Adventures in Sheepish Confessions...

My plans last night fell through, so instead of going out, I stayed in.  I sat for a while listening to the pouring rain, the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets...then I got bored listening to the rain, frogs and crickets, and I let my mind wander.  When left to its own devices, there are a few well worn paths down which it wanders.  The History Path is one of them, and that's where we found ourselves last night.  After finding some rather ghastly information regarding health care and childbirth in the 19th Century, I eventually stumbled upon a decidedly less horrific subject: how women managed to get all those curly tendrils without the use of hot irons. The secret?  Brown paper!

I just happened to have a pile of brown paper hanging around doing nothing, since I had forgiven my orchids (see the previous post) and bought them a proper vase - wrapped in brown paper.  "Hmmmm", I thought to myself, "maybe I could..." I hesitated though; after the disastrous results of my 1940s hairstyle reproduction attempt, I had vowed to avoid any further ...ahem ...entanglements. However, the rain, frogs and crickets had lulled me into a bit of a dozy trance, and I thought I could handle it.  Half an hour later, I was desperately hoping that there would be no reason to evacuate the building during the night, because I looked like this:  

 After a good night's sleep, I pulled out the papers this morning, curious to see what was atop my noggin.  I tried coaxing the curls into a passable Regency era coiffure, but the result would have mortified Jane Austen, and I won't even post the picture here it was so bad. Once I shook out the historical horror though, the curls actually weren't so bad.  While the experiment failed miserably as an 1810 'do, it was passable as a 2010 one:

 There you have it...I sheepishly confess that this is what I do when left to my own devices for an evening.