I've let my hair grow for, oh, about a year, ever since my long-time stylist retired, and I gotta say I freaking hated the way it looked and the way it was always in my face and how there were Barbara hairs all over everywhere--in food, on tables, in the sinks, clinging to bedding and clothing, on the baby, everywhere. On vacation I'd scrape it back into combs to get it off my forehead and then make an anemic ponytail at the nape of my neck to get the rest of it out of the way. Today I did something about it. I guess I got the ball rolling yesterday when I called Francis and made an appointment and today, this afternoon at 1 o'clock I got a haircut. It isn't as short as it used to be but I like it and I think I look years younger. I'm going back in a few weeks after I've lived with it a bit because I'm not lying, I do not have the hairdo gene. I can wash it and comb it and smear a bit of mousse or gel in it and floof it into shape but that is the sum total of my ability to do hair. I couldn't even coordinate a round brush and hair dryer for this last pageboy style. Guess I'm not a style girl. Not that I mind, really, I just don't like it in my face so when it was long I clipped it back. I'd brush it before I left for work and it'd look okay, well, smooth but by the time I got to the kitchen it'd be all straggly. It got old and I got tired of it and now it's chopped off. Ahhhh. I think I look younger too.
Yesterday a couple came in to buy a few things in the dive shop and the lady told me about the storm that was rolling in from the west. She hurried her husband because she said she was scared. I thought she was being a baby--until I opened the back door of the store. Most of the sky was blue but coming from the west was this line of clouds, like a thick winter blanket, pale gray at the leading edge and dark, dark gray, almost black at the horizon. It rolled in, then the wind kicked up, and it rained. No, that's not right, IT RAINED. Not for long and we didn't have much thunder or lightning at the store, then it slacked off to a drizzle, started up again, slacked off, and then when I was driving across the tallest bridge in the city, it poured. Of course, that's when I was up in the sky on a narrow road with a whole whack of people wanting to hurry home from work. Then I'd agreed to meet my friend, MW, at Harmony Cafe to see if I couldn't help him claw his way out of a knitting dilemma after supper and that's when it poured again. It was raining so hard that there was a van coming down my side of the street on Military Ave. I'm sure he/she turned from Mason St. and just didn't turn far enough. Evidently they didn't slam into anyone because there weren't any sirens from the fire station across from the cafe. But that was one he!! of a rainstorm. It rained off and on all night and then this morning I looked out and the east half of the sky was all thick clouds and the west half of the sky was blue with puffy clouds like nothing bad ever crossed its mind. I'm in favor of a good storm every once in a while; I'd have liked a bit more thunder from that one but it wasn't bad.
Aaron the computer fixit guy says that this laptop is on it's last legs. The problem it's having is a hardware problem that would cost more to fix than the thing is worth so on my way home from my haircut I cruised the electronics stores and brought me home a brand new HP laptop. It has Windows 8.1 of which I am not a fan, but all the back-to-school deals end tomorrow and I got this one for almost $200 less than I'd pay for it on Sunday. It was about a hundred bucks more than I'd planned to spend but I wanted a good one (I asked Aaron for a recommendation when I picked up the Kumquat this morning) and I need time to load in all the programs, transfer my files, and learn how to navigate the danged thing before I pack it up to take to The Clearing THREE WEEKS FROM TOMORROW. Not that I'm looking forward to that or anything.
September 5--James DAquisto, Mandolin. The high, plaintive song of the mandolin bore the strolling musicians around the square. Gina sipper her wine and tried to concentrate on the novel in her hand but there were too many conversations to eavesdrop on and too many people to watch.
And that's when the Sandman came calling and I faded into his arms. Time to find something for supper and then I'm off to Friday Night Knitting. Toodle-oo.