Before I delve into recent events here at home, I feel the need to pay a bit of attention to my neglected television category. (Otto allows me to cheat on him periodically with a few select shows… he’s progressive, that way.)
In all seriousness: I may end up addicted to Thank God You’re Here, which is filling the empty space in my heart where Whose Line Is It Anyway? went before I’d finally seen every single episode several times. Dave Foley might even be funnier than Drew Carey.
With great glee: You know I’ve had issues—annoying, continuing issues—with my cable service here. So, really, there are no words to describe how I felt when I heard this little bit of news except, perhaps, “Wow, that’s Comcastic!” (Hey Comcast, karma’s on the phone for you.)
Anyway, mostly I want to tell you pretty people that those prayers for my hair from the last post were heard and I thank you. Today I went to my friend’s stylist and she colored my hair BROWN. Can you believe it? I mean, typically I go in and ask for my hair to be returned to its native color and when I walk out, part of it is still grey. Or maybe it’s partially red. I really was starting to think that was the norm. But no! You can, in fact, ask for something and GET IT. It’s not just brown, it’s the same brown as the brown hairs that grow out of my head. It’s almost like she LISTENED to what I said and then DID WHAT I ASKED.
She also gave me a bit of a trim, agreeing that the shaping at the back of my head was the product of either someone’s bad day or me having really pissed off the other stylist. It was just… odd. And puffy. And part of the problem will simply need to be grown out, but she did fix me up a bit.
We chatted about American Idol and how people with curly hair always want it straight and vice versa and my kids and her cat and my wedding and as I began to see that she could be trusted I cleared my throat and tried to act casual.
Me: So, I bought these… I don’t know what they’re called. Hair jewels? For the wedding. They’re rhinestones on little wires that are supposed to screw into your hair?
Her: Oh, yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Oh, that’ll be pretty.
Me: Yes, that’s what you’d think, except that I am a moron and I can’t figure out how to put them into my hair so that it looks nice.
Her: It’s easy, just twist!
Me: Ha! Well, yes, I did that, but they kept sort of disappearing into my curls. Maybe I need to… style it differently? For the wedding?
Her: Hmmm, maybe.
Me: What would YOU do to it?
Her: Well, I think I’d take the front here, and sweep it over to the side, and straighten that bit, and then put the jewels right along here, see, and then let the curls just kind of fall this way. See?
Me: Ohhh, what a good idea. That looks pretty.
Me: Hey, you know, I probably could never make it look like that at home.
Me: Do you work on Fridays?
Me: So I could come in next Friday and you could do my hair for me? Pleeeeeeeeease?
Me: And… how much would you charge for that?
Me: I would like to have your babies.
And then we made out for a while.
Or, maybe she finished up and I went to pay and she cost only 2/3 of what I paid at the old place and I couldn’t stop going on and on about how glad I was that I’d finally gone to her but now I’m moving away and that sort of sucks.
This excellent bit of good fortune was a nice antidote to the latest Oh You Have Got To Be Kidding Me bit of drama attached to attempting to plan for life PM (Post Move). At some point when I stop twitching I’ll tell you more about this, but suffice it to say that we got the kids’ school assignment and hilarity did not ensue. I’m discovering that school politics are the same everywhere, in many ways. And there’s so much more to tell but we are still deciding what to do.
Thank goodness I have my pretty hair to comfort me in this trying time.