A Curly World

Photo Curly World

Whether wild or demure, never underestimate the power of a curl. Little is known about this type of hair, that I, along with approximately only 15% of the Caucasian population seem to have been born with. As I get to know them more personally, those little ringlets are always surprising me when I least expect it, going about their merry way, with no clue they are a constant metaphor for life. 

While straight hair is lighter, due to its individual strands, curly hair moves as one unit and gets less tangled. When this force fiercely bands together, the coils and twists always get their way. I have finally realized when I want to part my hair on the right side and those stubborn spirals decide to undercut me and make it a left part day, it’s a subtle reminder to just go with the flow. 

But, this wasn’t always the case. During my entire teen years, with songs by the Beach Boys playing nonstop in my head and dreams of having long, straight hair like the girls they sang about, I persistently waged war against my hair. Curl Free, to straighten my hair, led to ironing it- luckily, I remembered to use a towel between my hair and the iron. I finally realized it was time to throw in that towel when setting my wet hair in juice cans overnight resulted in the words “Tropicana” to be imprinted across my dry hair. 

Securing those untamed locks in a bun professionally steered me through my business years. It was an outspoken hairdresser that finally convinced me to cut my hair short. With nothing more than a photo from Playboy magazine, he was able to counter my objection of not wanting to look like a boy. 

I naively thought I had won the battle. This outwardly well-groomed appearance helped to create the no nonsense persona I always wanted. But, just because the curls were chopped off, doesn’t mean they, and the personality traits that accompany them, weren’t still there. So, who was I? Was I the straight as an arrow me, that meant business, or the curly fun-loving and outgoing me?

COVID kept us all from haircuts and as my curls began to reappear, I somehow felt comfortable to welcome them back, not that I had much choice. This time though, it seemed these old friends were popping up at a time when I had decided that maybe the methodical Linda could coexist with my alter ego, Lola. 

According to Glamour magazine, curls are one of the biggest beauty trends for 2022. “Expect to see curls everywhere!” they reported. Whether wavy, curly or kinky, the three types of curly hair are known to be easier to care for. Flowing freely, they are smugly aware that, as their numbers increase, curly heads could single handedly transform the hair care industry, with blow dryers, hot rollers and curling irons going the way of the bubble hair dryers and bobby pins. There’s a curly hair movement out there and it won’t stop until it makes waves.

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Life’s Souvenirs

Photo Souvenirs

How is it that a trinket, of little or no cost, and only meaningful to the beholder, can stir up such emotions?

Souvenir #1
Whenever I look at the price ticket I’ve saved all these years, I smile to think how my negotiating skills started to develop at a young age. It was all due to a $13 dress that I wore to my first dance on a Friday the 13th.

Smiling and confident, I wait for just the right moment to approach my mom. I introduce my case in a short concise presentation and finish by making my request known. Bargaining commenced, both sides cordial, but willfully strong as to their intended outcomes. When the dust settles, we shake on a mutually agreed upon resolution: the black velvet dress with the white lace collar would be my mine to wear to the dance… and also on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and every other upcoming holiday.

Souvenir #2
After the Camino in 2018, we travel to Finesterre- Latin for “the end of the earth.” I situate myself on a flat rock and sit cross legged with my eyes closed and my hands in prayer at my heart. I hear the sound of a flute. A young man has chosen this spot to play for tips. His melody is harmonizing with the sound of the waves and I experience such peace. For a moment, I feel as if I am outside my body and wonder if this is what practicing meditation correctly feels like. The word “peace” keeps coming to mind and I tell myself that I don’t want to forget this feeling when I go back to my busy life. Eyes now open, I feel energized, yet so serene.

As we head back to our hotel, I notice two older pilgrims walking toward us. The one that looks like Santa Claus – except he’s wearing sandals and shorts – stops in front of me and hands me something. I hesitate and shake my head no, but he insists and says “Yes, for you.” As he walks on, I look down to see what he has given me. It is a card with a lovely hand drawn picture of a dove that I’ve since framed. Across the bottom are the words “Peace, Paz.”

Souvenir #3
The shells that I keep on my dresser always remind me of the 100 steps to the beach we would count out loud, as we ran up and down them. It holds memories of the time my younger sister stood on a sand hill, and with hands on hips, declared she was going to be a nurse when she grew up, get married and she and her family were going to live in our summer home. She did and they did!

Sauntering down that same beach years later, the heart shaped rock my sister found and handed to me stirred me out of my daydream. As the ocean waves repeated the same, never-ending crashing sound around us, just as they had back then, it seemed that nothing had changed, yet everything was so different.

Hang on to your memories and your mementos, keep them close and, once in a while, let them remind you of a time in your life that’s passed, but is never really gone.

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Pencil Me In?

Photo Pencil Me In

I have the uncanny ability to tell you what I was doing on any given day, beginning as far back as 1969. This has less to do with my psychic abilities and more to do with the small month-at-a-glance calendars distributed for free each year by Hallmark. For years, appointments along with noteworthy occasions were documented neatly in those small squares. Once Hallmark no longer cooperated with my calendar dependency, I graduated to a Filofax, the epitome of personal organization.

Recently, one of our neighbors announced, after a vacation to New Mexico, they planned to relocate there. They quickly sold their home, car, RV, truck and most of their furniture to other neighbors and were on their way, mentioning they planned to “pencil things in” as they went along.

That stopped me in my tracks! You see, in all of my calendars nothing seems to appear in pencil. I am strictly a pen/permanent marker girl. If you pencil things in, you are, in fact, winging it and have the ability to change or even erase your plans. I seem to have been born without the “play it by ear” or “off the cuff” gene. Which brought me to thinking about the yellow stick that started it all: the pencil.

When Hyman Lipman invented the pencil with the built-in eraser in 1895, writers everywhere were eternally grateful, no longer having to carry around a stale baguette under their arm. Before Hyman’s invention, the baguette was known to be the most effective way to erase ink off a page.

The best graphite came from China. In order to promote the fact their pencils carried the best quality lead, Chinese pencil manufacturers started painting their pencils yellow, the color associated with royalty.

Pencils have made their mark on history. In 1800s England, stealing a pencil meant banishment to the penal colony for seven years. Once graphite was found to be the perfect coating for cannonballs, it became a precious commodity on the black market. Mining workers were forced to strip before heading home and consumers were hoodwinked into purchases of wooden sticks painted yellow with black tips. During World War II, rotary pencil sharpeners were banned in England and people were encouraged to use a knife, thought to be a less wasteful way to sharpen.

Famous authors have drawn on the simple pencil for inspiration. In a 1935 article in Esquire magazine, Ernest Hemingway acknowledged the pencil as a means of constantly and easily refining his work. Working in his father’s pencil factory as a young man, Henry David Thoreau was responsible for introducing the measurement for the hardness of pencil lead. Having calculated levels from numbers one to four, the number two pencil became the standard in the U.S..

A single pencil has enough graphite to draw a line 35 miles long or write 45,000 words. Even though I have since moved on to a calendar on my iPhone, perhaps I should try to sharpen my skills, introduce the pencil to my writing world and not worry about being so precise. Write or wrong, it may be pointless, but it’s worth a try.

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Who Was That Masked Man?

Photo Masked Man

The next time you are fussing about wearing a mask, think about Clayton Moore. Starting in 1949 and, until his death in 1999, he wore a mask (over his eyes, not his mouth and nose, but still?!) while portraying the character The Lone Ranger. 

Initially starring on the television series of the same name, he later became the Lone Ranger full time, making nationwide public appearances. Ironically, wearing that mask to conceal his identity made him one of the most recognizable characters in the world. 

As the fictional story goes, he was the sole survivor of an ambush on Texas Rangers. Nursed back to health by Tonto, an Indian who became his loyal companion, they roamed the Old West together, aiding those in need and fighting outlaws while in search of Butch Cavendish, known to be the leader of the ambush. 

Why did The Lone Ranger call his Indian companion “Tonto,” Spanish for “fool?” In return, did Tonto call him “Que no sabe,” Spanish for “(the one) who doesn’t know” or “Kemosabe,” thought to mean “friend” in Tonto’s native Potawatomi language? And speaking of the Potawatomi, how did they manage a $390 million expansion project in order to build a successful casino and hotel in what was once a desolate area in Milwaukee, Wisconsin? This is what you think about when you have a little more time on your hands. 

Come to think of it, I may have more in common with Clayton than I thought. We both understand how hiding your identity behind a mask can make you feel more introspective.

As The Lone Ranger spoke those famous words “Hi ho, Silver, away!” he’d urge his horse to rear up on his hind legs and dramatically descend into a fast gallop, not dwelling on the past, but heading to new adventures. I think I’ll keep that in my saddle bag the next time I need a reminder to unmask my fun loving side. 

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Curls in Crisis

Photo Curls Crisis

They were cut down into submission for years, never expecting that their time would come again. But, these asymmetrical follicles that tend to make hair curl as it grows, patiently awaited their comeback and what a comeback it was!

This year, a lack of a haircut on my regularly scheduled date continued on for months. Neither hairbrush nor comb could subdue the rampage of ringlets that little by little began to appear all over my head. I likened their appearance on the scene to a field of battle, as they helped each other to unfurl and together rose to independence. 

A blow dryer was no match for these stubborn spirals and soon I realized that letting them dry naturally was the only option. Problem was, there was strength in numbers and I had absolutely no control as to what direction or how they would style themselves each day. 

Thinking myself very clever, I decided that rather than fight them, I would give in and let them part and twist as they wished. But, just as I was getting used to that look, without any warning they rebelled and chose another direction in which to coil. One day, I actually thought I heard them giggling. 

Mornings have been especially difficult. Opening my eyes and seeing Mr. Wiz* smile and say good morning, I contentedly begin my day until I catch my reflection in a mirror and gasp. I look like the child of Margaret Thatcher (as she appeared in the latest episode of “The Crown”) and Don King, the boxing promoter known for his “tall hair.” Each day, I wonder how Mr. Wiz cannot see this; is it true love or does he not have his glasses on yet?

Out of desperation, I subtly introduced my unruly tresses to the bandanna. Folding and twisting it first, I slowly and gently maneuvered it behind my ears and then pushed the front of my hair back and quickly tied it. Surprisingly, they snuggled in and around it. All was well until I took it off and they reverted into rebellion again. 

To the outside, straight haired world, curly hair signifies freedom, strength and independence. I have come to the conclusion that my hair and I just don’t agree. I feel as if I have the wrong head on my body. If you’ve ever switched heads on your dolls, you know just what I mean (though switching Ken and Barbie’s heads did totally confuse my then 5-year old brother for a year or so). 

While my head says I am methodical, my hair says I’m wild and free. As much as I’d like to run in slow motion, shaking my head as my hair defiantly struts its stuff, the real me remembers back to the day when I’d blow dry my short hair quickly in the morning and it would obediently remain in place all day. 

Don’t tell them, but I am considering cutting off my curls. I might keep some in a zip-close bag where, much like a wild animal in a cage, they will behave and can be admired from afar. Who knows? Maybe on special occasions I might glue a couple of curls to my forehead and just for the day, pretend I am actually the girl with the devil may care hair.

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

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The Hug: Embracing the Return of the Forbidden

Photo Hug

You other huggers out there know just what I mean. Before COVID, not a day would go by when I wasn’t hugging someone, somewhere. Friend, family, total stranger; it was my instinctive way of communicating. I don’t know about you, but I’m having difficulty trading that in for an elbow bump. 

According to Wikipedia, the verb hug was first used in the 1560s and has two origins. Either it was based on the Norse word hugga, meaning to comfort or the German word hegen(to cherish). Either way, the word/action soon came to be the universal sign of comfort and an acceptable norm in public. 

Whatever type of hug (bear, romantic, polite, group, intimate, back, etc.): what defines a good hug? 
– Open your arms
– Hug like you mean it
– Lean and breathe into it
– Don’t squeeze too hard

Hugs have long been undervalued for their free, quick and easy way to share any emotion. What better way to communicate a greeting, goodbye, congratulations, affection, to console or to unite a team or performers?

The act of hugging releases oxytocin (aka “the cuddle hormone”) in the brain. A 20 second hug is known to slow down our heart rate, improve our mood, alleviate stress and lower our blood pressure. Someone touching you activates the pressure receptors that send signals to the brain associated with pleasure and reward, similar to chocolate. 

All is not lost without that sweet treat. The key is to provide ourselves some comfort. You can hug yourself, squeeze a pillow or cuddle with your pets. Petless? I’ve read that cow hugging has actually become a new trend. As other animals follow in this movement, just a reminder that a bear hug has to do with the type of hug and is not in any way related to the animal itself. 

If you are fortunate enough to not be living alone right now, take full advantage and hug the heck out of your roommates. Take care to exercise some restraint, lest you care to compete with a Canadian couple who in 2010 entered The Guinness Book of Records for the longest hug recorded: 24 hours and 33 minutes. 

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Sun City: A View Through Rose Colored Sunglasses

Photo WCS Rocks N83 Joy

It’s Disneyland without the lines! It’s a cruise without the ocean! It’s spring break with better booze! And, up until its total shutdown in March due to COVID, this 55+ community was in full swing, with residents’ social schedules overflowing with events.

The 60 charter clubs, with yearly dues of only $10, enticed you to get out of your comfort zone and try something new. The golf courses, swimming pools, outdoor sports, hiking trails and exercise classes spurred you to get up and get moving. It was hard to decide what shows, concerts and movies to attend. The neighborhood representatives that lead each community worked with their various committees and planned activities.

Sun City is not for everyone. While nonconformists would deplore the many rules, procedures, guidelines and policies that need to be followed, sticklers welcome the regulations that keep everything running like a well-oiled machine and looking just right.

Leave it to some energetic, creative neighbors of mine to not let anything get in their way of camaraderie. In the spirit of friendship, they maneuvered around set protocols to come up with some resourceful ideas:

Takeout Thursdays
In an attempt to support neighborhood restaurants and have a little something to look forward to, our neighborhood representative introduced Takeout Thursdays. Early each week, a restaurant was chosen and its menu was emailed to all. Orders were sent in and the restaurants were all too happy to deliver directly to anywhere from 60-75 doors.

Chalk Talk
When her students were bored at recess, a retired teacher remembered their delight when she first said “Let’s talk with chalk!” She wanted to rekindle that feeling with her neighbors.

Excited, she emailed her neighbors an invitation to come to her driveway and “chalk talk.” Before she knew it, pictures, inspirational messages and poems adorned her driveway. In between the creative process, there was even some social distance visiting.

The Friendship Bench
Every time she would walk past her neighbor’s front yard, it would remind her of a similar setting in her previous home, which had the added feature of a lovely old bench.

Knowing her neighbor was a woodworker, she asked if he could build her a bench. What she didn’t know was that he had put himself through college as a boat carpenter, so was not intimidated in the least to take on the project with only a photo to work with. Since she was only used to painting very small images, it took a couple of weeks for her to teach herself to paint the larger images of poppies on the bench.

This labor of love was finally completed and positioned in its place of honor, under the shade of a beloved tree. They then emailed the entire neighborhood and extended an invitation from them both, to come by and sit a spell on the friendship bench, whenever the spirit moved them.

Painted Rocks
At the onset of COVID, an artistic neighbor began the undertaking of anonymously leaving a painted rock outside every home in our neighborhood. Little did she know that her creations would take on a life of their own.

The bereaved woman that stepped out of her home and found a rock that said “Faith.” An ill neighbor that looked down and saw the rock with “Hope” written on it. It was awe inspiring how these rocks, with just the right comforting sentiments on them, seemed to find the spot where they belonged.

In the meantime, almost overnight, painted rocks started to appear on our community’s walking path. No one seemed to know who was creating them (our neighbor says it wasn’t her), which made the upbeat, faith based and funny messages all the more enchanting. You couldn’t help but smile and sometimes, laugh out loud as you passed them.

Who would ever think that something as simple as rocks could soften the sharp edges of our current isolation? Or, that even though the rain had washed away all those good chalk talk wishes, it didn’t dampen the spirits of this close-knit community.

Photo WCS Rocks Path 1

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The Three Amigos Brighten My Mornings

Photo Three Amigos Blog Brt

The Three Amigos ham it up for passersby

“Top of the morning!” You can’t help but smile when the three older gentlemen, who grace our community’s walking path with their presence every day, welcome fellow walkers with their signature greeting. Allen, Dennis and Bobby met six years ago on the path and have been walking together ever since. 

The path mirrors the set of “Cheers,” the television show where “everybody knows your name” as passersby are welcomed on a first name basis. Then, it quickly morphs into a segment of “Hee Haw,” the television show known for its country music interspersed with one-liners, as jokes bounce back and forth between the three friends. 

“We’re the three wise men,” laughs Dennis. “More like the three stooges,” quips Bobby. “Hey, what has hairy legs and likes aunts?” asks Allen to anyone that might be listening, “Uncles!” “You’re looking particularly fluffy today,” Bobby jibes Allen as they saunter on. 

Allen, the jokester of the group, who says he’s built for comfort, not speed, always has his dog, Hammer, at his side. “I’m going to change Hammer’s name to Five Miles, so when I’m asked what I did today I can say I walked Five Miles.” Allen, who was born in the area, remembers riding his horse through what is now the path as a child. 

Tall and lanky, Dennis is the polite sidekick. Golf lured him to the area, as he and his wife were traveling through. He’s been trying to teach Allen how to play, but says “So far, it’s down spiraled from a novel to a short story.”

Then, there’s Bobby. The senior member of the group, he’s always nattily attired in dress pants, a long-sleeved shirt and cowboy hat with never a drip of sweat to be seen. Some say he’s heading right to a country western dance after his daily walk. He’s been unanimously voted best dressed on the walking path and holds his own, trading wisecracks with his pals. 

As they travel on, you can hear the muffled sounds of chatter and laughter and sense that the more they tease each other, the fonder the three seem to grow of each other. “It’s amazing how something as simple as a walk could develop into such friendships,” notes Allen, “The three of us have been privileged to meet so many wonderful people each day.” 

Likewise, their fellow walkers have been thoroughly entertained, leaving the path with a smile and a spring in their step at a time when they need it the most. Personally, all I know is that when my boys tell me “You’re looking as cute as a little mud turtle today”, I’m pretty sure that it’s going to be a great day.  

Texpert in Training

“We’re from Texas.” Europeans say they are always rather surprised that, except for Texans, most Americans reply “U.S.A.” when asked where they’re from. 

Thinking back to all the places we’ve moved, Texas might be the only place where we felt embraced on arrival and much like country fried steak and cream gravy, we were only too happy to soak it up. 

Known as “The Friendly State,” Texans are approachable and welcoming, known to strike up a conversation just about anywhere. That explains a deep discussion with a beautiful, young waitress at Austin’s Lamberts Downtown Barbeque as to whether she should permanently remove any of her full body tattoos and a conversation with a breeder, at my first armadillo race, about his special rearing techniques. 

Neighborly seems to take on a new meaning here. Having resided in cities where eye contact was a novelty and neighbors’ names were a mystery, you quickly settle into a pleasant flow of greeting and conversing with everyone you meet, waving hello to each car that passes by and smiling a lot. Neighbors open their homes, their garages and their gardens to you and you, likewise return the favors, wondering why life wasn’t like this all along.

Don’t blame Texas for its boldness. It’s a big state (second largest after Alaska) and can’t help its outsized persona: big personalities, big trucks, big steaks. Suffice to say, there’s not much in the petite category here. 

There’s something unique about Texas and I’ve whole heartedly accepted its invitations to experience its distinctive vibe:

Chicken S**t Bingo
Where else can you spend a Sunday afternoon that includes chickens, chicken feed and what happens after chickens eat? The band was loud, the beer cold and the Little Longhorn Saloon was packed. The $2 ticket had a number on it and gave you one chance on the giant plywood bingo table. As luck would have it, the chicken left her “mark” on my number and I was the winner of $115 in cash!

Weird homes Tour
By the end of the day, we had driven 90 miles all-around Austin, exploring homes that put the “E” in eccentricity. Whether it was a series of domes rumored to have special healing powers or the royal blue cosmic room featuring a 100” flat-screen TV (most guys did not get past this point and just stood there, gaping at the TV), we were not sure if it was the police car hood with working sirens on the ceiling, the doll heads under glass, a hollowed-out armadillo holding guest towels or the enthusiastic homeowners that we’d remember the most.

We arrived at Indra’s Awarehouse for the after-party, a large metal roofed warehouse, filled to the brim with the owner’s art and collections of oddities. As scantily dressed acro-yoginis glided up yards of silk fabric and performed above our heads, we learned from the more adventurous guests that anything crunchy with a barbecue flavor (crickets and mealy worms) were edible after some of Austin’s handmade Tito’s Vodka. 

Live music
Famous for its music venues, you soon learn that whether it’s a renovated gas station, a timeworn dance hall or a bar; in Texas, an old wooden table, a band and some cold beer leads to toe tapping. Under the watchful eye of the sassy owner’s daughter, we took a dance class at The Broken Spoke (one of the aforementioned dance halls) and are now able to two-step alongside cowboys, wondering how we waited this long for a dose of honky-tonk. 

Food, fun and fame
The drive to HEB, the local grocery store, always puts a smile on my face. Passing the open fields on each side of the road, the only traffic you notice might be the cows vying for the same sweet spot of grass. 

Pronounced as H-E-B, it stands for Herbert E. Butt, its founder’s initials. Recently, HEB was named the top U.S. grocery store retailer by Dunnhumby, a global leader in data science (sorry, Trader Joes and Amazon!). With a Chief Medical Officer, a medical board and a pandemic plan already in place, once the coronavirus hit, they quickly contacted top retailers in China and Europe to gain insight as to how the illness had progressed and its effects on employees, the supply chain and shopping behavior. All this combined with its state shaped novelty items and locally sourced products, led many Texans to joke that maybe H.E.B. should run for President!

While I’m not sure that I was actually on the lookout for a state to call my own, I can honestly say that I’m in a blissful state of mind and feeling pretty comfortable in my cowboy hat and boots, ordering my BBQ “fatty,” making sure we have yearly tickets to the rodeo and even adding “Y’all” to a sentence now and then. 

While moving may come with its share of disappointments, my only regret is that our community association has put the nix on the Tuff Shed that I dreamed about in our backyard, a little haven that would’ve served as a writer’s retreat/guest house. Nevertheless, I have decided to use that fortitude that Texans are known for in order to research stealth technology, thereby making both any frustrations and the Tuff Shed less visible.