How Times Have Changed.

I was still 17 when I graduated from high school in Germany. Dad was a retired Army officer, still working for the Department of the Army, as a civilian. I spent my Junior and senior years, at an American high school for military and State Department dependents. In the summer between my junior and senior years, I worked in the first Dairy Queen, ever established in Germany. The owners were two guys from Minnesota. They specifically requested kids from the local American high school to come and work for them, to give the place a more authentic American presence. Well....as authentic as a Dairy Queen that sells beer, can be. ;)

Yes, beer! At the time, you would be hard pressed to find a restaurant in Germany, that did not sell beer. In fact, the local brewery even help set the two Minnesotans up in business, if they would agree to sell their beer. Now, take a bunch of American teenagers, working at night in a place that sold hamburgers, soft serve ice cream, and beer, and imagine what you would get. In a flourish of creativity one night, I created, at least what I thought, was the world's first beer float! Needless to say, it was pretty disgusting.

As I walked to that job each day, I remember passing a beauty salon, and thinking how wonderful it would be, to just be able to walk in and get a shampoo and set and manicure . Of course it was only fantasy at the time. Little did I know, that within a couple of years back in the States, I would be doing just that. I was always fascinated by those bastions of femaleness, and one day while living back in northern Virginia, I succumbed to my long held desires, and walked into a local beauty shop. I was in boy mode, still to freightened to dress up. I even had a boy haircut, albeit a modishly long Beatle cut. (Yes dammit, I'm that old!;)) I was so afraid when I pushed that door open, and was instantly overwhelmed by the buzz of female convertion, and the smell of hair spray. I thought for sure they would all think I was some kind of a weirdo, but instead the owner was just as kind as she could be, and wlecomed me with open arms. She shampooed my hair, set it in rollers, then put me under a dryer for about a half an hour, before combing out my set. Nothing elaborate, just a more poufy version of what I already had, but it still gave me the chance to to experience the joy of a toatally female enviroment. It also gave me the courage to go back. No, not right away to that particuar salon, but later on, to many others, eventually gaining the courage to go full femme. Turns out the women in all of those salons were my angels. They were all so accepting, so encouraging, and non-judgemental, compared to everyone else I knew. God love them!

Somebody Help Me! Please!

No, I have not fallen into the abyss, at least not yet, even though I sometimes I feel like I'm teetering at the precipice. ;) No, my current problem is a technical one. I am new to these blogs, and I just can't figure out why I'm having a problem with posting comments on other people's blogs. The only blogs that I can post comments to, are the ones that have a pop up window for posting comments. The blogs with the little white, post comments box at the bottom of the main post, and its associated comments, just doesn't work for me. I am running an I-Mac with a Firefox browser. Some people have manually turned on their control, to allow a pop-up window for posting comments to their blogs, and that has worked well for me, but there are many bloggers that I would love to correspond with, but their blog settings won't allow me to do so. I tried to respond to Chrissie's blog today and could not. Same for Linda Scott, and other bloggers as well. Does anyone know if there is anything I can do here to my own sttings, to allow me to make comments on other people's blogs?

Melissa

Yay! My New Sandals Arrived Today!

Have you ever worn a pair of Clarks leather sandals? They are soooo comfortable! I just received a pair of Clarks Women's Long Meadow Sandals, that I ordered today, and they are some of the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. They're a great casual look, for wearing with shorts, capris, skirts, or jeans. And for you girls who could never squeeze into a size 6 if your life depended upon it, they come in sizes up to 12 W. Mine are red, but since they fit so well, I think I'll get a pair in brown too! Here's a link to them. : http://www.marylandsquare.com/product/Clarks-Womens-Long-Meadow-Sandal-Red-138162/I truly love a good pair of shoes. :)

OK, Enough Is Enough!

I'm talking about rain. We seem to have undergone some sort of localized climate change here in Virginia. For the last two months, we haven't had more than two or three consecutive days without rain. Lately, it's been raining nearly every day. The grass has been too wet to cut, parts of the yard have become veritable mud holes, the trees have gone through such a tremendous growth spurt, that my satellite dish needs to be moved again to get a decent signal, and the siding has so much mildew growing on it, that a herd of slugs have taken to grazing on it. Top it off with the fact that I have a leaky skylight, and you can understand why I've had enough. I'm ready for some sunshine, even if it means 90+∘days. Besides, I want an excuse to wear my new shorts, sandals and pretty pin tuck sleeveless tops!

I went to the dentist today for my six month check up. I had rescheduled it twice, and my dental hygienist rescheduled it once too, so it was long overdue. My hygienist said my teeth and gums looked very good, but she was concerned with one little spot on the margin of an old filling. Sure enough, when the dentist looked at it, he said there was a small bit of decay under the filling, and it would have to be replaced. So next Tuesday afternoon, I'll have to go back and get a new filling. I don't mind the drilling. It's just that it's an eighty mile round trip to my dentist, and then half of my face will be numb for five or six hours afterward. I'll have to make sure to wear a bib, when I eat dinner that evening, so I don't slobber all over myself. I hope he uses a tooth colored composite. Slowly over time, I've been getting all of my old dark mercury amalgam fillings replaced with porcelain crowns, inlays, or tooth colored composites. It's greatly improved the look of my smile. I never did like looking like I was related to Jaws.

Enabling Pop Up Window For Blog Comments

Dear fellow bloggers, I'm new to this Blog, and I'm still trying to figure things out, but one thing that has become apparent, is that I cannot post any comments to any blogs, that do not have the pop up comments window enabled. If your blog has a the little white, post comments section at the bottom of your post, I can type my comments into it, but it will not post those comments on your blog, when I click post. If you are wondering why not many people are responding to your posts, go into your settings and enable the pop up window for posting comments. I would love to talk to everyone, but unless you do this, all I can do is read what what you write, and then hope that you can receive my responses via telepathy. ;)

Melissa

To Stephanie

Stephanie sweetie, I would love to post comments to your blog, but unless you allow a pop up window in your blog settings to post comments to , my I-Mac will not allow me to post any comments to your blog at all. :(

Melissa

Beauty Is Only Skin Deep

Like any girl, I want to have pretty skin. I try to avoid the sun as much as possible, because over the years it was doing damage, that wasn't readily apparent while it was happening. Only years later, did I start noticing the development of brown spots, and other discolorations. Those discolorations became even more noticeable, to me at least, when I started to remove my body hair, and especially the hair on my arms. When I look at my arms now, and compare them with memories of what they looked like thirty years ago, I want to cry. So I found it especially uplifting when I went to my mother's for dinner yesterday, and while commenting on my lack of a tan, she said, "Even your arms are white. I wish I had nice arms like yours. Mine look terrible."

Like all things, beauty is relative. Here I thought my skin was getting old and decrepit looking, but to my poor wrinkled 88 year old mother, I have skin to be envied. Envied! I'm such lucky girl! ;)

An Assault On Innocence.

I was nearly four years old, when my mother left me with the Kingston girls one summer afternoon. The Kingston girls were the two sweet teenage daughters of a man and his wife, who happened to be friends of my mother and father. They lived about a mile or two down the road from us.

We were upstairs, in the girl's knotty pine paneled bedroom. Jacqueline had a bottle of brilliant red nail polish, and she and her sister were painting their nails with it. I was absolutely fascinated with what they were doing, and watched with rapt attention. The girls noticed my fascination, and Jacqueline sweetly asked me if I wanted her to do my nails too. Enthusiastically, I said yes, and she proceeded to meticulously apply the fire engine red polish to my nails as well. When she was done, I was positively thrilled with the way they looked. I too now, had pretty bright red nails just like them!

Soon it was time to go home. Jacqueline picked me up, and put me in the wire basket attached to the handlebars of her bicycle, and pedaled me down the road to our house. All the way home, I couldn't take my eyes off of my hands. The bright red nail polish flickered in the light of the summer sun, and made my nails look magical! I was so proud of them! I couldn't wait to show them to my mother, when I got home. Jacqueline turned her bike into our driveway, and when she came to a stop, she lifted me out of the basket, and set me down on the side walk. I ran to the front door and went inside. Mom was sitting in a chair next the fireplace, and I ran up to her with my hands extended to share my joy. As Jacqueline walked in the door behind me, the smile on my mother's face quickly turned to a scowl, and she blew up! Yelling and screaming at Jacqueline for putting nail polish on a boy, she grabbed me by the hand and jerked me up the stairs to the bathroom, where she immediately removed my beautiful red nail polish.

I can't remember exactly what my mother said to me as she angrily removed my pretty red nail polish, and along with it every shred of joy that I had felt moments earlier, but I think it's the first time I ever heard the word, sissy.