growing old GREYfully

There must be something with the lighting in my bathroom at home, because I had not noticed all these grey hairs before. But now that I am visiting family I look in the mirror and think "where did all of these come from?" And it brings me head to head with the fact that it's probably time to start dyeing my hair, which is something that I am against, principally: I feel that women should be able to age gracefully and go grey naturally, as men do. (well, MOST men do) HOWEVER, I am an actress, and I know that if I have grey hair I will not be cast in a large range of roles, because even women twice my age are not grey, thanks to the convenience of dyeing their strands at home in their own sink (or forking over lots of dough for someone else to do it).

But it seems somehow poetic to be dealing with this realization today, my 33rd birthday. I had an enjoyable day at my parents house, joined by my brother and his family. When I came out from my bedroom this morning I was shooed back in. Shortly after The May Queen and her cousin came in carrying candles and singing (followed by grandparents with cameras) I opened presents over a pancake breakfast, and had my traditional birthday feast, BBQ Spare Ribs, for dinner. But the highlight of the day came when my sister in law provided me with a stripper. His act consisted of taking off his diaper, waving it in the air, and waggling his hips before running away. It was an unplanned act, of course, as he was getting ready to crawl into the wading pool, but I will likely tease my nephew about it for years after his blond ringlets have been controlled with a shorter haircut.