Tuesday, August 28, 2007

They'll be gaga at the go-go when they see me in my toga

A few things about the pink hair.

On the beach on Whidbey Island (this picture), Bob said that from behind, it all looked like a black and white photo in which only my hair had been colorized.

If you work with strangers, and you dye your hair pink, you better be on your best behavior. Previously, if someone had a complaint about me, it would go like this: "That librarian with the long hair and glasses wouldn't write my paper for me," and they could have been referring to either Your Neighborhood Librarian or Our Resident Pagan, and we were kind of both covered. Now, however, all they gotta say is, "That pink-haired librarian was a bitch to me," and I got nowhere to hide.

If I'm having a stressy day, or merely in a hurry to get somewhere, and someone stops, stares, smiles, and asks, "What made you dye your hair pink?" it doesn't make me slow down and smile back, it makes me want to snap his or her neck.

I could tell any 8-year-old girl to read Aristotle - in Greek - and she'd take it from me reverently and come back the next week with a book report.

It's fading already. Wah. Sniff.