Saturday, August 28, 2010

The Flaming of the Shrew



So last night my sister helped me dye my hair auburn. Only the second time in my life that I've dyed my hair and the last time it was really just highlights as my sister was using up dye left from her last time and there wasn't enough left to cover my thick hair completely. She had a hard time getting full coverage with the complete tube this time and we were wishing we'd picked up two kits.

I've always wanted to have red hair. Or rather auburn not the carrot orange. I used to say that as I went gray I'd go red. That was twenty years ago tho when I was still thirty-something and I have yet to accumulate enough gray to be concerned about it. And my sister tells me that the red dyes look pink once you have a lot of gray so my original idea probably wouldn't work anyway. Which is just as well as I'm not that into the whole scene--the time, effort and money it takes and the fussing. Bleh.

In the top picture you can barely see the color change as the light is not strong. In the picture below it's more obvious as the flash hit it straight on. But, oh boy, you should see it in sunlight!



I don't know. Not sure I know this person. She startles me every time I walk past the mirror wall in the kitchen and I walked past it innumerable times today during the thirteen hour packing job.

Why am I hiding behind the book? Well, you can imagine how not camera ready my face is after 13 hours of traipsing from room to room to room, bending, lifting, carrying...

Everything but the last minute stuff is packed up and in the van. We're to leave here before 10 AM to meet Ed at Rice Hill by 2. I should be home by 5. And then I have to start unpacking. Bleh. Bleh. Bleh.

The book I'm hiding behind was my great aunt's leather bound complete works of Shakespeare and I happened to be opened to the first page of The Taming of the Shrew. Which is what gave me the title of this post. But, too, I'm feeling particularly shrewish at the moment. I don't do change well and even though I'm anxious to get home, to see my husband and my cat, and my niece, to get back to work on my reading, writing and research etc. I'm more anxious about the disruptions in the process of getting from here to there. The packing, the traveling, the extra socializing, the unpacking and putting away.

I thought I may have doubled the volume of my craft stuff but I at least tripled it and may have quadrupled it. It took four large duffel bags and a small tub to pack it up. What I came with wasn't in duffel bags but rather in one medium-large trash bag and several small boxes and bags (beach bags, book bags, shopping bags) and would probably have fit into one or one and a half of the new drawstring duffels I got at the Dollar store the other day.

How am I going to get it put away at home?!!




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