Bouffant Blonde

It's officially summer in the South. Okay. Maybe not officially. The calendar still says May so that must be right. But with 90-plus weather and humidity that just seems to hange in the air, it definitely feels like summer. The dogs park themselves either under a vehicle or in front of the garage fan. Little Guy thinks that fan belongs to him. His sister, Sunshine, was lying in front of it. She's a big girl. Labs tend to be big. Little Guy, while not really small, is about half her size. He simply eased in front of her and plopped down. Completely blocking the air flow to her. It says a great deal about her pleasant personality that she merely got up and walked away. I would have swatted him had I been in her place. Miss Lady Bug has decided the laundry room is the place to be. Unless laundry is being done, of course. That fan was blowing her ears and hair back, almost like she was riding in a convertible with the top down. This was one happy dog. And for those who think we...

My parents love to travel to the beach. It's a fun day for them. My father especially likes to travel different routes -- every time. Years ago my aunt and uncle made several trips to Pensacola with my parents to see a sick relative. My aunt told me that at first she'd tried to pay attention so she would know the way next time. She laughed. "He goes a different way every time we drive down there. I get so confused. I finally threw in the towel. If we ever need to go on our own, I'll just have to use a map." I know the feeling. We went to Destin and Ft. Walton Beach yesterday. We went on country roads until finally the interstate loomed ahead and we -- thankfully -- headed up the entrance ramp. Of course, we had to exit and travel more miles just a little ways down the interstate but those roads I knew. They were good roads. Not pig trails. For those not familiar with that Southern expression, pig trails refers to a narrow road. The asphalt is generally crumbling ...

A special thanks to all who visited Bouffant Blonde at the arts and crafts show in Ft. Walton. It was so much fun! For those who missed the event, I'm hopeful that the fairgrounds will make it an annual event. I love art shows. The people are so nice. One special young woman stopped by. She was fascinated by seeing herself in the mirror of the antique vanity I used in my display (it's for sale!). She was so happy! I love that. Her parents were a bit concerned that she was a bother but how could she ever bother anyone? Her smiles were contagious and I know God blessed me with her visit. Friends from Alabama stopped by to visit. I've been in business a long time and have met some interesting people. Sometimes something just clicks and a friendship develops. I'm sure you know what I mean. They are people I hope to always know and it has nothing to do with business. I care about them and their children. I cherrish their visits and watching their children grow and become li...

Wouldn't it be sad to always follow the road everyone else travels? Yet, that seems to be what most folks do. It's expected that we trot along to the same old song, like little people soldiers afraid to show their uniqueness. What are we so afraid of? Failure? Or success? Being a little different is scary. But I think it frightens other people more than it frightens the person on the different path. I'm reminded of a young woman, ever the face of bravery, as she accepts a job across the country. What daring, we think. How foolish, we warn. Is she following a different path or only pretending? See, she has friends there to pave the way. "How lame it would be," she insists, "to go somewhere and not know anyone." She looks at me. Judging. That was my path. I keep my mouth firmly closed, determined not to comment on the superior attitude she emits. Inside I think how lame it is to only follow a path already laid out by others. How sad it is to only pretend ...

Sometimes I forget I'm a little different than most folks. A new friend recently stopped by unexpectedly. She did me a wonderful favor. The leader of a morning book study group we're a part of had sent out a list of possible new study books. But she didn't have my e-mail address. My new friend printed out the e-mail and brought it to my house. How wonderful and how thoughtful! Needless to say, I wasn't dressed for company. I was working. That means, of course, I was painting. I could tell by her expression that I looked a little worse for the wear, to borrow an old cliche. I had paint clothes on. We're not talking about those white shirts and pants I've seen some "real" house painters wear. My paint clothes are cheap sweats that are dabbed pretty much everywhere with paint. My blonde hair was pulled up, which doesn't always keep paint from connecting with loose strands. I even had paint on my hands and arms. I could tell from her expression that sh...

What makes us happy? How do we define happy? Is it the sun warming our skin after torrential rains have finally ended? Is it the laughter of a child playing on a swing? Is it the presence of God filling our soul as we watch a rainbow in the sky? Happy can be so many different things. My trusty dictionary defines it as feeling or showing pleasure or contentment; fortunate; pleasing. So maybe happy is learning to be content whatever our circumstances. I've often read Paul's words and wanted to embrace them, to know a peace that can fill an empty soul no matter what. I want to always find my job in the simple things that surround me. Perhaps all of us have known the times we wanted something so badly, whether it was a new job, a new electronic gadget or a special vacation. Then we got whatever it was we wanted only to find that it didn't make us as happy as we expected. That hole we were trying to fill couldn't be filled by what we thought we wanted. Happy remained elusiv...

Every person who is tired of the rain please raise your hand. Yes, that's most of us. I don't know what's with that person over in the corner calling for more but get the straight-jacket out now. Bouffant Blonde lives in an area that got eight plus inches of rain Friday night and Saturday. And we were blessed it wasn't worse. People in neighboring towns are scraping muddy muck from their kitchens and bracing for more rain arriving tomorrow. And that isn't even mentioning the poor folks in Fargo. I've been in a flood. I don't want to go there again. Ever. Originally we welcomed the rain. We were at a water deficit according to Rich Thomas and his storm team. It's getting into the planting and growing season. Water is a good thing. Well, any seeds already planted may no longer be in the field they were intended to be in. Our little garden patch -- which contains no seed until Good Friday per my father's rule -- is difficult to even walk through. One s...

Those who have ever experienced a bad hair day, please raise your hands. Okay, just about everyone has had one of those days. Now, every one who has ever been responsible for their own bad hair day, please raise your hand. I'm glad to know I'm not alone. Last year I got really frustrated with my hair. I needed to get it trimmed. Money was an issue. Money is always an issue for an artist. (At least those I know.) So at four in the morning I decided to trim off the ends. Did I mention that I'm not a morning person? I shouldn't have even been up at that hour. Did I also mention that I am notoriously bad with hair? I'm the one whose hair is always, but always, doing what it shouldn't. So are any of us surprised to learn that my hair ended up a bit uneven? I have a wonderful friend who is a beautician. Actually, she's more of a hair artist. She works at one of those chic salons, follows all the latest trends and always looks like she stepped off the page of a fa...