Wigs by Elisabeth Levy

              A short while ago “Wigs” was the buzzword at Varenna, and a Red Carpet Wig Fashion Show turned out to be the result.

               Flower arranging is a great place to catch residents and inspire them for a super idea. Ever active Evita loves wigs and wondered why we couldn’t put a wig show together. Were enough ladies interested? She collected not only flowers, but names too. Interested residents signed up, and she took the idea to Anna. Days, weeks, passed, until one morning my telephone rang.

               “Hello, Elisabeth, this is Evita. Next Monday we have appointments to try on wigs at the “L.A. Beauty and Hair” shop on College Ave., and the wig fashion show will be announced shortly. Are you still game?”

               “Sure Evita, I am game, but I have no car.”

               “That’s no problem, you can drive with me, but you must be ready by 9:30 sharp.”

            I will miss stretch, but so be it.  “Evita, I have to be back the latest by 11:30, is that possible?”

               “No, problem, don’t worry”.

               Three of us drove with Evita to the shop, started trying on wigs and soon got caught in the fun. We could not stop laughing. It is amazing how a wig can practically change your personality, make you look so different. I was determined to wear a snow-white wig and pronounced with a loud voice, "I will walk with a cane."

               “Elisabeth, you absolutely cannot do this, you have to look younger, not older,” exclaimed a horrified Evita. 

               I played the game a little bit longer, but, as a matter of fact, I didn’t like the white wig either, and finally said: “Evita, don’t worry, I’ll do anything you say.”

            I eventually decided on a straw blonde wig and a grey-ish one.  The shop lady, Huen, marked them with my name and I was ready to leave. However, there was a problem. Evita was in her element, giving her opinion and comments first to our group then to the ladies who had just arrived. Fortunately, I overheard a conversation. The Varenna driver was bringing one or two more wig try-er-ons. I quickly called the desk and secured a ride back to Varenna.

          Finally the big day arrived. The day before I began to panic, what should I wear?  Unfortunately my stepdaughter and dress adviser Ann was in Australia with her husband and could not be called for help. Shirley suggested my below-the-knee beige dress I bought in Switzerland last summer. I could wear it with my boots, giving it a jazzy look.

               Sunday, the 16^{th of} November had arrived. I went into panic mode and tried to find Evita, or Shirley, but neither was reachable. What now? I had to make up my own mind, what should I do? I put a few things out on the bed, shoes on the floor, looked at them and knew now there was no other way, I had to make this painful decision all by myself.  I slipped into my beige dress. It didn’t look that great. I tried it with a belt and a scarf, packed the boots and my make-up kit in a bag and walked over to June. She didn’t like the belt and asked what color my wig was. I had forgotten. She was not impressed with my outfit, to put it mildly. I went down to the library and noticed my wig, the first one in the whole procession. I looked at it and got a shock. No way can I parade on the red carpet with what I am wearing. Somebody greeted me cheerfully; I didn’t recognize Claire wearing her fancy wig.

              Fortunately I had enough time, I rushed back upstairs, threw the dress on the bed and slipped into the next outfit, my purple three-piece suit.  A pair of simple little black shoes worked well with it and my gold purse would add a touch of elegance.  

               Back at the library I looked for my blonde wig, where was it, on which head did it sit? It was Margrit wearing it, fitting her to perfection. Huen’s husband and daughter had joined the crowd. Huen took the black net I had saved from the try-on, put it on my head, the wig over it, and I walked to the mirror. Surprise, surprise: I was not me! Looking at me, it was Margrit!  We got a five minute instruction how to walk and how not to walk. Don’t run, have fun. I had given June my cell phone to take a few snapshots.

               Things got a bit hectic, we had ten minutes left, I was number one on the hit parade. Evita with her keen eye checked our wigs, noticed something not quite perfect with mine, came close to check it out, and, oh dear, her cup got a jolt and warm tea spilled over my pants and Claire’s jacket.  An expression of shock came over Evita’s face. “Are you hurt, Elisabeth?”

               “No, Evita, don’t worry, I am just a bit wet, but my pants are nylon and will dry quickly. With a huge sigh of relief Evita relaxed. In no time towels appeared, we all blotted mightily, Jeanne had picked up her hairdryer and low and behold, at the proper time we were ready.  Disaster avoided.

         Anna, with her fabulous long black wig, introduced us. She only mentioned our names at the end. Indeed, some residents did not recognize us. I prepared for my second wig, the silver-grey one, which actually was a better match than the blonde. Soon we all posed for official pictures. Nancy and her wig got first prize in fun and originality and Kathy definitely had the best-matched one.

               After the show people milled around trying on more wigs, drinking champagne and nibbling on the eclectic goodies.  It was hard to tell who had more fun, audience or models.

A Thanksgiving Prayer by Leona Biddle

Dear God, please give me a thankful heart
for little things:
Sunshine on the kitchen floor, 
News the postman brings, 
Things the children do and say.
Grant me appreciation of the small joys that are mine-
For robins in the springtime
And autumn's crispy weather-
For the leaves that crunch,
To wake and find the first snowfall.
Give me enthusiasm to greet each new day
With honest joy in living;
Let me love the little things I find along the way.

Writers Resolve

It's 2014, and the Varenna Writers are ready to tackle a new year of writing with some powerful resolutions!

Jack Russ plans to complete two short stories and resume work on his novel.

Joyce Cass is determined to learn to attach and send manuscripts via email!

Elizabeth Poulsen will continue to enjoy meeting with the Writers Club and writing.

Hal Peters will record some of  his amusing memoirs.

Dorothy Herbert plans to begin her memoir also.

Elisabeth Levy has pledged to finish her travel book.

Gary Sadler will attempt to create at least one autobiographical sketch with his inner critic as his ally.

Shirley Johnson hopes to write a piece she is actually pleased with.

Susan Bono is planning to treat her writing like an appointment  she must keep.

Sally Tilbury is keeping her resolution to herself!

The Hummingbird's Adventure by Elisabeth Levy

                                  

            Strange things can happen and I am still recovering form my latest adventure.

            My name is Summa.  I have three siblings and we are always full of mischief, having lots of fun. We are lucky, our parents taught us how to find food, what plants are best and which ones to avoid. Interesting for us is observing something called humans. Sometimes they are like standing statues, sometimes they move, and if they come too close, we fly off. They seem to like watching us; in fact some are feeding us. They know we like red and sweet syrup. It is great fun to get food out of those hanging containers, they sway just a little when we nibble. Most of the time we go after geranium or other colorful flowers and always have great conversations with them. There is never a dull moment.

            We had a perfect warm summer. ‘Every day was as nice as the next day.  The precautionary lessons from the parents were forgotten. There is a balcony high above a little lake I like especially well. It has all sorts of flowers, the geraniums I like best. However, all of a sudden the weather turned. It got cold, very, very cold. One evening I must have lingered around too long and all of a sudden the sun had set. It was dark, icy cold, and I could not fly back home.

           I had to look for a warm place to spend the night. I knew my family would worry, but there was nothing else I could do. I was hiding in the Christmas cactus plant next to a door. I saw light inside and all of a sudden, the door opened, light poured out, as well as warmth.  I quickly flew through the door and sat mouse still on the windowsill. A human got out, covered the Christmas cactus plant with something called a towel, came back in and closed the door. It was so warm, so light, and so delicious.  After a while the human turned off the lights. All was dark inside, but now I could see the glimmering lights outside, far away. I kept thinking of my worried parents, but never mind, there I was, feeling warm and cozy on my perch. Tomorrow is another day. I slept until daybreak. 

            Now I am hungry, I need some food. How can I get out, I am surrounded by glass. No way to escape.  I begin to panic. I try to fly, in vain. I try and try and try again and again and get so tired. All of a sudden I hear a voice, a soft voice, shocked, startled and surprised. She opens the door and tells me to go outside in the cold; I don’t know how to do it. I know the door is open, but how do I get out? She tries to make some wind with something like paper and tells me to fly. I can’t. I tire more and more, fly a little, rest a little. What can I do? What will my family think?         

            All of a sudden there are two voices. One calls the other June. Both talk to me softly and encouraging. I don’t know what to do, I am so tired, I make some more weak attempts, it doesn’t work. All of a sudden it gets dark. I feel something around me. Will I suffocate?  Wrapped as a bundle I get carried a short, distance and, like a miracle, the dark thing opens, I am free, free to fly off, free to fly home. I am stunned and try to find my way. It works, I can fly, the good feeling is overwhelming and lifts me up right into the sky.

            Getting back home my mother scolds me and tells me in the future to pay better attention to the instructions she had given us, always be aware of circumstances and come home on time. Yes, I know, I learned my lesson.