Sunday, July 14, 2013

Bad Day 368--To dye for

I ruined Child 1's hair tonight. I didn't actually ruin it, but I helped her with the temporary dye she wanted and it turned out terrible--streaky and uneven and way brighter than we intended. So she is no washing it over and over with the harshest shampoo she can find. I hope it fades quickly. But that's the reason I wanted to use temporary dye, so that she wouldn't be stuck with it forever.

The problem with red hair is that hair dye is not made to cover keratin, so whatever color you think you're getting, you don't get and sometimes, because of the keratin, you end up with a sort of greenish under tint. That was not the problem this time, it was that the dye was so strong, it went purplish. It's not like this, though. That at least looks like it's on purpose.

And then there is the whole streaky problem. I feel horrible and Child 1 is mad and now at least she will never, ever ask me to color her hair again. Thank goodness because that is way more stress than I need at the moment. But I may have to pay for a salon job quick.

Husband is on his way home. He should be at the airport as we speak. I will be holding my breath until he arrives on Tuesday morning. Children, if you find me passed out and blue on the floor, just lie to me and say he's here. Everyone at church today kept asking when he was coming home and I couldn't stop smiling. It's like when I went to Hawaii for a month and came back and still smile when I think about it even though it was 13 years ago. I loved Hawaii. That was the best month of my life, ever. But this feels like that a little bit. Husband arrives home and I'm still standing. A little lopsided because my foot still hurts, but I'm standing. I went toe to toe against this unaccompanied tour, and we're at the end of the 9th round and I'm not knocked out yet. I'm beginning to think I might just survive. Look at me all optimistic!

This race car driver in Toronto is having a worse day than me. He won second place, and received a lovely crystal trophy, which he promptly dropped on the floor and broke.

So he can drive a car at 200 mph 5 inches from someone's bumper and not crash, but he can't be trusted with a crystal bowl. So thank you, Mr. Butterfingers, for reminding to be grateful that I still have my mother's crystal bowl after umpteen moves across the ocean. Remind me never to give it to a race car driver to hold.

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