Just a box of hair color

Was it Clairol that had the campaign slogan, "It's just a box of hair color," I think with a radiant Jane Seymour modeling her shining tresses? Presumably those shining tresses were the result of said Clairol hair color.

I have mixed feelings about coloring my hair. I loved the rich brown I had into my 30s, but as I aged, I noticed the inevitable gray hairs coming in. My dad, who had beautiful black hair, silvered very gracefully, first with a shock at his forehead, then the silver spread very evenly over his head, making him very distinguished. I, too, have that shock of silver in the front, but the rest of my hair is fading to the dishwater gray-brown that my mother ended up with. So, I enhance nature. I color to keep the richer brown of 20-some years ago, and tolerate the lighter shock up front that no amount of color seems to be able to cover completely. A generous friend says I'm channeling my inner Bonnie Raitt. I'll take it. I think she's beautiful.

I have a neighbor, "Nancy," who is in her early 80's. I've been her neighbor for more than 35 years, so we know each other well. My husband, who grew up in this house, has known her most of his life. He babysat her daughters back in the day. She watched us raise our own children. She said to me the other day, "When is your hair going to go gray?" This is not the first time she has said this. I'm not embarrassed to say that hair color is my secret. This would not be the first time I've told her this. I asked my husband if he thought my hair color seemed unnatural. He asked me if I thought Nancy should be the bellwether for my personal grooming decisions. Made me laugh, but it occurred to me this morning, coloring my hair myself in these COVID times, that, maybe, in an "out of the mouths of babes" kind of way, she might have a point. Older people, like children, have few filters. Maybe my hair is "younger" than my face?

A very good friend of mine in her 70s has a glorious mane of curly hair, now more white than anything else. She says she started turning in her 20s. She was in Asia a few years ago, and the waitress at the restaurant where she was having dinner commented to her (talk about no filters) that she had "old hair-- young face," which amused us all, but the idea (mine anyway) is to not put forth the opposite.

Time flies. . .

Time does fly, sometimes. These are weird times, life in the time of Covid. I am working from home for now, making me feel freer to browse some of my old habits, like blogging. The modern journal, in my case, an electronic picking up of the dog-eared diary of my youth.

Today's milestone? I just finished my latest needlepoint canvas. I remembered that I'd written a post about a new stitching project-- ELEVEN years ago. Holy cow. Anyway, I started this one not long after I'd posted about it, then put it away for a long time.

The colors are wonderful, but so subtle I needed bright light to keep the blues and the greens separate. The only free time I had was in the evenings, and the light was never good enough. New job and other life changes also interrupted my concentration. It is now finished, and I declare myself pleased. 

It is kind of bittersweet, my obsession with a bee motif. The urban hives in my yard have been abandoned for several seasons now. It is difficult to keep a hive going through the winter here. Not that we are all that consistently cold, but because we are not, the mite problems are not to be trifled with. My bee partners and I preferred not to chemically intervene as much as some bee keepers do, and I'm sure that contributed to our hive losses. The hive boxes still sit there, an admonishment to our pride at our first bumper harvest. It is expensive to start all over again, which we did for three years in a row, so my bee partners and I have decided to leave off for now. Now that I'm working for a local university, maybe I'll inquire to see if the biology department has any interest in the equipment. Or maybe we'll try again. Hope springs eternal.

Diary

So it's been a long time. Things are weird at work. Things are weird personally too. Lost my dad this spring. A sad passing, but it was time. We thought he was just "not there," but I think he was more "there" than we thought. Which kind of breaks my heart, but I get that he made up his mind it was time to go. Even bit the spoon I was using to try to feed him. He was saying, "Nope, I'm done."

Then my boss, whom we all love, decides after a difficult year, to retire early. And then one after the other staff member finds other employment. So it's down to two of us full-time, and two hourly, out of seven. So a new normal must be found.

This will be my sounding board. Nobody is listening, so it's my little diary, minus the miniature key to open the book that I had as a little girl. Where is that book? God, I would love to see what crap I thought was important then.

Garth and Wayne really enjoyed yesterday's beautiful weather. They chased down various bugs in the grass, and generally tolerated Bruno's attempts at getting them to play.

In previous years, I would see some of the bees poking around the damp, sun-warmed earth. Sad that there's no activity like that this spring. The bee class is going well though, so we'll have our order in for some new bees in a few weeks. The instructor told us that we could send off some of the dead bees and comb to be analyzed by a department of the University of Maryland extension office. Will have to explore that. Would be useful to know if there was a disease vector, or mites, or something like that. In the meantime, there are a couple of frames of capped honey waiting to be harvested. Once the weather warms more consistently we'll break everything down, scrape all the old comb and propolis off the frames, and do a thorough cleaning in advance of the new bees.

Time to Start Anew

Well, it's official. The bees are gone. Bee Partner Linda and I didn't even suit up to crack all three hives open last weekend to check them. There's been no activity at the hive openings, so we feared the worst. It was still disappointing. There were a few sad clusters of dead bees, as if they'd clung together 'til the end. Small consolation that this is the story all over the region. The combination last year of too wet, then too dry, too cold, then too hot. . . Feeding them didn't help after all. With the help of our mentor, Frank, we'll determine if mites might have been part of their demise as well.

Linda and I start our BANV bee class next month and will order two new sets of queens and entourage. We certainly have all the equipment and the determination. Bee sisters Jan and Nora have moved, so Linda and I are it. Jan retired to her farmette in Lexington, perhaps to start her own hives, and Nora moved to Boston to be nearer her boyfriend and hopefully to find a job she loves too.

So stay tuned. We have a lot of house hive cleaning to do, new frames and foundation to put together. I'm going to seek out our own honey harvesting equipment too. Ever optimistic am I!

Sweet Tribute

I'm a huge Neil Gaiman fan. I check into his blog now and again, though reading his travel schedule makes me realize I'm not THAT much of a fan. I probably wouldn't pay to hear him read somewhere, certainly wouldn't travel to a distant city to see him in person. But I enjoy his novels and short stories. His blog is a bit more personal, even if I skim most of it. His latest post hit close to home, though, and made me realize I have something in common with him. He loved his dog and cried when he died. I could relate. A very sweet tribute indeed.

Animal Crackers

 

Meet Wayne and Garth, or actually, that's Garth on the left. Just when I thought we were close to being empty nesters. . .

And meet Bruno.

He doesn't always sit at the dining room table. He thought he was so clever.

After Molly and Mosby died, we swore we'd be dog-free for a while, maybe forever. I offered to dog-sit for a co-worker/friend, and when she ended up being in need, while her teenage son was ill, it seemed a good arrangement. Come to find out, the dog had gotten bigger than she'd planned on, and he was outgrowing their two-bedroom apartment. The son got better, but Bruno stayed with us. I think her son has finally forgiven his mother and me for our collusion.

The kitties, well, "they" were supposed to be "a" kitten, promised for my birthday. But when we went to the animal shelter, there were these brothers and we hadn't the heart to separate them. So Wayne and Garth came home too. I'll take credit for the names, but we were all coming up with various duos. Batman and Robin. Cheech and Chong. No-- I didn't want to have to explain the drug references, or encourage the 15-year old to watch those old movies to understand the characters. Wayne's World was juvenile enough for me, thank you very much. And somehow the kittens are growing into the characters.

My goal is to get a picture of the dog and the kitties together, but detante is still a distant dream. They do play together, but there's no snuggling yet. I have hopes.

Slacker Update

I troll my regular haunts online and realize what slacker I am about this blog. I didn't mean to be away for so long! Anyway, I'm heading to Colorado tommorrow to visit the College Boy over the Easter weekend, taking bright-eyed younger son with me. I'm very excited for the trip and promise to take lots of pictures. I'll get mauled by the grand-dog as an added bonus. It is College Boy's last collegiate race in Fort Collins, and promises to be very exciting. I have no idea how to pack; it was 80 degrees there last week, and it snowed yesterday. Layers it is.

Hard to believe this is the last year of college for Zack. The last four years have been a blur.

Happier Times

Today would have been my mother's 75th birthday. Hard to imagine. She was just a couple of years older than I am now when her MS advanced to the point that she needed nursing home care, and only 63 when she died. That seems so much younger now than it did then!

This photo is four generations, my grandmother on the left, my oldest brother, his brand new son, and my mother on the right. She was 40 in this photo. I remember her lamenting that, at 40, she was too young to be a grandmother. I rolled my eyes, as I recall, but I can certainly relate now. I'm ten years older than she is in this picture and I know I'm not ready for grandchildren.

She knew she had MS when this picture was taken, but it hadn't really slowed her down yet. It would be 10 or so years later when she was immobilized. I like to remember her as she is here. Healthy, glowing with pride, beautiful.

Happy birthday, mom. . .

Growth

My bff Wendy was in town for a visit this past weekend. The Bright-Eyed Boy (aka Texting Teen) wasn't able to see his Miss Wendy for himself, but sent this picture message.

He threatened to unfriend me if I posted that one to Facebook, so I insisted he let me get another one. Several attempts later (as he dodged the camera), I got this one. He doesn't follow this blog, so I think I'm safe. For now.

He's so much bigger than me now! I still sometimes can't help but think of him like this . . .

Ah well.

Texting with a Teen

This is an actual recent text exchange between the 14-year old Bright Eyed Boy and me as I'm cruising the aisles at the local grocery store.

Me: I'm at the grocery store. What kind of cereal do you want?

Bright Eyed Boy: Frosted flakes

Me: Not! Kix?

BEB: Hell no. Frosted Mini Wheats

Me: Watch your mouth or you'll get Fiber One

BEB: Heck no. Frosted Mini Wheats

Me:

BEB: What's wrong with Frosted Mini Wheats?

Me: POISON!

BEB: It's the healthiest frosted anything!

Sugar Fail

Bee partner Jan often laments that she does not cook. As in, "Sorry Bob, I guess it's cereal for dinner again tonight!" But as it turns out, she's the queen of cooking sugar for the bees.

The last time I cooked for the girls, I dissolved 10lb of sugar in 8 cups of water. This turned out to be about half of what we needed, so off to Costco I go, where the smallest quantity of sugar they carry is 25lb. Perfect! We wanted to increase the ratio of sugar too, so 25lb into two quarts of water would be good. Five more cups of sugar to the same ratio of water sounded just right.

The whole bag fit into one of my crab pots. Talk about a lazy man's load! Number one, I should have put the water in first, and B.) I should have divided the lot, or used a bigger pot.

But I was correct that adding the water would reduce the volume in the pot, so I thought I was so smart. It was very difficult to stir, though, and that was my undoing. Too much heat before I could get the water soaked in produced. . .

. . . caramel. (I know, it just looks like a slice of over-cooked bacon.) I dredged up this bit after spending 20 minutes trying to get the spoon to the bottom of the pan. Ugh.

The worst of it is, I can't use it at all now. Who knew that burned sugar is poisonous to bees? I scraped out as much of the caramel as I could. It's not really burned, but kind of a pretty brown toffee. I haven't tried more heat yet, but I'll have to if I want to dissolve the rest of the sugar. But do I want to? What to do with about four gallons of caramel sugar water? Epicurious, here I come. . .

THIS is for ME!

I promised my blogger pal Pam J. some Homegrown Honey-- Dinwiddie Reserve-- and when she got it  she was most appreciative. SO appreciative, she, in turn, sent me a gift.

I LOVE getting packages in the mail! And this one was very special. She might have appreciated my honey harvesting efforts, but she actually made something with her own hands that I could never replicate. And I've tried, trust me. I loved her note card too. In it she says she hopes somebody in my household can use this beautiful scarf once the weather turns more fall-like.

Well, trust me Pam, THIS one's for ME! It's just the right length, just the right heft, just the right color. (The model doesn't do it justice.)

I even liked the recipe on the back of the card.



Pam, you are so welcome, and thank YOU!

Civil War Re-enactment

Bright-eyed boy Troy was invited to participate in the Battle of 1st Manassas at Bull Run re-enactment July 23 and 24. Serious business! Troy and his buddy Bill were privates in Stribling's Battery. You can't tell from the photos that it's about 325 degrees. Their uniforms are cotton and wool, and are very authentic down to the hobnail boots.

Troy and Bill took turns as buglers and water-haulers. This is Troy as bugler.

Bill and his dad Ed (below) are regulars at this sort of thing. Ed even changes out his glasses for a style that is more period correct.

I like this last shot. Kind of shows how it probably was back in the day; hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. I can't imagine sending my 14-year old off to war though. It would break any mother's heart that their sons would want to, and so many did.

The boys had a great time, though, and came home sweaty, dirty, and hungry. But they came home.

Local Devastation Pictures Coming In

Thanks to all of you for your kind words of support, as we look to recover from the devastation of today's quake!

Dispatch from Hilton Head

Here's a picture of Molly that's a little less somber. I'll have some pics of the fambly and Hilton Head soon. The beach is really beautiful, very different from Cape May or Rehoboth. Broad and smooth. I've seen a snowy egret at the water's edge, and there a lots of pelicans. I miss the dolphins though. I think the water is too warm. It is like bath water, and strangely shallow for a great distance out. The jellyfish lurk too.

The biggest decision of the day for me is what to download to my Kindle next. What are you reading?

The End of an Era

Or more specifically, the end of Dinwiddie Street's Dalmatian Dynasty.

Poor sweet Molly. We rescued her when she was three years old, badly malnourished and mistreated. At her first vet visit after we got her, the doctor noted her class 2 heart murmur, amongst other things, such as the untreated wounds on her back and belly. A year later, the doctor noted that the heart murmur was all but gone-- he said we'd mended her broken heart.

Eleven years later, she'd survived the loss of her happy housemate Mosby, and even thrived a bit as the queen of the household for a while. Lately, though, her health began to deteriorate, and I know she trusted us to do the right thing. Knowing that doesn't make us any less sad for her loss. I was happy to be able to hold her at the end, to be able to tell her that we loved her, that she was a good girl. And she was. She was the best girl, and I'll miss her.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

In this context, the bad and the ugly are one and the same. I'm having a real challenge with my tomatoes this year. They're growing great, producing large well formed fruit, but they are being nibbled at. I'm sure it's birds nipping away, so I covered both plants with anti-bird netting. What you see here is AFTER I installed the netting. grrrr.


Now THIS is what I'm talking about. Finally got one before anybody (or anything) else touched it. Let's break out the mozzarella, basil, and good balsamic vinegar and have lunch.

Sweet Rewards

or, The Great Honey Harvest of 2011.

There's a good reason to do this job when it's warm outside-- the honey flows easier-- but it was HOT, especially in full regalia. That's me holding the frame, and Jan wielding the blower. We took the top off the hive, replaced it with a board that had fabric on one side on which we sprayed a little liquid that the bees hate the smell of so they get away from it. We thought it smelled pretty bad too. After a few minutes, the bees have moved mostly out of the super box we're going to be working with. The super is the box with the eight frames you see at my feet. I'm holding one of the frames and Jan is using the garden blower to shoo off the few remaining bees.

We loaded the super into a garden cart, covered it, and moved it into John's garage, aka Uncle Wally's Workshop. We set up shop in there because it's marginally air conditioned and well lit. We covered the floor and table with plastic. It's a sticky process, honey extracting. The big can you see is the extractor. It's essentially a giant centrifuge with a spigot at the bottom for the honey to flow into the double sieve and then into a five gallon bucket, also with a spigot.

One at a time we pull the frames out. We inspect them carefully. If the honey cells aren't capped, we can't use it. The bees put honey in each cell and leave them uncapped until it's aged properly, then they cap it with wax until they need it for food later in the season (or until we steal it from them).

We use an electric hot knife to slice the cap off to release the honey. We use a fork to pierce the cells the knife doesn't reach, then we put the frames, three at a time, into the extractor. I didn't get a good shot of that step. Once the three frames are installed, you shut the lid and crank and crank and crank, which spins the frames and causes the honey to come out. Then you flip the frames to get the other side and crank and crank some more. We got so much honey that we had to start filling our jars so we could keep filling the bucket!

We got about 10 gallons! This is the whole harvest before we split it up into our shares.

And then we made a toast to the bees and to each other.

We left the harvested frames, the frames that weren't capped, and the supers out for the bees to clean up. Nice, huh? We steal the honey then leave the mess for them to clean up! We'll put the frames back into the supers and put the supers back on the hives this weekend. They'll want to get busy making more honey (that we won't steal) so they can make it through the winter.



Definitely a once a year endeavor as far as I'm concerned, but so worth it. The honey is really tasty. Kind of a citrusy flavor, which is curious. Who knew that Arlington honey would be fruity?

Fish Story

It's a slow day. Some of the goldfish (carp? koi?) in the pond in front of my office building are big enough to feed a family of four. The theme music from Jaws comes to mind. I'm told that herons are often seen hanging around, though I've not seen them. I do see Mr. and Mrs. Mallard stopping by, and the occasional gaggle of geese. And I've seen a really large hawk swooping and diving around.