hair today

I got a haircut yesterday. 

 I don't really give much attention to my hair.   I just go get it cut every six weeks or so, and yesterday I was well overdue, so I went to the mall.

I walked into the salon and was greeted by the one who would cut my hair.  She had bleached hair with a glob of blue spilling forward from the top of her head.  She had about five tattoos that I could see, and she had body piercing jewelry sticking into and out of various locations of her face.  She also looked like she was about 16 years old.

My first impression did make me ponder the thought of finding a regular stylist and sticking with him or her.  But no, she would do.  She worked at a salon, right?  She graduated from SOMEplace. 

In the end, she did a good enough job.  I could tell that she was a bit of a rookie, but she was pleasant enough and didn't wreck my hair.  I think it was a pretty basic assignment.  Every once in a while, she would make hairstylist conversation, like she would suddenly remember being told to do that while in styling school.   

We actually talked mostly about tattoos.  Turns out that she had only one other one than the ones I could see... if she was to be fully believed. 

As far as what I asked her to do, I guess I would give her a grade of "B".  So I got to thinking, what would MY grade be as a customer?  I looked up a sort of "do's and dont's" for going to the salon and found some belated advice:

 

1.  Schedule a Consultation.    Grade = B

Apparently, we are supposed to schedule a consultation before any actual work begins and "let the stylist see what your hair looks like dry and styled as you typically style it."  Well, I walked in with it looking like it usually does at that time of day.  As I typically style it?   Uh, yeah - it was the windblown look.

2.  Bring Pictures.  Grade = missing.

Nothing more of note to say about that.

3.  Don't Say It, Show It.  Grade = D-

I did exactly what the article said NOT to do.  I said, "Just take 2 inches off of the length and clean up the layers".  Instead, I should have actually taken my hand and karate chopped right where I wanted her to go.  The only reason I didn't totally fail is because, after my wrongdoing, SHE karate chopped and asked if that's where I  meant. 

 

4. Be Careful About Saying, "Do Whatever You Want".  Grade = A

I might actually have been guilty of doing this in the past.   In this case, I probably realized that I could end up with bleached hair and a glob of blue spilling to the front.

5.  Prepare Questions & Listen to Your Stylist.  Grade = C.

These are supposed to be questions like:

• "Do you think my hair can look like this picture?"  
• "How long will this haircut take me to style in the morning?"

I didn't ask anything, but I give myself a C since I had no picture (and already took the F for that), and I already knew that I would just continue to let the universe style my hair in the morning. 

6.  Pick the Right Stylist.  Grade = C-

Apparently there are stylists who "specialize" with things like curly vs. straight,  "funky" vs. conventional, dyed vs. undyed, straightened, etc.  Who knew?  My selection process is a.k.a. "next available person with scissors".

7.  Tip Appropriately or Beware Your Next Haircut.  Grade = A

Despite my cluelessness, I think I left her a good tip. 

And now, I'll be ready for next time.  I bet my hair will still end up looking the same, though.
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The Missing

... a graphic interpretation (based on actual events)

Last week, Chaco had just returned from one of his rip-roaring LAN parties when...

THE  NEXT  DAY...

Just goes to show... sometimes the best solution to a problem IS a

1 - 2 punch. 

I charged him a finders fee. 

He didn't pay it.



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take a hike!

Our Memorial Day was pretty pleasant.  I actually had one tutor session early in the day, but I was back home before a couple of  the slugs were even out of bed.  We kicked the bums out and told them to take a hike!

rocks and trees and stuff

So they did.


We went to a place we'd not yet been.  It was very pretty, reminding me of photos I've seen of the boonies of Ireland and Scotland.  It was a bit crowded with others having the same idea, but not so much as to not feel like a getaway.




Coaxing Wolfgang out of his camera shyness

Plus it was a perfect day for it weather-wise.  We honed our poison ivy detection skills, and whetted our appetite for the good feral camping to come. 


I took it easy on the foot, and didn't go all parkour on the rocks.  Plus there was a nice stream for cooling the tootsies. 





The imaginary family, suitable for coworkers

Magnum wanted a new family photo for the office.  I'm not sure what he's got there now, but it's probably back from the days when I was the second tallest member of the family.


The truth - putting the "fun" in dysfunction

Memorial Day

My very first memory is of my grandmother (sorry Mom, Dad).  I was probably around two years old at the time, and I vividly remember going out back of her apartment to throw out the trash. 

I know.  Pretty special.

I read somewhere that our earliest memories are probably remembered because they involved some sort of heightened emotion or trauma.  In my case, I think the reason I remember going on that trash walk with Grandma is that I was very new to walking.  So walking in a gravel ridden alley was, at the time, practically analgous to summitting Mt. Everest.

I remember the anxiety I had, trying to navigate ALL the way to the trash dumpsters over that rocky wasteland of an alley.  I somehow knew, in my still-forming brain, that I needed to walk because Grandma couldn't carry me.  Her arms were busy with the trash. 

Also very vivid in my memory was the comforting feeling that, throughout this precarious trek, Grandma was at my side and would remain.  I realize now that it must have been a painstakingly slow process for her, but she never left my side and I never worried that she would. 

In the years that followed, my grandmother remained a major part of my life.  Her apartment was my home away from home, and I was there several days a week during the summers.  I'd sometimes bring friends over with me, and she welcomed everyone with her same cheerfulness.

She encouraged my art hobby, she encouraged my schoolwork, she encouraged my participation in sports, she encouraged... me. 

When I was 15, she died. 

It wasn't unexpected, her time had come.  We certainly missed her, but life went on. 

Today is Memorial Day.  CiCi reminded me that it's not just about those who have died in service of our country, but also a day to remember all loved ones who have inspired us and passed.  And besides, Grandma did serve.  She raised my dad who went on to serve in WWII, which is how he met my mom...

So, for this Memorial Day, I think of Grandma.  My first memory, and many others. 
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Silver Liningness Sunday

With it being Memorial Day weekend, it's the unofficial kick-off to summer.  I know the mood around here got a little lighter with the school year coming to an end on Friday. 

A couple of my tutor students are taking a break from summer tutoring, but want me to hold their spots to start up again in the fall.  I like the idea of cutting back my hours in summer, and it's nice to have them lined up already for next year. 

One of the summer break students - the girl with the awesome fishtank - had troubles keeping her work (and thinking!) organized, and her grades reflected that.  She pulled things up by the end and told me that her math teacher now accused her of getting her homework solutions off of the internet because they're so detailed.  HA!  I think that's one of the best feedback comments I've gotten. 

No respect, but oh well.

The foot, she is still not working so good.  I'm still not running, and I'm starting to have running dreams.  But it's made me thankful for what I CAN do.  I can ride the bike and walk without too much of an old lady shuffle.  Then there's my boxing toys...

Plus, I think the foot is starting to feel a little better.  A couple more weeks?  Maybe?



So I'm looking forward to summer daze.  We've got a little road trip planned along with Denver Comic Con(!!).  Other than that, no major plans, but I know it's all good!
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Faded

This week's Illustration Friday prompt is "faded".  When I saw it, I sat here at my desk pondering what to make of it.  I looked over and saw my little note card I keep, my to-do list for the day.  One of the items is "Wolfgang shoes" as he mentioned that he needs some.

Ya think?

ending with (nearly) a bang

Today was the last day of school.  It should be a generally happy time, but instead had a little too much drama for my taste.

I was at the crosswalk waiting for the happy kids when a teenaged girl approached from across the street.  Most people older than elementary kids don't prefer to be escorted across the street by an elementary school crossing guard, so when a citizen comes through, I just get out of their way and watch out for bad drivers.

I kind of know this girl.  She is the younger sister of one of Wolfgang's friends and I see her after school on occassion.  She hit the button to cross and I saw this Ford Explorer approaching at lightning speed.  I started sending brainwaves to the Explorer driver that he'd better &%^! slow down.  Miraculously he did, in time to stop for the crosswalk.

I'd been so intent on the Ford, that I missed the Honda CRV that nearly blasted through the red light from the other direction.  It wasn't until I heard him apoligizing profusely to the teenaged girl that I realized what had happened. 

She just walked across the street, a little red faced.  I think she was actually embarrassed - it was afternoon traffic time -  and that made me feel even worse that I hadn't noticed his approach. 

Then the elementary school kids started arriving.  They all looked a little tired, toting their full backpacks.  Summer is a fun time, but saying good-bye to teachers and good friends is a little emotionally draining for them. 

One girl, sweet Belle,  was actually sobbing.  I asked if she was sad because it was the last day, and she told me that she'd just said good-bye to a good friend who was moving away.  She doesn't expect to ever see that friend again. 

She was holding a little box, a gift from her friend. 










The traffic continued to be worse than usual and was getting on my nerves.  Then my fellow Outsider, Dee, pulled into the road.  Dee drives a big honkin' pick-up truck.  She pulled that truck right out in front of some guy in an SUV that was barrelling down the road.  He slowed down, but then went by her.  As he did so, Dee yelled, "SCHOOL ZONE!!" at him. 



Good old Dee.  I know it was all she could do to not say, &*#$-ing SCHOOL ZONE, YOU %^*&<>!!"

Shortly after that, I left for home and called it a school year.  I would have preferred ending on a better note, but I suppose it could have been worse.  Plus, there's always next  year...
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