All posts by Dona

Outcast lunch table

Life, Memories, ,

Going from elementary school to junior high, I only had a handful of friends and none of them had the same lunch period as I did. I remember timidly walking into the cafeteria looking for a place to sit and eat the lunch I’d brought from home. I saw familiar faces, but no one I knew well enough to eat lunch with, so I sat at an empty table near the middle of the cafeteria and took out my sandwich and began to eat.

Before too long other people came to my table and it quickly filled up. At first I was flattered. These were popular kids. And some of them were boys. However, no one talked to me. I tried to become as small as possible and concentrate on eating my sandwich. A friend of the group at the table stopped by and wanted to sit with them so they forcefully evicted me — literally pushing me out of my chair so their friend could sit in it.

I grabbed my lunch and looked for another table, trying hard not to cry. I found a table with two girls I remembered from elementary school who were a year ahead of me.  They also were girls that other kids considered beneath them. One was a mannish-looking girl who was the daughter of friends of my parents. Another was a girl who, in elementary school, often came to school dirty and smelly.  I hesitated asking if I could sit at this table, knowing that associating with these girls would secure my fate as an outcast; but I needed a place to sit so I asked if I could sit with them. They welcomed me warmly. As the lunch period went on, more girls joined us — each of them quirky in her own way.

I sat with these girls for the rest of the time I was in junior high; and one of the girls that joined  us that first day became my best friend for the next several years. I’m ashamed of my initial reaction to the girls at that table. In hindsight I know that one was going through an inner struggle, trying to figure out her sexual identity and the other was the child of alcoholic parents. I, who’d just been physically pushed out of a chair, had no business judging the worthiness of anyone else.

I like to think that I, and all the girls that sat at the outcast table, became the interesting adults while the kids that pushed me away from their table grew up to be boring.

When the lights went out in Bethesda

Weather

Last Sunday at 3:29 pm a violent storm passed through the DC area knocking over trees and bringing down branches. It also resulted in no power to around 300,000 homes and businesses in the DC Metro area.  We were among  that number.

The actual storm was kind of fun.  It didn’t last long, but was very strong. We saw huge branches fall from our Tulip poplar, and the torrential rain flew sideways for a while, drenching everything in our screened in porch. Stupidly we all stood at the front (cracked) picture window in the dining room while the storm raged. Had I been carrying my mobile phone with me I would have gotten the tornado “SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS A DANGEROUS STORM!” warning text. But it was charging in my office.

Sometime before the end of the storm we heard the muffled pop of a transformer, and the lights went out. We suspected we were in for at least a day without power. During the blizzard last winter people were without power for several days (we were lucky and didn’t lose power — or at least not for long if we did). A number of years ago a hurricane took out our power for a week. That was not very much fun.

Anyway — Dean took Clare and Brandon (my nephew who was visiting from Illinois) to DC to a museum and Georgetown while I stayed home and cooked dinner — which was my plan before the storm but was going to be more of a challenge with no power. Luckily we have a gas stove and I could use the burners after lighting them with a match.

That night, after Dean, Clare and Brandon returned we ate dinner and talked about what to do that night. Brandon was the most concerned — he worried about sleeping without air conditioning. Also: no TV or Xbox. Andrew and Clare went out with friends. Dean and Brandon went to bed early but I stayed up and read by candle light.

The next morning Dean, Andrew and Brandon headed to Pennsylvania to camp for the night. Clare and I stayed home. Clare slept until noon, as usual, but I was up early. With not much else to do I tackeled the cupboards and drawers in my kitchen — something I’d  been meaning to do for months. I started on one side of the kitchen and ended up at the other side. No longer does one feel like they’re looking at a puzzle in an “Eye Spy” book when trying to find the measuring spoon in one kitchen drawer.

After Clare woke up we celebrated her 19th birthday by going to the mall and buying her a couple of items for her mobile phone. We also bought some more flashlights, since the boys took the good ones camping.

That night we lit several candles while I continued to clean the house. I remarked to Clare that this must be what I would be like had the Internet not been invented. I would clean all day. She thought that sounded sick.  After Clare left to hang out with friends, I read for a few hours by candle light, then went to sleep — exhausted after a day of hard work in nearly 90° temperatures.

On Tuesday I found more cleaning to do, and was just about to begin work on the basement when I heard a strange noise. The air conditioner fan! We had electricity again! Goodbye cleaning! Hello Internet…

Hair!

Musings,

My hair has gone through many changes over my lifetime  which is probably true for everyone — well most women, at least.  Since I first started making decisions about my hair, it’s been long  (to the middle of my back), short (pixie cuts), and permed (short, medium and long). It’s been highlighted and colored (self and professionally). I’ve used electric curlers, blow-dryers, flat-irons, curling irons, and Velcro rollers to style it. I’ve just left it to dry naturally. I’ve pulled it back in a ponytail. I’ve worn it in braids. I’ve had bangs and no bangs.

In the 1980’s I probably changed my hair-style every 6 months. A friend of ours, who we saw a couple times a year, commented that he never saw me with the same hairstyle one time to the next.

Thinking about it, I believe that my hair is a measure of my emotional state (or my emotional state dictates my hairstyle  — or both). In the 1980’s I think I was trying to figure out who I was, and tried on new hairstyles to see if I could discover the real me.

In the 1990’s I think I tried to have easy-to-care-for, but stylish hair because I had young children, but wanted to look fashionable.

In the 2000’s I think I wanted to avoid anything that would make people think I was trying to look younger than I was, so opted for shorter styles, and didn’t go to the stylist as often as I should have gone, especially when I took some years off work and went to part time. The less frequent visits to my stylist and the resulting not-so-nice hair put me in a funk which resulted in me not really “caring” about my appearance which put me in a bigger funk.

A few years ago I tried to grow my hair long again, but didn’t like the look — I felt that the length pulled my features down, so had Doug cut it short again and the funk continued.

Recently I thought I’d try long hair again, and this time learn how to use a flat iron or curling iron properly. Oh, and products. Lots of products. Doug has been very supportive (he has long hair himself) and thinks the long hair looks good on me. I think he’s right. I feel good about my hair and appearance again.

I bought a new curling iron and the first time I used it was wowed by the results. It takes a long time, so I don’t use it that often, but when I want to look glamorous I do take the time. Usually I just blow it dry (if that) and pull it back in a ponytail. Just knowing the glamorous me is possible is all that matters.  It feels good to feel good about my hair again.