Showing posts with label humidity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humidity. Show all posts

Sunday, June 1, 2025

"Hair. Hair? Hair!"

 

 

            Over the years, my hair and I have engaged in a love/hate relationship. As a child, I wore my hair in a short bang and bob. Not blessed with naturally curly hair like my sister, Mom would torture me with a head full of pin curls at night so my crown of curls would fluff around my face each morning. By the time I’d walk to school, my tendrils would loosen to soft corkscrews. By the end of the day, I’d have a wave. Eventually, the bang and bob gave way to a short, layered “pixie” cut. Barely longer than a boy’s style, this hair style suited my tomboy years perfectly as it required nothing but wash and wear. Sometimes, Mom would take my “sideburns” and tape them over night into a curl. Since no one ever mistook me for a boy, this little whorl became Mom’s attempt to keep me feminine as I wickedly raced through the neighborhood.

            During middle school, I decided to conform with the style of the day—long and straight. Only I had long and wavy. I’d sleep at night with my hair wrapped around juice cans, and on more than one occasion I ironed my tresses. By the end of the day, Texas humidity ruffled its fingers through my locks, and my messy wave returned. By the time I hit my senior year, I embraced my mop and let it grow. If I needed to dress up for a special occasion, I’d pull out the hot rollers and the hairspray; otherwise, I became one with my hair and its unruly nature.

            College found me grabbing the scissors one day in frustration and hacking off all but a few inches of hair.  Immediately, I began growing my hair out again. That became my cycle for my entire adult life. Very short cut, various cuts to disguise that I was growing it out of layers, then finally long hair again. Of course, in the 80s there’s the “big hair” phenomenon of perms and teasing, yet I still stayed focus on my objective.  Whenever the urge did hit me to chop everything off before I’d reached my long hair goal, I’d grab the L’Oreal and thwart my compulsion by changing my hair color



            Eventually, I cycled back to very long hair. I tell myself that it’s convenient because I can ponytail it or French braid it. I can do the “Mary Ellen Walton” trick of twisting it, tying it in a knot and clipping it. I can even achieve my long ago dream of “long and straight,” if I plug in the Chi. Some days, though, I’ll see a friend with a new stylish cut, and my fingers itch to grab the scissors!

                In 2023, I shifted back to a bang and a bob. I insisted to the young woman cutting my hair that I wanted something dramatically different, but she hesistated on cutting my long locks too much, suggesting that I could return in a few weeks for a shorter style.  Basically, I ended up with a variation of my usual cut with it setting on my shoulders, still long enough to pull into a ponytail if I wanted. 

 





             This year, I finally convinced the stylist that short was the best way for me to go. She pulled my long tail up high, stated firmly, "Once this is gone there's no going back!" I laughed and stated firmly, "Cut it all!" 

Shortest cut since I was four-years-old!
2025

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Thursday, April 30, 2015

"Saturday in the Swing"


Saturday in the swing    
            serenaded with cicada song     
                        and the chuck-chuck-chuck      
                                    of chiding squirrels    
                                                I float    
                                    aimless—and appreciative    
                                                of quiet moments spent swaying    
My dog calls greeting to our neighbor    
            rolling her Rs like that old Ruffles commercial    
                        she’s a sentry    
                                    sniffing out lizards    
A breeze plays with my writing paper    
            dances the words among the shadows    
                        cast from sun and leaves    
                                    making me dizzy in the Texas heat    
A paw taps my knee   
            accompanied by a whine    
                        I’m abandoned    
                                    for central air    
Moisture collects      
            on the back of my neck    
                        on upper lip      
                                    around my hairline     
                                                behind my knees    
I inhale humidity    
            yet I linger    
                        savoring my Saturday in the swing    

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


 

Monday, June 10, 2013

“Koi’s Summer Crew Cut”



Koi in March with full coat
 



Koi at the cabin in March
            High temperatures and humidity hang over San Antonio beginning in the spring. By early summer, we get a rapid heat-up where our mornings start in the 80s and the day boils away by noon. Last summer, Koi’s thick coat meant he limited his outside time for early in the morning and after the sun went down. I’d let him outside after midnight, drift back to sleep, and hear him yelp to come inside an hour or so later.



          Although only in the first week of June, I can already tell that Koi’s miserable. He longs to go outside and piddle in the yard while I water plants. Yesterday, he would venture out for a few minutes, and then sit by the door, whimpering to return inside to the cooler air.
 
            Koi’s coat, always lusciously thick, grew to fullness over this winter that surpassed previous years. I think he’s leaving puppyhood completely behind. This maturity means he’ll suffer even more this summer unless we do something proactive.


 
Koi after the second round with the shears
 
 




            And so I purchased a set of shears the other day. David and I worked on Koi until the battery ran down, making it about half-way through. The next day, we worked again. Every evening Koi sat patiently until he ended up with his final hair cut. With luck, this new “do” will keep our Pommonster cool enough and let him enjoy morning walks in the park and afternoons under the live oak,  reading with me.

                                                                  

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman