DIY: Floating Shelves

One of my favorite blogs is Content in a Cottage. Unlike me, she always has fantastic photos and short but sweet descriptions. It's just one of those blogs that makes me smile. On one of her blog posts I saw these fantastic dishes. I searched high and low and finally found that there are several china patterns that are similar.

I thought I would start a slot collection process but then I saw a full set for 4 on ebay. I put in a ridiculous offer and the seller accepted so I found myself in a predicament: where do I put said fabulous dishes in my ever-slightly-larger-than-the-original-teeny-tiny-galley-kitchen I have??

Already, I have been in great need of space in this tiny kitchen. I love to cook- love it. So of course that means I have appliances and cookwear and I need the space to keep it. I had this counter top over a little bar as you enter the kitchen and I use it to hold my dog products: her cookies and arthritis chews. I also keep my Sodastream machine there that I use to make carbonated water. Yeah, it doesn't look too good.

Initially I thought I would try to match the white cabinetry and add one for this space but when I looked at ideas for Pinterest the idea of floating shelves came in. I thought it would give the space a lovely French Country feel. So I had the boards cut to size and then I set to all the work to sanding, staining, and protecting them. With three brackets placed and a level, I was able to create strong shelves that don't have a lot of messy hardware.

I found a stain in Provencal and voila! I have an organized space for Michelle's doggy stuff, I can display my new dishes and my favorite Colonial coffee pot that my mom gave me, and I can also highlight those odd baking tools that I love: pie birds and Springerle cookie presses.

It's a simple fix but what a difference it has made! My kitchen looks organized and intentional, and that means a lot to someone who loves her little cottage but is sorely lacking in space.

Later on I will tile a back splash all around but next on the agenda is the patio. No rest for the wicked!

DIY... Striped Walls

I own my first home which at 40 may seem very late to many. But I'm also doing this on one income and my vagabond lifestyle of yesteryear just wasn't too interested in ties. Apparently people also get help from their parents which just seems weird to me (cut the cord and earn your own living!) so I borrowed some against my TSP, put in a down payment, and bought a two-story condo in one of the most expensive places in the Country. I never do things the easy way. Sigh.

I love my place though. It's in a dog-friendly, quiet, historic village in Alexandria and it has this lovely cottage feel. It also gets cracks after the mini-quake a few years ago but the good thing about condos is that I don't pay for the fix!

I DO, however, pay HOA fees out the watoosie and I have to clean up after the plaster mess left behind. They'll technically "paint" but it will just be touch ups and would look uneven. The biggest mess was in the guest room, which I also call the Tower. I love this room- I watch tv, do yoga, knit, hide out from the world on a hard day- it's my special retreat. It's also tiny but as a hangout it's perfect for me.

Originally I thought I would get the same color albeit not matte paint, for it drives me crazy when I'm attempting an inversion and I feel the powdery cheap paint dusting on my feet and floors. There was a whole progression of contemplating *gasp* actual color on the walls. I decided to get some new pillows and brighten the space a bit and finally decided on yellow.

My sister told me about vertical striping on the walls to make them appear taller. What a cool idea- painter's tape and a level and it could be done. So I went on Pinterest and after much soul searching decided to paint 16" horizontal stripes in two tones of yellow: summer moon and chickery chick. How do those names not instantly lift your spirits? My sister is very Traditional in her design choices and I am very Cottage in mine so I took her idea and I think I gave an updated look to the Tower (now the Lemon Tower):

I feel like it went from generic small bedroom to updated Hamptons room. I painted 3 walls with the stripes and left the 4th the pale yellow color to give the illusion of depth.

My accent pillows are a cheerful blue and apple green and isn't that the happiest room you've ever seen?? I love everything about this room and I LOVE this pullout couch. I took my friend shopping with me and made her try out every pullout couch until she found the comfiest. That's the one I bought. It is super comfy. I even keep my dog's (aka Michelle, aka Gran Madame) stairs in case she wants to come up for a belly scratch.

This will be the room where I do my first hand stand but in the meantime it remains my retreat and instantly lifts my spirits to be there.

Vacation Jilly Style

I have been on a two-week vacation- La! I decided to fulfill a couple of bucket-list items and travel New England during the Autumn. A friend of mine commented on this and said how brave I was for doing this. Brave?? Hmm, not really how I would define it but she said if she ever tried that her friends and family would immediately question her and make her feel awkward about doing a two-week vacation alone.


It occurred to me that I have other friends who feel the same way. A couple I know just spent a week touring the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. He commented on how all that driving alone must have been hard and how nice it was to share his vacation with his wife. Does everything have to be a shared event?

Frankly, I'm glad I did this with just me and my dog. Michelle demands very little except the wind blowing on her and an occasional potty break. She's traveled with me on my many moves so a road trip was no harrowing experience. Let me highlight the benefits of a solo and customized sojourn:

My trip was MY TRIP. I didn't have to alter, add, or delete any elements. It allowed me to be spontaneous or completely planned, as per my whim. When my first venture to see a cranberry bog ended in a sign threatening my life, I could add another trip to see a different bog. When I left Vermont a day early, I just did it; I didn't have to ask.

I didn't have to limit or extend my time in any one place. I went to this little town in Connecticut- I fell in love. If anyone would have been with me I would have been able to spend a half hour, hour tops there. Instead, I walked the quiet streets with my dog, meandering for a couple of hours. I then sat under a chestnut tree writing, listening to the trees, being pelted with chestnuts... it was wonderful. In fact I sat there until the rapidly dropping temperatures and darkness forced me away. However, this remains the best part of a truly fantastic trip and I will never forget the peace I felt there.

I had great one-on-one time with friends. I visited several friends while I was traveling. Being on my own we could just catch up and have a good time, not worrying about planning events that will make a group happy. When I went to Salem, MA my friends, Kevin and Lindsey went with me. When I went to Cambridge, MA I got to catch up with my friend, Joan Lin. When I went to Saratoga Springs, NY I had individual time with both Tatiana and Theodore- and I'm sure I'll never be able to repay him listening to my incessant talking (this is the curse of people like him who are excellent listeners and it encourages people like me to purge ourselves of every thought and complaint- ugh, embarassing).

Finally, I had loads of time to clear my head of the chatter and really identify how I feel. This causes a lot of self-awareness which is both painful and liberating. I learned a lot about myself and where I stand. Perhaps another month of sorting through these awakenings and I'll have a clearer direction of where I'm going in Life. Point being, I doubt I would have had such an awareness practice had I not a lot of alone time. I think next time, I'll go back to Iona, Scotland for a couple of weeks pilgrimage. Maybe next year...

The Right Makeup

I am going to go on the mass assumption that autocorrect won't get me an umpteenth time. I will assume wrong, of course. But building on the last post I want to talk about makeup and the VAST change it makes when you have the right palette. Finding makeup (or clothes for that matter!) based on your hair color is just downright silly. I know this now.

Getting draped was awesome and if I only took out of it the effect that color has on my eyes, it would be all worth it. You see, when you have the wrong color against your skin, your cheekbones lose definition, your face looks sallow, there is an orange tinge around your lips, and your eyes lose lustre. Most importantly, I learned to look at the effect of color on my eyes. When you wear the right colors, your eyes go from being a muted greyish non-descript color to a dozen colors all at once. I found that there are mosses, indigos, cayenne streaks, a little whiskey (always good), and turquoise blues in mine. When I'm wearing the right colors, you see all this depth in my eyes and they sparkle. This isn't limited to any eye color. My sister has almost onyx black eyes. When she wears certain colors her skin becomes more luminous and youthful and her eyes sparkle with onyx, amber, and pewter. So cool. 

I showed my sister a before and after of makeup and the effects on me. She at first protested because it was different light so I went back and put the same dress on, the same light, the same doorway, and showed the before and after of makeup. Voila! You can see in my before picture that I just look a little more rundown. All the makeup goes together but it's not the right palette for me. I look dull, all my fine lines are visible, and I look as though I've been plowing a field or two... hundred. Even my eyes are a dull, nondescript greyish-green. It's not as awful as having all your makeup clash but it isn't my best either. In the after shot you can see that I'm exercising the same principles of basic makeup: eyeliner and neutral eyeshadow, blush, and red lip. But what a marked difference! In the second picture my skin looks more luminous, my cheekbones more refined, and everything is just brighter. The fine lines aren't as marked and my eyes have a complexity of hues.

To really highlight this, here is a close up of my eye. This is what you should look for: clothes and makeup that give a true white to your outer eye, as well as the bright and complex color range that your eyes have. See what I'm saying? If you notice that a lipstick or blush individually brings out these complexities in your eyes, I think that's a good place to start. Then match the rest of your makeup. I am nowhere near an expert on this but there are blogs about 12 Blueprint analysis with lists of makeup for each of the 12 seasons and what goes with what. It's a start though, and what a lovely way to celebrate you!

Stranger in a Strange Land

Being in a new area is always a mixed bag. I'm happy to leave the South but I'm not as far north as I'd like. I'm excited to meet new people but I'm shy and it takes every ounce of energy for me to be social. I like the new job but I feel that constant fear that I'm somehow off track. Meh, I've come to expect these peaks and valleys when it comes to settling into a new place. Now my grey hair has added and additional kink- meeting people.

I am so happy to be in a place where there are a lot of people of my faith; I have a choice of churches to go to, I can meet a lot of other people with the same values, and there are actually young adult clubs for meeting new people. This would have been an ideal scenario 5 years ago- I would clearly belong in the 18-40 age group, I was much more of a joiner, and I had red hair. Okay, I STILL did not blend in with the Greeks but I did much more then than I do with silver hair. My theme music should be Iron Maiden (as it often is). See below:

Everyone dyes their hair in my faith- EVERYONE. The men, the women, the children. Eighty-somethings still sport jet-black hair and I never saw so many faux blonds in my life. I'm a bit more than an anomaly for not following this route, I'm an "xeni," or stranger. This is not exactly how I want to feel when I walk into a church and precisely why I went to a Young Adult League (YAL) mixer. I had met one girl that I knew was going but unfortunately she didn't get there until the speakers started. Sigh, I will have to be sociable.

I felt very different than I normally do. In my everyday life I don't think about my appearance. I feel polished as I'm wearing suits and colors that look good, I now always have the right red lipstick, my hair is as coiffed as I can manage, and all the DC walking is trimming me down. But when I walked into that mixer where even the Priest had a mere few silvers, I felt old. I talked to some girls who were my age, happily married and wanting to get out and make new friends. We would talk about the impact of religion on our lives and how nice it was that a group like this existed. Inevitably, they would get something to eat or drink in anticipation for a long series of lectures.

That is when I was left at a table with four young bo-- men. Scratch that- guys. The guy next to me was part of this gang of bo-- guys but looked over at me and introduced himself. Very polite and I'm sure his yia yia would be very proud of how well he was raised. He had just moved here so I asked if he was here for school. I assumed he was starting out at College yet this question slightly offended him. He proceeded to tell me he was doing graduate work. Okay, 15 or 25 what's the difference? He's perhaps slightly more than half my age rather than slightly less. He further clarified that he was working on his PhD.

Sigh. Apparently I am really bad about treating young people as well, young. I just figured he was being nice (he was the only person at the table that went out of his way to introduce himself) so I was nice back. At least I thought so. As the females returned to the table and as my young-ish acquaintance got something to drink another girl in her 30s sat down in his place. The lectures began followed by everyone in the room introducing themselves with icebreaker factoids about themselves, and one girl leaned over, "See? They met here at a mixer and they got married. You could be next!" "??!! Huh ??!!" was my shocked-into-silence response. Is that why people go to these things? Am I giving off a wrong vibe? Or is it more that they look at me and think I must be thinking that? I stewed over that for awhile, hopeful that no one witnessed this odd exchange.

At the end of the lectures I introduced myself to a few more people. I ran into my young-ish acquaintance and we talked for a bit about our mutual love of Tolkein. Finally I had someone who would listen to my theories on linguistics and what nation the Elves represent. He took one for the team. Yes, I took full advantage of his kindness and well-mannered polity. But let's face it, he wasn't even born when I was fighting my way at concerts to catch a guitar pick or touch Bruce Dickinson's sweaty hair, the spike leather cuffs, the spandex... Whoops! I'm back. Where was I?? See if you don't get Iron Maiden... can you really be my friend?

I kid (sort of) but the day was a new awareness for me. I went for one reason- to make a network of friends; to start the foundations of friendship so that whenever I went to a church I would have people to talk to. I found that I don't easily fall into a category anymore. I'm not young and I'm not old. I'm somewhat more of an xeni than before. It was somewhat awkward and I don't know if I'll go again. But the few people I talked to I hope to run into at some point and maybe a few friendships can arise after all.

What Not to Wear

I recently had my colors done. Do you remember when someone in your family went to the Estee Lauder table in the '80s and were told what season they are? Because I was a ginger it was just assumed that I was an "Autumn" and that meant I could wear brick reds, browns, and earthy tones. What did that mean now that I am a silver? See, I got into this bad habit of dressing per my hair color. I kept the same makeup thinking that it had worked in the past and really I was hit or miss when it came to clothes.

None of this really bothered me until last year when I knitted my first cardigan. I had carefully picked out this super cool yarn, spent countless hours knitting everything and then wore it exactly twice. Two F#@^ing times. You see, the muted greyish purple makes me look like a cadaver. I look as dull as the grey and so it has respectfully been put in the back of my closet knowing it will never see the light of day again.

THAT was what piqued my interest in having a personal color analyst evaluate me. So I drove up with a fellow silver sister to Philadelphia to get a 12 Blueprint analysis. I would like to buy clothes and makeup and yarn that looks amazing on me, not just spend all this time and money and it sit in the back of the closet.

I'm not sure what I expected. I saw subtle differences in the colors on my friend, but even that took awhile for me to grasp. Then more and more you could see how some hues worked and some REALLY didn't. When it was my turn I had nothing but a grey smock and head wrap and a giant mirror. THEN I saw the power of color. The light grey put on me made me look like a corpse. The brown was so awful that both the analyst and my friend cringed and turned away.

Most colors fell under the following: I look like a corpse; I look right out of the Grapes of Wrath; I look like I'm wearing baby Easter clothes; I look like a freakin' rock star. I chose the colors that fit in the latter category and it turns out that this color wheel is Bright Winter. Now some winters and autumns looked okay but the difference lie in colors that made my skin a bit duller, the eyes darker, and the rock star palate which made my eyes a million vibrant shades, my skin luminous, and my fine lines disappear. It really was as extreme as that. And this is what I recommend to you. A color that looks wonderful on you makes your eyes look brilliant.

I would say that it was surprisingly emotional. Knowing that I have never looked 100% my best is well... humbling, to say the least. None of my makeup worked and even the 2% that did never went with the rest of my makeup. More on this in the near future, but here is a look at my drapings. The first pic is that awful brown and look at the difference in how dull my skin looks as opposed to the following pics; it's the same lighting, just the pure effect of color.

What Do I Want?

Now that I have established a “type” I am learning more and more about what I want (and don’t). We learn this at different stages in our lives and I think I’ve always felt that you really need only examine yourself once. As any divorcee knows, this is not the truth and yet I am still going on the reflections I had as a 20-something. I am now officially 40 and since then have been through a lot of breakups, a lot of moves, a lot of maturing in both my career and my personal life, forgiveness and letting go, and the life-altering depth of growth one experiences when losing their beloved mother too early in life. 

All of these changes (and more) have occurred since I really took a hard look at what I want in life romantically, and yet I have constantly re-evaluated where I want to call home or what role my career plays in my life. Although I know that there will be changes in my outlook as long as I continue to breathe, I think the stage I’m currently in is maybe the most important and defining stage to set the rest of my life by. 

What I want in my home is to have a safe and peaceful environment, one where my dog has room to run and meet other friendly dogs, a reasonable commute, character and charm, and a community of friendly neighbors. Tall order, huh? And yet that is exactly what I have and more. What I want in my career is a place where I am respected, have a chance to build my skills in varying areas, earn a comfortable living, have room for advancement, have some level of autonomy, not have to take my work home with me, and have a chance to be creative. Another tall order? Yet I have all of this and more. 

So what do I want in my personal life? I am a person who would rather have a small set of fantastic friends rather than a mass entourage of superficial ones. The ego of having x amount of facebook friends holds no weight with me and I limit my time on social media to intermittent at best. I have also learned the quiet from not having someone to relay EVERY event of my life with someone. My sister may disagree seeing our daily talks as evidence to the contrary but only my mom and I know this to be very true, as she VERY patiently listened to every detail of my life set out before her. Hindsight is 20/20 and I only wish that I would have spent a lifetime listening more and talking less. So although I don’t want a Samuel Pepys account of my life, it would be nice to have a small group of people to share that life with; to balance somewhere between motoring through life together and brinking on over-analysis. I want neither of those extremes but rather a healthy sharing of our lives. I want this healthy balance with my family, friends, and a partner. 

With my family I have weaned from some of the more co-dependent relationships that run so common in my relatives, despite their attempts to hold fast. My relationships with some of the historically (shall we say strained?) relationship have improved simply by letting go and working on forgiveness. And my sister, whom I’m closest to, has been a daily commitment at building our relationship. We both work at it. I used to have a huge entourage of friends of varying degrees in closeness. Instead of lumping them all into an ego-mass of facebook likes, I distinguish and embrace them for what we are to each other. I have close friends who are like family to me, though they are few. I have friends who are more likely to be there just to meet up for a drink and watch a game. I have other friends who share one aspect in commonality and we will build our strength and knowledge in that area by a sharing of ideas. All of these friends have great value, but I no longer hold each to be the end-all in every aspect of a friend. For instance, someone I meet up with to just watch soccer matches I’m not going to necessarily be able to relay the pain of loss or wanting to understand a deeper level of hesychasm. We may relay on those levels or we may not, but our lack of delving past a somewhat superficial connection is fine as it is and accepted as such. 

From a romantic partner it gets a bit more complicated. I’ve dated to date and am really past that. I don’t need to try out different types of men just for the sake of knowing myself. Been there too. No I’m at a point where I would like a partner in life and perfectly happy to remain single rather than marry the wrong person. This reflection came about from a series of little things that just kept niggling at me. One friend saw the blog post and asked me have I ever dated my type. No, I hadn’t. I have dated many men –successful, interesting, educated, attractive- but none that really reflected my type. Mmphm. Also the awareness of how little I could commit to my various duty locations with my job. This constant sense of always being ready for the next move created an environment where I never would allow myself to see the men in my life as anything more than temporary. That has changed with my home purchase. Mmphm. Finally, a line from a tv show that has become my mantra outlines my desire exactly: I am looking for the perfect connection with an imperfect man. Anyone that has this knows what I mean and it’s not looking for Mr. Perfect but rather that connection that makes both your imperfections and his a part of a strong relationship. 

So after some reflection I’ve decided that these are the qualities best for me: someone who likes to learn and open for a bit of adventure. Someone who challenges me to grow as a person; I’m not saying challenge for the sake of challenge or someone who wants to change me or nitpick, but I also don’t want someone who allows my occasional bad behavior and responds only by “yes dear.” I would like someone masculine and sure in himself. This is not the same as an egotistical guy whose statements and actions are based in insecurity but rather someone who is comfortable in his own skin. I want someone who believes in God. How wonderful it would be to find someone in my own faith, but yet I see more the pursuit of a relationship with God and an understanding of that importance in my life (without trying to convert me to Protestantism) far outweigh the actual dogmatic differences. However believing that the bar on Sunday is your church and a sport your religion will not suffice for me. And finally, someone who is committed to working at the relationship. Relationships are work, even under the best of connections and it only works if you’re both committed to making it work. 

So I guess I’m stating the ruminations in my mind mostly to get them out there but also to see how right they feel. What I find odd is that I haven’t done this in 10-15 years. I guess that must show how it wasn’t really a priority in my life until now. But I’m happy to say that just writing this takes off any perceived pressure (mostly self-induced) and actually makes me happy in the place I am now and happy for whatever the future may bring.

The Height of Narcissism

This is a big year for me. Wait, this is about narcissism right? So it should be ME in all capitals. This is the year I turn 40 and it has a lot of meaning attached to it. First of all, I never thought of being about 40. Ever. I don't know what that means for me or my life. Also, what does that mean for certain aspects of my life: dating, marriage, children, career, moving abroad?

I hate those sayings: 40 is the new 20, you're only as old as you feel, age is just a number. Cliché's are, well, so cliché. And unhelpful. So I decided to do a few really cool things to celebrate this birthday.

I will be dye-free, or not
My hairstylist assured me he will cut the last bit of dye out of my hair prior to my birthday in July. Then he saw that it blended in and it won't be all out. But that's okay because I am close. This was a big step to go 100% natural and 100% authentic. I'm not fooling anyone to see a younger version or to try to win anyone over and THEN tell them my age. And the whole lying about your age bit? I'm sorry, but that's absolute crap and I have no patience for that. If someone is going to like you they should like YOU, not some misrepresentation of you. Rant over. Stepped off soapbox.

I am taking a trip
Where should I go? Since I just moved to DC my sister came up. My 30th I was forced to go to a work training and I didn't know anyone. My friend wasn't feeling well and couldn't meet up so I ended up spending it with a bunch of strangers. It sucked and I vowed never to spend another major birthday that way. She surprised me by also bringing my dad and we all had a great time, going to Civil War battlefields and soaking up history. Fantastic. I'm also going to cross off a bucket list item and drive around the Northeast in the Autumn. Fall is my favorite time of year and I'm going to enjoy it in New England with my dog.

I commissioned a portrait

Insert narcissism! Okay, so this has a history. In my family I am often saying that the only purebreds are the horses and the dogs. In addition we have only one commissioned portrait in the family: Amusar, aka Rascal. Rascal was my grandpa's grey Arabian stallion. Yes a horse, and I vowed that Rascal would not be the only grey in the family to have his painting done.

And reveal: This is my favorite artist and he always does these fantastic portraits with gold-leaf hair. So I commissioned a portrait with silver-leafed hair. Not only that but this painting stands nearly four feet tall. Is it me? Well, sort of. It was inspired by his impression of me and there is a mourning dove (my totem) in the painting. So take that, Amusar! You're not the only grey in the family worthy of having their portrait done!!

It is possibly downright silly for me to have had this painting made but I love it. I loved celebrating my 40th. I realize that doors are closing on me in some areas of my life but I choose to celebrate the many accomplishments I've made in my life. I may be flawed as hell but I really do work to be a better person and build a better life. And who knows, maybe doors will open for me now that never would have before?

A Black Hole

I have been in the black hole of technology. THIS is why I haven’t posted, been incommunicado, and reverting back to Austen times. 

Moving is a pain in the patootie and I swear I will not do this on my own again. Finding a place, closing, packing, moving, loading/unloading, unpacking, hooking up essentials, getting internet, figuring out transit routes- blah blah blah, the list goes on. And on. So week two and I’m testing new bus routes to and from the metro. I figure that 2 mile walk uphill in sweltering 99% humidity yesterday was better done on my own and not with an exhausted friend or family member in tow. Let me make the mistakes and work out the kinks before I have an audience. 

And once I get home I find my little wagging dog greeting me at the door. Such a blissful moment! I let her out and she immediately runs to tell the squirrel nation how much they have encroached on her territory and how much she really doesn’t appreciate this. Then we go back in the house to… silence. Oh I have dreamt of silence for years, having lived in crappy apartments with paper-thin walls. But my silence is multiplied by the fact that I’m in a dead zone. 

One would think that when you move to a large city like the DC area that you are in a concrete jungle. Not so much. I have a large garden out back and loads of green space and trees. Good for views, not so much for cell phones and cable companies.

I called Comcast and they were scheduled to come out. The guy gets there, looks at me, and calls me from his cell phone (really?). He mistook the order and told me I needed to reschedule. GRR. Then in protest I call Direct TV. Another few days and they come out to tell me I have too many trees and they can’t hook up cable or internet. GRRR. I have one (and sometimes two) bars of cell phone service so I miss a lot of calls and drop more. GRRRR. The movers made a half-assed attempt and fail to get my box spring up the stairs so I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two weeks. GRRRRR. 

All of my grumblings will hopefully come to a close tomorrow when my new bed will be delivered, AT&T delivers a signal boost, and Comcast returns to install cable and internet. Not that I’ve minded reading (and nothing else) but it would be nice to have options and to be able to watch Game of Thrones again. And sleeping on a fantastic mattress?? What bliss! I cannot wait! Send prayers, my friends that the stars align and all goes through as planned.

Starting Fresh

This past week has been a whirlwind: packing, movers, cleaning and handing back the keys to my craptastic apartment, relocating to the DC area, and closing on a home. Whew! A lot to be sure. 

I'm currently typing this on my smart phone and sitting on my stairs as I have no internet and furniture until next week. Michelle has explored every inch of the parquet floors and chooses a sentinel position in front of the back door. Apparently this is the best lookout for the enemy squirrel. 

I think how different this place is from my old place in North Carolina. The apartment was made of papier-mâché and I would have an endless stream of noise from the stomping up the stairs to the neighbors blasting their music at all hours. 

This place in VA brings a whole new set of noises: hundreds upon hundreds of birds cacophoning and the weird bark of squirrels. Kids playing at games in the courtyard (and not sitting in front of a tv all day!!) and the stream of friendly neighbors coming in to introduce themselves and welcome us to the neighborhood. 

Welcome to my own bit of heaven. 

Ms. Stark Goes to Washington

Will my career be over if I go grey?

I used to have these concerns and when I told my sister 21 months ago that I was giving up the dye she asked this very question. But I just refused to believe that I had to make personal choices such as hair color to fit the needs of everyone else. This went with dating and every other aspect in my life.

I've been in my current position for 8 years and over 10 years with the same agency. It's had its ups and downs (as does everything) but I felt like my life was in a rut. Because it was. I never bought a home here and when I looked into it I realised that Raleigh was not meant to be a permanent resting place for me. As soon as I had awareness of this I started job searching.

Many things happened to tell me it was not the right time to move: my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer- she came to live with me and received the best treatment in the world at Duke Cancer. I panicked about a job offer 6 months after my mom passed- I needed stability after losing my mom and a move would not have healed me. The job market dried up- I needed to be clearer about my goals and visions and open myself to possibilities.

This all sounds so positive when I write about it but I was unhappy for a lot of the time. Something switched this year and I FELT different; I felt like everything in my life was about to change. Sure enough some great opportunities in my field came up. At that time my Supervisor gave me advice on how to improve my resume (she was a tremendous help) and I made the cut for a record (a record for me) 6 jobs! Then I had an interview for a promotion in Headquarters and after that I was in wait mode.

Out of the hundreds that applied to this position, 26 made the cut. The Supervisor took the top 10 and I felt lucky to just make that interview cut. I have worked with several of the people in this office (as all the interview candidates have) and I didn't think I would get the job... BUT I DID!! I am moving to Washington DC in May!!!

What does this have to do with grey hair?
There are people on this team in Washington that have seen me and know I'm growing out my grey. The last time they saw me I had a 3 inch skunk stripe. Grey hair didn't make a damn bit of difference (even in that horrid grow-out stage) and doesn't make a damn bit of difference now. I just got the promotion of a lifetime- I could retire on this, and I have grey hair. Don't ever let anyone tell you that in order to (insert bizarre demand here) you must adhere to any rule. Life is too short to be dependent on everyone else's definition of "shoulds."

So as I felt a month ago when I said I was in the calm before the storm, I am now in the storm: moving, seeing friends before I go, house hunting, finishing up work... try not to take it in all at once! Well, I'll be off to new adventures soon. A whole new chapter awaits!

Shot Through the Heart

I have a great stitch 'n bitch friend (that's how we knitters can pretend we're cool). We meet up, knit, make snarky and sarcastic jokes, and have a great time. I used to think I was alone in knitting to Iron Maiden's The Trooper but Stephanie shares that slightly odd visual. Stephanie is also a licensed handgun instructor and let's face it, one badass chick.

Wha--?? You're starting to think. What does this have to do with greying and/or dating?? Well for one, it goes to show that you can't put a silver sister in a box. And two, I think I've figured out yet another reason why I might be single. You see, I'm a hell of a shot. My first time holding a real gun and I hit every target I aimed for. Apparently the "heart shot" right in the center of the chest is my best shot. I managed to get 8 out of 10 bullets in exactly the same place. I gotta admit, I feel pretty bad-ass about that.

One thing that I think people misunderstand is that taking a gun safety class isn't about some American stereotype of a gunslinging extremist. It's about gun safety. If you want to hunt, then you should be a hell of a marksman (in order to not make your future meal suffer). If you want to have target practice at the gun range, then you should safely be able to handle a gun. If you will ever be around a gun in the future, you should be intelligent about how to operate a gun so that no one gets hurt in some accident.

I know a lot of people shoot at the range for some sense of empowerment but that really wasn't what I was aiming for. I just wanted to not be scared of guns and to be intelligent around them. And that's where Stephanie really comes in. She's very good about gauging your comfort and expertise level. She goes at a customized pace and really makes sure you understand every sequence. By the time you go through the sit-down education piece, you feel comfortable and ready to go to the range and try target shooting for yourself.

Stephanie also lets you try several of her own guns out: 22 caliber, 9 mm, 380, .357, and 38 caliber. It's a nice range of guns (an arsenal if you will) and you feel what you're comfortable with. She's very relaxed about the whole thing which immediately made me feel more relaxed. Here's a video below, going for the "throat." Within a couple of hours I went from being terrified of having a gun in my presence, to looking and feeling very natural (see video). I credit this ALL to Stephanie. So if you're in the area (or even if you're not), contact Stephanie at Powder Puff Pistol Training (love that name) by email or phone: wstephanier@gmail.com or (919) 880-7410. She'll answer any questions you may have about gun safety. I now have a new hobby. Thanks, Steph!!

Life Lesson

Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. I was off for a whole lovely week, spending time with my sister, who drove the two-day trek from Kansas. Between cooking, visiting with friends, and lots of down time, this is one of my favorite Christmases yet. That is, until we went to watch my sister's Alma Mater play in a Bowl Game. Kansas State played (and soundly defeated) Michigan last Saturday and the damn game didn't start until 10.15pm. This means an end time of nearly 2am. Ugh. 

We went to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch, as they were the host of the bowl game. The line was out the door and it wasn't for the football game but for some series of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) matches. It's a bloody sport; it's raw, and the fact that this is the new National past time is disturbing on more levels than I can relate. As my sister left to use the restroom a guy from a nearby table came over and sat down. His table had a "bet" going on that Wendi and I are sisters. Yes, he won that bet. They also had a bet of who was older. "She is, by four years," I replied. He lost that bet, and he also lost any chance of asking me out. Still he pursued and said that it was because of my grey hair that he thought I was older. I just silently looked him in the eye and allowed him to gnaw a bit further on his foot. After he'd realised that he hadn't  made enough effort to backpedal he goes in for the kill, "So, I don't see a ring. How is it that you aren't married?" "It must be because I look so much older than my big sister," I replied sweetly. One would think that would end all conversation. One would be wrong. 

A year ago a comment like that would have derailed me. A hundred comments about how much better I look with silver, how lovely and young my face looks, how my eyes become complex hues of turquoise, green, and periwinkle- all that would be out the window and I would focus on this one little slight from a man I'm not attracted to. I understand why so many women run for the bottle (the dye bottle, that is). Their family member makes a snarky comment, their friends are unsupportive, or some loser watching MMA makes an off-hand remark. All of the sudden, it's just so easy to lose all that confidence and resolve that you built up over the past several months. 

This created an approach for me that I use in all areas of my life. There are three ways that you can approach any and everything that Life gives you: you can deny it, acquiesce to it, or celebrate it. 

We'll use hair dye as an example of how to play this out. You can deny the gorgeous silver that God gave you and cover it up, playing with being a redhead, becoming another blonde in a crowd of fake blondes, or go back to the brunette of your youth. Sometimes it's fun to play with color and creating a new identity (or holding on to an old one) but at the end of the day, it's covering up. I always felt weird when someone complimented my red dye. "Well, I'm a natural ginger, but this is enhanced," I would say sheepishly. What was I taking credit for- zhoojing the dye evenly? Picking the right shade of red? Rocking out a fiery mane? In the end I admitted to myself that I was hiding from what grey hair meant to me, and I simply could not accept that God had prematurely greyed me. 

Acquiescence- ah, this word covers all manner of sins in our lives. I hate this word- it is the word of carelessness and neglect, of not caring and giving up. Yet so many people do this when going grey and that's why there's a stigma that going grey means 'letting yourself go' to so many women. We all know that man or woman who rues their silver hair but says, "Well, at least it takes me no time to get ready now." What?? Why? Why does the color of your hair signify anything about how you care about yourself? I simply hate it when I compliment a lady on her grey and she says, "Now I don't have to spend any time at all on myself! I simply wash and go!" like it's some triumph to not care. What's worse is when someone responds to a compliment on their grey with "Well, I guess I'm not going to color it. I mean, it's just hair and it probably makes me look older but what are you gonna do?" Ugh, acquiescence is a dirty little word. 

That's why the third option is always the best- CELEBRATE it!! When someone compliments you, smile and say 'thank you.' When someone says they don't know if they could be as brave as you are , encourage them and let them know they have options but also support whatever their decision is. When someone insults your grey (directly or inadvertently) stand up for your silver!! I recently had a facebook post of me and my friend, Penny. I captioned it with 'THIS is silver' referring to Penny's and my own ability to rock the silver. Lots of compliments and then one bitchy comment from my stepmother (still dying her hair whatever lacklustre box color goes on sale), "It's called GRAY." So I responded with "Some people choose to hide their gifts from God, others choose to celebrate them. Obviously, I choose to celebrate. If you have a problem with my grey, take it up with God." 

I see this 3-option choice for every scenario in life- you can deny, acquiesce, or celebrate. At one time I would have loved to be 5'8", lithe and athletic, with a perfect slim nose, tanned skin, and straight sable hair. But those aren't the gifts God gave me. I'm petite at 5'2", curvy, with high cheek bones, chameleon eyes, and silver striped hair. I wear flats, I highlight my curves, I love and protect my alabaster skin, and I don a beautiful silver mane. Anyone, especially God, would be proud that I embrace what I have and celebrate. 

Mini Meet

I have oft-mentioned before the importance of a silver sister tribe. True friendships really do blossom. I think sometimes it takes women aback that there is a society of women celebrating you for being you and just offering support. There is no callousness, no motive, no competition. Sounds a bit Utopian, no? 

Well, it IS Utopian and it's freakin' fantastic. I think that's why Cafe Gray is so addictive because you're around that support all the time. Then in turn you spread that joy around to others. It is not uncommon for me to compliment complete strangers. Silver muses most definitely but when I see a good dye job I compliment that as well. Really it could be shoes, jewelry, clothes, whatever. I probably don't go for more than a day or two without complimenting a random stranger. 

And today I am super excited because I have a mini meet with my first silver sister friend Penny. She was the first silver sister I met in Raleigh and we have had Sheltie play dates, I've spent time with her and her husband, and we give a critical eye to clothes and makeup on each other. She is also a Midwesterner so my bluntness is appreciated rather than snarled at (a rarity in the South). 

FINALLY, someone will take a million pictures (until just one comes out right) that showcases my silver hair. That's awesome because my fanatical obsession with my hair is celebrated rather than having someone quietly slip me their therapist's card, careful not to make any sudden movements around me. Here are a few pics of the day:

What's great is that we can just text each other and meet up for lunch. I LOVE the mini meets we have with all the sisters in the area but coordinating more schedules means more time apart. So it's good to do a small get together to get your fix of silvertude. 

Here are some little known benefits and needs in a silver bestie: 

1) Someone who is honest with you- It is imperative that you have someone who takes a critical eye to your new lipstick choice. All of your colors will change now that you've gone from a warm version of box dyed hair to a cool, multi-hued silver. When you feel low and are heavy in the skunk stripe stage, a silver sister isn't looking at the contrast in your hairline and making you feel self-conscious, she is telling you to pull your hair back to see the change in brightness the silver has against your skin tone. I have literally forced silver sisters once comfortable in their nude lip color into trying some version of red. ALL women have a red (yes you too!!) and it’s just a matter of finding it. 

2) Someone to take pics- Most people are slightly sadistic with the camera. It’s true! They take pictures of you that form odd shadows and make you look like you have a double-chin, wide nose, and bad posture. And even though a silver sister won’t necessarily make you look like a Ford model, they will put you in the best light to showcase your hair. And when you’re awesome enough to grow out your grey, you want nothing more to really showcase how stunning it can look. As you saw in my last post, lighting can make you go from silver to blonde so you really want some good pics of that silver. 

3) Someone to color swatch with- On Café Gray we have a thread called Warm Cool confusion and we painstakingly try to find what algebraic form of season we are. Then we post pics of different colors to see what looks best on us. Again, the lighting. No photo is going to do justice to how your skin or other colors reflect off your silver. And though it is a great alternative, there is no substitute for having a silver sister, a patient silver sister, witness you draped in a million different colors and say what works best for you. Okay, maybe a professional color analyst but we’ll save that for a future post. 

Lastly, it’s just nice to have someone who understands your insecure moments but doesn’t second-guess your decision to go grey. Instead she celebrates it! Anytime the two of us go out people are wondering what was slipped into our drinks to make us have so much fun. But truthfully, it’s nothing but trust, freedom to be ourselves, and true friendship. It makes all the difference have a friend in your corner. That’s a shout out to you, Penny.

Photogenic

I was a tomboy growing up. I was also always out playing with the horses, stray cats, or just making a general mess of myself. I also had an on-going battle with my mom as to how long I could go without brushing my hair- could I get away with it for two whole days? This may seem odd but I had very thick curly hair which got very tangled. It wasn't until my mother received my set of photos for the second grade (many many months later) that she finally cracked down on me. You see, I had managed to convince her that my babysitter would brush my hair for photo day. I also managed to convince my babysitter that my best friend was going to brush my hair. The photos reflected my disheveled appearance: missing front tooth and wild hair. I looked straight out of the Grapes of Wrath. My mother was mortified. 

Needless to say I have always been a bit camera-shy. You know those girls that look like a million bucks anytime someone snaps a photo of them? Yeah, that's not me either. Even with perfectly (or as perfectly as I can manage) coiffed hair I never manage to turn the right angle for the camera. I think 1 out of every 60 photos is pretty decent and those photos will represent me for years at a time.

I had come to a place of acceptance about this until I started going grey. This was the time in my life I became completely photo-obsessed. And thank you, iPhone for making the selfie pic all the easier to take! At first I measured every millimeter of growth. Then as I became convinced the my hair was recessing back into my scalp, I began to take selfies of my grey in different lights, sharing all these photos with my very patient sister who is so far past faking enthusiasm over the subject. This is where I encountered my ongoing war with different lighting. 

Lighting never mattered too much to me as a ginger. Even when my hair photographed traffic cone orange (as I'm realising more and more of my pictures reflect) I really didn't mind. In my version of reality everyone who saw me automatically adjusted their saturation to see the perfect color of red on me. Eye rolls an imminent welcome. So when I was called blonde the other day I was taken completely aback. After all, did I really look blonde? Or was this some 'polite' overlooking my grey? I don't know nor care but I DO care that I was seen as a blonde. That left a bad taste in my mouth and severe annoyance that my silver just "isn't there yet." 

This is when I really understood the importance of lighting. One woman on Café Gray stands out to me as really understanding this and coming to peace with it. She's a makeup artist and has embraced the many shades and hues of her color, celebrating each play of light on her unique shades of grey. I am not so evolved, I still want to look like Tinkerbell's sister Periwinkle. 

So in the past 15 months I have been learning not only the art of the selfie but also in what light to take the picture. Here's what I've found: indoor fluorescent lighting will yellow; overcast lighting outdoors will show brightness; too much direct sun will usually was out your hair and you'll look like a beacon of light is coming from your head; and low lighting will bring out the dark colors making you look like you don't have any grey at all. Here are a couple of snapshots taken within two minutes of each other. The first pic looks yellow and was taken in my office. The second was taken outside two minutes later in the shade on a sunny day.

What a difference all around! Although still not great photos of me, they are in fact great photos of my hair, which is more important in my view. But another thing to remember is that your hair is also picking up color from the dyed ends (mine are pulled back) so that can also impact your photo. Alas, the selfie is still a challenge for the silver sister because color and light are so important.

Ugh, now another thing I need to learn- how to photograph my hair and what is the best lighting. This will be saved for another day. But I hope those of you who are exploring the silver can see what a difference silver makes in giving a fresher appearance. I think my skin and complexion look so much brighter and more youthful now that I've gone silver. Maybe I'm reverting to childhood now, just with brushed hair.

Silver Sister Strut

I often talk about the Cafe Gray forum (see link on the side) and for good reason. It's full of lovely, supportive women who help you through the rough times of tri-tone hair grow out. So if we're just talking hair here, why would it be necessary to ever meet in person?

This is an underlying point that growing out your grey is sooo much more than hair color. When you decide to defy social norms, you expose a lot of vulnerabilities you didn't know you had. You become aware more than ever what people think about you, how they look at you, how they react to your words- all this awareness is overwhelming and, quite frankly, a bit exhausting. You find yourself on this forum, dabbling into the pool of vulnerability, dipping your toe ever just so, and acclimating to this world of openness and honesty. You admit your insecurities, help others through theirs, and never really think about the fact that these women are virtual (pun intended!) strangers. You see, you have at some point dove head-first into this pool and openness and honesty are now your go-to tools.

Then you realise one of these lovely sisters is in your area. You decide to meet up for lunch. Now anyone with the common sense of a fruit fly can see that a girl who blogs about grey hair will have no trouble filling an hour-long lunch with talk of... hmm... hair, but meeting a sister on Cafe Gray is really like, well, meeting a sister.

The first Silver Sister (SS) I met was Penny and we hit it off straight away. It was like we knew each other for years. We went on a couple of shopping trips and had Sheltie play dates. Yes, it's probably an American thing but anyone who has Shelties knows how much they love a dog that looks just like them and even have a special yip just for other Shelties.

Later, we found that there were several of us in NC and we met up for a Saturday lunch. I had a date that night but that wasn't nearly as high on my agenda as meeting my silver sisters. After all, we hit it off right away and all talked like old friends. I think we spent two hours chatting and having a great time. There are real friendships that are formed on this site and it's a constant support.

Now every year in the September-October range there is the grand poo-bah of events: the big Silver Sister meetup. This year it was in Chicago and it always has a fantastic turn-out. Due to my federali status it just happened to occur at a time when my furlough status was unknown and I couldn't book an expensive trip, but I have every intention of attending future events. However, our Cafe Gray founder and the author of Going Gray, Looking Great - Diana Jewell (also a Carolinian) joined us for lunch in Charlotte a couple weeks later. You can see the pic of our Silver Sister's strut and what a great time we were having.

Looking back I'm sure passers-by were wondering what sorority we used to belong to and how could they get the bartender to make a cocktail as strong as ours must have been, but at the time we were oblivious to our surroundings and just having a great time. So I encourage you if you are a silver sister, a potential newbie, or if you see a silver muse, encourage them (and yourself) to go to Cafe Gray and meet up with a local silver sister. It's a great forum for support and a launching ground for great friendships.

Bond Girl

I recently went on a vacation. A fantastic adventure-yet-relaxing vacation. One of my closest friends is from Montana and every year she goes to visit her family around Flathead Lake. She invited me and another of her friends to come up and stay for a week. We rented a lovely 3 BR cabin between Flathead Lake and Glacier National Park and it was fabulous! We had adventures through the day and then spent our evenings with her family around a campfire.

This is no ordinary camping. Her family has lovely homes right on the lake. After a long day my friends and I would LAZILY (as in barely allow the chairs to prop us up kinda sorta vertically) sit around the campfire. A child would appear and put a glass of ice water in our hand. An uncle would appear and put a fresh Crown and 7 in our other hand. A cousin would appear and play his guitar and sing. Another child would appear and ask us how we would like our marshmallows toasted (light, medium, or charcoal?) before putting them into a smores. Really? But yes, this is how we rolled, VIP style, all week. 

 You might be thinking, “What does this have to do with grey hair?” but I’ll tell you- very little. That’s because my grey hair is really not much of an issue and something I forget about most of the time. However I do credit my anime piggytails for a bit of courage. 

 As a girl that almost drowned when very little, I have always been a little afraid of water. I do not think that this is an excuse to coast through life in avoidance so I took swim lessons from a talented swimmer friend when I lived in DC and I was determined to squelch my fear when with my friends in Montana. Day 2 and the jet skis are brought out *gulp*. I put my hair in piggytails for courage. One of the uncles taught me (very patiently, I might add) as I slightly increased speed and stopped, sped and stopped. Eventually I worked up to speed at a slow/creep but still, I was out there.  

As I dropped the uncle off to go for a solo spin, I started speeding up. I could feel a whisper of my mom there (more terrified than I of water); telling me that life is too short to be afraid of everything. I became acutely aware that I was speeding over very deep water and I accelerated: 25… 32… 37… 41… It was exhilarating! My friends said I looked like a silver streaked Bond girl zipping through the water. The jet skis were my gateway drug to more and more adventure. Alpine lift? Awesome! Luge down the mountain? Of course! White water rafting? Bring it on! I really couldn’t get enough.

I decided that this courage in the face of fear needed to apply to all levels of my life. I mean, why should I live paralyzed by a bunch of what-if moments? Even though risk does not necessarily equal reward, it does equal progress. So in relationships I’m putting myself wholly out there and I will allow myself to be vulnerable. I will take risks and stare fear right in the face. I will still be petrified but I will accelerate nonetheless because I know that ultimately this will lead to a full life. And THAT is the reward.

Cafe Gray - It Can Change Your Life

Let's face it, to transition to grey you need a support team; cheerleaders who are going to get excited about your progress. That's where the Silver Sisters' forum (better known as Cafe Gray) comes in.

I'm going to go a few steps back in time. A little over two years ago my mom (a beautiful silver sister) was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. One would think that year was the worst of my life but in that year I got to live with her for three months while she received treatment, we took day trips together every weekend, I saw her more than I have in years (me living in different time zones than my family), and she felt good most of the time. I had a daily checklist to make sure she had taken her medications and laughter was always a mandatory to be checked off.

It wasn't until she passed away a little over a year later that the worst year of my life occurred. She remains the best friend I ever had- my number one supporter and confidante. I have talked to her every day of my life and to say that I miss her is a tragic understatement. There's a hole that no number of people could fill.

Anyone that has had a great loss understands this and also sees that in the worst year of their lives it is also the greatest growth in their lives as well. You really prioritize what's important and so much becomes unimportant as more and more of your ego evaporates. But in all this growth you're just plain exhausted - you could sleep 15 hours a day. Exercise falls to the wayside, weight increases, and you don't know if the light will be on at the end of the tunnel. This is where I was 10 months ago when I decided to stop coloring my hair. The weight has barely decreased but life is starting to normalize for me once again.

Now I have some pretty fabulous friends (this includes my sister and my step dad who have been my rock through this). Some have been through the loss of a parent or their parent is going through cancer, some have just helped me to try new things and take spur of the moment vacations. Some have been shoulders to cry on and others have tolerated my bad habit of always being late. But there's another set of supporters I want to highlight: the Silver Sisters.

When I decided to go grey I googled and came upon this forum. It's a free membership and most people introduce themselves on the Class of '13 page in the Newbies section. There are countless tips on products, dealing with grey hair and your career, growing your hair out, transitioning from a flat iron to letting your curly hair go natural, etc.  But the most important thing you find there is support.

There are thousands of members from all over the world on that forum. You will get no less than 50 posts a day on just the Class of '13 page alone. And here's the phenomenon: they're all positive and aimed at building up women. Now I've come across less than a handful of negative comments and a few tantrums but it's an anomaly; this site is really about highlighting how beautiful all women are.

This seems somewhat commonplace until you really think about it. In the US we are constantly surrounded by advertising that airbrushes supermodels. We have this perception that it would take every beauty cream, personal trainer, expensive piece of clothing, and makeup option to try to get close to this. But the reality sets in to this unattainable goal and we realise that plastic surgery is the only answer if we want to obtain this photoshopped ideal. I'm not saying we all drink the Kool-aid on every area but we do on quite a few. And who are the best advocates and reinforcers of this advertising? Women. Women will make faces at your skunk stripe, or your clothing a la Target, or your broad hips, or your lack of tan. They scrutinize each other until you can no longer pick out the one compliment in the series of negative comments.

So when you go to a place like Cafe Gray and countless women are commenting on how amazing your silver looks and giving advice and support about how to navigate through the rough patches... well, it's addictive! At first it's addictive to be around all the love and support. Then it becomes addictive to build others up. And then the unthinkable happens: this positive energy spreads throughout other areas in your life.

I've noticed a change occurring in me where I look to the positive aspects of my friends, I compliment strangers on a regular basis, I don't focus as much on the one negative comment thrown my way but look at the 20 positives, and I think I'm just more pleasant to be around. Men approach me a lot more, for one. But maybe my greatest test is how my Sheltie is around me. Dogs are energy sponges and they absorb whatever energy you give out. If I'm depressed, so is my dog; if I'm sick, she worries. Now that I have this positivity she snuggles close and cuddles more than she ever has in eight years. I see this as my own personal measure of inner growth.

I owe a lot of this to the Silver Sisters on Cafe Gray. In the first 7 months of your transition you're on there almost every day. And as you learn this positivity and it becomes a norm in your life, you start to release the daily chats to a few times a week and slowly release the comments to the next batch of newbies, as was once done to you by your predecessors. But I will always have a soft spot for my Silver Sisters and am grateful to them for providing a light at the end of the tunnel.

Family... Sigh

One thing that will be an inevitable part of anyone's journey in the greying process is to deal with family. Sigh... The sigh goes with it and will always go with it. Unfortunately you will have at least one close family member that just zings you and criticizes your choice to go grey. They will think they are doing you a favor (at best), but will most likely be so used to taking your relationship for granted that they will have no idea about boundaries.

My biggest boulder is my dad. I call him my boulder because with these crazy negative voices we have going on in our heads, there are usually some origins. One of those origins is my father. He is not known as a cuddly or congratulatory man. In fact, he has never said a word of praise about me to my face. Rumor has it others have heard positive comments said about me from my dad, but the stoic Midwestern way of fathers is to keep said information from the true recipient. Unfortunately praise is among  a stack of necessary skills that my dad is missing.

So it is with little surprise that when my father saw me for the first time since I stopped coloring a comment was made about grey hair looking "old." I have no doubt I brought up my hair in some context (because I freakin' LOVE my hair). However, there was nothing constructive about his comments. I told him I look younger with it and that I get compliments all the time. He said anyone that would compliment me on my hair was crazy. There was a slight back peddling on his part to say that ANYONE complimenting another on their HAIR was just plain weird. It ended in me telling him that I could care less of his opinions on my hair so his comments were moot.

I felt pretty low after leaving there, and every silver sister has had a similar experience. As one sister said so well, "the world isn't ready for us" (thanks Elo!). But there is a great light at the end of this dark tunnel. When you are feeling the aftershock of being blasted, it's a great opportunity to re-evaluate what control another person has over your feelings. Is it a stranger that made that comment? Did you respond? More importantly, did you tell said stranger that they were out of line? And what about your family or friend. Did that person make you feel like you were 8 years old? How did you respond?

I will say this: what started out feeling like a really low point and a step backward became a real opportunity for growth. I took that opportunity to once and for all evaluate why one man's limited viewpoint would affect me. Once I gave that a hard look, the feeling dissipated.

I guess the main thing to remember with all of these posts is that the experiences I have in this process are the same experiences that every silver sister has. There are highs and lows to the whole process. Some may see this as a low point but it was a great triumph for me; it finally made me deal with a much deeper issue and I came out stronger than ever. The world may not be ready for us but they will have to adjust.