Five Minute Friday: Roots

Who knows if it will stick, but I've been wanting to try this whole "Five Minute Friday" thing for a while. Basically, it's a weekly writing exercise, started by Lisa-Jo Baker (a.k.a. Gypsy Mama) where you set a timer for five minutes, and just write. She gives you the topic. You don't worry about grammar or backspacing, you just write. For five minutes. I didn't think I was interested in this linky kind of thing until I was at Allume last weekend, and I saw all of the FMF girls hanging out and I was kind of like, "Hey! I want in!"

So, here I am.

Today's topic is ROOTS.
Two things come to mind when I hear the word "roots."

For your viewing pleasure, I give you one of the last pictures of my natural hair color. May it rest in peace. Oh, side note: My dad was rocking the moustache ombre way before ombres were cool, or even called ombres.

1. My hair.
I know, who is so shallow that they don't think of their ancestors first, but rather their hair color, right? Um, that would be me. I feel like my roots are almost always out of control. Welcome to the highlighting club I've been a part of ever since that Summer vacation in Nags Head when my mother convinced my 14 year old self to start lightening my hair. She was right. But here I am almost 20 years later, with chronic dark roots. A couple of weeks ago, I attempted to lowlight it, and the roots seemed not-so-bad, but I think they've faded and I'm rooted once again. Oh well. I'm too cheap and I don't want to invest the time in sitting in a salon for hours every couple of months, so I deal with my roots. One box at a time.

2. My family.
I don't know a whole lot about my family's roots. I know there is information out there, my Granny's sister spent a great deal of time researching that part of the family's roots, I need to get some of that information. And on my dad's side - someone is related to John Adams. I actually got a scholarship for that in college. That has to be one of the coolest things to tell people, aside from the fact that my dad's name is Charlie Brown, and my brother's name is Chris Brown and no my dad's not a cartoon and while my brother is an awesome dancer, he most definitely does not beat his girlfriend. I thought of one cool "roots" thing the other night, and I was telling my husband about it. I went to the same high school as my mom. Indian River High School, in Chesapeake, VA. In the school, there are these giant class pictures, just as you walk in the front door, up on the wall, high. I remember when I was a freshman, I loved looking at the Class of 1975 picture and finding my mom's big smile. I've been back since I graduated and seen myself up there, too. Class of 1997. Big smile. Brown hair.  My senior picture was taken at an unfortunate time as it relates to a box of hair coloring. It was dark in that picture, and I still regret it to this day.  But still, pretty cool to have two generations with the same smile hanging on the wall there at The River.