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Welcome to the BOMB.

The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My photo
My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Monday, December 22, 2014

A Lapse in Judgement #ThinkKit

As I perused magazines at a major chain bookstore I glanced up to see a GrandMother holding the hand of her toddler Granddaughter. Her black hair was styled with a beautiful face framing fringe of hair, the tips of which were a flaming fire engine red--the Grandmothers, not the toddlers.

After the initial shock wore off I applauded her confidence, and I thought of my new friend from  Canberra.  Julia has strikingly beautiful electric blue hair. It would seem neither woman has a problem with self-expression or accepting attention.

Within minutes I saw a blonde teen with a loud top-layer of magenta hair. That was a little less unexpected since I have several young friends who choose non-traditional hair colors as an expression of their individuality or their distance from main-stream society.

But then, I did a double take and my chin dropped to the floor, as yet another woman with brightly colored locks came into my periphery.  Again, she was an older woman. And again her hair color choice made a bold statement. A very bold statement. She was sporting bright turquoise hair.

As I closed my mouth and scrapped my chin up off the the floor, I began to wonder if "Candid Camera" was filming an episode.  Maybe the beauty school had a color sale for finals week. Or perhaps over  the weekend there had been Central Texas colorist convention gone awry.

Now don't get me wrong. I like colored hair. I myself have been known to mix up a few colors. However, since an unfortunate experience in my remote past, in which I failed to regain my blonde tresses of childhood, I tend to keep my hair color choices within a shade or three of the realm of my current natural color and highlights--although I occasionally forget and choose a medium brown rather than a light Caramel for the base, and I tend to  have a heavy hand when I add auburn, which results in a bolder red hair color than I intend.

Although I admire those who wear bold hair color choices with confidence, I am not a bold hair color kind of girl. I can, and do, appreciate that quality in others.

Until, I saw this middle aged woman with brilliantly turquoise tresses.

It was not the attention grabbing raven of a goth teen.  It was not the originality of a Lucille Ball Orange, which inspired a rose to be named after her.  Nor was it the at-home-attempt-turned-horridly-brassy bleached hair of my High School Self. The unnatural pink of Nicki Manij, or Pink herself, pales in comparison to this hue.  Even the rainbow of colors Lady Gaga or Dennis Rodman have worn over the years was no where near as shocking as this mannishly close-cropped 'do. I couldn't even attribute it to a misguided sense of sports fanatic fandom like that of my beloved Purple and Gold die-hard Cru-fans, because she was wearing a black and gold Pittsburg Steelers jacket.

And then it hit me. It was the moment I realized I was viewing something far more ominous than simple attention demanding, mainstream society distancing, self-expression.

She, like all Steeler fans, had experienced a lapse in sound judgement.

This post is part of Think Kit by Small Box
Prompt:  "Ooh!  Aa!  What surprised you this year? Was it a jump-out-of-your-seat shocking moment? Learning something new that really flipped your wig? A moment in time that left you speechless?  Leave us slack-jawed and standing silent...or at least thoughtfully quiet for a few seconds!"

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