Welcome to the Rosh Hashanah edition of the Frazzled Housewife. Terms and conditions apply. I am not allowed to speak badly about anyone or anything. I should be incorporating words of Torah and/or inspiration; things you can read if it’s allowed at the table.
My monkeys would love that. Can you imagine if someone came over to one of them in their various schools (I mean yeshivas) and said, “Wow, your mom really inspired me this past week. I have decided to give up law/medicine/accounting/plumbing and learn Jewish books full time.” That, folks, is the dream. Unfortunately, as many of us know, not all dreams come true.
This week, I will be discussing the joy of hair.
For those of you who know me, you know that I usually walk around looking like I don’t really care about what I look like. And for those of you who know Husband #1 and Sons 1, 2, and 3, you know that hair is not on the forefront of their minds (or their heads for that matter.) (Sorry, the line was right there and I had to take it.) But the truth is that I have always cared about my hair. I think it is because my mom cut my hair for the first 12 year of my life. The bangs she gave me, crooked, curly, and oh-so-stylish, have remained with me until this day.
Bangs, for those of you not familiar, are the gentle sweeping locks of hair that grace a woman’s (or man’s or anyone else’s) forehead. They have been in style, they have been out of style, but I have always had them. Now I use them as a defense against Botox. If you cannot see the wrinkles on my forehead, do they really exist? (Yes, they do. But I refuse to be the 50-year-old woman who thinks that by getting an injection, no one will know that she is 50. I enjoy being able to make expressive faces at Gd #1, but that is just me. And there have been a few times when I have asked people if they were ok because of the startled look on their faces, before realizing that that was just their face. Oops.)
In any event, no one was more surprised than I was when my monkeys, who never have any opinion on anything I wear or weigh, decided they didn’t like the fact that my hair was going gray. During the covid lockdown, I had written a column about Son #3 coloring my hair for me. That was fun. Anyway, I hate the fact that I have to color my hair. It never looks the same. Ever. Even my father, who no longer speaks, looks at my hair after a few weeks with this face and I say to him, “You are thinking that my hair needs to colored, right?” and he smiles and nods his head.
Everyone is a critic.
Long story short, I had gone back to my original hair coloring place last December, and it didn’t end well. My hair was pink. Ok, it was pinkish. And because this is the Rosh Hashanah edition, I will not mention the name of the place. I then tried another place. There is a lovely woman who goes to my synagogue and I have always loved her hair color, so I tried her place. Surprisingly, I was very happy with the woman who colored my hair and with the color. I was set! I had a new place!
But then, when I went to get my hair done before Son #2’s engagement party, she didn’t honor my appointment time, and I went to the party looking like a homeless person because every other place I drove to was closed. Needless to say, I was not happy. And then, a few weeks later, a miracle happened. I found Lucy. At Hair by Lucy in Leonia.
Lucy used to color my hair at the original place, but she had stopped working there (and was not the person who turned my hair pinkish). Turns out that Lucy just opened a new place across the street from the old place. I called her, I made an appointment, and I was never so happy to see someone in my whole life! (Ok, I am exaggerating a little bit, but I was very happy to see her — and I hope she to see me.)
And I just wanted to share Lucy with all of you. And to wish you all a healthy and happy new year, filled with only beautiful things, simchas, and great hair days. I also wanted to wish my Son #3, my beautiful baby boy, a very happy and healthy 21st birthday. I am so excited that I finally can do tequila shots with him — and he would rather be learning. So there you go.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is very excited to have Gd #1 and her parents for the Jewish New Year celebration. It has been a long time since anyone has kept her company for this holiday.