I thought I'd lost one glove from my favorite pair. Leopard print, fuzzy, warm. I couldn't find it anywhere. I started a mental list of everywhere I'd been on Saturday so I could start calling places and driving through parking lots looking for it. But it was in my bag the whole time, either hiding, or I only saw one at a time thinking it wasn't the other. I was quite relieved when I pulled both of them out Sunday evening.
Dan took Fern skiing Sunday, it was her first adventure on the slopes. They left before I had to drop off Kevin for his skiing program (different resorts so The Boy wouldn't catch sight of Dad and The Girl and have a meltdown) so I had most of Sunday to myself.
I spent the hour between dropping Kevin off and going to church cleaning out the van. Lawzy, what a mess. Three pairs of socks, three half-pairs of shoes, no less than 14 writing implements, fast-food french fry cartons, fast-food toys, three containers of sun screen, all different strengths (no, the van hadn't properly been cleaned out since summer vacation to the beach), a handful of change, and so on. Sheesh. Now it needs vacuuming. I'm thinking of either hiring a child to do it, or getting my oil changed at a place that will vacuum for me. Should find a coupon for that first, I hate paying full price.
After church, excellent sermon, by the way, I went to the spa/salon to use the gift certificate I won from the radio station in December. Originally I just booked a hair appointment. I specifically asked for someone with a lot of experience working with curly hair. I was given an appointment with Theresa at 2:00. Friday night they called me to confirm the appointment and offered me a facial appointment: one hour for the price of a half-hour, can you come at 12:45? Yes, that would be lovely.
After the facial I'm told Virginia will be right with me. Virginia? What happened to Theresa? I never did find out why there was a switch. Virginia quizzes me, as with any new client, what I want, how I want my hair to look.
I'm not fashion-forward, I'm not glamorous. I want someone to be able to look at me, look at my curly cow-lick-y mess and make it look great. I am also very low maintenance when it comes to hair: wash and go. That's it, no product, no blow-dry, no brush, just wash and go, bye-bye. So I need someone who can make my hair look great with no fuss. I explain this to Virginia and she was a little surprised I didn't have a style in mind except for "short and out of my face," and replies, "OK, that's easy."
As she's cutting, I can tell she's not taking the curls in to account, it's not going to dry well. She wants to cut it long in front of my ears, which, when it dries will look like wings flapping out of my head. I asked her how long she'd been cutting hair and she said two years. At that point I confirmed the feeling I was in the wrong chair. In the end, when the flapping was fixed, the cut wasn't bad, people tell me it looks fine, it's just a lot shorter than I wanted or expected, a lot, and it'll take a long time to grow out so I can do something else with it.
When I paid I was asked how everything was and I reiterated about the stylist switch and I wasn't happy about that. The chick behind the counter told me I could call in a couple days if I wasn't satisfied with the cut. It's not the cut I'm not satisfied with you moron!!!! I said OK, smiled and left. I haven't decided if I'm going to call again and complain. The cut was free, after all, as was most of the facial.
Sunday evening Kevin crashed after skiing and Dan & Fern went to their own super bowl parties so I had more quiet time to myself. I read my new book, Circle of Quilters by Jennifer Chiaverini and not much else. Didn't even turn on the game until the third quarter. Ended up winning $20 in a pool, though. Yay me.
1 year ago