baa baa black sheep



9:00 a.m.

I've been so tired lately. Too tired to blog!

This morning I stopped at the grocery store to grab a few things before work. The cashier placed my items in two bags--I had a few single serving cups of Easy Mac (don't judge me), one (1) bagel, and a single serving cup of Yoplait Whips! Chocolate Mousse Style yogurt (and can I just say, I am indebted to you for LIFE, Yoplait, for giving me the AMAZING experience of eating yogurt that tastes like chocolate mousse). The cashier handed me my receipt and as I fumbled to put my change in my wallet, he picked up my two light bags and said, "Can I carry these out to the car for you?" I stared at him blankly. "No, I'm fine." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, it's just two bags."

Apparently overnight I have transformed into a helpless Easy Mac consuming damsel who can't bear to carry the weight of two practically empty plastic bags...all the way to her car!

In other news, did I mention how AMAZING that yogurt was?

Yesterday after work I got a haircut. I'm growing my hair out, but it's been over a year since my last trim. I always feel guilty paying for haircuts, it's true. But my last haircut was a choppy thing with short bangs and it was all, longer in front, shorter in back, so you can only imagine what six inches of growth had done to that style. It was time.

So I made an appointment at a little place downtown. Cute place, my stylist was cute and had a good hairstyle (always a good sign, right?), so I felt comfortable. I told her how I wanted the dead ends trimmed off, and some layers that would grow out well. Good, good. Then she started chatting with me as she washed my hair. It started with the standard "Oh wow your hair is so thick" conversation. Normal, normal. Then things turned a bit.

"So we adopted my dog from the pound and he's really great but boy does he have issues. I mean, he's a mess! And lately I really think I want to adopt a kid because isn't that cool? When people adopt a kid? I think it'd be great, so I keep telling Matt I want to adopt a kid and he's like, 'Come on, honey, we adopted our dog and our DOG has issues, we can't adopt a kid, it'd be so screwed up already!' And I was like 'Oh my god you're so right but what if we adopted a baby?" and he was like, "But the dog was only three months old when we adopted it and it has issues!' and he's totally right. What's your dog's name? Monk? Oh my god that's so funny I mean my dog's name is Isis but we call him Monk or Monkey for short, or Ninny. And I never knew people really named their dog Monk so that is so weird. Isn't that weird? Oh my God, how funny. We always think up weird nicknames and then our friends are like, wait isn't your dog named Isis? And haha, we have to explain Monk is short for it. Isn't that weird?"

By now she had herded me back to the chair, and she combed out my hair. She was quiet, then pulled out the old tried and true conversation starter, "So what are you doing this weekend?" "What? Wait, what day is it?" "Oh, um..." "It's Tuesday, right? I don't know, I hadn't thought about it." "Oh, well, it's a holiday weekend." "Oh? Oh right. Yeah, I don't know, I haven't thought about it at all."

She started trimming.

"Oh, that's okay, I guess we'll just go to the lake or whatever. Or go somewhere. I think maybe we should go somewhere and try to hit up the big sale, you know?" "Mmhm," I replied, although I had no idea what she was referring to. "I really like to shop, oh my god, we should go to Sierra Trading Post this weekend, I have to tell Matt. Do you like it there?" "Um, I don't know, I've never been." "You've never been?" "Um, no, we're not from around here, and haven't gotten around to going there." "Oh, where are you from?" "Missouri." "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, right. Where at in Missouri?" "I'm from south of St. Louis. My fiance's from Kansas City." "Oh, no, so I bet you had to move here because your house was destroyed in the hurricane!"

She looked horrified. I, too, looked horrified.

"Oh, no, no, hurricanes don't really travel that far north inland." "Oh, but I heard on the news how Hurricane Katrina destroyed St. Louis." "No, no, Missouri's in the middle of the country." "Are you sure, I kept hearing how St. Louis was destroyed and all the people had to leave. The city that was destroyed." "Are you thinking of New Orleans?" "No, St. Louis, in Missouri, all the destruction!" "Well, we don't get hit by hurricanes there. Maybe you're thinking of Mississippi." "Ooh, but didn't the hurricane travel up the Mississippi? And go to St. Louis?" "Um, not that I heard. I think they got some thunderstorms and rain, maybe, but not a hurricane." "Oh, well, haha, geography, you know." I felt sort of bad, and laughed. "That's okay, I always used to get Wyoming and Colorado confused on maps." "Oh."

She paused, and then asked in delight, "So, do you notice how much dryer it is here on your hair?" "Yeah, and on my skin." "Oh my god. So like, did you notice that um, oh, you know, when you come to a higher area and you can't breathe as easily and stuff?" "Yeah, we noticed that at first." "Oh, did you hate the winter here? Do you like it here, even though the winters are so bad?" "Um, the winter wasn't bad, it's fine." "Oh. I mean, the weather's not always terrible, even though it's been really crappy lately, all the cold and rain." (It's um, been in the 60's and 70's, and I think the other day when they put out storm warnings, we got something like 1/10 an inch of rain.)

She then asked, "So, what does your husband do?" (People call us husband and wife so much I don't bother to correct them. It doesn't seem to matter.) "He's going to grad school here." "Oh, wow! Wow! Oh my god, what for?" "Um, fiction." "Ohh. Um, what's that again?" "He writes." "Oh, yeah, fiction! I thought it was something to do with novelty!" (I think she meant novels, I'm not sure.) "That's so cool, that he writes. So is he like, all sensitive and romantic and just all sensitive and moody cause he's a writer?" "Umm, he's a pretty normal guy, I'd say." "Oh. That's too bad. I figured all writers were so sensitive." "Oh." "So what do you do?" "Well, I work at the high school, and part time at a gallery downtown. And I'm an artist." She stopped cutting and her eyes opened wide.

"Oh my god, you must be like so busy! So, what do you do in art?" "I paint, mostly." "Oh, so cool, so what do you paint? Like flowers, or babies?" "Um, no. I paint things about my childhood." She squealed a little. "Wow, that is so cool! So I bet you paint toys and use all bright colors! Wow!" "Um, no, not exactly. It's more about monsters you imagine when you're little." "Oh my god, how crazy is that! You must be so creative, who would have thought of something like that?" "Well, thanks." "So what does your husband write? Books about romance or something?" "He writes mostly short stories." "Oh, okay, okay, so what are they like, all tragic, or what?" "No, they're pretty funny." "Oh, that's the best kind!" She looked at me seriously. "So you two are just like, so creative." "I guess." She appeared to be thinking, and then said, "So, is it ever like, he just thinks of something he wants to write and writes it down? Or like, you think of something you want to draw and you just have to stop and draw it down real fast? Does that happen?" "Um, yeah, that happens." "Well oh my god, that is so cool! Wow, so you guys are just so creative."

By now she had fixed my layers, scrunched my hair and dried it a little.

Good haircut. I gave her a good tip, I think. How much is appropriate, anyway? I never know. I'm afraid I would have given her a slightly bigger tip if she hadn't argued that St. Louis was destroyed in the hurricane.


black sheeped


OpenID parkingathome said...

This post was like a train wreck that I couldn't look away from. God. Make the mouth. stop. moving. This is why I cut my own hair, you're just TRAPPED in the chair and you have to talk about "..." the whole time. AH!

12:22 PM, March 25, 2008  

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