Happiness. It's relative.
The guy who cuts my hair is very young. Forty, maybe fifty years, my junior. When I walked into the salon yesterday, he was sitting, his flowing hair around his shoulder, fanning himself. He had on short shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt and Birkenstocks. The… Continue Reading “Yesterday at the Salon with My Stylist for Life”
When I sat down in the salon chair, I told the young guy who cuts my hair that I needed a haircut that said I was a ‘take charge’ type of person. I told him that my usual haircut with the wispy bangs wouldn’t… Continue Reading “Hair is Us: The Armor of a Great Haircut”
Today I thought about my hair How much I like getting what my daughter calls A bold haircut which I take to mean One unusual for a person of my age And weathered look, the lines in my face Carved by a dozen chisels… Continue Reading “The Luxury of Thinking about Inconsequential Things”
“How big a birthday? You mean you’re turning 85?” My hairdresser…for a slight moment there, I thought I should use a more current term like stylist or whatever and then I quick Googled hairdresser and this is what Wikipedia says: Hairdresser is a term… Continue Reading “The Magic of the Salon”
Recent Comments