I got my hair done yesterday.
Velvet was supposed to get his cut while my color was cooking, but we got in a shouting match just as it was time to get ready to walk out the door. It would have been impossible to be in the same room together and remain civil, so I left him at home. I have to be civil when I'm completely annoyed all week long. I'm not doing it on the weekend too.
The dispute itself simply goes with the territory of having a kid who is on the verge of being a grown up but has a ways to go yet. Velvet is doing quite well, all things considered. But it doesn't inspire confidence when I open the refrigerator and find an empty pitcher of lemonade waiting to be magically refilled by the Lemonade Fairy who evidently comes in the night - along with the chocolate chip cookie fairy. Most likely, 80% of all mothers have had a similar experience, my own mother included. Unfortunately, conversations between me and Velvet get heated quickly because we are both prone to holler, "Oh Yeah? Well, Fuck you!"
A new DVD player was at the root of the problem. Ours has given up the ghost. Actually, the ghost was fully gone a couple of months ago. We need a new one for sure, but I wasn't ready to spend the money for a number of logical reasons. For a moment, I felt guilty for depriving my child of a new DVD player because I was spending the money on my hair. That guilt was easy to shake because I turn 50 next week and don't want to be faded and shabby. Fabulous hair trumped a new DVD player - just like groceries and electric bills have been trumping a new DVD player for a couple of months.
Velvet is now wondering when he'll get a hair cut. I wonder if he'll figure out that he needs to email Max the Genius his own damn self and make an appointment. We can only hope. Maybe he'll find the lemonade mix in the cupboard while he's at it.
If Max the Genius worked in a salon instead of his rent controlled third floor walk up in Hells Kitchen, being cordial to Velvet would have been a simple matter because we wouldn't have been near each other. At Max's Velvet would have been watching cartoons a few feet away in the living area while my head was being covered in aluminum foil in the kitchen. Max has a great set up, and he charges substantially less than a salon - at least for dedicated long time clients like me. Max the Genius has started a Beauty Coaching business that has it's own web site: MaxRyanBeauty.com
I like to relax and talk to Max - who is a totally positive individual - when he's doing my hair. As I said already, Velvet had to be ditched because I spend enough time during the week being cordial when I'm thoroughly annoyed. I'd say more about that except the blog spying continues. Being Under Surveillance by Sarah Palin's blog response squad last October was as absurd as the nonworking links they posted in my comment section. I'd link to the post except I deleted it because I mentioned something work related, and upon discovering the blog spy was connected to work, I deleted everything that was remotely work related - even the good stuff. The Palin squad was kind of funny, and my mother was the only one worried about the FBI monitoring my political opinions. The blog spies, on the other hand, are a drag because I censor myself out of fear. Being afraid sucks.
I remind myself that This Too Shall Pass. When you're fifty, so much has come and gone that you can have faith in change for the better. That's why I'm almost serious about turning to friends and neighbors in blogland to form a Search Committee for The Summer Boyfriend. I'm not lacking for admirers at the moment, but while everyone has his good points, Romance isn't happening. Since I haven't done so well looking on my own - perhaps because I'm still seeing red flags everywhere - it occurs to me that someone else should manage this project. Perhaps someone in blogland knows a suitably good natured fellow with a sense of humor. Those Match.com guys didn't have much of a sense of humor, and to be truthful, I wasn't open to Romance this winter even though my hair did look great back then too.
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