Snippets

My hair has blond highlights again and I love it. It's a time-consuming process, sitting there while the stylist wraps individual sections of your hair into aluminum foil packets after slathering evil-smelling chemical goo on it with something that looks like a paintbrush. After awhile, though, I didn't notice the smell. I started to feel very peaceful in my chair, letting someone else be in charge for awhile, just letting my mind go off somewhere. My stylist said, "You can read, you know," worried I think that I was trying to be polite by not opening the four magazines I had grabbed. I said, "No, that's okay, I'm kind of enjoying this, just spacing out." When we had the twenty-minute break for the chemicals to seep in, I dove into Glamour with great alacrity. I avoided the sex stories and went for the Do's and Don'ts. Amusingly, a man had written in to protest his wife's appearance as a "don't" for wearing feline accessories (fake leopard fur, etc.) Apparently she wears this stuff to draw attention to her work as a champion of cats in need of protection or help.

After the 20 minutes were up, the stylist washed and cut my hair. I love to watch her at work because she gets totally focused, sifting through the different layers, drawing them out with her fingers, snipping ever so delicately at the ends.

I love the haircut, too, and am pleased to have spiffed up my look a bit. The best part was that I was actually going out afterwards, rather than, for example, home to take a nap. I got to show off my new look to my friend S., whom I hadn't seen in a while. We went to dinner and to the theater--a Restoration comedy by Thomas Wycherly. Riotously funny, over-the-top, and silly.

A long day, but a fun one.



By the way, um. . . . comments are welcome. I'd love to hear from anyone who is out there reading. In addition, of course, to jo(e), my faithful commenter.