Prom: Part II

The Granddaughter did not want her nails done for prom ("I can do them myself!"), but she did agree wholeheartedly that having her hair done professionally would be nice, so I asked (via Facebook), "Who does hair locally?" and saw the name Jeff Fredieu at The Wild Hair in Redlands in the comments repeatedly. I got in touch with Jeff weeks before prom day, and we made the appointment.

But then the girl wanted to dye her hair purple. All of it. Deep purple. Oh my.... So we talked that over while eating ice cream (and after I had said, "Hmm, no..." to the five-dollar bottle of purple hair dye). I told her I would consult with Jeff. I called him, and he had the perfect solution. "Well," he said, "I just happen to have a set of blonde hair extensions that someone returned. You can have them at half price, and I'll dye them purple." I had sent him a photo of The Granddaughter so that he could see her beautiful dark chestnut hair. Like me, he hated to see what would happen to her healthy locks after lightening them enough to make them purple. When presented with this alternative, The Granddaughter was all smiles and thumbs up. (For real; no emojis.)

About that beautiful silver dress.... (If you haven't read that story, just scroll down to the post below this one.) The dry cleaners (Eco Cleaners on Oak Valley Parkway--it's a family-run business, and I love them) sent me a text on Thursday to let me know the gown was cleaned and altered and ready for pick-up. When I went to get it the next day and the owner walked out with it all gleaming in its plastic sheath, I thought it was the wrong dress. It had transformed into a bright flashy silver with all the sequins lighting up like tiny stars. Wow! And what do you know, just like the glass slipper on Cinderella, the thing fit absolutely perfectly when The Granddaughter tried it on.

Yesterday was prom. I made the belle of the ball stand still for a "before" shot (see below), then off to Jeff we went. 

Oh my goodness, this man did magic with her hair! In an hour and a half, he had the extensions in (which matched perfectly with the purple ribbon we'd purchased to replace the dingy gray one on the silver dress) and her hair pulled back and in curls that looked like a cascading waterfall, the purple strands woven in and out throughout. 

Then we jumped back in the truck and headed home, and the rest of the transformation took place. Oh my goodness, look at this grown up young woman!

Then it was time to drop her with her best friend, and off they went.

Did they have a good time? They had "the best" time she said when I picked her up. She had stayed the night with her bestie, and they stayed up until 2:00 chatting all about the wonderfulness of it, most of which (I'm sure not all--winky face emoji here) I heard about on the ride home. And then? Did she want to take a nap?

"I've got homework," she sighed.

Well, I suppose Cinderella did have to get up the next morning after the ball and get to her chores.

The Prom Dress Part I

Because I love my granddaughter, and because circumstances warranted it, she is currently staying with me until June, when she will graduate from high school. And in order to make sure that happens, I have been, since January, driving her to school every day, a sixty-mile round trip. And of course I pick her up in the afternoon, so yeah, that's 120 miles a day of freeway driving. (If I could, I would insert the bewildered emoji right there.)

So it's not a stretch to say that this past Saturday, when I woke and realized I didn't have to drive anywhere that day, I was thrilled and grateful. As we shuffled around the kitchen in the morning, making tea and waking up, I told her with resounding enthusiasm, "I'm not driving anywhere today!" (Insert happy-smiling emoji there.) Together, we walked down to the Rec Center here in Plantation and availed ourselves of the monthly breakfast (potatoes and eggs for me, the same plus bacon and a few pastries for The Granddaughter). On our way, she told me excitedly, "I got a text last night from my other nana. They tried to deliver my dress yesterday, but they couldn't find the address, so it's at the post office."

Her dress: The perfect little black dress for her prom, the only school dance she'll attend in her high school career. We've been waiting weeks for her package. Other Nana is in Arizona. She ordered the dress online for The Granddaughter and we've been waiting, waiting, waiting, and getting more concerned as prom draws near. It's this coming Saturday. So now, all we had to do was go get it. Yay!! (Many celebratory emojis.)

After breakfast we got in the truck and drove the few miles downtown to the post office, where we waited in line for 30 minutes. (Since our post office is only open two hours on Saturday and there was only one employee working, the line was out the door.) Finally! Our turn! Hooray! But... the package wasn't there, the very-overwhelmed postal service worker said. She checked. Then she checked again (after I told her, "It's her prom dress. Prom is in one week"). "No," she said, "it's not back there. It was probably returned to sender when they couldn't find your address." The sender... is a merchant in China. "But leave your name and address. I'll ask the carrier about it on Monday...."

Oh, nooooooo!

"What do you want to do?" I asked the sad girl outside. She shrugged and looked away. "Okay," I said, "let's go shopping. Real stores or thrift stores?"

"Oh, thrift stores!" she said, perking up for the first time in over an hour. (That's how this girl rolls. She, her mom and sister have gotten some of their coolest clothes at thrift stores.)

We hit the one in Calimesa first, and there was nothing, to her great disappointment.

"Let's go to Yucaipa," I said, which meant getting on the freeway, but who cares when the happiness of one's granddaughter is at stake.

We found a thrift store where we'd shopped before, and she went to the gowns and began to look. After a second, she pulled one out and held it up. It was a long, sequined, silver gown with a modest neckline and plunging back. I was not impressed--until she tried it on. She opened the door to the fitting room and suddenly my nerdy little gamer girl had become a beautiful young woman. She was dazzling--even though the dress was way too long and a bit big.

"Do you love it?"

She considered. "Not like the little black dress... but I could make it work."

"Okay, we think it over. Let's go look somewhere else." So we jumped in the truck, drove to another thrift store, and looked. Nothing. Back in the truck,  I asked her how much the silver dress was. $15. Yep. "Let's go get it," I said. "If you don't wear it, we'll donate it back. But at least we'll have something to work with."

So back we went to the first place, spent $15 of my exiguous fortune, and then headed home, where she tried on the dress again. It really did look marvelous on her. So I had her take it off and put it back on inside out. I pinned up the hem where she wanted it and created darts under her arms to take it in. Then we jumped back in the truck and drove to the dry cleaners in Beaumont.

"Mama," I pleaded with the mother of the business owner, a sweet little woman who does all the alterations, "is there any way you can alter this and clean it by Friday?" She looked at me, looked down at what needed done, looked up again and said, "No. I can't do it. I can't. I have too much work."

I had asked The Granddaughter to stay in the truck while I negotiated inside because I didn't want her to hear if the answer was no. But... I'm a frequent customer and they like me and I was desperate. So I asked again, telling her the story of what happened to the much anticipated little black dress. I will admit, I had tears in my eyes as I told her, "This will be the only school dance she'll ever go to."

She looked at me. Saw the tears. I sniffled. "Okay, okay, I do it," she said. "But you pay cash." I threw in an extra ten bucks and thanked her profusely, of course.

So, yay!! Insert hand clapping emojis here.

But....

After we spent the day looking and drove all over on Saturday to get our Plan B dress, I got a call from the post office on Monday morning: Her package had been found. "We can deliver it tomorrow," the post master said. So on Tuesday after school we stood in the kitchen and I handed The Granddaughter her package.

"It's in a bag?" she said. "It's... really flat."

True.

She opened it, pulling out the dress and the tiny sheer cape that came with it.

"I didn't know that was separate," she said. She shook out the dress and looked it over. "It's really thin...."

True.

I couldn't stand the suspense. "Which one do you think you'll--"

"Oh, I'm wearing the gown," she said.

I can't wait. Stay tuned for Part II, wherein I get all grandparenty and post numerous photos of her in that fifteen-dollar treasure, looking like a million bucks.

March

It's been one busy week around here, so I've had little time to assemble my photos from the March For Our Lives in Riverside, California last Saturday. The one above is one of my favorites. The gentleman holding the sign was there with his wife and his German Shepherd, Molly. He was a kind, soft-spoken man who agreed readily when I asked if I could photograph him and post the picture online. A Vietnam war veteran, he felt very strongly about gun control.

In addition to Molly, there were quite a few other dogs there with their people. Seeing them was a comfort to me.

And while the march was organized and directed by teens (who presented all the wonderful, passionate speeches), there were people of all ages there, including people of all abilities:

A lot of teachers showed up, though there were people from all walks of life:

I was especially proud of these folks from my alma mater, UC Riverside:

And I was especially proud of the kids who came with their moms or dads or both to march. They get it:

The young man featured above is Ben, who made his signs himself. I love that he was forward-thinking enough to suggest that blasters should also not be present in schools.

The sense of camaraderie at these events is palpable. Seriously, you want to just hug everyone there. All 4,000 of them. (That number was the Press-Enterprise estimate of attendees.) 

As was the case with the March for Women in January of 2017, I really had to push myself out of my comfort zone to make the drive and find parking and wander alone toward the courthouse and stand alone (until Ben and his crew joined me, which was a special blessing) and then walk. I'm not a shouter or chanter. I'm really not much of a verbal person at all, preferring to select my words and construct my sentences with caution and care, which writing allows me to do. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and so we must all stand with, walk with, the children and adults who have survived mass shootings. Change will come, carried along by the fervency of these young people. I want to say I participated, even if it is in the smallest way. #NeverAgain.