The Cowardly Red Head

This is my natural hair color.

 

I'm bored with it.

 

I swear this lady was on Lost.

 

I gained some red, but lost my eyebrows.

 

Mom, don’t panic.  It looks WAY red in the pictures.  The real color is more like a teeny tiny kiss of red.

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How to train your chickens…

fuzzy wuzzy love

This past weekend was Father’s Day weekend.  As it happens sometimes my birthday is co opted by Father’s Day.  This is one of those years.  That has never been a problem when I lived back in California.  We just made it one big ol celebration.  We grilled, we swam, we opened presents.  My grandma Claudena would have a wheeled cart full of condiments or iced tea.  (Have I said I miss her?  I do.)  I am thirty-seven years old.  Yay me.  I made it this far by the grace of God.  I am the age of fading starlets, too old to play the love interest, too young to play the mother of the love interest.  An interesting place to be.

Since Father’s Day was on my actual birthday, I decided to claim Saturday as mine.  The family got up early and we ventured off to Collinsville, Al to Trade Day.  I had put my hair up in a hair band the night before (see this video ).  I woke up with a cascade of fabulous curls.  I put on makeup and looked like a blond bombshell.  (which was good because I was really ticked at my husband.)  I wore a cute polka dot shirt, jeans and flip-flops.  A bit much for Trade Day, I guess, but I wanted to rock the curls. After we parked and walked to all that is Trade Day, I figured the kids should get a biscuit before they cried for one.  There was a booth right away, and I ordered various biscuits for all of us. (I recommend a tenderloin biscuit with mustard.  In fact, a biscuit with mustard is unreal.)  We waited for what seemed like an hour, and finally sat down at a dirty picnic table, noshing on our bread stuffs.  Jacob saw that they offered deep-fried Oreo’s on the menu.  He had to try one.  I confess, so did I.  (WOW!)  Full and frisky, we made our way up the rows of vendors.  I wasn’t interested in too much.  I was on a mission.

I wanted some bra’s and some baby chicks.

There were adorable puppies galore, baby goats, piglets the size of my big toe.  Oh, the cute was almost too much.  St Bernard pups.  Free kittens.  If you know me, you would wonder why I don’t just go ahead and build an ark.  As we came to the chickens, my heart began to sink.  There were plenty of pullets and full grown hens, but I wanted some babies.  I lurrrrrve my babies.  I had all but given up when I found a vendor that had baby chicks and bunnies.  I had planned on getting 4 or 5 to start.  I told the gal we were just getting started and were open to any advice.  She said to start with 10 chicks.  TEN!  Whaaaa?  I had already worked out a set up in my mind for 4 or 5.  Okay, so ten.  At a dollar a piece, that wasn’t bad.  I would have to readjust my plans a little, but the more the merrier.  I asked if they had a way to verify that they were indeed hens, (I READ IT ONLINE, OKAY?), she smiled and said “No, not really.”  I asked, “Well, what if I get 10 roosters?”  She laughed and said that wouldn’t happen.  So I picked out ten, and then one more little buff that I knew was my true love.  She put them in a cardboard box and we continued our Trade Day jaunt.

That’s when the muggy came out.  All kinds of muggy.  Instantly my curls turned into wet noodles.  My skin was covered in blisters of sweat.  Sweat ran down our backs, fronts and sides.  I started to look a little Tammy Faye, so we headed back to the car.  Jacob had ditched us gotten separated from us, so I had to come back and search for him.  I found him staggering and sweating.  “Where were you guys?” he cried in his best Oscar Nom.

And now…introducing the Clements Brood.

huddle up!

bigger, snarkier....rooster?

Oh, the places we will go!

Gratituesday Product Review

I am WHITE.  I am so white I am almost blue.  Kinda like a cloud.  Being this way made me a perfect candidate for thousands of nightmare scenarios in school: Gym class, Flag Girl Uniform, class trips to the water park, any park, Spring, Summer.  Back then I there was  no Nicole Kidman to point to.  Everyone was tan. Oh, and it was California.  The girls I had to stand next to were usually short, beautiful, glossy black-haired Latinas with skin the color of the finest cocoa. Gorgeous.  I never had a chance.  I remember my first day of kindergarten.  Dressed so cute, long blond hair, I was ready to conquer the world. Then I heard the words “You are the UGLIEST white girl I have EVER seen!”  I found the nearest tunnel and hid until senior year.

In junior high, I wore sweats to P.E. as long as I could.  Inevitably, there would come a day when the shorts had to go on.  I would walk out to gasps. (Over-exaggeration.) My classmate Tana Moz walked directly up to me and touched my leg. She pulled back her finger as if it had been burned.   “I didn’t believe you were that white. I thought you were wearing pantyhose!”  She shook her head and went back to her friends.  I stayed to the back of the class.

So went the years.  Embarrassed for being so white. (Why is white so terrible??)  Sure I could slather on my mom’s QT, but that raised more questions, so I left it alone.  Oompa loompa orange has never been “in”.  Then, things began to change.  Skin cancer rates went up.  Fake tan products got better.  I became one with tanning creams, my skills of application unmatched.  Me, bronze beauty, whenever I wanted.  Bliss.

Today I am going to tell you about a tanning product I used for Easter and how it altered my plans. A bit.

I saw a morning news show that recommended products for getting the at home airbrush tan.  I was salivating.  The one I purchased was L’Oreal Sublime Bronze.  I chose it because the gal went on, and on and on about how flawless the spray went on and there was no rubbing in.  Just Spray…and walk away.  Okay!

Sublime?

Like I said, I am a pro at applying self tanner.  I am pretty good with a can of spray paint.  I love the look of the airbrush tan.  This should have been the perfect storm of bronzy-ness.  Nope.  My upper body turned out quite nice, only a few places were a little bit darker than the rest.  My legs were another story.  When I got up Easter morning to examine my handiwork I knew I was going to have to wear pants.  Most of the mist landed on the tops of my feet.  Specifically my toes.  Oh, a LOT got on the floor so the bottom of my feet were like a bronze statue.  I sprayed it evenly, but it didn’t turn out even.  It looked like I had been stuck on a lop sided rotisserie.  Well done in some parts, still raw in others.  I so wasn’t fancy.  At all.

I don’t know if I’ll spend another nine bucks to try this again.  At least I know my limits with the lotion.  It’s a bummer because I really liked the application process, and the color,  just not thrilled with the coverage.  Regardless, I am sooooo very thankful that the options are out there.  Apparently my white legs cause a lot of stress for people.