Why Straightening My Hair is hard

The simple answer: because it's naturally curly.

The actual answer: because I feel like a big faker trying to act big.

Just about a year ago, I was introduced to the flat iron. Seriously. Until then, I thought all those movie stars and teenagers just knew how to do their hair. I had no idea there was this new invention out. Obviously, I don't pay much attention to fashion or fussing with hair products and doo-dads.

After experiencing hair straightening at the Hair Garage, which took about 40 minutes, I looked completely different. Suddenly, I looked sophisticated and put together like never before. It was like I gave a damn about my appearance. I really felt good about myself.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Honestly, I'm not sure why I have trouble walking around with my hair sleek and fashionable. It just seems so false to me. I've never wanted to color my hair for the same reason. I mean, I feel guilty using lemon juice.

My guess is if I spent more time digging to the root of my objections I'd find a completely unexpected problem. Pride. I'll bet anything that it has to do with my pride. I want to be genuine inside and out. I think people who have cosmetic surgery for purely vain reasons must be twisted and wrong.

Maybe they are.

But does that mean I am better than them?

When Life Was Normal...

My life used to be normal.

Then I started writing.

It was never the same after that.

My home used to be clean. My yard looked (a little) better. I organized and accomplished many projects. I walked by people without caring what their story might be.

Now my house is in peril of being over run by dust bunnies and dog and cat hair tumbleweeds. Moles and ground ivy have settled comfortably in my yard. I can barely hold one thought in my head before another over takes it.

And when I see someone, nearly anyone, I can no longer ignore them. I wonder about them. Sometimes, I think I might even care about them.

Scenes from the Summer

Liz grew these incredibly huge elephant ears from a tiny root.

The preying mantis grew up!

Results from the gourds - five pumpkins and two butternut squash.

Potatoes, Tomatoes, and Praying Mantis

All summer, this guy has been hanging out, literally, and has accidentally been in the house twice via laundry. Sure, it might not be the same one, but I'm saying it is. I was just reading about praying mantis on line and they have seriously strange procreation habits. You'll have to read about them yourself. Yuck.

I've harvested my first batch of potatoes. Aren't they cute?

I just have to figure out how to cook them correctly!

And not leave them out in the sun. Oops.

Compost Tea

It's the peak of summer. Watermelon, sweetcorn, iced tea, lemonade, peaches...

Midwesterners actually like living here this time of the year. We've so much to brag about.

To further the excitement, today was the day I emptied (mostly)my new composter and used it around my garden plants for that mid-season boost. It looked only ok. Not too impressive. In fact, a bit of a disappointment. However, if my plants suddenly take off again, I'll take that all back.

The label of my composter recommended making "compost tea." Always being intrigued by sun tea, my interest was piqued. Turns out, they are quite different. The label says to add "a little compost" to a gallon or two of water. Vague, isn't it? Perhaps it is like sun tea and it depends on how strong you like your compost tea. I went with about a cup of compost to two gallons of water. It came out pretty dark. Cool. The only hang up was some egg shells and roots got stuck in the spigot. Being the garden warrior that I am, I quickly adjust by yanking the roots out the spout. Problem solved.

First Fruits

About a week ago, the first cherry tomato was ripe. Each day, I walked by, watching its color change from dark green to a blush of orange to its eventual red. Only one more day, I thought, and I'd eat it!

No such luck. Liz beat me to it. She said it was delicious.

Harumph.

However, two days later, there was another one. So, I enjoyed the second ripe tomato of the season. Early - early July - imagine!

Second tomato. Sort of like second fiddle. Only more delicious.

Errol Flynn's Birthday

Today, Errol Flynn would be turning 101 years old. He died at 50 years of age.

How do I know this fascinating information? I just finished reading his autobiography, "My Wicked Wicked Ways." At the time, it was very scandalous as he disclosed his many affairs, allegations of rape, and ups and downs of acting, along with his "colorful" childhood and young adulthood.

What struck me is not that after attaining so much power, money, and women, he still was disillusioned. No, it was that this is a story repeated over and over and over. Now his story is the story of countless other men (and women) who sought fame and fortune and sexual freedom only to find it was hollow.

"Vanity, vanity, all is vanity." It's a timeless tale.

Errol's father was distant and his mother was, allegedly, cruel. He had a rocky relationship with both, but most particularly with his mother. He admits wanting to please her, yearning for a good relationship with her. He found faith in God challenging, though he yearned for it as well. Like so many others, he couldn't do the hard work of learning more, thinking more and self-examination. Instead, he went after the next "shiny thing" that came along. That what was before him, drew him. And he was deceived time and time again, but never did he try something differently, just different women, different thrills, and different homes.

Faith is a gift. What is it called when a gift is offered and never received?