Monday, January 31, 2011
Change Your Hair, Change Your Life? Or...Do Redheads Come From Another Planet?
All right, little ol' Ms. Frisky Yardworker, Trash Collector! Who do you think you are?
Uh...little ol' Ms. Frisky Yardworker, Trash Collector? No! That is what you were on Saturday. What you are on Monday is a sore old thing.
This is the conversation in my head this morning. Well, one of them.
It's a crazy day, sky-wise, here in Lloyd this morning and equally as crazy, mind-wise. At least here in my house. The sky is blue with white, puffy clouds. No, the sky is gray and it looks like someone popped a tin helmet over the whole thing.
I need to mop my floors and tidy up.
No. I need to go to town and Goodwill it and find Truvy some damn clothes to wear.
We had a real hair dresser come to rehearsal last night to show us how to actually roll someone's hair, how to tease it, how to pin it up. During Steel Magnolias, our Annelle and I both spend about fifty percent of the time standing behind someone's head creating the illusion that we know what we're doing as applies to hairdo-making. And I need to call her this morning to make an appointment to get my hair cut a bit and get some layers put in it so that I can look like a Truvy might look and get this- I am seriously thinking of getting a red rinse put on it which will mean that I will be a redhead for the first time in my life.
I have asked Mr. Moon what he thinks of this idea.
"Can I call you by another name?" he asked.
"As long as it's Ruby," I said. I have often thought that my alter-ego's name is Ruby. Perhaps if I dye my hair red, the real Ruby will step out and take over. This is an exciting and frightening idea. For the last year or so I have just let my hair be whatever it is. No Sun-In, no highlights. Just dirty blond/brown/gray-coming in.
Which I sort of like but hell, Truvy could give me the excuse to have a last hurrah of sorts.
What do you think?
What will Owen think?
My oldest child, Hank, has the most gorgeous red hair on the planet. Well, he would if he quit shaving his head. I have two red-headed brothers. And Lily, who is courageous with color, has often been a redhead. So it's not that red hair is unknown in this family.
I think I'm going to do it. Why not? It's just hair.
So that's another thing I am thinking about this morning. Red hair. On my head.
I got home from rehearsal last night and got out of the car and there were Owen and Mr. Moon coming out of the kitchen door. I had not known that Owen was coming over but here he was and he ran towards me saying, "Mer-Mer!" Oh boy. I scooped him up and held him close. He was here because his daddy was cutting up a deer and Mr. Moon had been watching him. And so I went from being Truvy to being Mer-Mer and then after they left, I was back to being Mary and here I am, being Ms. Moon again.
It gets so confusing sometimes. Will having red hair only make it more so? Will I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and scream?
Oh well. It's like the sky. It's always the same sky, no matter what color it appears to be from this angle. Cloud-cover makes it look one way, fog another, light another, darkness another.
It is all illusion.
I can't believe I'm still listening to Eat, Pray, Love. I guess it's Liz Gilbert's voice. It's so damn lulling. But her ideas about religion and god sort of make me want to erp. She has such a personal relationship with her god and even feels quite strongly that she can posture herself with her forehead on the ground and petition that god with a request, a prayer, making it sound as if her god is just sitting there waiting for her to get her thoughts in order to come up with the correct plea.
And then she sits in silent meditation for two hours and lets mosquitoes bite her without stirring which somehow is going to translate into her being a better person.
Seems to me that it might more likely translate to her getting malaria but maybe not.
I remember quite distinctly the first time I ever heard Jim Morrison (of the Doors, y'all) scream, "You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!" and I felt guilty because I was a good little Presbyterian girl but I already knew that in my bones and I agreed with him.
What do I know? Not much. Maybe Jim Morrison was wrong, maybe Liz Gilbert is right. Maybe they're both right somehow. The workings of the universe are mysterious and as far as I know, not one damn person on this earth has ever truly figured out how to turn the correct key to get the Lord to deliver the goods.
And I'm sure that Gilbert would shake her head and with that sweet voice of hers point out that no, that's not what it's about at all, that she is just looking for a way to be infused with God and that showing her devotion and faith is the way she's accomplishing that.
Well, I'm infused with Whatever It Is when I have my hands in the dirt, getting my body sore and tired, when I hold my grandson, when I see my children laughing, when I hold my husband close to me.
Okay. That's enough. I have things to do. Truvy wants new clothes and a hair appointment. The old lady wants her breakfast. The floors want mopping. The garbage wants taking. The bed wants making. The sky wants to rain. I can feel it in my bones. I can see it in the sky.
It may all be an illusion but some things seem pretty damn real.
Love...Ms. Moon/Truvy/Mary/Mer-Mer Or Whoever I Am At This Particular Moment In The Illusion Of What We Call Monday
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Do it! Do the red hair! Oh, Danielle will love this :)ReplyDelete
Happy Monday-whoever you are today.ReplyDelete
The redhead...go for it! Just don't go carrot top and it will be fine. Who knows, you might enjoy Ruby's influence in your life so much you never go back.
Nothing like malaria to prove to god how good you are...ugh idiots!
Jo- I really think I will.ReplyDelete
Mel's Way- Yeah. God must love malaria victims. There sure a lot of them. Would this mean that Bill Gates is the devil since he is working so hard to prevent malaria?
Your comment about Bill Gates made me forget my comment... good morning, you.ReplyDelete
After all this God talk, I might start thinking you have the God gene after all ;)ReplyDelete
Dye your hair. I dyed mine red once. I will send you a picture :)
Stephanie- And good morning to you!ReplyDelete
SJ- So did people treat you differently with red hair? And god gene? Hell. Maybe I AM god. And so are you.
Life's too short to not go for it! You would make a sassy redhead. Think of the roles Freddy could come up with for the new you!ReplyDelete
Ruby is a fine name for a redhead.
Oh that darn book! The self absorption just drove me mad! Me me me! I've never been good about the me me me program. Too busy taking care of them them them.
Yes, I understand the many me's syndrome. I have so many iterations swirling around inside I get confused sometimes as to who I am, and which one I'd prefer to be! I need an integration with my alters! Have a good day. I'm feeling like the productive me today, and my floors need some attention!
The mosquito biting thing was nothing to do with goodness, btw, or suffering. Only how we approach the world around us.ReplyDelete
No Catholic sensibility there...
Oh I think it would be divine!! But pictures are a must, you know?!ReplyDelete
Mary maybe come a wild woman with red tresses! Brave woman you could pull it off if anyone can. Gosh darn I wish I could see the play when you all perform in it...somebody please film a bit for us in blogland?!ReplyDelete
Eat, Pray, Love....I could not read it past Ch. 4....I couldn't do it. Saw the movie which I had no problem with.
Perhaps this quote will influence your decision.ReplyDelete
"Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and eat men like air."
(Sylvia Plath, author)
Please do not eat me.
I don't think I've even read this post. Or that I'm feeling satisfied because of it.ReplyDelete
(the red sounds fine although I'm thinking a browny red?)
Je t'écris de France, en passant par chez Thérèsaet je me suis arrêté sur ton blog. j'ai vu que tu aimais Bob Dylan, alors j'ai mis un disque de lui pour être de ton monde. J'ai lu tes quelques ligne. Chronique des jours ordinaires, défilé de petites choses insignifiantes ou touchantes qui font la vie. Et l'ensemble, chansons de Dylan, texte de Ms Moon, fait une douce ambiance dans la quelle je baigne pour ma première visite ici. C'est une artiste américaine qui m'a initié à blogspot et depuis je correspond avec le monde entier, dont tu fais partie, aussi. J'aime bien les américains, surtout les artistes. Je vais essayer de revenir ici. Je t'invite à visiter mon univers, le land-art? ça te plaira sûrement.
Avec toute mon amitié,
Go red. Do it.ReplyDelete
OMG. Is someone speaking French to you, Ms. Moon?ReplyDelete
Redhead, do it! Being a redhead is fun, and I suggest it to anyone.ReplyDelete
Mel- I hope you're getting more done than I am. I ended up going to Monticello with Owen and Lily for lunch and errands. Now they are napping on my bed and I have no excuse not to get busy. Bah.ReplyDelete
Jo- I get that. But really- why would I want to be able to ignore mosquitoes? This is not a safe practice. I suppose for me it's just the artificiality of the situation. I am of the mind that we should approach the world around us with the response required.
Amber- Never doubt there will be pictures.
Ellen- The redhead thing has worked out well for Julia Roberts.
David- Okay. That completely cracked me up. No, I promise I will not eat you. In any way, shape or form except in the way we here might say, "Oh. He is so darlin' I could just EAT HIM UP!"
Elizabeth- I don't know! We shall see.
Le Chemin- Hello to you! I am so glad you found us here. I must tell you- I speak NO French and had to use a clumsy translating system to figure out what you said but I am glad I did because it was very nice. I will come and visit you and see if I understand anything. I am a typical American- one language and small words here and there of others.
Ms. Trouble- I will. And yes, someone was speaking French to me!
DTG- You should know, my dear.
I am mystified by women's hair. Whatever you like sounds good. I am tring to do catch up with blogs.ReplyDelete
Syd- No mystery. It's just like men's hair! Hahahahahahaha!ReplyDelete
Yay for red hair! I have just two hours ago decided that the solution to all of my problems (and obviously yours as well) would be a good haircut and a colour. So why not?ReplyDelete
(If you're not entirely sure better not make it a permanent one.)
I can't wait for the before-and-after pictures!
Oh and people will probably treat you differently. I remember people were scared of me when I had a dyed mohican, and just plain weird when I went bald for a bit.ReplyDelete
I'm with Mr. Morrison, as usual.ReplyDelete
Love you Mer-Mer,
I saw a great documentary about the Universe, in which one theory being explored by a researcher in Toronto posits that there is a sort of "spiritual" area of the brain. When this part of the brain is stimulated, people report in very abstract language that they felt themselves to be in the presence of something holy. I don't believe prayer is really about us invoking a response from God or the Goddess or however we name that force for ourselves. I DO believe that prayer and contemplation are good for US and that we are the answer to our own prayers. And I believe with Neil DeGrasse Tyson that we are all made of the matter of the Universe, and we are the Universe, and it is us. Mostly this seems enough for me.ReplyDelete
Love you, Ms. Ruby Moon
Ruby Moon. I can see her. She's as beautiful as Mary Moon!ReplyDelete
Lest you forget, our dear friend Tom Robbins says:ReplyDelete
Red hair is a woman's game.
The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blonds who've spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown-haired men who've been composted. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junk yard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies.
Not only are female redheads frequently lovely but theirs is a loveliness that suggests both lust and danger, pleasure and violence, and is, therefore, to the male of the species virtually irresistible.
Redheaded women! Those blood oranges! Those cherry bombs! Those celestial shrews and queens of copper! May they never cease to stain our white-bread lives with super-natural catsup.
Mwa- Ha! No Mohican (or as we call it here- a Mohawk) or bald head for me but yes, perhaps a cut and a semi-permanent color.ReplyDelete
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- Love you too.
Angie C- That's as close to what I believe as anything. We are all whatever it is. Thank-you.
Angella- Well, she could hardly be older.
We shall see.
Omgrrrl- Oh yes. I remember those wonderful words. What happened to Tom? God. I miss him.