Getting to the roots...

Like a lot of women my age, I color my hair--hair that is silver on top and multi-hued over the rest of my head. Choosing a color is difficult. I used to be fire-engine red, but as you age, those brilliant colors start to look harsh.

So now I color it a soft blonde called amber. It actually is pretty flattering--if anything can be at my age. That's one of my projects for today. Color my hair. Pack my bags. Make sure a bunch of stuff is ready to mail. And race through the apartment with a vacuum cleaner.

What is this all in the aid of, you ask? Well, I'm off to see my grandchildren this weekend. Originally we were going to visit them over Easter weekend, but I have a dental appointment on Thursday before Easter. I don't do well with the dentist. And knowing that my mouth will be sore and throbbing like a rusted muffler, well... I decided that it would be best to stay home.

I like to be miserable in private.

So we'll go off to see them for the weekend and no doubt find all sorts of interesting things to keep us entertained. But first, I have personal maintenance things to do and hair coloring is one of those things.

It's amazing how far you can splash hair coloring when you do it yourself. No matter how careful I am, I end up dripping it on that shelf that sticks out from my chest, and down my neck. The house hunk has jury duty today, but if he just happens to come home early, I'll bribe him into helping out.

For one thing, he does a much better job than I do. And for another, I always think of really good bribes. In forty years of marriage, I've found that bribes work very well when I need to motivate him to do something.

Besides, if he colors my hair, it won't take nearly as long. I don't know why it works that way, but that's the truth. Now, if I could teach him how to pluck my eyebrows...

anny