Haha, I just read my previous post and decided that I would make great book reviewer.
That was much better than back in grade school and I don't think they would expect me to illustrate my book reports now.
okay...g'night!
Hello Dear Friends.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
...about stupid, smaltzy Nicholas Sparks!
It's just past 3:30am. I couldn't sleep. I decided to not fight it and picked up a book to help me fall asleep. Yah...Nicholas Sparks, he of "The Horse Whisperer" and "The Notebook", was not a good pick. First of all, way too easy of a read. I mean, short chapters so you can say, "oh...just one more" and before you know it, its 3:30am in the morning and you are crying the "ugly cry", the one where snot is dripping out of your nose and you have to go to the bathroom mirror just to see how ugly you are. I might have even used some eye drops to alleviate the redness and perhaps some decongestant spray to remove some of the evidence, so that everyone else up at 3:30am wouldn't know I was reading a stupid, smaltzy Nicholas Sparks book.
And besides...I don't read these types of books very often...I'm much more sophisticated than that...most of the time...but now it is past 3:30am and I'm here blogging about it....
Oh yah, this is the book I read...and sobbed over.
And besides...I don't read these types of books very often...I'm much more sophisticated than that...most of the time...but now it is past 3:30am and I'm here blogging about it....
Oh yah, this is the book I read...and sobbed over.
"Nights in Rodanthe"
Don't read it...cause its kinda good and it will probably make you cry and look ugly and stay up way later than you should.
Okay...time to try and sleep now.
Love Tanya
Okay...time to try and sleep now.
Love Tanya
Saturday, April 17, 2010
...some new layouts.
Had a few spare minutes today to play with Adobe Photoshop. Here is a few of the final results.
The above picture was taken last year while Mackendra was playing at the local waterpark.
The next one was from my little sister, Rachel's, wedding last summer.
And I also have a funny story to tell you.
I was picking up Mac from her after-school care the other day and my friend, the daycare lady, Sheri, called me over and had to tell me something.
Sheri said the Mackendra was a little tired today and not her usual self and when Sheri asked her what was wrong Mackendra said that she didn't sleep well the night before because her Uncle and Auntie were "smoking something weird last night and it smelled really bad and made her feel sick."
Sheri just looked at me...I looked back at her...
Sheri said something about not judging...
Sheri also said that she promises to not believe half of the things she hears at the daycare about home and that she asks parents to not believe half of the things they hear at home about the daycare. Seems like a logical way to approach such situations.
To clarify...Darren was celebrating his birthday with a couple friends and a few cigars.
The problem is that the were smoking the cigars in the basement suite and it STUNK!!!!
We never let people smoke in our house. We hate the smell.
Anyways, that was the "weird stuff" that was being smoked in my house by my kids' Uncle and Aunt.
Darren et al. put out their cigars and the next day he came up and apologized.
Everything is cool.
Monday, April 12, 2010
...about my parent's driveway.
When I was in elementary school my parents were forced to sell our family beef farm. Long story and maybe a topic for a future post. We moved from 700 acres to a little duplex in town and then eventually to the house that we now all think of as home. My parent's house is unusual. It is a 4-level, split-level house. It is also unusual in that it is at the top of a very long, very steep, curvy driveway. If you have ever been to our house, you know what I'm talking about. I wish I had a picture of this driveway on my harddrive. I'll have to find one and post it another day. It was a totally cool driveway. It curved so that you couldn't see the house from the road, ensuring our complete privacy. It had a steep slope on one side and a drop off on the other side. It made for some interesting stories in the winter. That driveway was much loved and hated in our family. I have a couple stories about that driveway.
We lived in Prince George, British Columbia. When I was a kid we had very severe winters. To make it up the driveway in the winter a very strict routine was required. My Dad was in charge of this routine and he was very particular about it. First, someone had to snowblow the driveway. This could be a very tough job. Our snowblower was a second-hand machine we inherited with the house when we bought it. It did the job, but not very willingly...and it was heavy. My Dad was usually the person to man this machine. He had a very particular way of doing the blowing, you had to make sure that you blew the snow off the drop-off and not try to blow it up the slope. Depending on the amount and the wetness of the snow, this job could take between 30 to 60 minutes. At -30 degrees Celsius, this is not a fun job. It was usually after the snowblowing that us kids came into the picture. Because, after the snowblowing came the sanding. My Dad would have stockpiled sand collected during the fall. He would have sifted it and made sure that it stayed dry so it wouldn't be wet and frozen solid. We were instructed to grab the largest bucket we could find and start our sanding. We started at the top and only sanded the areas that the tires would be running over. We would walk down that hill shaking the upturned buckets back and forth, back and forth, and then run back up the hill to refill. It took quite a few buckets to do the entire road. It's a good thing there was 7 of us. Later, as the winters became more mild and my parents invested in all-wheel or 4-wheel drive vehicles, we were less diligent with this routine. But I always remember walking up and down that hill spreading sand.
Even when that driveway was free of ice and snow, that driveway was a difficult stretch of road. You basically had to gun the engine at the bottom to make it up that driveway. You couldn't be tentative. You could find yourself having to back down that driveway. Which was very difficult! Even for us, who drove that driveway every day could find ourselves in trouble trying to back down that driveway. We always told people to "punch it" to make it up the hill. But people didn't always listen to us.
For instance, when I was in grade 11 I once accepted a ride home from school with Mark and Billy and Angie. I wasn't supposed to do this, I was supposed to ride the school bus. But I figured my parents would never know. So, as we approached my driveway, I told Mark, who was driving, to just let me off at the bottom of the hill and I would walk up. It had snowed for the first time that winter and there was a light dusting of snow on the driveway and Mark had never driven up my driveway, better not to take the chance. He pulled into the driveway and stopped at the bottom. I expected Billy to climb out and let me out of the 2 door sedan. Ha! Why didn't I expect it? Mark and Billy looked at each other, then looked up that driveway, then back at each other and nodded. I think I shouted, "No!" but I can't be sure. From a dead stop, Mark stepped on the gas. We only made it halfway up the hill before we started to spin out and then slip backwards. Mark stupidly stomped on his gas pedal harder...
...we ended up perfectly perpendicular to our intended trajectory. In other words, we were sideways on a very steep, very long, very curvy, very slippery, very narrow (remember slope on one side, drop-off on the other side) driveway.
Remember, I wasn't supposed to be getting rides home from friends. We all climbed carefully out of the car and assessed the situation. My vote was for leaving it there and waiting for my parents that were due home in about half an hour. My Dad would know what to do. Angie agreed with me. Those boys? They decided they could push the nose down and it would flip around and end up pointing down the hill and they could simply drive away. I was very against this insane idea. But Mark and Billy were set on it. So, they convinced Angie to sit in the front and hold the wheel so the front wheels were pointing the correct direction. I told her to leave the door open and jump out if things went bad, which I was sure was going to happen. Mark and Billy moved around to the front of the car on the top side and started to push the nose of the car.
This was the result...
Yup, when the car simply started to slip forwards, despite Angie holding that wheel until I screamed for her to jump out. The car slowly...very slowly...slipped over the edge. Miraculously it missed the trees lining the edge of the driveway and it also missed the retaining wall near the bottom of the hill. It ended up standing on its nose between the shed at the bottom of hill and the driveway.
We four stood on the driveway and looked down at Mark's car standing there on its nose. I started to laugh. I was in so much trouble. My Dad was going to freak! But that car and Mark's expression was so funny. We climbed up the hill and called a tow truck and waited for my parents to arrive.
The 'rents got there first.
They just laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. I didn't even get yelled at!
The tow truck came and he laughed, then he just slipped all over the place. He couldn't help us. Mark's Dad came and he didn't laugh. The car stayed there, on its nose, through the night and was eventually pulled out by this huge industrial tow truck the next day.
And you know what???
There wasn't even a dent on that car.
Us kids just loved that driveway (excluding the sanding). I remember running up and down that driveway to get in shape for basketball. I would set a goal, say 10 hills, and then huff and puff up that driveway. That driveway contributed to each of our basketball scholarships in a very important way. The only complaints were when the ball started to roll down that driveway. That sucked.
Even today, that driveway is providing health benefits. My Grandparents walk up and down that driveway, every day (when its not slippery) for their exercise.
I don't know how many people we have had to dig out of that driveway's snowbanks. I think the funniest was Larry Gerry, RCMP. My Mom was given a speeding ticket by this very serious, very black (we live in Prince George, we didn't see very many black people back then, and he was very black, midnight black) policeman. That night, we had a knock on our door. It was Mr. Policeman, Larry Gerry. He said he had made an error on the ticket and would like to change it. My Mom gave him the ticket, he changed the date and gave it back and then, very nicely asked my Dad to assist him by digging his cruiser out of our snowbank. My Dad put on his parka, grabbed his shovel and followed Larry out the door. As Larry started down the hill, he started slipping (his police-issued shoes were leather-soled and didn't have any grip). My Dad stood at the top of the hill and watched Larry Gerry, the black policeman, awkwardly skate and slip and flail his way down the hill. My Dad describes it as comical, the way his feet skittered and he alternately ran in one spot and skied down the hill until his feet completely went out from underneath him and he landed on his back and continued to slide down the hill.
My Dad laughed his way down the hill, dug Larry out of the snowbank and we all had a good laugh when he told us his story.
We had even a bigger laugh while having dinner with Larry and his family a few months later. Larry turned out to be my sisters' track coach and we became great friends with him and his beautiful family. And Larry loved to tell the story about our driveway.
Yup, our driveway is one of a kind. My Dad recently had it re-paved. It was getting a little bumpy and rough. I'm sure everyone in our family has a story about that driveway.
You'd be so lucky to be invited to drive up that driveway.
Blowing and Sanding
We lived in Prince George, British Columbia. When I was a kid we had very severe winters. To make it up the driveway in the winter a very strict routine was required. My Dad was in charge of this routine and he was very particular about it. First, someone had to snowblow the driveway. This could be a very tough job. Our snowblower was a second-hand machine we inherited with the house when we bought it. It did the job, but not very willingly...and it was heavy. My Dad was usually the person to man this machine. He had a very particular way of doing the blowing, you had to make sure that you blew the snow off the drop-off and not try to blow it up the slope. Depending on the amount and the wetness of the snow, this job could take between 30 to 60 minutes. At -30 degrees Celsius, this is not a fun job. It was usually after the snowblowing that us kids came into the picture. Because, after the snowblowing came the sanding. My Dad would have stockpiled sand collected during the fall. He would have sifted it and made sure that it stayed dry so it wouldn't be wet and frozen solid. We were instructed to grab the largest bucket we could find and start our sanding. We started at the top and only sanded the areas that the tires would be running over. We would walk down that hill shaking the upturned buckets back and forth, back and forth, and then run back up the hill to refill. It took quite a few buckets to do the entire road. It's a good thing there was 7 of us. Later, as the winters became more mild and my parents invested in all-wheel or 4-wheel drive vehicles, we were less diligent with this routine. But I always remember walking up and down that hill spreading sand.
Just Do What I Say
Even when that driveway was free of ice and snow, that driveway was a difficult stretch of road. You basically had to gun the engine at the bottom to make it up that driveway. You couldn't be tentative. You could find yourself having to back down that driveway. Which was very difficult! Even for us, who drove that driveway every day could find ourselves in trouble trying to back down that driveway. We always told people to "punch it" to make it up the hill. But people didn't always listen to us.
For instance, when I was in grade 11 I once accepted a ride home from school with Mark and Billy and Angie. I wasn't supposed to do this, I was supposed to ride the school bus. But I figured my parents would never know. So, as we approached my driveway, I told Mark, who was driving, to just let me off at the bottom of the hill and I would walk up. It had snowed for the first time that winter and there was a light dusting of snow on the driveway and Mark had never driven up my driveway, better not to take the chance. He pulled into the driveway and stopped at the bottom. I expected Billy to climb out and let me out of the 2 door sedan. Ha! Why didn't I expect it? Mark and Billy looked at each other, then looked up that driveway, then back at each other and nodded. I think I shouted, "No!" but I can't be sure. From a dead stop, Mark stepped on the gas. We only made it halfway up the hill before we started to spin out and then slip backwards. Mark stupidly stomped on his gas pedal harder...
...we ended up perfectly perpendicular to our intended trajectory. In other words, we were sideways on a very steep, very long, very curvy, very slippery, very narrow (remember slope on one side, drop-off on the other side) driveway.
Remember, I wasn't supposed to be getting rides home from friends. We all climbed carefully out of the car and assessed the situation. My vote was for leaving it there and waiting for my parents that were due home in about half an hour. My Dad would know what to do. Angie agreed with me. Those boys? They decided they could push the nose down and it would flip around and end up pointing down the hill and they could simply drive away. I was very against this insane idea. But Mark and Billy were set on it. So, they convinced Angie to sit in the front and hold the wheel so the front wheels were pointing the correct direction. I told her to leave the door open and jump out if things went bad, which I was sure was going to happen. Mark and Billy moved around to the front of the car on the top side and started to push the nose of the car.This was the result...
Yup, when the car simply started to slip forwards, despite Angie holding that wheel until I screamed for her to jump out. The car slowly...very slowly...slipped over the edge. Miraculously it missed the trees lining the edge of the driveway and it also missed the retaining wall near the bottom of the hill. It ended up standing on its nose between the shed at the bottom of hill and the driveway.We four stood on the driveway and looked down at Mark's car standing there on its nose. I started to laugh. I was in so much trouble. My Dad was going to freak! But that car and Mark's expression was so funny. We climbed up the hill and called a tow truck and waited for my parents to arrive.
The 'rents got there first.
They just laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. I didn't even get yelled at!
The tow truck came and he laughed, then he just slipped all over the place. He couldn't help us. Mark's Dad came and he didn't laugh. The car stayed there, on its nose, through the night and was eventually pulled out by this huge industrial tow truck the next day.
And you know what???
There wasn't even a dent on that car.
Personal Trainer
Us kids just loved that driveway (excluding the sanding). I remember running up and down that driveway to get in shape for basketball. I would set a goal, say 10 hills, and then huff and puff up that driveway. That driveway contributed to each of our basketball scholarships in a very important way. The only complaints were when the ball started to roll down that driveway. That sucked.
Even today, that driveway is providing health benefits. My Grandparents walk up and down that driveway, every day (when its not slippery) for their exercise.
Making Friends
I don't know how many people we have had to dig out of that driveway's snowbanks. I think the funniest was Larry Gerry, RCMP. My Mom was given a speeding ticket by this very serious, very black (we live in Prince George, we didn't see very many black people back then, and he was very black, midnight black) policeman. That night, we had a knock on our door. It was Mr. Policeman, Larry Gerry. He said he had made an error on the ticket and would like to change it. My Mom gave him the ticket, he changed the date and gave it back and then, very nicely asked my Dad to assist him by digging his cruiser out of our snowbank. My Dad put on his parka, grabbed his shovel and followed Larry out the door. As Larry started down the hill, he started slipping (his police-issued shoes were leather-soled and didn't have any grip). My Dad stood at the top of the hill and watched Larry Gerry, the black policeman, awkwardly skate and slip and flail his way down the hill. My Dad describes it as comical, the way his feet skittered and he alternately ran in one spot and skied down the hill until his feet completely went out from underneath him and he landed on his back and continued to slide down the hill.
My Dad laughed his way down the hill, dug Larry out of the snowbank and we all had a good laugh when he told us his story.
We had even a bigger laugh while having dinner with Larry and his family a few months later. Larry turned out to be my sisters' track coach and we became great friends with him and his beautiful family. And Larry loved to tell the story about our driveway.
Yup, our driveway is one of a kind. My Dad recently had it re-paved. It was getting a little bumpy and rough. I'm sure everyone in our family has a story about that driveway.
You'd be so lucky to be invited to drive up that driveway.
Friday, April 2, 2010
...ack! That's a huge banner on the top of this blog!
Hi Guys,
Sorry, but I don't really know how to change the size of the banner on top of this blog. You're just going to have to live with our huge heads taking up half the page for now.
Be back soon,
Tanya
Sorry, but I don't really know how to change the size of the banner on top of this blog. You're just going to have to live with our huge heads taking up half the page for now.
Be back soon,
Tanya
Thursday, April 1, 2010
...about hair.
Time for another Johnson family story...
I am half Chinese. I can't speak Mandarin or Cantonese, I can't speak any of the over 800 Chinese dialects out there. I wish I could. I am proud of being half Chinese, although I don't really know exactly what being Chinese means. Growing up in a small town in the middle of British Columbia, not being around other Chinese people and not learning Chinese at home kinda means being half Chinese is more of an idea than a way of being. I love Chinese food though and I think Jackie Chan rocks! My own kids are very proud of their heritage and love to tell people that they are Chinese.
Growing up, the next girl-child after me is Ting, her proper name is Natasha and I have heard her being called Natty, Nat, Tash, Tosh, and Tasha, but to our family and to most everyone that loves her, she is Ting. This nickname comes from her Chinese middle name, Guy Ting (no hyphen). All of us siblings have Chinese middle names. Now, don't go quoting me on this because I don't really know if this is true, but this is what i remember my Mom telling me...my middle name is Guy Wah and it means something like "flourishing" or "abundance". Guy Ting means "willow-y". Rachel's middle name is Guy Ling, and apparently you can spell "Ling" several ways in Chinese and the way most girls named "Ling" are spelled, it means beautiful and refined, but after my Grandfather met Rachel, he changed her character and her "Ling" now meant "mischievous", and that suits her much better. Erika, the sister you met in my last story, her middle name is Guy Harn, her name is the funniest when translated...it means..."so beautiful that even the flowers turn their faces away", ho ho he he, something about her being to beautiful to look at. She got teased a lot about that as a kid. Darren, the boy, also has a Chinese name, his is Gar Yun, and right now, I can't remember what it means. Probably something about being a warrior or a stud or something. He has a lot of family hopes resting on his boy shoulders. He is the only boy to carry on the "Johnson" name and also the only boy on my mother's side.
Poor kid. Oh yah, my Mom is the Chinese one in our family. My Dad is pure white. Viking lineage he claims.
My kids and Ting's kids also have Chinese middle names. We had to carry on the family tradition. My grandfather, we call him Kong kong (means grandfather in Chinese), picks the names. I can't remember Ting's kid's names but Aislinn's is Chia Pi, which means "family precious jewel" and Mackendra's is Chia Yu, which means "family precious jade". I know Ting's kids names are related to precious gems of some type, I think pearl is one of them. She'll have to let me know later.
Anyways, I wanted to tell a story about Ting.
Ting is the strong one in our family. I swear that girl can do anything she sets her mind to. She really is quite amazing. She decided that she wanted to play basketball in the States and she got herself scholarship to San Jose State and proceeded to become one of the top 10 scorers in her school's history. She even played with a broken back. I'm not kidding you even one bit. She had two fractured vertebrae and had to get epidurals (most mothers know what that is) to play one season. She then decided to become a Physical Therapist and put herself through PT school while looking after her 3 babies, by herself! She recently decided to flip her life completely 180 degrees and after 13 years living in the States, has come back to Canada, by herself!!! She is talented, funny, loving, intelligent and a great sister.
However, because I'm her big sister...I had a little sway in her life.
This story is called, "Trust me."
Ting has gorgeous Chinese hair. It is black and straight and she can grow it to her bum. She usually wore it long and all one length. At various times through her life she cut it, sometimes really short, but she always grew it back out. I was quite jealous of how fast she could grow her hair. She was always jealous about my waves.
We had a hairdresser that we used to frequent. Her name was Lori and we thought she was pretty cool. I would always sit in her chair and tell her to cut away. She was allowed to do anything with my hair, and most of the time I was pretty happy with the results. She didn't hold back. Sometimes...well sometimes I ended up with some pretty strange cuts. In grade six she basically gave me a buzz cut. Another time, it was an 80's perm. In grade 9 I had this asymmetrical 'do that was quite frightful, but I thought I pulled it off...I really didn't know anything about fashion back then...I still don't, but I do know, that that haircut wasn't good. But I was brave and Lori was adventurous and had creative license with me. Like I said, most of the time I could handle her haircuts. My waves were very forgiving. Ting wasn't so lucky.
Ting's stick straight hair refused to do anything but lie completely flat and glossy. In the 80's, that was so wrong. Big hair, big bangs, and spiky or frizzy or crimpy was the fad. Remember?
Lori tried everything on Ting's hair. I remember a perm that went horrible poodle-like...actually more afro-y now that I think about it. The only good thing was that permanents in Ting's hair...weren't. They only lasted for 1 month. Mine would last all year! I also remember boy cuts and bowl cuts for Ting. We really didn't know much about hair, or hair products...and looking back...I don't think Lori did either.
Well, we had a hair appointment with Lori one afternoon. We were sitting, waiting our turn, flipping through the hair magazines looking for the next great hair style. I decided that I would be pretty tame this time, I was in the process of growing my hair out. But Ting...Ting was up for something new. We were debating the virtues of going with a perm again (we never learned) or maybe something avant garde.
"How 'bout this one?"
"mmmmmm...I don't know. What 'bout this one?"
"ha ha ha ha...ohmygawd! Look at this one, it is so weird! Mom would die!"
"But her earrings are so cool....and Chinese!"
"So, Ting, how about cutting your hair really short this time? You've never done that before. It would be so cool! It would be so easy to take care of. I think you should do it. TRUST ME, it'll be awesome! Come on, let's talk to Lori."
And...
...as Lori was lopping off Ting's lovely straight, black Chinese hair and pulling out the clippers and buzzing her head, I pasted a manic grin on my face and tried to keep the fear from showing in my eyes. I started to feel sick to my stomach as I watched Lori wield those clippers with impunity and Ting kept looking at the hair falling on the floor and back at my Judas visage. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. I couldn't look away and yet it was so horrible. And Ting just kept looking at me for reassurance!
I'm so sorry, Ting. Really I am. I loved you and I made you do a terrible thing.
Can you ever forgive me?
I am half Chinese. I can't speak Mandarin or Cantonese, I can't speak any of the over 800 Chinese dialects out there. I wish I could. I am proud of being half Chinese, although I don't really know exactly what being Chinese means. Growing up in a small town in the middle of British Columbia, not being around other Chinese people and not learning Chinese at home kinda means being half Chinese is more of an idea than a way of being. I love Chinese food though and I think Jackie Chan rocks! My own kids are very proud of their heritage and love to tell people that they are Chinese.
I know, they don't look very Chinese.
Anyways...
Anyways...
Growing up, the next girl-child after me is Ting, her proper name is Natasha and I have heard her being called Natty, Nat, Tash, Tosh, and Tasha, but to our family and to most everyone that loves her, she is Ting. This nickname comes from her Chinese middle name, Guy Ting (no hyphen). All of us siblings have Chinese middle names. Now, don't go quoting me on this because I don't really know if this is true, but this is what i remember my Mom telling me...my middle name is Guy Wah and it means something like "flourishing" or "abundance". Guy Ting means "willow-y". Rachel's middle name is Guy Ling, and apparently you can spell "Ling" several ways in Chinese and the way most girls named "Ling" are spelled, it means beautiful and refined, but after my Grandfather met Rachel, he changed her character and her "Ling" now meant "mischievous", and that suits her much better. Erika, the sister you met in my last story, her middle name is Guy Harn, her name is the funniest when translated...it means..."so beautiful that even the flowers turn their faces away", ho ho he he, something about her being to beautiful to look at. She got teased a lot about that as a kid. Darren, the boy, also has a Chinese name, his is Gar Yun, and right now, I can't remember what it means. Probably something about being a warrior or a stud or something. He has a lot of family hopes resting on his boy shoulders. He is the only boy to carry on the "Johnson" name and also the only boy on my mother's side.
Poor kid. Oh yah, my Mom is the Chinese one in our family. My Dad is pure white. Viking lineage he claims.
My kids and Ting's kids also have Chinese middle names. We had to carry on the family tradition. My grandfather, we call him Kong kong (means grandfather in Chinese), picks the names. I can't remember Ting's kid's names but Aislinn's is Chia Pi, which means "family precious jewel" and Mackendra's is Chia Yu, which means "family precious jade". I know Ting's kids names are related to precious gems of some type, I think pearl is one of them. She'll have to let me know later.
Anyways, I wanted to tell a story about Ting.
She is one hot babe!
Ting is the strong one in our family. I swear that girl can do anything she sets her mind to. She really is quite amazing. She decided that she wanted to play basketball in the States and she got herself scholarship to San Jose State and proceeded to become one of the top 10 scorers in her school's history. She even played with a broken back. I'm not kidding you even one bit. She had two fractured vertebrae and had to get epidurals (most mothers know what that is) to play one season. She then decided to become a Physical Therapist and put herself through PT school while looking after her 3 babies, by herself! She recently decided to flip her life completely 180 degrees and after 13 years living in the States, has come back to Canada, by herself!!! She is talented, funny, loving, intelligent and a great sister.
However, because I'm her big sister...I had a little sway in her life.
This story is called, "Trust me."
Ting has gorgeous Chinese hair. It is black and straight and she can grow it to her bum. She usually wore it long and all one length. At various times through her life she cut it, sometimes really short, but she always grew it back out. I was quite jealous of how fast she could grow her hair. She was always jealous about my waves.
We had a hairdresser that we used to frequent. Her name was Lori and we thought she was pretty cool. I would always sit in her chair and tell her to cut away. She was allowed to do anything with my hair, and most of the time I was pretty happy with the results. She didn't hold back. Sometimes...well sometimes I ended up with some pretty strange cuts. In grade six she basically gave me a buzz cut. Another time, it was an 80's perm. In grade 9 I had this asymmetrical 'do that was quite frightful, but I thought I pulled it off...I really didn't know anything about fashion back then...I still don't, but I do know, that that haircut wasn't good. But I was brave and Lori was adventurous and had creative license with me. Like I said, most of the time I could handle her haircuts. My waves were very forgiving. Ting wasn't so lucky.
Ting's stick straight hair refused to do anything but lie completely flat and glossy. In the 80's, that was so wrong. Big hair, big bangs, and spiky or frizzy or crimpy was the fad. Remember?
I think these girls were in my high school! Oh the hairspray!!!!!!!!!
Lori tried everything on Ting's hair. I remember a perm that went horrible poodle-like...actually more afro-y now that I think about it. The only good thing was that permanents in Ting's hair...weren't. They only lasted for 1 month. Mine would last all year! I also remember boy cuts and bowl cuts for Ting. We really didn't know much about hair, or hair products...and looking back...I don't think Lori did either.
Well, we had a hair appointment with Lori one afternoon. We were sitting, waiting our turn, flipping through the hair magazines looking for the next great hair style. I decided that I would be pretty tame this time, I was in the process of growing my hair out. But Ting...Ting was up for something new. We were debating the virtues of going with a perm again (we never learned) or maybe something avant garde.
"How 'bout this one?"
"mmmmmm...I don't know. What 'bout this one?"
"ha ha ha ha...ohmygawd! Look at this one, it is so weird! Mom would die!"
"But her earrings are so cool....and Chinese!""So, Ting, how about cutting your hair really short this time? You've never done that before. It would be so cool! It would be so easy to take care of. I think you should do it. TRUST ME, it'll be awesome! Come on, let's talk to Lori."
And...
...as Lori was lopping off Ting's lovely straight, black Chinese hair and pulling out the clippers and buzzing her head, I pasted a manic grin on my face and tried to keep the fear from showing in my eyes. I started to feel sick to my stomach as I watched Lori wield those clippers with impunity and Ting kept looking at the hair falling on the floor and back at my Judas visage. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. I couldn't look away and yet it was so horrible. And Ting just kept looking at me for reassurance!
I'm so sorry, Ting. Really I am. I loved you and I made you do a terrible thing.
Can you ever forgive me?
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