Morale of the story: Never allow an old woman near a box of hair dye. Especially when no one knows how old the box of dye is.
Every so often, we would invite my great-grandma to stay a weekend at our house. After Grandpa passed away, we didn't want her feeling alone. She'd enjoy visiting with us, and doing whatever she wished.
This is probably my favorite story to tell of my Grandma, because it's just freaking hilarious.
This one weekend, more than likely in the summer, Mom arrived home with Grandma in tow. Mom carried Grandma's bag into the house, and I got up out of the recliner to greet them. Mom kept walking, and basically refused to say much, other than "hi". Grandma followed behind her, and what I saw was fairly shocking.
She was grinning ear to ear, and asked how I liked her hair. Being the good granddaughter I am, I smiled and said it looked very nice. However, I did notice her hair had an odd sheen to it.
I began following my mother around the house. "Mom?" "Mom." "Hey, Mom?" "Uh . . . Mom??" She knew exactly what I was trying to ask her, but Grandma was always in ear shot. I finally cornered her in her bedroom. She turned to me and asked, "What's up?" Like I hadn't been following her for the last 15 minutes.
"Mom, why is Grandma's hair green?!"
"She said she found this old box of hair dye in her vanity, and thought she'd use it up. "
I'd seen the vanity. It was full of stuff no one, let alone her, ever used. Only God could possibly know how long that box of hair dye had been buried in the vanity.
So, for the whole weekend, we complimented her on her hair. She had no idea that it was green. It was a pretty pale shade of green, but it was, nevertheless, green.
My great-grandmother. Without the green hair. :o)