Still haven't heard a thing about the job, so quit yer askin'. Trust me, if I get news, I'm not going to keep it to myself, m'kay?
Yesterday Jay and I made our quatrennial (is that how one expresses 4 times yearly?) voyage to Burlington. Now, for those of you who look at the map and think But Vermont is so SMALL! How long could it take to get from the eastern border to the western? I'd like you to take a closer look at the roads in the northern half of the state. Note that all those nice, fat, blue Interstate type roads run mostly north to south. Now look at the few roads that do run east to west. Note how narrow they look on the map. Note how not straight they are. I think maybe the term "voyage" is more understandable.
Anyway, it was all for the good, because not only did I get to visit my favorite yarn store and buy Koigu (color 117), Cherry Tree Hill (Peacock), and Kid Silk Haze (in a dark, smoky teal color that isn't online)... I also finally managed to meet up with the fabulous Ms. Nita.
Quickie visit in the basement food court of the downtown mall - Nita had some other obligations involving body paint and a camel... but that's not my story to tell. Jay was very disappointed to not meet the charming Miss Rio, but he soothed his misery by flirting with the small child one table beyond us. And then with all the small children and doggies at the Gear Exchange.
I married a babe magnet, what can I say? And by babe, I mean any human under the age of ten.
Also, I am now completely convinced that the secret ingredient in Red Bull is crack cocaine. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But between Jay and Ms. Nita, all my words were gotten in edge-wise. Fortunately, my brain moves much faster than my mouth. But it's a good thing I wasn't drinking anything or I probably would have sprayed it all over the table laughing.
And then I stopped in to get my hair cut. As I said, haven't done that since Karen's wedding back in January, and it was starting to show.
I don't have very many expectations when it comes to haircuts. I mean, I expect my hair to be shorter when I leave. I expect the ends to be even. That's pretty much it. Back when I used to work at the hotel in Salt Lake, the Westcoast Beauty Supply convention people used to stay with us (and with the other four hotels surrounding the convention center). Some guy was hawking his special scissors and was drumming up models among the staff, and after he said he wouldn't be coloring my hair I jumped on that with both feet - because I really don't care much about how my hair is cut, as long as it's not all split-endy, and a free haircut by someone who theoretically knows what they are doing is a good thing in my book.
So. I go in, they can take me almost right away, great. I sent Jay off to the Gear Exchange to scope out the options based on his list. (He makes lists.)
First warning sign: stylist takes me straight to shampoo sinks, doesn't really scope out how my hair hangs dry.
Second warning sign: she cannot shut up. I don't mind chattiness. I'm cool with it, even. As long as I need not respond. But do not chat at me while you are washing my hair because I CAN'T HEAR over the roar of water in the basin. m'kay?
Third warning: When she asked what I wanted, I told her to chop it back to about jaw length and then do some layers just around my face. Generic directions, they've served me well enough in the past. And seem pretty straightforward to me. But no.
She asked, "Well do you want a half bang?"
WTF is a half bang? "Um," said I, "I'd prefer that the layery bits at the front be no more than about an inch shorter than the rest. Less is generally better." We - me, K2, and K3 have a dread over mullets - someday I'll post some of their baby pictures and my fourth grade picture to explain why.
"Okay well, your hair's in really good condition. What about blah blah blah blah blah?" because I don't know the lingo, it all sounds like blah blah blah to me.
"Um, you know, I just don't really care. I just want it shorter by about an inch and half - two inches with some layers around my face so it's not totally blunt."
"Okay, but what about blah blah blah? Or I could blah blah blahblahblah?"
Sigh. "Look, if you think it will look good, go ahead. Whatever. I really don't care as long as it's not going to require any maintenance."
"So what do you usually do in the morning? Mousse? Blowdry?"
"Shampoo and conditioner. Haven't seen my blowdryer since we moved last summer. Really low maintenance." And maybe that's WHY my hair's in good shape. d'uh.
Finally she shuts up and gets started. I close my eyes. I've found that I like most haircuts much better about a week later, so I don't fuss until then. Practical? No. Do I care? Not much.
I didn't figure I was in trouble until she picked up the curling iron. If there needs to be curl to make the haircut look good, it's probably not the right cut for my hair. My hair's not stick straight. It has decent body for fine hair, waves slighty under right below my cheekbone, slightly out just below my chin, but curl it does not.
So anyway. The cut's not awful. It might even be really cute if the back was about half an inch shorter. Or if the layers (god... she gave me layers...) were a little longer. It will grow.
But I did make sure to buy a hat at the Gear Exchange. And I'm putting off my passport renewal until this grows out... too "not me" to live with the reminder of it for the next ten years.