past

First the inconsequential weekend details:
Got my hair done on Saturday. Woot! About time, much needed... the hair was too light after I tried to use some Color Opps to remove the red in an attempt to get things closer to my natural color. Instead I ended up with this weird, slightly orangish brown color (like so, but it was much worse in person). I'm wondering if that's why people kept telling me I looked pale. In any case! I saw my hair dresser who mixed me up a color that I am very happy with and that we think is very close to my natural color:


It's much more brown with a hint of red, then red with a bit of brown like it was before. Clearly I'm very happy, but seriously enough about my hair!

I also saw my parents, wished my brother luck with his play that night, and headed home to cook some yummy Baked Mac & Cheese, then work my ass off on my stupid work project. Still not done, but almost there. Grr.
I also ordered our Christmas cards... we're doing picture ones for the first time this year and I'm really excited about it. I'm sick of boring dollar store holiday cards. I downloaded a free trial of Adobe Photoshop to play around with and came up with a design. When all was said and done I was pretty proud of them, so I showed them to Trav to get some imput before actually ordering anything. My much anticipated responce, "Nice, just don't spend too much." Thanks babe, really.
BUT cards are ordered!


So now on to the post I was actually meaning to write. Lately I've been thinking a lot about the past, and about what makes us all who we are. My mom's parents both passed (under very different circumstances) when I was in high school. My gramps was writing out stories of his youth before he went. I never felt closer to him then when I was reading those stories... but after he passed, they were packed away and forgotten about, until now.
Lately my uncle has been sending emails to the family with stories from his childhood... fun stories that reveal parts of his parents (my grandparents) that we might not have seen on a day to day basis. They reminded me of my gramps' stories, so I asked my mom to dig them up again. I'm interested in rereading them, maybe finding something in them that I didn't get the first time around, or wasn't ready to see as a slightly depressed 17 year old.
My Gram... in Mexico...
Gramps' shadow as he takes the shot.

I love this picture... my gram is so young and beautiful.
My grandparent's grew up in a tough time... the depression, the war. In some ways, they had to be greatful for the war, because that's where they found each other. My gram treated my gramps when he got malaria. They had an amazing love, raised four beautiful kids together, and it was her death that killed him.

From a piece entitled Eddie (my gram):

By Christmas time I was doing well and then I realized I was totally in love with this girl and asked her if she would go to dinner with me. She said she was going to visit her aunt and uncle for Christmas in Los Angeles and I was really devastated. Then she said, “would like to go with me”. My life began and I would never be the same.
...
When we returned to the hospital we went out every night, sometimes off the base and sometimes we just walked and made stops at the slop-shut (a navy word for a place to sit and have a beer ). After two weeks we were totally in love and I asked her to marry me.
...
When we got to our room that night after our wedding Eddie said to me, Oh, what tangled webs we weave, when we practice to deceive. The only reply I could think of was, The optimist fell ten stories, and at each window bar, shouted, all right so far. All through our lives we used those verses to say to each other, remember our promise.

I can't wait to spend some more time with the young man that became my grandpa.

Do you have something that links you to the past?
(More to come, I'm sure.)