Gray is Beautiful

Getting a haircut on the kibbutz is a scary experience. This is mainly because the cutter in question tends to get a little drunk with power. Instead of the light trim you asked for, you are likely to find half your hair suddenly on the floor. Not only that but every single time I go she discovers to her surprise how much gray I have.

It’s not a surprise to me. I’m well aware that the clock does not go backward. More to the point, the gray in my hair is appropriate to my age and I feel no need to cover it up. I’m actually happy to be getting old because it’s so much better than the alternative.

Of course, this all can be attributed to my background. I grew up in a very conservative city. Divorce was unheard-of, women always wore skirts and never trousers, and they never, ever dyed their hair. I rarely speak of this now. People will think I grew up on a different planet.

Perhaps I did. In any event, I take my graying head as a survivor’s merit badge. I earned every gray hair, and most importantly, I’m still here.

Hamsin Hair

The weather has been glorious for the past week, although I don't think most of my compatriots would agree. Israel's prevailing winds are usually from the west and the sea, meaning mild temperatures and considerable humidity. But every once in a while the winds shift bringing hot, dry air from the desert in the east. This sharav, hamsin in Arabic, inspires fear and loathing in most inhabitants of the region. I, however, think it's fabulous.

I like it hot, as I've mentioned before, and the warm, bone dry air is pleasant enough, but it also carries one big advantage as far as I'm concerned. My hair is naturally curly. I've never liked it. I always wanted it smooth and straight with maybe a hint of flip at the very end, not the frizz-fest I've been cursed with. Every morning I straighten it out with the dryer, but it's an exercise in futility. After a few minutes at normal humidity, the curls are back. During a sharav what I straighten stays straight. How could I not love this weather anomaly?

It's December, all the windows are open and it's no struggle to stay warm. Rain is on the way, that much is certain. But for the time being all this gorgeousness must be savored. At the same time I confess I'm kicking myself in the head. Why, oh why didn't I settle in Eilat?