I made use today of the blonde hair I’ve had for a couple weeks now. Being stuck in the bush with an iPhone and the Internet is both a fascinating and evil thing. Pinterest (thank you, Kristen, I spend all day on it) had multiple pinnings of this neat thing called hair chalking.
It entails temporarily dyeing ones hair with chalk. Not all of it though! Just pieces here and there. Seemed to me in most of the pictures people had blonde hair for chalking, but you can do it with dark hair too. I figured I may as well put the blonde in my hair to use (still don’t know if I’m liking the ombré style).
It is so freakin’ basic.
This is all I did:
Step 1: Took literally the cheapest chalk ever (picture at bottom of page $1 🙂 thanks to ‘K’) picked my color (blue) and put it in a half-filled cup of water, keeping half of the stick dry so you don’t need gloves. Leave chalk in for 5-10 min.
Step 2: Take a random section of hair and twist all the strands together. That way when you put the chalk on, it’s more textured to pick up the color.
Step 3: Do yourself a favor and just do this part outside. In a t-shirt that you’ve worn for three days you’ll be washing tonight. Take the chalk out of the water, and rub it down the piece of twisted hair. Keep doing this till the hair is either coated, or you have the desired amount of color on it. Remember that some of it will come off right after its dry.
Step 4: Let the strand dry, then take a straightener, and give it some movement. Loosely curl it. This will help set the color in the strands.
Step 5: Spritz with hair spray to help stop it from shedding off the chalk.
Voila!!!!! So simple 🙂 and generally washes out with 1-2 washes (usually light hair takes longer).
Mmm! A spoonful of delicious, forbidden granola from the palace of the worksite. I’ve been there. It’s like a prison. The men call it Auschwitz, but it’s formally known as the “lodge”.
If you like the luxuries but you mind not having friends, this place is for you. There’s a mudman who works for the rigs I befriended. He smuggled two bags of the granola out of there. He’s pretty much my dealer for granola and Starbucks tea.
It’s truly the little things in life you come to treasure and appreciate here.
One of them being a toilet. Imagine having to go to the bathroom outside, whip your pants down, and pee before someone drives by. You learn tricks though. You come to learn how to pee in a bucket in the back of an MTC and when you discover that, it definitely FEELS like a luxury. There’s technique to be learned though. It only takes urinating on the seat of your own pants once and having to sit in it the rest of the day to teach you to make sure they are out of the way!
And going number 2? There is no woman who can take a graceful sh*t in the woods. After a long hike, it’s a “stop, squat, and plop”. And then you bury it like an animal, but with your eyes closed pretending it never happened. No, it was not that color, and no it did not just smell like that.
The worst part? You get into the habit of peeing outside your car door like its a normal thing. The first time in the city when you feel the urge and reach for the door handle, you realize you must make it to a bathroom. Quickly. How did you ever hold it long enough before? The memory eludes you, and you pee shamelessly in the darkness of the Calgary Zoo Parking lot anyways.
Today is a sick day unfortunately for myself of all people. I went to bed early last night, slept like a rock, and woke up to a knocking on my door. I swore quietly, fully aware that the reason for the knock was because I slept in. I got out of bed and tried to walk to the door, but for some strange reason my leg wasn’t working, and I was unbelievably dizzy. I crashed to the floor in front of my bedroom door, and I heard Morgan ask if I was ok.
She said I had no color, and that she was going to go get Brian.
After 15 minutes I figured Brian wasn’t coming and everyone was mad at me. So I decided I was going to go to work. I stumbled around, trying to dress and get my bag together. I half limped out to the parking lot, and started the truck.
When I come back in to grab a coat, I had to hold the wall to come back down the hallway, and the world was spinning. I heard the door open behind me.
“Sierra Borden. I am going to kill you if you think you are going to work like this.”
Brian. You are such a dad.
He helped me back to my room. After asking me some questions, it sounds like the built up pressure in my right ear the last four days (I neglected to mention it to him before hand) had pushed fluid into my inner ear, causing my dizziness.
So I’m in bed today. Ian, the other paramedic brought me some medication, for my sinuses. I woke up at 2 and staggered to the kitchen for soup, but the dizziness factor was minute compared to the morning.
So now I study my gigantic EMT textbook.
Conversations are often the highlight of my day at work wherever I am stationed. So as I sit here (preparing myself for a couple night shifts by staying up to sleep tomorrow) I decide to recount to you some favorite snippets of mine.
The coworkers involved?
- BRIAN: My site coordinator/paramedic for all the medics on site. Like a dad.
- BRENT: Brian’s former paramedic partner. Brilliant. 0 people skills. No idea how they worked together.
- MORGAN: Very good medic friend of mine. Works on the site. Same age as me.
BRIAN: Don’t worry, we’re going to be discreet. Brent is bringing the ambulance.
[a moment later loud sirens are heard in the parking lot outside]
BRIAN: (head shaking) Oh Brent…
ME: (to patient) Hey your ride’s here.
PATIENT: Really? How do you know?
[BRENT walks in the door and stoops in front of the patient]
BRENT: Hey there, sir! How’s it going?
PATIENT: Don’t yell at me!
The day before, at dinnertime
MORGAN: Bob didn’t bring me a coffee today (sad look)….but that’s ok! I don’t need coffee. I’m not going to make him my hand-servant like you.
ME: Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not my hand-servant. Hand-servants get paid.
BRIAN: [finishes a long explanation to me the pathophysiology of an anaphylaxis in a patient]
ME: Wow. You’re a good egg-head, Brian. That’s why I keep you around.
BRIAN: YOU keep ME around?
[a day after getting bit by a whiskeyjack while feeding it from my hand]
BRIAN: Did you learn your lesson and not feed the birds today?
ME: Actually I learned a better lesson: I fed them with a GLOVE on! And now I have trained them to eat cheese from my shoulder. I hope they never bite my face.
BRIAN: I swear to God if I ever have to write that report….
And the conversations get better the longer you’re out here 😉
My second year in an oilfield camp is going much better than last year. It had been quite the adjustment the first time around.
Between the stares, leers, and the constant chitchat and whispers that erupted when you walked into a room, it was enough to internally drive you nuts.
And it nearly made one self-conscious to the high school degree.
Nowadays it’s not so bad.
A helpful skill you earn over time is the ability to look like you are all about buisness. Make your strut purposeful, your expression neutral, and your posture erect and straight. Look like you have respect for yourself, and do not even bat an eyelash in the direction at any one of the four hundred men at dinner. And never EVER appear to be lost, and always act as if you must be somewhere.
A very pretty female cartographer once told me she just puts on her “bitch look”. Same thing.
Nearly every man will talk to you, given the chance, save maybe an 18-19 year old. Guarantee that walking down the boardwalk at 530am passing twenty men going to the dining hall, every one of them will become somewhat shy but squeak out a ‘good mornin’ to you.
They act all tough between each other but when in the presence of women, these men (a decent chunk of them anyways) have no bold words, no impressive pickup lines. In fact they almost seem relieved you even said it back.
Men are such funny creatures sometimes. Sometime I laugh to myself…that God made man first…and had the wisdom to give him good backup.