Amaya Rain

Wife. Mother. Crazy woman.

Beige Hair? Oh, I mean, Honeymilk.

So, it’s nearly time to move. The carpet cleaners are going to be at the new house tomorrow. My mother and I spent the day painting closets – she primed, I painted. Now, I want to do a colorwash in the living room with a color called “Lazy Sun”. I’ll probably end up having to put a burnt sienna over it as well to get the color right, but that’s another post for another day.

The idea was to practice my method in the closets. The ones in what will be the babies’ bedroom, oldest daughter’s bedroom, and the kitchen (think coat closet) hadn’t been painted probably since the house was built (50’s), or possibly when they added on to the back of the house (’69-ish). I got a nice beige color from Lowe’s, called “Honeymilk”, that looked like a nice rich white. Yeah, well. It’s not much different than the nearly-contractor-beige that was last painted through the house about 6 years ago.

Am I complaining about my color choice? Yeah. No. Not really. I just expected… oh, I don’t know… something to seem different when they were painted. But no. They look great, much better than the nicotine white with rust spots that they were before. But now they just look like, well, closets. Yeah, I know.

I decided not to practice. I’m going to just jump into the fray and colorwash until my heart’s content in the living room later. After continually bumping into the walls in the closets, and getting tons of paint on my butt and in my hair, I just had enough.

Tonight, Hubby and I went to The Big Huge Blue Big Box Store That I Hate But Can’t Stay Away From Because It’s The Only Superstore Within A Fourty Minute Drive to pick up paint for the bathroom. Mom, who is going to be there with the carpet guys while I stay home with the twins, decided she wants to paint it for us. Bless her. Oh God Bless Her. So we picked out a nice dark blue that doesn’t make the tile backsplash or floor look too brownish, and the woodwork and tub surround will be painted, yeah, you guessed it… Honeymilk.

Maybe Mom will come home with Honeymilk hair tomorrow. Bah. Actually, come to think of it, I think that’s the color of her grays…

Speaking of, the placement of wisps of hair around my face that aren’t black wasn’t making me happy. I’ve sworn for years now that I wouldn’t dye my hair again. I used to dye it in my early 20’s (eggplant was really my favorite color), but I was embracing my gray. Yeah, well, that’s easy to say when the gray is a few miniscule streaks coming from the top of my head down the sides and the back. Around my face? I don’t think I can be the crazy lady with the waist-length salt-and-pepper hair anymore (not that I am now, it was a future aspiration).

I guess I’ll have to think about it. I mean, if I’m gonna start dying my hair to hide the gray, shouldn’t I just start now, and do all the fun colors while I’m still young enough to pull them off?

Anyway, I’m going to go scrub the Honeymilk off of my knees and the bottoms of my feet, and hope that it comes out of my hair.

After all – tomorrow is my only day to rest (as much as one can with year-old very active twins) before the fun that is moving begins.

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February 21, 2007 - Posted by | Moving, Perfectionism

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