Policy change?

I’ve always had a rule about not using my real picture on my blog. Oh, the pink-wig pic is me, but it’s me when I’m tan, and the image is way shrunken, and the pink part is a virtual wig. I used to be involved in some political causes that had life-threatening consequences, you see. I still believe in those causes, but enough time has passed.

And as a friend pointed out, I write about pink hair rather enticingly.

So I’m making an exception, once, and sticking it up here in this post. Yes, I’m wearing shades. It was very bright and my eyes were teary from pollen. Also, it’s the best look at the hair, despite the wind. And I hate my teeth, so I don’t like to smile. (Also, I couldn’t find my favorite lipstick, and I suspect my dog might have eaten it.)

No, it probably doesn’t look as magenta as it really IS, in the image. It looks amazing on stage though, with those lights shining behind it. I’m told it will fade to a paler pink. It looks pretty cool on the oxford blue pillow case I forgot to cover the night I had it done, too. Sort of like fuschia easter egg dye. (Btw, Firefox thinks I misspelled ‘fuschia.’)


We didn’t bleach out the strands that were dyed, this time, though we did when did the original pink several months ago. We WILL be bleaching again when I go back on September 1st. At that point I may switch back to Atomic Pink (brighter, and glows under black light) or might not. I want to see how this fades.

Just Grape

I’ve been on a grape kick this week. We never had grapes around as a kid because my parents wouldn’t buy them. Plight of the migrant workers and all that. I suspect I shouldn’t be buying them either, but I love grapes – they’re like Nature’s candy – cool, sweet, bite sized.

This week my grape of choice has been red and seedless. Red grapes are fuller and sweeter than green, but dustier as well. You have to really rinse them well or they make your tongue feel sort of furry. I dislike that feeling. Usually I chill grapes, but this week I’ve been eating them at room temperature. They’re good either way.

My grandfather, when he was retired and pretending to be a country farmer despite living in the middle of a suburban tract in New Jersey, grew an experimental crop of green grapes one summer when I was very little. I remember this because my dog, a white Poodle blend named Taffy, ate them all.

She got sick from them, I’m certain, but I bet she enjoyed them before that.

(And yes, I know now that grapes are toxic to dogs.)