Friday evening ramble

Speaking of small talk, I generally prefer my business transactions (haircuts, spa treatments--because I get so many of those, etc.) without it, much like I prefer my papaya without cat hair, but these are things in life we cannot entirely control. It's not so much that I hate talking to people, although sometimes I don't feel like talking to people--it's like what that woman whose introvert blog was reviewed by Gulliver said--it's that I prefer substantive conversation. So, this morning, I was actually relieved when the guy cutting my hair started dishing.

Now, I have to say that my honeymoon with the Aveda Institute had already come to an end. I knew it was only a matter of time, but I also know that I've had bad experiences at non-Institutes, and I've had more good experiences at AI than at many salons and spas. If I have any issues with AI as far as haircuts go, it's that they're very cautious and err on the side of boring, which is the opposite side from that erred on by everyone else who's ever cut my hair. So this morning I made a point of being very clear that I needed face framing; my hair just doesn't work with out it.

BTW, afterward, the stylist instructor came by and gathered a couple of students around to demonstrate how to work with really curly hair. Then, she said to me that I had beautiful hair and that women paid a fortune to get perms that would do what my hair did naturally. Take that, mom and your accusations of "Hagrid hair." Of course, it may well be, as mom would say, that the instructor was just being polite. "Beautiful" is not a concept I associate with my hair, apart from the color, and that's perhaps because I'm sick of people telling me to get highlights or at least cover the gray. Cover your own gray and get the f* off my back. But I digress.

My haircutter, who is black, had a red mohawk. And an on-again/off-again relationship with an Italian-American man from Brooklyn. Who cheated on him and made fun of him for having taken ritalin as a child. He asked me if I was dating anyone. Keep in mind that the Institute--at least the hair part-- is a big, open space, with a bunch of adjacent hair stations. I gave up a few details of my recent dating history and steered the conversation back to his much more interesting drama.

He also talked about how his suburban friends think he's nuts because he never rode a yellow school bus as a child--in DC, you just take the metro, or, for field trips, a regular chartered bus. One of his friends said, "but there're crazy people in the metro." I said, "there're crazy people everywhere, including on the roads." He concurred.

I left with a pretty decent haircut and some amusing insights. Then I went to the gym for a torturous class. Chris had us do more bicep curls, in a row, than any of us thought humanly possible. Later, he had us do pushups with our feed on the stability ball. Those SUCK.

Anyway, I'd better get ready for dinner. Happy Friday!