MY HEARTBROKEN SMILE

As life would have it, my hair began to grey prematurely in the late 1990’s. As a result, I would book an appointment and off to the popular high priced salon I’d go.

Then, when I went into business for myself in 2004, I began doing my own root touch ups to spare the expense. The trouble with that, is that for the last decade it has become an ‘every third Sunday afternoon’ ritual.

I will openly admit that during the pandemic, I came very close (multiple times) to growing the chemicals out of my hair, then would ultimately fold like a lawn chair and get the touch up brush out.

As a matter of fact, if I am being brutally honest, though my mindset for going grey was always there, it just wasn’t as strong as my inner voice of vanity and personal pride not to.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, I went to get my haircut. Granted, it had been a while, but my stylist was generally worried about the state of my already dead hair that was forever entertaining the grim reaper; so I launched the 'next steps' dialogue.

Well, at the end of my workday Friday, a two-hour ritual to begin my transition was set in motion.

This is what a heartbroken smile looks like.
Stood next to the dark wood siding to cut the glare.
(Yep, my eyes are closed.. because even I couldn't stand to look!)
TAKEN: MAY 5TH,  2023

Though I am certain I was specific that I wanted to take a year to transition, and our starting point would be a warm caramel shade, the one mixing the bleach personally decided full on blonde (with white clumps - you can see the frizz on the right) was the way to go.

Suffice it to say, when she finished, I cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. My husband, the wonderful man he is, quickly and quietly hid!

With tears streaming down my face, I went home to my personal salon, plugged in my gadgets, and took a half a can of coloured root touch up spray to the white hair that framed my face. Then, freshened up my make-up and forced myself to go outside and take the selfie I am sharing here.

As you can see, my eyes are closed. It wasn't intentional, yet I am posting it because I suspect subconsciously I couldn’t stand to look at what I had just done to my already dead mane.

Well, as I have said here before, I will say again. You can’t stop change, only manage it.

Though my stylist did offer for me to return the following day and add low lights to offset, I turned her down. Not only did I not want to incur any more expense, but I also didn’t want to add anything else to my already dead and overbleached coif.

Instead, I decided to wait until after I've returned from the Caribbean in a couple of weeks and see where the sun and salt from snorkeling have my hair colour and I landing.

BUT if last Friday night were any indication, I would say there are going a couple of bars in Jamaica that are going to meet a blonde woman crying in her glass of spirits, with a man quietly hiding under the table sipping a beer.

Then again, maybe not. It’s not like anyone knows me there. 

Because hell... When I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, I still didn't recognize the person looking back!!

#YaGottLaughAboutIt

POLITICAL HAIR DAZE

In this electronic offering, I would like to discuss something as simple as the fact that I was privileged enough to get my hair cut and coloured in Simcoe-Muskoka last week. 

As proof of how truly grateful I am, I have attached before and after selfies illustrating my being provided a much needed personal service that I took completely for granted.

Before and After: With selfie photoshoots happening less than a month apart.
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 2021

Before I begin my rant, I would like to insert a caveat. With all we have happening in the world right now, I wake up every morning making an honest effort to be politically diplomatic. Meaning... 'to say nothing, especially when speaking, is half the art of diplomacy.’

I will acknowledge the fact that I’m sure you're perplexed out of the gate with the concept of my saying ‘nothing.’  My choice isn't because I have decided to shy away from the comfort of confrontation, more because in the last year I tend to gut check before I engage online with a person that is being irrational; to ensure that they are NOT going to be doing the same thing. 

That said, though I have my own ideas on how we got to today, I was wondering if anyone else (specifically in Ontario) feel like the tail is now officially wagging the dog? 

Why has cart sanitation and hazard pay at the local box stores disappeared, yet my amazing hairdresser with only one chair, obsessed to comply with every safety aspect thrown at her, expected struggle to generate honest revenue and pay bills?

It makes no sense.

The fact that the 'essential' weed shop in the sleepy little town where I live is an uber small business with a line up around the corner and down the lane, yet for months I couldn't get a haircut in a shop with a single chair. Even more baffling's that the elementary schools remain open here after cases are confirmed in students, and people still can't get a f*ucking haircut!

Look, I know I am scratching a scab that has been puss filled for a year. But we are locked down in Muskoka again thanks to a supposed 'UK variant' that has landed from Ireland. How did it get here?

At this point, because we aren't allowed to travel, my best guess makes me wonder if it landed on the lid of a can of Guinness sold at the local LCBO, that slipped into the store cooler after refusing to wear mask. 

That said, did you hear?  I got my hair done. We wore masks and everything!

Had it been 72 hours later? My gal would have lost her license!!

#rantcomplete #yagottalaughaboutit #totalbullshit #limitededition 

B IS FOR BIRTHDAY

Happy Birthday to ME.
TAKEN: APRIL 1982

Well, it’s that time of year again. 

You know, when your special day rolls around on the calendar to remind you that you're one step closer to support hose, dentures, and really long afternoon naps!

I may be turning older this month, but this year the day will be considerably different than my last. I had a great birthday last year (probably one of the best ever) but my mindset wasn’t as good as it is this year. Like I always say, change is good.

As busy as I am, I know my day will come and go. I'm hopeful the odd person will wish me all the best, I’ll be grateful, I always am.

There will not be a cake. No gifts will be given. I’ll look in the mirror, thank God I am alive, and pray in the coming year I don’t fall and break a hip.

Anyway, because I've never really celebrated my birthday, there are very few pictures marking the specific day. The photo I am sharing was taken thirty something years ago next week. 

The cake and photo were courtesy of my favourite cousin Joanne, and the pic was snapped at their kitchen counter in North Bay. I remember that very day, it was a Saturday. I remember I was happy and it was a very happy time in my life. 

All of that said, the fact that it’s my birthday month means I get to do my math any way I choose...

This year, I'll be one very happy 29 year old!!

I PROMISED TO PAY IT FORWARD

For the last few weekends I’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to wrap my head around reading a specific book I purchased from my favourite used bookstore before my trip to Cuba.

For varying reasons, after a dozen or more tries, I couldn't seem to make it past page eighteen. Ultimately discouraged, I abandoned my efforts last Saturday & conceded that after more than three decades, I’d finally discovered an offering from the author that I didn’t find remotely appealing.

Throwing down that official gauntlet had me rambling about my cottage bookshelves for something to sink my imagination into. Then, out of the blue, my husband reminded me of a hard cover book I was gifted by a total stranger on my April flight from New Orleans to Dallas-Fort Worth. As you can expect, there’s a story there.

Once I took my seat, a lovely lady with the window seat cheerfully greeted me. I settled in, lowering my tray to make room for my tablet and the paperback book I was in the midst of reading. Out of the blue she announced that she too enjoyed the writer, then produced her newest offering in hardcover. She went on to explain that years ago her husband joined a book club that automatically delivered him the new releases to which he'd present those as gifts to his wife.

As quick as my envy ensued, I instantly had a WTF moment when she confessed it would be nice if he made more of an effort to shop for her so she got to read something else once in a while. I know it’s easy enough to have a book automatically delivered to a specific address but I found the fact that he would gift wrap them and surprise her with them without occasion very sexy. 

Of course, when it comes to gauging romantic gestures toward me I have little, actually zero personal experience. If you'll recall, I'm the gal that has to research and plan her own birthday trips for two every year. Not only that, on my last milestone celebration, my husband had his balloon offering delivered on the wrong day; so perhaps now you can appreciate how I would find a gift wrapped book almost orgasmic!

Anyway, we continued to chat about various books when half way through the flight she pulled out a second hardcover book asking if I’d read it. When I admitted I hadn’t, she generously gave me her never read book. I was both shocked and grateful and I accepted. As we both held onto the book as it transferred ownership, I promised her that when I was finished reading it, I would pay it forward. I would give it to another in hopes that they too would pass it on to someone new.

If you're interested in receiving this special gem, let me know. After you're done with it, feel free to ask to borrow any one of my 40+ Danielle Steele books or any of my new to me used books I aquire from The Owl Pen downtown. I don't care that they won't be gift wrapped, the fact that the owner will call me and tell me new ones have arrived (giving me the first right of refusal) is still very sexy.

What? Are you surprised that practicality won out over romance?

After 30 years of conditioning, I'm honestly OK with it. Which is why I refuse to apologize for enjoying these types of books, nor care to explain why I will gladly tune into a Hallmark Channel flick over a Martin Scorsese movie in a heart beat.

It's my mirage theory: In the absence of water, I tend to eat the sand.

Thank goodness that crap contains lots of fiber!!

Tackled a new book & a Canada Day drink with my best electronic friend simultaneously.
Neither disappointed.
TAKEN: July 1st, 2017

T IS FOR TARDY

I am 4 days behind on the 2017 April A-Z Blogging Challenge. I may be late... But I'm not giving up!!

BITCHES OVER BRUSSELS SPROUTS

Sometimes, the best laid plans never work out the way they're supposed to. As you can imagine, I’d had a couple of options for spending this past weekend but at the end of it all, I figured the right thing to do was to hunker down and close the cottage. Well, yesterday it poured rain here all day, so I ended up lounging in some very ugly jammies, eating junk food and watching the boob tube for 99.9% of the day.

I have no idea why I am making it sound like I am the least bit surprised. Every fall there’s always an adjustment when we move home from the cottage. Anyway, as I was curled up in my chair all day yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice how the “art of squirreling” has been refined at the house this fall. Adding another dog to the mix makes the anticipation of a visit and the actual act of being on high alert much more entertaining. As Dot winds down, it feels like Annie is working overtime to pick up the slack. It’s really very interesting to watch the family of three that we have living in our trees, tease three pups we keep living in our home. 

I realize that this is Dot’s last hurrah. Matter a fact, I am grateful that I snapped this pic of the three of them watching their squirrel friends on the trees right outside the window. As you can see, the timing of my picture was perfect.

Larry, Mo & Curly... I mean Dot, Annie & Puddin'
TAKEN: OCTOBER 24th, 2015

Why? Because the rest of the day, Puddin’ just sat there staring at me wondering when my four time an hour encore (every fifteen minutes like clockwork) of chips and dip would yet again appear. Sad part about that statement is that we took a big chunk out of a strawberry-rubarb pie and tub of vanilla ice cream too. Isn't it odd junk food gives us that false jolt from funk to fab?!

As the four of us girlz spent today bloated and cranky, I find it amazing how my funk/false fab yesterday was the perfect segue for my Facebook blog page post earlier today. It read: I put my scale in the bathroom corner today… and that’s where that bitch will stay until she apologizes!

What can I say...Yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, us four bitches definitely did NOT unconditionally choose a salad!

...Ya Gotta Laugh About It

Red Leaves Already?

I had to work today but believe it or not that's not why I'm going to rant via my electronic soapbox this morn. When I climbed in the outdoor shower first thing, it was a balmy 8C outside. Very BRRRR if I do say so myself. Typically not the banner outdoor bathing weather I got use to this time last year.

Since constructing my l'il shower on the 2012 Canada Day weekend, I have always loved keeping it wide open and being one with nature. This last week it’s been so cold outside that I had to put up an extra shower curtain so that my teeth wouldn't chatter while lathering up.

Sub zero weather ='s Red Leaves in Muskoka!
Taken: August 5th, 2013

Even though it was crazy cold this morning, once in and warm, I separated the curtains to look out into the woods. Much to my dismay I spied a spot of red leaves. I literally asked myself the question out loud... "ya gotta be f*cking kidding me?!"

Red Leaves at the end of July gives me a sense that I’ll be wearing my snow pants and mittens by Thanksgiving. Our Canadian Thanksgiving that is, which makes my mood even worse!

I guess I missed the memo. The one that declared that the summer of 2013 would only be three weeks long. Had I been privy to said memo, I would have been much more tactical about how I would have enjoyed it. 

Let’s just say I am seriously disappointed in Mother Nature. Once again, she shows up and leaves us one disappointing mess. 

Red leaves disappointing that is.... BITCH!

What Do YOU Expect?

Have you ever wondered if the biggest disappointment in day to day life is expectation? 

Not only the expectation you have for yourself; but for those you love, as well as those that you surround yourself with. I realize that’s an extremely slippery slope, yet it’s the question I am left with this morning.

After a very successful morning at work (and very enjoyable afternoon off) for all intense purposes, I didn’t arrive home to what I expected. I’ll take that one step further and say, in finding what I did yesterday; I’m not sure what I should expect in the future. 

Sad really, because not only do I know what I want to have happen but I know what I need to have happen. That said, using the last couple of years as a measuring stick, I’m not sure either will. 

I’m anything but naive. I absolutely and unequivocally know the difference between "want" and "need". I learned that particular life lesson at a very young age. It was one of the core philosophies I was raised by. That’s not a criticism it’s a compliment. My parents raised me the best they could with the resources they had. I guess I have just been blessed to have more all around resources than they did. Naturally,  I automatically expected better results.

Where did I go wrong? Because my business grew so big so fast, I had Jenn and later Kath cater to my children. The harsh reality was that I was busy making hay while the sun shone. As a direct result, through their formative teen years, there may have been more sparing of the rod and spoiling of the child happening than should have for their own good. This was when the cracks began to surface.

Taken the day the Singleton Brothers hired me from Calgary.
They asked to match a face to a voice and so I emailed this pic.
Taken: July 8th, 2005

Truth of the matter is that I worked seven days a week for almost seven years.

If I wasn’t on a plane to Calgary or Halifax, I was in the Downtown GTA or over in Haliburton. 

I'll admit that I have learned firsthand that the laws of supply and demand can be excruciating as well as financially rewarding. 

I guess I just recognize now, that perhaps my priorities were out of focus, and monetary reward replaced a certain nurturing I had been given growing up in the 1970’s. 

As I enter the next phase of my life, I have to ask myself what I would have done differently in the last ten years? My list is long. For instance, I would have stayed away from the lime green and black print fashion combo I rocked back in 2005, when Barry and Brian hired me from Calgary. 

Seriously, I've had to ask myself this morning, what did you expect? Fashion choices aside, I know one thing's for sure. If I knew then what I know now; there would have been a very different result yesterday when I finally arrived at home!

Oh well... Onward and upward is the only direction I can go.

Keep Calm and Carry On!

After an unexpected turn of events last evening; I ended up in my home office, with my Sirus radio cranked to the 70’s on 7. I don’t know about you, but no matter how freaking shitty I feel, music never seems to fail me.

Exhausted and asleep by nine thirty, I was wide awake from two until four this morning watching Love Actually. After falling back to sleep, I woke bright and early to discover one hot mess. The freezing rain outside was brutal and very dangerous; so text messaging over coffee, I decided my day off would be a bit of a chick flick/closet cleaning/get rid of a bunch of bullshit marathon.

Overall it's been a very quiet day. Every once in a while my eyes would get damp; but the blowing of my nose came primarily from the dust bunnies that I captured in whatever closet I was cleaning. Jumping into something big like rearranging furniture or reorganizing every single closet in the house is cathartic for me. It brings me a sense of balance as well as feeling of accomplishment. It's something I usually push myself to do especially if there happens to be a dark cloud hanging over my head.

As you can guess, yesterday was a productive day that very unexpectedly turned downright crappy. That said, I am proud of how I handled my latest challenge just the same. The glass half full part of me is impressed that it produced a bit of ah ah-ha moment. Which is something positive right?

Who knew after all these years, when I would raised my voice (with a compliment of tears) the people closest to me automatically presumed that "she's mad"? When that very statement was verbalized last night, for the very first time in my life, I confidently admitted what I thought was obvious; “I’m not mad… I'm hurt!”

I found this sign at a Vintage Store this summer.
Taken: August 2012

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I really don’t like being a bitch. In my mind, I have already approached something from a hundred different angles before I get dark (with a standard house volume that is far too loud). As you can expect, with my excess volume comes a painful razor sharpness to my words.

Almost 24 hours later all I can offer is an apology. I’m sorry if you missed my stellar performance last night. It wasn't my best and at the same token it wasn't my worst.

All I can say to those in attendance (for my one night limited engagement) ... REMEMBER IT.

Why? Because this theater is officially closed!