From Red to Black

This is not an accounting lesson, repeat, this is not an accounting lesson. I was born a brunette and while we keep our hair, we go grey young. I've been coloring my hair since my twenties. When I worked in a record store (yes, real vinyl records and cassettes were the thing) I experimented with shades of purple and orange. When I "grew up" and got a real job, I had a great colorist... a rich brownish red. I could afford a visit to THE SALON without thinking twice. Oh the good old days!

Flash forward to the last 12 years (which does in fact coincide with the age of my son) I have been basically brown or kinda reddish. The reddish has been great but goes so brassy so easily. And many of my friends will testify that I will put off buying the box for waaay too long. I've come to work to find "gifts" of unused hair color boxes on my desk. So my reds have varied.

As I have noted in my previous entry, time to color and cut my hair. I decided to rid myself of brassy forever and listened to my friends... I found an ash color to cut out the brass. So there I was in the hair color aisle at the HEB staring at the wall of potential colors. I have never been loyal to brand, always going for the low to mid-priced box o'color but today, I felt I was worth it... and tossed the box of 4A Dark Ash Brown in the cart and forgot about it for a few days.

Home hair dying isn't very difficult. If you can read, you can dye your hair from a box. Even though the directions provide extra minutes for stubborn gray, I usually add an additional five to that because my gray is obstinate. I have a special shirt that I wear and recently added a hand towel to that as well. I saved a root touch up brush that helps with the hairline and temples but I always miss a few. On goes the dye and then I sit around for the prescribed time. I can't do anything really because I wear glasses and without them the world is a blurr but of course, I can do laundry blind if there is any left to do. 

Finally its time to hit the shower. Rinse until clear is actually pretty interesting. Within the first few minutes excess dye splattering everywhere creates a shower murder scene. Some products make your hair feel like straw, but I have to say that I love the conditioner that comes in a box o'color. I have friends who used to buy the box just for the conditioner. Once completely rinsed and conditioned the waiting game begins for me to see what color 4A Dark Ash Brown really is because the box pictures are always off. I rarely dry my hair with an actual hair dryer. I just can't be bothered but I just can't stand it... I grab the blower and go for straight hair versus the air dried mostly curly look. 

And now I am Dark Ash Brown, which is really Daring Almost Black. I embrace the change and everyone says it suits me. Next, the new hair cut.

Texacanized

I still don't totally understand how I ended up in Texas, or should I say, ended back in Texas. I did take a 2 1/2 year break, but I've been back for 11 years. Once you get here, it gets harder and harder to get out. Texas is a big ass state! It can take a good hard day of driving to reach the closest state border, so I guess you just say awhile. 

When I first arrived in Austin, I pronounced the Spanish named streets like my 8th grade Spanish teacher (Mrs. Morales) taught me. Now I've learned to talk like a Texacan. Manchaca is pronounced Man-Chak. Guadalupe sounds like Gwad-a-loop and San Jacinto? San Jay Sinto... so much for that rule about J in Spanish.

Another amazing first moment made me think that there were no other Jews in the state or someone Jewish had a great sense of humor. I saw a huge red neon sign that said:

I later learned it was a grocery store chain. H is for Henry E. and B is for Butts (I don't think this is a Jewish guy). We still say, "We're going to the HEB, need anything?" BTW. there are a few shelves in each HEB of Kosher food, right close to the other "ethnic food."

Right close? A Texacan thing to say. After so many years, it is a bit alarming that I barely notice the Texacan in my daily speech. I have been known to say, "I'm fixin to..." or the dreaded, "might should.." without blinkin. Oh my goddess, see.. a "g" just slipped away! This, from a woman who uses Yiddish expression nearly every day and still says "Aw-range" and Straawberry like I left New York a few weeks ago.

Another Texacan thing is to brag about how I've managed to survive the worst recorded summer heat in Austin history. As I have previously blogged, weather is easily a 30-minute conversation...with a stranger...while in the HEB check out line... after everyone seems to have gotten out of church gets out on Sunday (everyone is in their Sunday best jeans), after the Friday pay day. It seems like everyone gets paid every other Friday in Austin. The next top ten topic of conversation after weather is High School or College Football, but that is another blog.

I realized a few weeks ago just how Texacanized I have really become. We've been thinking about putting aside some cash for a second vehicle. All of a sudden, I want a wait for it... (Hold on to your hats! Oh right, only Texans wear hats all the time) A TRUCK!!!!

Not an SUV or crossover. A truck. Not to freak out anyone too much, I want a little truck. No big tires for me. I do not want a truck that requires a step extension. No F anything, more like a truck so I can put stuff in the back, like firewood. Small enough so a couch or bed WILL NOT fit. I don't mind helping a friend move boxes but I am not opening a moving business. Big Truck? Kiss your weekends goodbye!

I can hear my friends getting a giggle about this. I am sure a serious intervention will take place. "Really, Why on earth do you want a truck?" I really have no logical explanation. I used to say, "I want a pony" every time my son started his list of "I wants"  and he laughs. Now he catches himself mid list and says, "I know Mom (eyes rolling). You want a truck." Maybe I want a truck because every month is Truck Month at just about any dealership here in the Big State. Or maybe it is the "Texas Edition" that just wins me over.

I'm supposin as a Texacan that I'm fixin to get a small truck right soon enough ya'll!

All is Quiet on the Blogger Front or Work is Hell!

I know I've been missing from action for bit, but work has been all consuming. Sherman said, "War is hell" so I will take creative license here and say, "Work is hell!" Thanks history buff husband for the quote and encouraging to write my rant. Its cheap therapy after all.

I come home brain drained and play those silly games on Facebook. Something always has to be harvested, built or iced and the best part is that I don't have to "tally" "feedback" or "submit" a damn thing. Now if only those millions of Mafia Wars rubles were real.

Seriously, I'm in the weeds at work. Ever have one of those days, weeks (or dare I say a month?) when for every case you close you seem to get two more? If I was waiting tables, I'd be rolling in the tips.

I feel like I'm a treadmill going no where fast. If I was on an actual treadmill, I would have burned millions of calories, but nope, my butt continues to enjoy that "I sit in a chair all day" spread. I've been at this job for close to seven years and let me calculate it, that would come out to be gaining about 7 pounds a year!

Have I mentioned that I really thought that I'd only be at this job long enough to go through paid training? Now I'm "an old timer" and people know who I am and ask me how to get into my department. Simple, someone has to move away to work on a mission, get fired, or die. For my company, I'm well paid but when you compare it to the real world it can be insulting.

I don't have a clue who works in the other departments anymore, those chairs are twirly chairs and before you know it know it the chairs spin and new faces appear. The good thing is that I can nod at the other "old timers" with that "same shit different day" attitude and laugh quietly at the fresh happy people who will be beaten down by the man in no time at all.hhhhh, I feel better now.

Fancy Rat... Revisited

I feel like Julie in Julie & Julia! One of my followers sent me a gift. Granted, the follower happens to be my mom but she is my biggest fan!. I opened the box my mom sent with glee.  No, I'm not at sleep away camp but boxes from mom bring good books, little surprises or even clothes!

Mom sent three books: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Shanghai Girls, and Engaged Buddhist Reader. Yep, my mom is way cool: eclectic, inspirational and funny. She also sent three shirts because she knows I never go shopping for myself. I used to shop but that was in the before times and the subject of another blog entry. Gently tucked away in tissue paper was the piece de resistance! I did take French in High School but I also took Spanish so I don't speak either one but can understand just enough to go out to eat.

Behold, my very own fancy rat, dressed for her very special day!

Lovely purse and a nice diamond ring!

Laughter to near tears engulfed the household. My son said, with a smile from ear, "Mom... its a fancy rat, just like that crazy lady from work!" Ahhh, so true but this is only one fancy rate, it truely is  cute and doesn't require a cage or food!

Note the lovely tiara!

This fancy rat will be sitting on my desk on Monday morning! And now dear readers, here is an opportunity for you to participate! Name the fancy rat and you will win a real prize.*

Silly rules: Participation is required. You may enter as often as you like. No more than one entry per day. All name suggestions become the property of She said This and That. The winner will be selected by the Daley family and announced by August 15th, in honor of my mom's birthday.

*If you wish to win "the prize" you must include your favorite color and if you are allergic to any fiber.

Tales from The Service: Seriously, You Can't Make This Stuff Up...

The truth is stranger than fiction! Seriously, I couldn't make this up... even if I tried. Please note that I have only edited company identifying information but this is an actual complaint where I had to provide a written response:

"I purchased a tool box from X. Both latched broke. Being a "Tool", I asked for a replacement. They replyed that it was not a hand tool. The tool box is carried by hand an is a tool as defined by Websters dictionary, "an instrument or apparatused used in performing an operation or mecessary in the practive of a vocation or professional/" The tool box is sold int the tool deptment. The product is carried by hand. Therefore it is a hand tool."

I don't remember the customer's name but I'm sure it ended with a "Y" like Jimmy, Bobby or Tommy and most likely he was from West Virginny, Mississippi, or possibly Alabama.

The following is what ran through my head as an immediate response:

"Dear Mr. Jimmy, Bobby or whatever your name is:

We have reviewed your complaint and due to the fact that you failed to quote the dictionary correctly, there is no possibility that we can attempt to assist you. In addition, please return to elementary school and you will see that computers have this nifty feature called (drum roll please...) Spell check. When you decide to get some 'edumication' you may return to our store. "

Of course I had to write a friendly letter stating that we regret if Mr. Jimmy, Bobby or whatever his name is, misunderstood the definition of hand tool, but we stand by our decision that he is not entitled to a replacement, exchange or a refund.

Followers

I have to admit that I was giddy with delight when those little faces began popping up. I sang, “I've got Followers!” to my family and actually did a little dance. Then I got to thinking...

The term “followers” has a bizarre ring to it, particularly for those of us who live in Texas. Remember that group of “followers” in Waco? Does this mean that I should build a compound and claim a tax exemption?

Followers actually reminds me of that elusive cult-like group call the Travellers. After all, I have an Irish last name now and perhaps we can all learn Shelta together as we caravan from town to town.

Photo courtesy of Irish Aires News

But seriously, not to offend my new followers, but isn't following someone kinda like stalking? Will the literary paparazzi come banging on my door demanding more blog entries, stealing photos of me without makeup? Wait... I don't wear makeup, but no one should see me before my first cuppa coffee in the morning.

Hmmm, this being followed is serious business. So if you know a way I can cultivate more followers, drop me a line. And if you are just a lurker, you can comment anonymously.

Bag O'Friendship

So you arrive at work early, isn't it always early when you have to go to that place? Anyway, A co-worker wags a zippy bag of something yummy and asks, "You want some?" Your coffee could use a companion... your sedentary spread begs to differ. Okay, just a little taste. Yum. Your pal now tells you, "Its Amish Friendship Bread and I'll bring you a bag of starter tomorrow with directions." Easy peasy. I can read and I can actually bake, which means you read all the directions.

Next day a zippy bag of whitish ooze sits politely by your keyboard and you dutifully carry it home and proclaim, "We'll have tasty Amish bread in ten days." Each day you squish or mush the bag, letting out the extra air (this stuff is fermenting away), and finally you get to feed it. Several more days and you're ready to give out several bags of your own mushy stuff and yes, bake it up.

My only problem is that I forget about baking until 10:30 pm. My husband ran out earlier to get the large box of instant vanilla pudding for the recipe. However, I forgot I need both baking powder AND soda. No box in the frig and any baker worth their salt (pun intended) knows you can't skip an ingredient. I'm texting my neighbor anxiously awaiting a reply, I'm cracking eggs, measuring cinnamon, salt, etc. Then, I find myself standing stunned in the kitchen. I was supposed to separate out those pesky "friendship" starter bags! I am not a good friend :(

The instructions basically tell me I'm shit out of luck... the starter is only available from an Amish person. What? Remembering that I live in Texas, I realize that the my chances were rather slim to find an Amish or Mennonite community, particularly after 10:00 pm.

So, what I do know of the Amish (or was it Mennonite) is that they had a farm stand in Homestead Florida. There you could purchase the most delectable, scrumptious strawberry shake. While slurping it down, you could purchase wholesome and amazing breads (dilly, a family fav), pies and veggies. I don't recall seeing anything that resembles Amish Friendship Bread. This particular group migrated from the North for strawberry season. Yes, the men and women were dressed in their plain garb, nearly all had blue eyes and were polite and soft-spoken. I doubt they would give any of their recipes away on a photocopied sheet. Besides, would they really use a box of instant vanilla pudding in any recipe?

So where did this recipe come from and why was I feeling like a bad friend? After dumping the less than friendly bread batter down the sink and cursing in an unAmish fashion, I remembered that I killed a Bag O'Friendship in the past. I am not destined to bake a bag of mush. But my curiosity was peaked and a quick visit to my friend wikipedia revealed, "There is no reason to think that the sweet, cinnamon-flavored bread has any connection to the Amish people although the name is taken from them. According to Elizabeth Coblentz, a member of the Old Order Amish and the author of the syndicated column 'The Amish Cook' true Amish Friendship Bread is "just sourdough bread that is passed around to the sick and needy...The instructions distributed with Amish Friendship Bread typically omit instructions on how to prepare starter from scratch, and frequently claim that the recipe is a secret "known only to the Amish".

Now I feel better. None of my friends are sick or needy at the moment. I guess its an omen and I'm off the hook.

BTW: Here is a recipe for a starter that I found on the Internet. And I thought the Amish did not embrace technology.

1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast 1/4 cup warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C) 3 cups all-purpose flour, divided 3 cups white sugar, divided 3 cups milk


Directions

In a small bowl, dissolve yeast in water. Let stand 10 minutes. In a 2 quart container glass, plastic or ceramic container, combine 1 cup flour and 1 cup sugar. Mix thoroughly or flour will lump when milk is added. Slowly stir in 1 cup milk and dissolved yeast mixture. Cover loosely and let stand until bubbly. Consider this day 1 of the 10 day cycle. Leave loosely covered at room temperature.

On days 2 thru 4; stir starter with a spoon. Day 5; stir in 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar and 1 cup milk. Days 6 thru 9; stir only.

Day 10; stir in 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar and 1 cup milk. Remove 1 cup to make your first bread, give 2 cups to friends along with this recipe, and your favorite Amish Bread recipe. Store the remaining 1 cup starter in a container in the refrigerator, or begin the 10 day process over again (beginning with step 2).

Photo credit: http://morganmoore.typepad.com/one_more_moore/2009/02/amish-friendship-bread.html