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Friday, August 30, 2013

A Purple Streak in my Hair and Why I'll Never Drown

It’s hot as the hinges of hell.  Earlier in the day Ole Dick was out on his balcony dicking around with his stained glass.  I have to give it to him for working in all this heat.

I, on the other hand, have been thinking up ways to avoid organizing my boudoir.  This is the way it looks and I’ve been here eight days. 

That’s my chandelier sitting in the tub.  The maintenance man was supposed to come over today and hang it up in my bathroom but I guess he got too busy or found something better to do on the Friday before Labor Day.

Living down here is a little like living in Mayberry.  Everybody is on Island Time and I better get used to it if I’m not going to pull out what’s left of my hair.

A little over two weeks ago I went to see my friend and hairdresser, Peggi, and got her to put a streak of purple in the left side of my hair.  It’s awesome.  I don’t have a photo of it yet because, as they say, the camera does not love me.  The camera essentially hates my guts if you want to know the truth.  I’ll probably have to wait for Cuz to come visit and take about a hundred photos of me to get a good one. 

After I got the purple streak, people in Macon started talking to my hair instead of me.  They looked straight at the streak and asked me how I was doing, not that they really cared.  Macon is like that.  It’s full of phonies.  I’m not counting the real friends I have there.  They don’t give a shit what color my hair is.  Nobody here seems to notice.

It has been a rainy summer in Georgia and the rivers north and west of here are all at flood stage or higher.  That means our rivers are wide and at high tide the marshes on either side of the causeway are dotted with ponds of water.  It is beautiful and like no other place I know.  Earlier I got in my car and drove across the causeway and back just to look at it.

There is strength and courage and danger in water.  I’m a good swimmer but when I was little I nearly drowned in the deep end of the swimming pool at the Crooked River State Park down near Kingsland.  The lifeguard pulled me up from the bottom and I was in love with him for about 10 years after that.  I ended up spending so much time learning how to do every swimming stroke known to man that I swam on the swim team when I was 12 and 13.  I swam the backstroke and the breaststroke.  It didn’t do much for my breasts, but I by God never worried about drowning again.   

© 2013 cjschlottman  

1 comment:

Linda @ A La Carte said...

So I'm gathering that you have moved from Macon? I hope so! Oh I would love to see that purple streak in your hair! I'm heading to Paris next week for my long awaited trip! So happy!