Give A Girl A Haircut

 

 

If you give a girl a haircut,

It's more than just a doo.

Some highlights could be added

And extensions could be, too.

 

She will want to have a facial

So her face looks fresh and clean,

A makeover that enhances

The start of this new scene.

 

A pedicure will follow

And then to show those toes

She'll need some glitzy sandals

Which call for brand new clothes.

 

A matching purse is next,

A necklace and a ring.

Accessories are vital.

She mustn't miss a thing.

 

Of course this gets expensive.

The costs begin to soar.

Who knew a simple haircut

Would simply lead to more?

 



Blog Assignment

Your blog assignment which is due on Friday, October 19 follows:  Write about a "first" in your life - first time to drive, first day of school, first time on stage, etc.

As usual, you also have 2 other blogs due.

 

My Friend's First Car

 

My best friend in high school got a green VW "bug" during the summer right after graduation.  It wasn't shiny or new.  The color was dark - nothing neon or flashy.   This car was built in the days before they installed little vase on the dashboard to hold flowers. "Non-descript" was a good descriptive word.  We named "her" Nellie".

 

But, there it where the boring part stops.  I went to visit her one Sunday right after she got it.  We drove that little stick shift car all over that day.  We giggled as one of us would stall it out at the stop sign.  We thought we were sneaky as we drove by a friend's house, blew the horn and kept going.  Who would know it was us?

 

It didn't matter that the car was not "cool".  It was a car.  It belonged to my friend.  We weren't borrowing the family car.  True freedom.  The first experience in the the luxury of real independence. 



My Ride Home

 

 

I was a 6 year old who grew up on a farm in the country.  I was so excited because my friend had invited me to her house and we  walked home from school !  That was so cool.  We had so much fun playing together at her house. My mom was supposed to pick me up at an agreed upon time, but was late - very late.  For some reason, my friend's parents were not home.  Their housekeeper was there and after a while she decided to go to her own home.  She instructed my friend to wait with me on the porch.  When I left, my friend was going to walk to the housekeeper's house.  (This was in the days before "stranger danger".  It was safe for a 6 year old to walk alone in a neighborhood.)  We sat on her steps and waited for my mom. . .and waited. . . and waited.  At age six, loyalties are not very deep and my friend decided to leave me on her porch waiting for my mother.  She headed to the housekeeper's house.  I waited. . .and waited. . .and waited. . . and decided that my mother had forgotten me.

 

What would any six year old do in that circumstance?  Not sure, but I decided to walk home.  Never mind that I lived three miles out in the country and had never, ever walked anywhere alone.  I started off, amazingly in the right direction.  I got within one mile of my home and a car pulled up beside me.  There were 2 men in the car.  I remember they were dirty, the car was dirty.  They asked where I lived and I pointed up the road.  They said they would give me a ride home.  And they did.

 

As we pulled into the driveway, my mother came flying up the lane behind us.  She had been to a doctor appointment which had gone very late.  When she arrived at my friend's house to get me, I wasn't there, my friend wasn't there, nobody was there.  She was in a panic!  She rushed home to find me getting out of a strange car with strange men.  Fortunately, I was unharmed.

 

An unusual ride home.





Assignment for September 14, 2012

Amusement parks are not my idea of a good time.  When I do find myself in one, I know there are particular rides that I will not be on.  Anything that puts me on a skinny rail, in a car from which I can easily plummet, takes me 2 miles in the air and the gleefully hurtles me to the ground, otherwise known as roller coasters, will not be on my to-do list that day.

I am always adamant that I WILL NOT ride a roller coaster, and just as often I find myself talked into going, just one time.  My interior monologue goes like this:  "This is a perfectly safe ride.  It is inspected.  It has never lost anyone.  I will be fine.  I should be adventuresome, brave and do this."

Then, when I'm on the roller coaster, secured in my seat, and it gives a lurch forward to begin, my interior monologue goes like this:  "Are you crazy?  Why did I think I should be adventuresome?  It's way over-rated!  There is no merit in being dead.  I will be dead by the end of this ride either because this monster will have its first collapse in history or I will die of a heart attack!"

And so it creeps out of the station and begins the painfully slow ascent to the top.  Is my stomach lurching?  I don't think I have a stomach at this point.  Is my heart racing?  Not sure I have one of those either.  Basically, I'm brain dead.  And we haven't even reached the top of the hill!

Of course when I see the first cars begin to drop over the edge, I'm not coherent, I can no longer breathe, I cannot even scream.  Even now as I write this in the safe environment of my home with no roller coaster in sight, my stomach is cringing, my heart is pounding as I imagine that terrifying moment when I free fall to the bottom.  Just as quickly, I'm being yanked back to the top of another hill and dropped again.  Of course there are the requisite loops and twists and spirals in which I become completely disoriented.  These are intermittently scattered throughout so that I have no sense if I'm falling or spinning.  The wind is rushing by my head, my eyes are squeezed shut and I can only moan.

We roll to a final stop.  Around me there are excited voices about how absolutely awesome the ride was.  I can only babble, "Don't make me do that again!"

Assignment for  September 7, 2012

Anne Perry is one of my favorite authors.  Her mysteries are typically set in Victorian England.  They show a sharp contrast between the wealthy and the poor.  There is no middle class.  She has also written a series set in WWI which I also enjoyed.

I am fairly certain that she is a Christian even though her books are not found in Christian literature and never mention Christianity.  However, she develops characters and plot that show good and evil, and grace and injustice.  As a Christian I see her teaching the reader that life is about being a servant, extending grace, living with integrity.  I'm sure people with no Christian affinity, appreciate and learn from her stories.  As a Christian, I am encouraged as I read her writing.

I often find the message in Christian literature feels tacked on to the real plot.  Anne Perry is a great example of how it can be interwoven with no obvious mention and yet still convey the truths.  She's a gifted writer.

September 4, 2012

I wish I had a million. . .days to live?  No that would mean I'd live to be over 2700 years old and I don't think I'd look good after year 999.  Hugs?  I'd think after the 9,999th, hugs would not be special and would feel too routine.  Books?  Now that's a thought.  I probably would not have time to read that many.  Cups of coffee?  Over-saturation.  I could say million days to live in heaven, but that will happen without my wish.

This is a difficult post!  Maybe I don't want a million of anything.  That is way too much of a good thing.  Hm. . . maybe this is a good reminder to be content with what I have!

Assignment 1

August 24, 2012

Your first blogging assignment will be to something that you have multiples of, i.e. what do you or your family “collect”, not a hobby.  What thing do you accumulate?  Discuss why you might be saving that item.  What does it say about you? 

Here's is my sample:

Rubber Bands

Useful little items.  They come stretched tightly around my newspaper so that the Kmart ad and the sports sections don’t end up flying around in my driveway.  Since they seem so useful and I might need them sometime, I would drop them in the drawer with the pencils, pens, paperclips, post it pads and other miscellaneous items.  Finally, my husband got tired of them getting jumbled up with the other non-essentials.  He meticulously wrapped each rubber band around a piece of cardboard.  So now we have an oblong object made up of rubber bands.    That happens about once a month.  Do I really need 50 rubber bands wrapped together?  But, it seems hard to throw out something that can really be useful.
            I don’t think of myself as a packrat.  However, when it comes to something like rubber bands (and plastic grocery bags!), I find that I save them.  I justify it by thinking that I’m recycling them, making them useful a second time.  And I do re-use them.  But, again, how many do I need to keep on hand?
            But, I would hate to run out of rubber bands!