Two weeks afterward, the love and spoiling of my birthday continue. I still have unopened gifts and cards under my tree and am saving each for a special moment. I’m munching on a chocolate cross (that’s a blog post for another day), trying to work on a story due ASAP, and admiring my new hairbrush.
What? Hairbrush? Is Ana cheating on her spoon (her beloved, her promised, and her happily ever after)?
Just look at that lovely hairbrush, and ask me whether you wouldn’t be tempted. Even neater, it was made in Korea! I wonder if it was made in Seoul, where Hyunkyung and Indigo are cavorting with their naughtiness. I can’t wait to write this brush into a story!
Don’t worry. I’ve tried to pacify my wooden spoons with a nice oiling with my new bottle of food-grade conditioning oil. If three wooden spoons are a menage, what do you call four? 🙂 The slantwise spoon is my new olive wood from Christmas. It still has not been used because I like to save special things. 🙂
But back to the brush. Evil Mistress Kate threatened me with a photo of the brush when I perhaps got a little carried away with party preparations. She made me read the tattle-tale notes in front of everyone at the party, no matter how much I blushed and begged to be let off.
So when the infamous brush arrived in my mailbox last week, it took a while to brave the fierce Mistress!
Opinion was divided, but let’s just say the miscreants better watch their step. Ana is armed! I may have given up wooden spoons for Lent, but I said nothing about hairbrushes.
Best reply ever:
It’s good to see not everyone clamored for sweet little Ana to receive a dose of her own medicine. I keep telling you…my birthday is over! The spanking was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Y’all better watch your step, or I’ll put this new brush to work.
Or at least try to. 😀 Let’s just say that the hairbrush is…um…effective.
It’s made of real boar bristles nestled amidst the other bristles. I meant to keep the hairbrush for its real purpose, but I couldn’t resist running it through my hair this morning.
Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like the naughty feeling of using a paddle hairbrush for actually brushing hair. 🙂 It reminded me of a tiny story I wrote a long time ago, about a governess brushing her girl’s hair. I may have to incorporate it into a story I’ll write next. Here’s a peek:
Dee’s hand reached over to idly stroke Ana’s hair.
“It needs a good brushing,” she murmured, attempting and giving up on finger-combing through the worst of the tangles.
Wordlessly, Ana reached over to the end table, picked up the hairbrush, and offered it to Dee. Keeping her eyes down and the brush half-hugged to her chest in case it wasn’t wanted. When she felt the lightness of the brush removed from her grasp, Ana laid her head against Dee’s knees once again. She closed her eyes as Dee’s gentle hands picked up the ends of her hair to brush out the inch of knots closest to her ends. Dee firmly held a small section of hair in her left hand while gradually working the brush through each tangle. Start at the bottom and work your way up…that was how to tame Ana’s wild hair.
Gently, Dee shifted Ana’s position so that she could reach the other side of Ana’s hair. Deftly, she worked her hands and hairbrush through Ana’s hair until every single lock was soft, smooth, and shining from her efforts. She continued to tug the brush through the hair just for the pleasure of watching the dark hair ripple like liquid.
Ana gave a soft, small sigh.
Hairbrushes. Such a sweet, domestic, almost maternal implement that can inspire both tenderness and terror. After that little sample of slapping the brush against my hand (it stung for ages afterward!)…let’s just say I respect this hairbrush. I will have to use it very carefully. (Oh, and it makes my hair shine like nothing else!)
Later, I’ll write about some of the other gifts I received, including wooden spoons (yes, plural!), chocolate crosses, and several others. I want to memorialize these expressions of love and friendship. You’re all so good to me. ❤
Now that this hairbrush is sitting next to me, I’m feeling motivated to stay on task and get the next story done. Karla and Annabelle, my two retirees living in Florida, are filling my days with their wonderfully zany courtship.
Thank you, dear sweet friend, for your lovely birthday gift. I will treasure it always. (And somehow explain my now-divided loyalty to my spoon.)