crowd, one who is amazingly(!!) the spitting image of John Belushi. There are witches of all stripes, many in wigs but lacking brooms - or cauldrons, and two devils with red flashing horns, one with a Scott (the cursed governor) Walker mask who is accompanied by a female devil in the middle of a large cleverly rigged basket that restricts her movement - going to Hell in an hand basket! And a full component of vampy vampires, one with a foot long dagger tucked into her waistband.
Honor Among Thieves is playing some spiky blues, complete with a fiddler. Bodies heat up the room, filling the dance floor and providing critical mass that still leaves room to dance freely.
A Halloween ball for all!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 Marijuana Harvest Festival, Madison, WI
A sunny Saturday. Perfect for biking down to campus. The 41st Annual Great Midwest MJ Harvest Fest is on the Library Mall (what might be called the quad elsewhere). The spunky band plays rhythmic tunes while a very mixed crowd looks on. A few brave souls dance here and there, including a couple of young "hippie" chicks. One girl wears a rainbow patterned shawl and long skirt riding low to display her slim midriff. De j'a vu.
There is a midway of sorts with vendors, helping to put the fest in festival. And today is also a big game day. The Badgers are playing the Nebraska Corn Huskers who are new to the "Big Ten" and will soon get their a** kicked. Both teams have red as their color. But many Nebraskans are wearing black with red accents, which they must do at away games, as are the Badger fans who must also have black as their alternative color (which, of course, isn't a color). I love red and black! Maybe black is new new jock color - I wouldn't know.
They stream through to the left of the band, some stopping to take in the scene and snap a pic of the poster announcing what this festival is about or listen to a tune or two. Surprisingly the smell of pot is wafting in the soft breeze. In other recent years this was not much of a feature. Though yesteryear it was not unusual for someone to be freely tossing joints off the stage and a couple of people moving through the crowd with ganga cake for sale for .50, or maybe even free. A lone policeman chats with someone, obviously not there for any kind of enforcement.
Fat chalk sticks are available and people have drawn a few things on the ground, so I make a yin and yang sign in yellow and blue. I had gone down to the terrace of the student union beforehand. Lake Mendota was dressed in sail boats bobbing at their moorings as the sun bounced of the waves. Many empty plastic pitchers are stacked up here and there now that most fans have headed toward the stadium. I had a brat (well done - the guy was torching it especially for me) and I got a pricey plastic glass of Octoberfest beer that I was nursing now at the festival. A gray haired woman (perhaps my age, but looking older, of course) was dancing with her eyes closed. A guy was on his knees trying to get a good pic and she skittered away, crab like, when she looked up and saw him.
Dancer that I am I did start to let the music move my feet and creep slowly up as the beat went on, but didn't knock myself out. I'd arrived late and started walking back to my bike at the student union with the last song. What did I see crossing the street but a half dozen young Saudi men dressed in white robes with traditional head dress. What next? Oh yes, on my way back up the mall two young Buddhist monks in red robes stand next to Memorial Library in the shadows wearing parkas to ward off the cool Wisconsin fall afternoon.
Happy day for the cultures this aft down on campus.
There is a midway of sorts with vendors, helping to put the fest in festival. And today is also a big game day. The Badgers are playing the Nebraska Corn Huskers who are new to the "Big Ten" and will soon get their a** kicked. Both teams have red as their color. But many Nebraskans are wearing black with red accents, which they must do at away games, as are the Badger fans who must also have black as their alternative color (which, of course, isn't a color). I love red and black! Maybe black is new new jock color - I wouldn't know.
They stream through to the left of the band, some stopping to take in the scene and snap a pic of the poster announcing what this festival is about or listen to a tune or two. Surprisingly the smell of pot is wafting in the soft breeze. In other recent years this was not much of a feature. Though yesteryear it was not unusual for someone to be freely tossing joints off the stage and a couple of people moving through the crowd with ganga cake for sale for .50, or maybe even free. A lone policeman chats with someone, obviously not there for any kind of enforcement.
Fat chalk sticks are available and people have drawn a few things on the ground, so I make a yin and yang sign in yellow and blue. I had gone down to the terrace of the student union beforehand. Lake Mendota was dressed in sail boats bobbing at their moorings as the sun bounced of the waves. Many empty plastic pitchers are stacked up here and there now that most fans have headed toward the stadium. I had a brat (well done - the guy was torching it especially for me) and I got a pricey plastic glass of Octoberfest beer that I was nursing now at the festival. A gray haired woman (perhaps my age, but looking older, of course) was dancing with her eyes closed. A guy was on his knees trying to get a good pic and she skittered away, crab like, when she looked up and saw him.
Dancer that I am I did start to let the music move my feet and creep slowly up as the beat went on, but didn't knock myself out. I'd arrived late and started walking back to my bike at the student union with the last song. What did I see crossing the street but a half dozen young Saudi men dressed in white robes with traditional head dress. What next? Oh yes, on my way back up the mall two young Buddhist monks in red robes stand next to Memorial Library in the shadows wearing parkas to ward off the cool Wisconsin fall afternoon.
Happy day for the cultures this aft down on campus.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Refelctions on the 10th Anniversary of Sept 11
I had a dream of the chaos that was NY City two days before the attack. I had a hard time making sense of the images I'd seen in my dream and of the feeling of dread I had when I woke up from my nightmare at 4am. Sept 11 was the one month anniversary of arriving for two years as a teacher in Istanbul, Turkey at Uskudar American Academy.
We had just finished our teaching day (7 hours ahead of Eastern Time in the US), and gathered in one teacher's living room at the the teacher housing apartment building. We sat stunned as we saw the second plane crash into tower of the WTC. Later I found out I knew someone (Berry Perkins) who had been in on of those planes! All the local merchants and the Turkish teachers at our school were horrified by what had happened and said things to the effect of "This is NOT Islam." All of them said how sorry they were for this terrible event.
Today I watched the ceremonies for 2.5 hours. My biggest regret is that Bush - W - was at the helm. I can't help but wonder how different the world would be today if Al Gore had been our president at the time - all the lives that would have been saved and all the money that could have been spent building instead of waring. We are a sadder and poorer nation due to the reaction in Washington DC at that time.
Bin Laden was right - he has destroyed us - but only because of the mismanagement and thus the cooperation of our leaders who were so lacking in integrity at that time. Still, the message of healing was strong today from NY City and the memorial is beautiful and an appropriate tribute. Rest in peace for those killed that day and - Live in hope especially for the family members and those of us who have moved through and beyond tho sad days. May God guide us to refocus on a wiser and kinder future! Peace. B
We had just finished our teaching day (7 hours ahead of Eastern Time in the US), and gathered in one teacher's living room at the the teacher housing apartment building. We sat stunned as we saw the second plane crash into tower of the WTC. Later I found out I knew someone (Berry Perkins) who had been in on of those planes! All the local merchants and the Turkish teachers at our school were horrified by what had happened and said things to the effect of "This is NOT Islam." All of them said how sorry they were for this terrible event.
Today I watched the ceremonies for 2.5 hours. My biggest regret is that Bush - W - was at the helm. I can't help but wonder how different the world would be today if Al Gore had been our president at the time - all the lives that would have been saved and all the money that could have been spent building instead of waring. We are a sadder and poorer nation due to the reaction in Washington DC at that time.
Bin Laden was right - he has destroyed us - but only because of the mismanagement and thus the cooperation of our leaders who were so lacking in integrity at that time. Still, the message of healing was strong today from NY City and the memorial is beautiful and an appropriate tribute. Rest in peace for those killed that day and - Live in hope especially for the family members and those of us who have moved through and beyond tho sad days. May God guide us to refocus on a wiser and kinder future! Peace. B
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Bat in the House!
A BAT was swooping around the house just as I was getting ready for bed. It was wonderful watching how he could fly and turn, but of course it was under a lot of stress. For one thing it isn't used to lights at night. I wasn't sure what to do since I don't have a butterfly net! It was madly circling arpund so fast I didn't think I could catch it. (Amir did catch two bats in the summer with a towel).
I stood by the front door with the screen door open hoping and praying and sending it a psychic message so it could just fly out, but the poor thing was on radar and didn't have a clue. I think it finally went down stairs to the basement, which is probably where it got in by the window I have open down there with no screen!
When Aslan (my 25# gray tiger cat)came in from his nightly neighborhood prowling he got his "pet on" on his favorite rug, went to his food dish and then STOPPED in his tracks. I'm sure he could hear the bat down there (inaudible to me). He walked over to the stairs and was poised there listening. I turned off the light and went up staris to bed. I knew that finding much less catching the bat in the basement would be pretty much impossible. Later I heard Aslan romping around the first floor. I was hoping he wouldn't trash anything in his effort to catch the bat. Of course I was afraid that in the unlikely scenario that he did catch the bat that it might bite him.
This morning no sign of the bat and no broken sculptures - thank GOD!. I hope it found the basement window and could get out on its own.
Part 2:
After Signe left her two person birthday party (complete with chocolate - cranberry cake) I settled on the couch to read and looked up at the bricks of the fireplace in front of me.
There she/he was. A compact, symmetrical little ball of brown fur and darker wings. Of course it was sleeping upside down. I was able to stand on the couch and gently nabbed it with a pink hand towel. I saw his tiny little foot. I wanted to take a better look and maybe take a picture, but didn't want to wake it up or for it to be more frightened than it was already being in a foreign human home. Of course I didn't want to be bitten by a bat! I carried it outside and gently placed it on the small rocking chair on my big Midwestern front porch. When I checked a few minutes later it was gone.
I'm glad I was able to catch the bat and let it free. Earlier in the day I was concerned that it would be hungry as I was not sure what food it might find in the basement.
All's well that ends well!
I stood by the front door with the screen door open hoping and praying and sending it a psychic message so it could just fly out, but the poor thing was on radar and didn't have a clue. I think it finally went down stairs to the basement, which is probably where it got in by the window I have open down there with no screen!
When Aslan (my 25# gray tiger cat)came in from his nightly neighborhood prowling he got his "pet on" on his favorite rug, went to his food dish and then STOPPED in his tracks. I'm sure he could hear the bat down there (inaudible to me). He walked over to the stairs and was poised there listening. I turned off the light and went up staris to bed. I knew that finding much less catching the bat in the basement would be pretty much impossible. Later I heard Aslan romping around the first floor. I was hoping he wouldn't trash anything in his effort to catch the bat. Of course I was afraid that in the unlikely scenario that he did catch the bat that it might bite him.
This morning no sign of the bat and no broken sculptures - thank GOD!. I hope it found the basement window and could get out on its own.
Part 2:
After Signe left her two person birthday party (complete with chocolate - cranberry cake) I settled on the couch to read and looked up at the bricks of the fireplace in front of me.
There she/he was. A compact, symmetrical little ball of brown fur and darker wings. Of course it was sleeping upside down. I was able to stand on the couch and gently nabbed it with a pink hand towel. I saw his tiny little foot. I wanted to take a better look and maybe take a picture, but didn't want to wake it up or for it to be more frightened than it was already being in a foreign human home. Of course I didn't want to be bitten by a bat! I carried it outside and gently placed it on the small rocking chair on my big Midwestern front porch. When I checked a few minutes later it was gone.
I'm glad I was able to catch the bat and let it free. Earlier in the day I was concerned that it would be hungry as I was not sure what food it might find in the basement.
All's well that ends well!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
November Chill
Here it is again. The dramatic, Wisconsin November - bare branches etched against the cold gray sky. The Canadian geese have long since departed, having already started their southerly trek in August.
Today a migrating cardinal pecks at the compost in the back yard. It must be a little restaurant for them. I see a pair of them traveling through in earlier spring and later fall. And an occasional blue jay. Although there have been numerous frosts the parsley is still going strong. The little tomatillos (garden "volunteers") still hang on the tomato cages in their papery jackets looking a little forlorn.
Today I'm cooking some cranberry sauce and will make my own birthday cake. I dreamed up a chocolate cranberry cake last year for Townely's B Day in December. Despite speculation, it turned out great, especially with a chocolate/orange frosting. So it will be a gift I give myself and my friends for our little "cake time" tomorrow. It's lovely to have the oven on this time of year, warming up the place. Steam even collected on the windows of the studio when I gave a massage yesterday. Cold weather is good for business.
Other signs of the season - the squirrels ate the face off my Jack-O-Lantern (!!) and I dug out my black fur, Chinese pilot's hat and mittens. Aslan, my big, male, gray tiger-cat, has put on his winter coat. He is soft and very sleek with an extra layer of fur and insulating fat for his nightly forays into the neighborhood.
Strangely, I sit on the front porch swing these days as I sip my coffee in the morning in a sweatshirt, nightgown, bare legs and slippers. I barely feel a chill as bikers whiz by bundled against Jack Frost, pedaling fast to keep warm.
I guess I am truly a child of the fall.
Today a migrating cardinal pecks at the compost in the back yard. It must be a little restaurant for them. I see a pair of them traveling through in earlier spring and later fall. And an occasional blue jay. Although there have been numerous frosts the parsley is still going strong. The little tomatillos (garden "volunteers") still hang on the tomato cages in their papery jackets looking a little forlorn.
Today I'm cooking some cranberry sauce and will make my own birthday cake. I dreamed up a chocolate cranberry cake last year for Townely's B Day in December. Despite speculation, it turned out great, especially with a chocolate/orange frosting. So it will be a gift I give myself and my friends for our little "cake time" tomorrow. It's lovely to have the oven on this time of year, warming up the place. Steam even collected on the windows of the studio when I gave a massage yesterday. Cold weather is good for business.
Other signs of the season - the squirrels ate the face off my Jack-O-Lantern (!!) and I dug out my black fur, Chinese pilot's hat and mittens. Aslan, my big, male, gray tiger-cat, has put on his winter coat. He is soft and very sleek with an extra layer of fur and insulating fat for his nightly forays into the neighborhood.
Strangely, I sit on the front porch swing these days as I sip my coffee in the morning in a sweatshirt, nightgown, bare legs and slippers. I barely feel a chill as bikers whiz by bundled against Jack Frost, pedaling fast to keep warm.
I guess I am truly a child of the fall.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Long Hair and Witchy Women
Monday, October 25, 2010
FASHION & STYLE | NY Times October 24, 2010
The Mirror: Why Can't Middle-Aged Women Have Long Hair?
By DOMINIQUE BROWNING
At a certain age, cutting your hair is considered the appropriate thing to do, as if being shorn is a way of releasing oneself from the locks of the past.
**************
One commenter said they think that long gray or white hair looks "witchy" on women - maybe this was a guy? What does this mean? That they are powerful, mysterious, dangerous or??? More power to the witchy women!
This NY Times article now has 1266 comments (the most I have ever seen on there, they usually cut comments off way before this point), so it seems like everyone has something to say about long hair on older women. It was interesting to read the comments made about women in the family and hair as something beautiful, something that many people had fond memories of. How women's hair was a big part of collective memory and individual identity.
Well, I have long hair because that is what feels the best to me. I had long hair since about the age of 11. My mom was always hounding me to "get a hair style" after I turned about 35. I did have it cut a jaw length and wore it that way for a few years, but after I went to Jamaica live in Jamaica when I was in my mid 40's, I just let it grow and it has now been halfway down my back for most of my life. Too bad that my hair is fine and thin as it is, but tho I am an "older woman" I am lucky that it hasn't gotten thinner as many people commented on in the article. It now needs a bit of a trim. My friends cut my hair which only takes a couple of minutes. After it is trimmed a few inches there is just a few tablespoons of hair as it thins out towards the bottom.
I started coloring my hair in the 60's. I was a teenager then when we lived in California and I wanted to be a "real" California girl. Tho I was only 14 I went ahead a did it myself without checking with mom, who rarely colored her hair. I used a do-it-yourself blond packet. (God knows that there were a million ads everywhere - Remember "If I only have one life let me live it as a bonde"). But after that I just used "sun in" which you just spritz on. It has always worked well for me and is fast, cheap and easy. Since I was a blonde as a kid, that type of coloring worked fine and looks pretty natural - or at least I think it does.
In the 50's the "pixie" hair cut was just the "thing" and my mom made my sister and I get one. I cried and didn't want my hair to be cut. I could take care of it myself and I tried to talk her out of it. No dice. But I did win honorable mention in a "Cute Kid" photo contest due to that hair cut - that and my chubby round face and pixie smile to match.
The last 3 years I stopped coloring my hair, but I am going to color it again in December. I did it last June for Isaac and Angie's wedding. Sister Chris was commenting on it - repeatedly. She goes to some stylist due to her thin hair and has spent a lot on color and cuts, but that era is coming to an end since she is retired and doesn't have that much to spend on what I would call a luxury. I have spent about $30 on my hair in the past 10 years (shampoo and conditioner excepted). For blonding this time I used Garnier "natural blonde," shampoo-in color for the wedding. It came out a little lighter than I wanted, but seems to have toned down to a kind of honey color which is generally what I hope for. The package said that the color would wash out in 4 weeks. It never did...hmmmm.
In Jamaica fair hair is prized, as it is in Turkey, thus so MANY bottled blondes there. And when the Turks see someone that they suspect has natural blonde hair, that is really something to stare at. (Staring is considered "normal" there.) What they expect is "true" blond is apparently truly "exotic"...
At Madison's Willy St Fair in September I saw so much beautiful, blonde, generally long hair on women or all ages (probably 90% of it colored) that was shining in the sun. I decided I would "do it" again this winter before my trip to Jamaica. I am going to try to avoid my white forelock, which I love. It was one reason not to color my hair recently, since my hair is now such a dark "ash blonde" that there is a good contrast that makes it more noticeable. In my 20's a friend's mom had a white forelock that I thought was so cool. I didn't think I would "get one" as neither of my parents had one, so was very happy when that came in a few years ago.
Of course hair is considered a woman's "crowning glory." In the late 60's or early 70's my mom grew her hair long - almost down to her waist. She was about 50 at that time. You could see the progression of the gray from top to bottom that was very noticeable as she was a brunette. I have a picture of us out in the garden with me holding out her hair out in a cascade for the photo. I think she got tired of taking care of it after a few years and went back to her shorter hair style.
I cut my mom's hair many times, she said I did a better job than a stylist. She cut the family's hair on the "old days" as a cost - cutting - measure. I learned how to do it by watching her and also from watching stylists cut my hair when I did have a "style" for a few years. Now I cut my friend Antonio's hair. Once many years ago I cut five, or more, family member's in succession one Thanksgiving while the turkey was roasting. The last head to be cut was my nephew Isaac's golden locks - he was about 2 and it was his first haircut. We have a photo of it somewhere. He cried the whole time.
Well, let's hear it for the witchy women, and hair as an object of memory, beauty and identity!
FASHION & STYLE | NY Times October 24, 2010
The Mirror: Why Can't Middle-Aged Women Have Long Hair?
By DOMINIQUE BROWNING
At a certain age, cutting your hair is considered the appropriate thing to do, as if being shorn is a way of releasing oneself from the locks of the past.
**************
One commenter said they think that long gray or white hair looks "witchy" on women - maybe this was a guy? What does this mean? That they are powerful, mysterious, dangerous or??? More power to the witchy women!
This NY Times article now has 1266 comments (the most I have ever seen on there, they usually cut comments off way before this point), so it seems like everyone has something to say about long hair on older women. It was interesting to read the comments made about women in the family and hair as something beautiful, something that many people had fond memories of. How women's hair was a big part of collective memory and individual identity.
Well, I have long hair because that is what feels the best to me. I had long hair since about the age of 11. My mom was always hounding me to "get a hair style" after I turned about 35. I did have it cut a jaw length and wore it that way for a few years, but after I went to Jamaica live in Jamaica when I was in my mid 40's, I just let it grow and it has now been halfway down my back for most of my life. Too bad that my hair is fine and thin as it is, but tho I am an "older woman" I am lucky that it hasn't gotten thinner as many people commented on in the article. It now needs a bit of a trim. My friends cut my hair which only takes a couple of minutes. After it is trimmed a few inches there is just a few tablespoons of hair as it thins out towards the bottom.
I started coloring my hair in the 60's. I was a teenager then when we lived in California and I wanted to be a "real" California girl. Tho I was only 14 I went ahead a did it myself without checking with mom, who rarely colored her hair. I used a do-it-yourself blond packet. (God knows that there were a million ads everywhere - Remember "If I only have one life let me live it as a bonde"). But after that I just used "sun in" which you just spritz on. It has always worked well for me and is fast, cheap and easy. Since I was a blonde as a kid, that type of coloring worked fine and looks pretty natural - or at least I think it does.
In the 50's the "pixie" hair cut was just the "thing" and my mom made my sister and I get one. I cried and didn't want my hair to be cut. I could take care of it myself and I tried to talk her out of it. No dice. But I did win honorable mention in a "Cute Kid" photo contest due to that hair cut - that and my chubby round face and pixie smile to match.
The last 3 years I stopped coloring my hair, but I am going to color it again in December. I did it last June for Isaac and Angie's wedding. Sister Chris was commenting on it - repeatedly. She goes to some stylist due to her thin hair and has spent a lot on color and cuts, but that era is coming to an end since she is retired and doesn't have that much to spend on what I would call a luxury. I have spent about $30 on my hair in the past 10 years (shampoo and conditioner excepted). For blonding this time I used Garnier "natural blonde," shampoo-in color for the wedding. It came out a little lighter than I wanted, but seems to have toned down to a kind of honey color which is generally what I hope for. The package said that the color would wash out in 4 weeks. It never did...hmmmm.
In Jamaica fair hair is prized, as it is in Turkey, thus so MANY bottled blondes there. And when the Turks see someone that they suspect has natural blonde hair, that is really something to stare at. (Staring is considered "normal" there.) What they expect is "true" blond is apparently truly "exotic"...
At Madison's Willy St Fair in September I saw so much beautiful, blonde, generally long hair on women or all ages (probably 90% of it colored) that was shining in the sun. I decided I would "do it" again this winter before my trip to Jamaica. I am going to try to avoid my white forelock, which I love. It was one reason not to color my hair recently, since my hair is now such a dark "ash blonde" that there is a good contrast that makes it more noticeable. In my 20's a friend's mom had a white forelock that I thought was so cool. I didn't think I would "get one" as neither of my parents had one, so was very happy when that came in a few years ago.
Of course hair is considered a woman's "crowning glory." In the late 60's or early 70's my mom grew her hair long - almost down to her waist. She was about 50 at that time. You could see the progression of the gray from top to bottom that was very noticeable as she was a brunette. I have a picture of us out in the garden with me holding out her hair out in a cascade for the photo. I think she got tired of taking care of it after a few years and went back to her shorter hair style.
I cut my mom's hair many times, she said I did a better job than a stylist. She cut the family's hair on the "old days" as a cost - cutting - measure. I learned how to do it by watching her and also from watching stylists cut my hair when I did have a "style" for a few years. Now I cut my friend Antonio's hair. Once many years ago I cut five, or more, family member's in succession one Thanksgiving while the turkey was roasting. The last head to be cut was my nephew Isaac's golden locks - he was about 2 and it was his first haircut. We have a photo of it somewhere. He cried the whole time.
Well, let's hear it for the witchy women, and hair as an object of memory, beauty and identity!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Hail Storm - Sept 18
September night - 4am.
We awoke to thunder crackling over head as lightning split the sky.
Amirs' suitcase was out on the front porch where it had been sunning. The rain started pounding down as we raced to the Midwestern porch. As we opened the door, down came the hail - beating a tinny, hard rhythm on the air conditioner still in the living room window. Aslan, our gray tiger, beat it to the safety of the basement.
We stood out there loving the hail bouncing off the sidewalk and street. Down came the leaves, ripped off the big ash tree on the parkway. The ground was completely covered. Lovely!
I rushed and grabbed my camera. I was in my night gown and slippers. I tried to get a photo but the screen showed black. I turned on the flash and edged out onto the steps, but it was pouring and I didn't want to get my camera wet. I managed one photo of a little hail and some leaves on the porch steps. Disappointing.
In the morning the storm sewer on the street was filled with leaves and the ground and street were covered with them. I checked out the back yard and the flannel backed cloth on the table out there was pocked with holes cut by the hail, even the zucchini on the ground and had been pierced! The squash plants had all but been flattened.
Happily some leaves remained on the trees. The ash turns a beautiful shade of dull purple in the fall.
We awoke to thunder crackling over head as lightning split the sky.
Amirs' suitcase was out on the front porch where it had been sunning. The rain started pounding down as we raced to the Midwestern porch. As we opened the door, down came the hail - beating a tinny, hard rhythm on the air conditioner still in the living room window. Aslan, our gray tiger, beat it to the safety of the basement.
We stood out there loving the hail bouncing off the sidewalk and street. Down came the leaves, ripped off the big ash tree on the parkway. The ground was completely covered. Lovely!
I rushed and grabbed my camera. I was in my night gown and slippers. I tried to get a photo but the screen showed black. I turned on the flash and edged out onto the steps, but it was pouring and I didn't want to get my camera wet. I managed one photo of a little hail and some leaves on the porch steps. Disappointing.
In the morning the storm sewer on the street was filled with leaves and the ground and street were covered with them. I checked out the back yard and the flannel backed cloth on the table out there was pocked with holes cut by the hail, even the zucchini on the ground and had been pierced! The squash plants had all but been flattened.
Happily some leaves remained on the trees. The ash turns a beautiful shade of dull purple in the fall.
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