2. If you are reading this and thinking that I am so well put together, so on top of things, so graceful and tidy that I could never have a blog about a disaster, then you obviously do not know me well enough...or spent more than 5 minutes with me.
I am all about "fall colors". I took a trip to Target last week and have been wearing "Hot For Chocolate", a very stylish nail color on my fingers ever since.
So, I decided today that I need a fall color in my hair. Yes, it already is a fall color: brown. But I decided that I needed a different one. What I wanted and what I pictured was a beautiful array of browns and reds, both lights and darks, falling in perfect formation with my curls, creating a very fall look. So much so, that if I were in the midst of a beautiful park filled with falling leaves, you may think that it was some sort of photo shoot for great curls. Or perhaps an environmental ad, assuring us that if we took care of the environment, we would become one.
But let's be honest, I'm just not that bold. Curly hair has a tendency to look dry, and well, I have dry hair so that just makes it all the worse. So when my hair is light in color, I feel like it looks like a stack of straw, super dry and ready to break. That being said, I always go dark, but I still envision the light. Today I left with "Soft Licorice Black" and pictured "Pecan", "Chestnut" "Paint the Town" (all titles of the wonderful fall colors I longed for.)
So my adventure began after dinner tonight, and I went in the bathroom and prepared for a new fall color. Almost immediately it was disaster. As I began squirting my head with the bottle, like an older person with no depth perception, I squirted right past my head and on to the wall, and the carpet. I am sure I mumbled some sort of profanity and quickly wiped the dye off. Coast clear.
No, not clear; black. Cause Bonnie? It's dye. So it' dyes things. Stains things. Stays there. I looked back no more than two minutes later and there are blackish purplish streaks running down the wall. Profanity again. So I hurry up with my hair dye, which of course, is a really good way to make sure that you are getting every strand and that it's evenly colored.
At about that time, I hear Cy turn off the TV and I panicked. Like a twelve year old who just spilled black emo hair dye on the carpet got caught on the phone late in the night, I just shut the door and locked it. YES! I am a freak! ( I am seriously dying [no pun intended] laughing at myself for doing that. What is wrong with me?) Cy comes over to the bathroom and asks what I am doing in there, and of course I have no explanation so I open the door and show him the wall. But he does not notice because he is pointing at the Dalmatian spot of emo on the carpet. That too, does not come up with one little wash cloth swipe.
The work began, and an hour later, we have a wall that barely has streaks, and a patch of carpet that is soaked in Resolve, water, shampoo, vinegar, and hairspray. (Can you tell I googled how to clean it up?)
In addition, I have black Halloween hair that is not at all like a London afternoon frolicking in the leaves. Instead, I will fit in great when I go to the Twilight premier (ok not premier, just the regular showing with way too much excitement) next month, and in the mean time, I could sit in a dark room, and between my hair and the my googly eyes, people would genuinely think that I am a ghost.
I just turned 25 and I live in Orange County, California with my husband. We love God, love life, and love trying new adventures together. In June I will have completed my Masters in Theology at Fuller Theological Seminary. I hope to some day teach like my parents, and write a book about how all of this somehow relates together. It always does.