This week, though, I have the opposite problem. I have two completely separate stories that I could share for Letter H. I've gone back and forth for several days, but I opted to go with the story I thought of while hanging ornaments on our Christmas tree.
As I showed last week, Tim and I started dating in high school. One of the oldest ornaments on the tree has a copy of one of a picture taken during our senior year. (I know the ornaments says "Our Family." It was an old picture when someone put it in the frame and gave it to us years later when we got married.)
Like many teens in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I loved curly hair. Unfortunately, I have very, very straight hair -- hair that refused to curl despite my best attempts with hot rollers or even pink sponge curlers worn overnight.
As you can see from the picture, my hair did curl nicely with a permanent. Even better, my mom nicely agreed to perm my hair at home for me.
One afternoon's home perm session stands out in all our minds.
One weekend during the spring or early summer following my freshman year away at college, I asked my mom to give me a perm. We got all set up in the kitchen with perm rods, end papers to keep everything smooth, and two home perm kits. (My hair was so long and so thick then that we knew we'd need two bottles of solution to have enough.)
My mom rolled and rolled for what seemed like hours. Actually, it might have been hours knowing how many perm rods it took. As soon as she started squirting perm solution on my hair, the phone rang.
It was their real estate agent. My family was getting ready for a move, and our house was for sale. The real estate agent had someone interested in seeing the house . . . that afternoon. My mom agreed that they could see the house in about an hour.
She shuffled me out to the backyard to let my hair continue processing. Meanwhile, she needed to do something to get rid of the strong smell that had now permeated the house.
It turns out that spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove covers a multitude of foul odors. Mom found several containers of homemade spaghetti sauce in the freeze, defrosted all of them, and started them heating on the stove.
I believe she rinsed my hair with the hose in the backyard just before the people came to see the house.
I can't remember if they were the people that eventually bought that house, but I do know that someone that afternoon made a comment about how good the dinner smelled.
This week is the eighth week in our Blogging Through the Alphabet challenge -- letter H. I guess it would be a perfect week to see people blogging about their Holiday traditions and plans. (Hint, hint.)
Click the button below for this week's linky.
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Love it! We had a house showing once right after I fixed fishsticks for my kids and their friends. A house full of random kids that smelled like fish. And no, they did not buy the house! ;)
ReplyDeleteFun story! Gotta love spaghetti sauce!
ReplyDeleteI still have to get perms to have any body in my hair. But the home ones were the worst. Most of the time I looked like Shirley Temple :-)
ReplyDeleteGreat story! I had the same issue. Perfectly straight hair thst doesn't hold curl. My mom gave me a few perms, but then we switched to using the salon. Nobody liked the smell at home and I wanted more done than mom felt able to do. Your mom definitely thought quickly on her feet.
ReplyDeleteLOL What a great story!! But how did the perm turn out?
ReplyDeleteI had the same kind of hair - thick and poker straight - and the same sweet mom that did home perms for me for years so I could have a big head of curly hair! Good times. Good time. :-D
It was perfect 80s hair. :)
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