The weather has been so lovely lately that I decided to post another Springtime poem I wrote.
April means that Spring is here,
no doubt my favorite time of year.
The Winter winds have ceased to blow
cold sheets of rain, and sleet, and snow.
The Summer months have yet to dawn,
with brutal heat that sears my lawn,
and wilts the flowers, my spirit too.
I hate the heat, I really do.
While Autumn surely has it merits,
April is a time for carrots,
Easter bunnies, eggs and hunts...
what more could any person want?
Monday, April 18, 2011
I love to write in rhyming verse, and I wrote this little poem as a tribute to my mother. It reminds me of all the Easter Sundays my sisters, brother and I shared when we were kids. Mom made a big deal out of Easter and it was always such a special day. I remember how sad I was when it was time to get dressed for church and leave the Easter baskets behind...and what fun it was to come back home and gorge on chocolate!
Hop, Hop, Hop
Shop, Shop Shop!
Chocolate rabbits, Peeps and grass
Transport through the looking glass
Easter magic for a child
Look of wonder, face beguiled
Jellybeans and Easter eggs
Hide behind the table legs
Under couches, desks and chairs
Look around, they’re everywhere!
When the sweets have all been found
Church bells summon and resound
Dressed up in our Easter best
Off we go in frills and vest
To sing the praise and mourn the loss
Of He who died upon the cross
Who three days later, rose again
And cleansed us of our earthly sins
Thank you, God for Easter fun
And sending us your only Son
Sunday, April 3, 2011
I recall with disdain the first time I colored my hair. Being unfamiliar with the various products available, I pored over every shade of brown that Walmart offered, looking for the one that would best match my natural hair color – dark brown. I desperately wanted to cover the gray, but didn’t want the change in my hair color to be blatantly obvious to friends, family and co-workers. I finally settled on a L’oreal product with a picture on the front that looked like a pretty fair match. I applied it that day and was dismayed to find the color was too intense - much darker than my natural color. When
got home, he looked at me and his eyebrows shot up, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything right at first. Gary
“I know. It’s awful isn’t it?”
“No,” he lied. “I’ll get used to it.”
“Well, the next time I do it, I’ll get a lighter shade and it will look more like my own color.”
Four agonizing weeks later, I selected a color I felt would correct the problem. My natural color has a slightly reddish tone and the picture on the box seemed like it would take me to the desired color, considering it had to overpower the dark brown. Once it was on though, I grew concerned that the goppy mess on my head looked perhaps a bit too red. My worst fears were realized when I shampooed it out and faced the mirror. It was red…very red. As intense as my misery was, it deepened when I imagined the inevitable encounter with my husband. When I heard his car come up the driveway, I positioned myself in the living room where he would not see me right away.
“How was golf?”
“Good. Where are you?”
“Umm, in the living room but stay where you are for a minute.”
“Well, remember I told you that when I colored my hair again, I thought I could correct the shade to match my natural color better?”
“Yeah…oh, no. What have you done, let me see.”
I stepped into the hall and once again those eyebrows betrayed his best effort to not hurt my feelings. And he laughed.
“It’s even worse than before. Do you hate it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just that when I left this morning you looked like Desi Arnaz, and now you look like Lucille Ball.”
I consulted a professional before I colored my hair again and finally arrived at a color that worked nicely. I have stayed with that color for years, then recently my daughter commented that since my hair had gotten grayer, the color was lighter and kind of “washed out” looking.
“You might consider going with a slightly different shade – something a wee bit deeper with a just hint of red to it.”
This in mind, the next time I needed to color my hair, I studied the different shades to figure out which one would give me the desired result. Ultimately, I selected one called ‘Medium Chestnut’ and took it to the stylist who now applies my color for me. Although apprehensive, she did not seem to think it would be too red, but once again when it was actually on my hair, it turned a furious shade of crimson. Horrified, I resigned myself to hope for the best but it was not to be. Once I was shampooed and blow-dried, I once more encountered the redhead in the mirror, but this time the whole thing struck me as hysterically funny. I cracked up all the way home in the car – at my stupidity for letting this happen again and at the image of
’s face when he saw me. He came out the door to greet me as I got out of the car. The sunshine hit my hair and those eyebrows shot up. He grinned and said, “Lu-u-u-c-y – you got some ‘splainin to do!” Gary