Approximately twenty years ago (that sound you hear is me throwing up), my parents and I went to the American Baptist Convention in Indianapolis, Indiana. We did this because we are American Baptists and, I guess, that was the time all the American Baptist ministers get together to…convene. This was possibly a bad time to be a visitor to an American Baptist church, since all the full-time ministers were at the biannual convention.
My parents went to biannual conventions a lot, but I only distinctly remember this one and an earlier one in West Virginia. I think I was nine at the West Virginia convention, so for the sake of argument let’s say I was eleven in Indianapolis. That would make it 1993. Seeing as how that’s actually over twenty years ago, my memories of the convention are somewhat limited. I distinctly remember two things: a cute Venezuelan boy named Luis who could play the piano and a girl with purple hair.
Now. The girl’s hair was not out of control purple. I mean, she was a Baptist minister’s daughter for crying out loud. It was a really dark purple, bordering on black, and she was quite possibly the coolest sixteen year old I’d ever seen. Let’s think about how I looked at age sixteen. I wore tight, blue cloth shorts underneath a baggy Hanson t-shirt and my hair was down to my waist. Yeah.
Anyway, when we got home from convention, I asked my parents if I too could dye my hair purple.
They said no.
This week I did it anyway.
I’m hitting my rebellious period quite late in life, I suppose. You know. Doing things my parents frowned upon in 1993 and throwing caution to the wind, laughing in the face of danger (“hahahahaha,” I said to The Hubs, the conservative “you don’t need your belly button pierced” guy that he is). Purple.
This is not the purple haired girl of 1993 (suddenly my brain is thinking her name was Adrianne, but I could be making that up). This is “I have a day job” purple. This is “the box says it’s black cherry” purple. Looking at the picture I so elegantly took in our cool, green bathroom, you’ll see that it looks less purple than it does dark brown. But trust me. My hairline has a very distinct purple tone to it. When the sun hits my hair, it looks red.
And shorter, as I related previously. It’s a good three or four inches shorter than it was a few weeks ago.
In between dying my hair black cherry (purple!), I finally faced my biggest fear on the planet, which is going to the dentist. It’s been four years since I last got my teeth cleaned. It showed. I tried to be coy when the hygienist asked how long it had been since my teeth were cleaned, “Uhhhh…..well, you see, I had two children in two years…..” I bled like someone severed an artery in my face. But no cavities. No teeth falling out and flinging across the room.
Today, I faced my other illegitimate fear: I uploaded my author website.
I was scared to do it. I was terrified to do it, honestly, for no rational reason, and I kind of just wanted to shut the browser down and make a cup of tea. But I hit publish and promptly posted it on Facebook. Because posting it on Facebook makes it real.
Based on comments from my previous post here, I changed a few thing around. I eliminated the awkward third person POV, because I hate writing about myself in third person. I feel like I have either some kind of disorder or think I’m far more important than I actually am. It’s first person. It’s wittier than it was previously, with a (hopefully) endearing welcome message and not one, but two About Me paragraphs: one that’s stuffy and sounds like an “about the author” bio on the back of a book, and a second that’s more fun. And more me. Special shout out to Lindsey: I took your advice on that one!!
Other than some bios and a lot of pictures of me….there’s not really a lot on there. As in, other than bios and pictures of me, there’s the back cover copy from my book, Anything You Ask of Me. That’s it.
Click here to visit my super official author website! Is it as much fun as The Rambling Jour? No. But it’s official. And I put effects on some pictures I took and that’s pretty cool, too.