I'm sitting here with hair dye on my head, trying not to breathe as I'm washing this gray away. Luckily for me, I only have another 20 or so minutes to go.

I remember when I used to do this back in high school just for fun, except now there's purpose behind the coloring. Back then, we only did it to shock our mothers, and boy were they shocked, when Brenda accidentally turned her blonde hair green. I, on the other hand, opted for red and got addicted, which is why I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if all my hair falls out of my head someday.

Thanks to genetics, my chocolate brown hair is changing to brittle strands of spun silver. Maybe if I were a little older, like say in my 80's, I'd appreciate the sparkling radiance of tinsel in my hair. But right now, it's all about the fine art of disquise, and the disquise is red.

So I am off for the day, first stop to feed and water my father's dog, while they are away and second stop Brenda's, to hear all about the wedding that I wasn't invited to.

But I'm not bitter, exact for this very small part of me that wonders why, even though we've lost touch in the past few years, my ex roommate from college, couldn't have dropped a note or an invitation in the mail.

Yes. I know it was her special day, being her wedding and all, but I hate this feeling that I was just forgotten. I'm sure I'll get over it, I'm even quite sure I wish her well, still I wonder why so many friends have forgotten about little old me.

Back in the good old days, I was always the kind of girl that could make people smile. Now, I'm like a speck of dust, easily blown away ...