I know, this isn't the post you were waiting for as I hereby break my month-long silence. Lotta stuff going on, that's all. But then - and we've talked about this before - you take a little break for one reason or another and it's so hard to get back in the groove, because why post at all if it's not going to be about something significant, and as time wears on the bar inches higher. So I'm instead going to abide by one of my life rules that has served me reasonably well: Keep Expectations Low. (See how I put the "reasonably" in there? The rule in action!)
So what's new?
1. We are having a plethora of rainbows today!
2. Because of the holiday yesterday, today is Donut Day! There is someone who always gets to the donuts before me, who has been cutting the best donut (raised glazed) in half and leaving half. The Dieting Donut Dissector! I have been loving the DDD, because I feel like by taking the remaining half I am doing a public service by preventing staleness but also feel like I am getting a whole serving, but it is only half the usual guilt!
In the beginning of January, though, DDD started cutting only about a third of the donut out...leaving two thirds. This was awkward, but manageable. I couldn't very well continue to take my usual half, leaving 1/6 of a donut on the tray - that's like leaving a couple of bites. Not cool. So I have to either cut the remainder into halves and take a donut third, leaving a third to turn stale even quicker, or simply take all 2/3 of the donut. You can imagine what I chose. What with work and all, I've stopped exercising in any regular way, and, let's just say, you can tell.
Recently, DDD showed even further restraint, and began taking just a quarter donut. Having increased my own consumption from a half to two thirds, it was natural that I seized upon the 3/4 donut as Mine! But there's no virtue in taking 3/4 of a donut, so my pleasure is substantially reduced. It's really a net loss.
Can you see where this is heading? Today the DDD literally cut out and removed just a bite of the best donut. A tray full of variety sprinkles, coconuts, cinnamon sugars, chocolate dipped...and 7/8 of a raised glazed with drying edges.
Which makes me want to say, Come on, man, we had a deal. You take half, I take half. You take a little less than half, I do my best for the cause. Now you take a bite and I have to be the jerk who leaves 3/8 of a donut on the tray? What would you do in this situation?
3. Have you heard about my haircut? There's a topic we can sink our teeth into!
I cut my hair somewhat less frequently than I go to the dentist, but more frequently than I go to the doctor. I think it's been about two years. After Ace begged me to get a Real Haircut from a Real Salon for my birthday in September, I hied me over to Yelp - and spent hours weeding out all the reviews from Asians (different hair needs) and was left with very few data points. I asked friends with good hair. I cut pictures out of InStyle. I signed up to be a Hair Model at Edge and waited by the phone. I pored over the archives at Hair Thursday.
At Christmas I finally got around to following up on a recommendation from a co-worker whose hair has been looking pretty great over the last year or so. Mine was dragging me down. Long. Droopy. Ragged rather than wavy. Anyway, I went to this salon where the lady freelanced, and she was...fine. The haircut wasn't bad - she cut long layers into it so the wiggles in my hair look like curls that are meant to be there rather than just a failure to blow-dry out the messiness. Picture Rachel Geller's before she got The Rachel. Ace agreed that maybe it didn't look particularly glamorous, but said that at least it looked like a Haircut.
So I have no complaints about the stylist - hairwise. Here's the thing - she is a recently-immigrated middle aged woman with mediocre English, challenging pronunciation and few shared cultural reference points who went freelance only recently but maybe didn't have the book of business she thought she did and is now clearly trying to rally a loyal following, and she oohed and enthused over my hair! my long, wavy, light brown hair! to a degree that was a little overwhelming. Don't get me wrong, I like the idea of being fussed over but her fussing just had an air of desperation, making me feel less like she uniquely could see my inner beauty and was determined to bring it out and more like she was just buttering me up. It was a stressful hour.
This doesn't make me excited to go back. And maybe the reason I get a haircut so seldom is because I have yet to have a fulfilling relationship with a hairdresser. It's always strictly a business transaction. You know, gesture at some pictures, read a magazine, look up, cry, pay, tip sheepishly while apologizing for the crying, go home.
You know what I want? I want a hairdresser who says, "OMG! Look at this MOP on your head! Sweetheart, your hair needs some CPR. Look at your eyes! We need to draw some attention to these eyes!! Why are you hiding these cheekbones, honey? You know what would look so good with your cheekbones? You just sit back and let me bring out the gorgeous. You know what you have, you have Jennifer Aniston hair! Can you believe Jon Mayer? Srsly, good riddance to Brad if you ask me. OMG, are you seriously wearing White Musk right now?" Someone who will flutter around and make me feel like a million bucks for $80.
Okay, fine, I want a homosexual. Is that homophobic? Or homophilic? Maybe I should clarify that I don't precisely want a hairstylist because he likes dudes, but rather that I am seeking a certain set of personality characteristics. And of course for him to have hair talent. There was just such a hairstylist at the salon shared by Madame X. He was cooing over and gossiping up a storm with his client and I looked at them longingly. But I can't just go to the salon one day and hope that she is busy and he is not. The salon is like a freelance workspace where the stylists rent their stations but have all their own clients. You make appointments via their personal cell phones.
What to do, what to do. Perhaps I was taking the wrong route by focusing my research on the hair angle. I thought about asking my neighbors whether they "knew any hair stylists." But I have a hunch they'd take it the wrong way, besides which, they don't seem like they would know any hair stylists. I considered asking another friend who, while also not the type in question, seems like he'd be a little more up on the Scene and in the past has been a straight (ha ha) shooter about, you know, at which clubs in the Castro girls are welcomed/tolerated/discouraged, that sort of thing, and would probably not get his nose out of joint from my wishful stereotyping. But he's moved away.
So I am adrift. On a sea of wavy hair.
4. I'm about to start traveling for almost three solid weeks. I'm pretty excited that I am so deeply involved with work at the mo, what with the economy and all, but I'm also looking forward to checking in on some of my favorite ladies, one of whom I haven't seen in, gosh, three years? She's a trapeze artist/salsa dancer/world traveler who keeps her independence as a freelance software developer. She cannot be contained. When you ask her where she is from, she says "Manhattan." Actually, she says, "Manha-N." She is the New Yorkiest person I know, and she is going to go country and hike around the Appalachian Trail with me this weekend! I wonder if she owns boots. We have one of those relationships where, as long as I've known her (college, freshman year), I've done all the pursuing, and I don't mind a bit.