Posts filed under Life

Wedding Hairstyling

What I love about wedding hairstyling, is that you get to meet wonderful people, and be a part of a day that is to be remembered for a long, long time. I consider it to be an honor to be a part of the day, but to help the bride find a wedding hairstyle that will bring out her regality, and compliment her dress and theme for her wedding.

I loved Lindsay from the moment I met her, Ease, Grace, and Kindness, are words I would use to describe her.  I think she looked just beautiful!

Lindsay 1

Lindsay 2

Lindsay2 Lindsay4

Chop Wood, Carry Water

I’ve been under a bit of unusual stress the last three weeks, I would have been better off taking time to assimilate life’s latest serving of chewy bits.  But life goes on, and as a Buddhists have said, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”  Cutting hair, even though a family member may have been on her death bed, seemed odd.

And yet, my clients were there for me. At first, I did not think I could work.  The salon environment, albeit quieter than usual that day felt too overwhelming.  I had no intention of laying it out for everybody, nor did I need to become maudlin, or ignore my reality.  At times, I felt as though I walked a tight rope.  On one side was my life, on the other, my profession, and when I engaged in conversation about myself, I began to falter, and the net below swung in all directions.

At home I placed a platic bag on a hot burner, walked in three directions at once, not remembering what I was doing. At work, during a weave, I turned my clients hair a pale violet in a few packets.  The flashing light inside strobed, sending a warning to refocus, and bring the conversation back to the client.

My family member felt better today, we all could sigh with relief. The road to healing is still long, and perhaps even questionable.  Meanwhile, I am grateful for my life, and for my clients who continue to awe me in their respect, concern, and kind words.

Posted on July 29, 2008 and filed under hairstylist, inspiration, Life, Salon Life, writing.

Unsolicited Hair Stories

I can pretty much guarantee you, the moment I let someone know I am a hairdresser, that I will inevitably hear a hair story.  But the one I heard the other day, came unsolicited.  I was at the hospital with my sister waiting long hours while she healed at an imperceptiblespeed.  During the day, I had made runs out to the nurses station for various requests, i.e., water, cotton swabs for the mouth, robe change, etc.  The last run out to the nurses station was complicated for me.  I was looking for a sign that it was okay to leave, and that my sister would be in good hands if I left.  The nurse Becky, upon seeing my awkward attempt at having her absolve my guilt, said, "No problem!  We will take care of her. In fact, we will check on her more since you are leaving." I said, "Oh good. I have got a 5 year old I need to take care of at home." 

"Oh, no.  She doesn't need you."  You know, when I was five, I cut my hair and stuffed it in my father's shoe, thinking he would never find it there." 

"Really?"  I asked.  "Did you know I was a hairdresser?"

She went on to tell me her father found the hair, and they did cut the rest of her hair off.  (I would have liked to have seen how that story played out)

It seems to be a theme. Because when I returned home, I slept most of the night, and although it was hard to get up in the morning, I was excited to spend the day with my family.  We get to the park where a July 4th party is in full swing, put on by the city of El Cerrito, and I run into a friend, who's daughter I get to finally meet.  The girl is beautiful, and her hair is cut as short as mine is now. My friend says, "She took the scissors to it yesterday," as she motioned at the front of her daughter's hair.  "We cut the rest of it to match."  Her daughter covered her head in embarassment.

I guess I better keep scissors out of hand's reach of my five year old.

Posted on July 5, 2008 and filed under Family, hair, hairstylist, Life.

Hair Salon Personnel Change

Savanna, my anchor and colleague, is leaving the salon.  Her last day will be June 17, and it will be a sad day for me, although I am terribly excited for her.  Her, and her husband Jeff, are heading to the UK, where he is from, and where she has spent time. Her father is English as well.  Savanna is a talented hairdresser, who is down to earth, unpretentious, and somebody you want to know forever.  Her hair designs are creative, detailed, and daring.  Her bobs are perfect, her one lengths impeccable, and her short haircuts are original and well suited for the hair texture and the facial features of her clients.  And, she is a beautiful, genuine, gentle, and funny, and kind soul.

Then there is the way she dresses.  Vintage most of the time with a Savanna twist.  She will not wear makeup, if she doesn't feel like it.  She is regal, yet funky.  She is grounded and steady.  She changes her hair more than any hairdresser I've known.

Her presence in the salon will be missed by a lot of people.  Her level of care for her clients from the moment they show up, until the time they walk out of the salon, is superior.  She takes care of their hair, describing it to them at length to them, informing them of things they have never known.  I have never heard the cuticle of the hair be so interesting before.

Savanna's future will be fascinating.  She plans to go to design school, with an industrial focus.  She was already a painter before she studied hairdressing at the Paul Mitchell school in San Francisco.  Savanna and Jeff dined at our place the other nite, and as usual, there was lots of laughter, good food, and stories.  In true Savanna style, she walked in with a wet painting to which she had just applied the finishing touches.  It was an oil portrait of me, with my latest haircut and color.  I think she captured a lightness of being, that I will treasure for all time.

Thank you Savanna for your artistry, professionalism, care for people, your beauty-inside and out, and your dear friendship.  You are an inspiration to me, and words cannot define the deep level of respect I have for you.  And even though I shall miss you, I am proud of you for taking this leap.  I will see you in the UK.

Posted on June 2, 2008 and filed under Beauty, Creativity, Friendship, hairstylist, Inner Beauty, inspiration, Life, Love, Salon Life.

Touching My Clients

It's a business deal.  In exchange for money, I touch the heads, necks, and shoulders of my clients.  People surrender to me, some in a slow, steady manner, like a door inching its open.  Some jump right in, like two slaps of the hand from a Flamenco dancer.  And, finally, some clients have a unpredictable time in the chair.  However they decide to show up, whether conscious or not, it's an intimate dance in the mirror. There we are, sometimes strangers, looking for ways in which we can connect, searching for the similarities.  I comb, shampoo, run my fingers through their hair.  I tug, pull, stretch, this way and that.  I imagine who they might have been as a kid, I wonder at their particular wiring.  How did they get to where they are?  All the while, learning a great deal about myself, and them.  My caresses continue to relax or repel them.  The expectation is high for that hour.

And in the end, I am paid, in more ways than are countable.  And they leave, with maybe a bit more skip in their step.

Posted on May 15, 2008 and filed under Hairstyling, Life.

Relationships and Break Ups

Oooh!  Time got away from me this week.  As I reflect back on the week, it seems like the predominant theme was break ups.  People are stressed about what is going on in the economy, the war in Iraq, the housing market, and relationship.  I felt helpless to say anything that would make a difference, yet when there is only the two of you, the client and the hairstylist, there is a discomfort sometimes in sitting with what is. One client was married for years, and assumed that meant that they would be together forever.  Apparently not.  My client is the one that needs to move out, find a job, because she is the entrepreneur in the family.  Her whole life will now change, because the other sees no way, but out.   My client had stripped the beautiful peacock colors, and the deep red base from her hair, leaving a pale peach color.  She felt she needed to look more conservative to look for a job.  I couldn't help but feel, she needed to retreat from the world,  she wanted to fade into the background and not be noticed.  I felt sad.

I cut her hair, and occasionally I would ask a question, but there was nothing to say.  My client was devastated, and a bit numb, like it was hard to access feeling around it.  And then I realized, we never really did talk about her wife, except to say how wonderful, and talented she was.  But no guts.  I knew one side of my clients life, the side that she presented to me, and the rest was barracaded, no entry allowed.  And it's not my job to pry.

I said some awkward something, that sounded like keep your chin up.  Uggh!  I felt terrible. I was uncomfortable.

Then, a stylist is in the break room sobbing, because she is breaking up with her guy.  I was moved by her ability to emote, and just let the feelings be there.  And all I did, was ask what's up?  You look down. That's all it took, and the tears came flowing down.  I felt relieved, and I thought back to my client, and hoped that sometime, somewhere, she would let herself cry the tears that need to be shed.

Through the evening, when the day was done, and the unusual warm night touched my skin, the salon is a place where hair is cut and colored, beauty is tended to, and yet we all walk in with our history, our stories, and our humanity.  By interacting, interfacing, we touch each others lives, no matter how we are feeling about it.  And try as we might to have it be about the hair, sometimes the stuff underneath needs to be experienced, and dealt with in the most delicate way.

 

Posted on April 12, 2008 and filed under hairstylist, Life, Salon Life.

Delfina Piretti

juchitan_market_place1.jpgyoga-edit.jpgdelfina-na-marcilena-edit.jpgShe is one of the most lovely, beautiful, talented people I know, and she is a client.  When she sits in my chair, I know I am in for a rich time.  She is an artist, and just returned from Xuahaca, Mexico, and other small towns, like Juchitan. She loved it, walking the streets, going to local markets, and seeing how the women dressed.  The land is barren, and yet the women wear the colors of a rainbow.  You won't see them wearing jeans and tennis shoes, but rather, embroidered dresses, ribbons and flowers in their hair.  And if they are feeling down, they will be sure to dress in the brightest colors.  And, as only traveling to another country can do, she was led inward to her own soul.  Delfina offered, ""Chronicles of travels through the Isthmus of Tehuantepec (which Juchitan is a part of) inevitably speak of fascination. Oddly enough, however, rather than express their wonder at the place, the architecture or the natural surroundings, chroniclers confess to having fallen irremediably under the seductive spell of the women." (La Tehuana /Artes de Mexico)

Juchitan is known for being a place where the woman are a cultural phenomenon in and of themselves, with their bodies, their clothing, their community rites and everyday activities, they create an environment, and rhythm of life that is unique to it. They are mythical in the most classical sense of the word, because their worldly existence and living rituals sustain and reproduce that myth. Thought these women are clearly Mestizas, the mythic voyage toward the Tehuana is a voyage to the roots,to the origins. An awed leap not only into the cultural wellspring constituted by the idea of Mexico, but to the buried mythic foundations of culture where matriarchy was apparently the rule. 

When i asked Na Marcelina about this she said it shouldn't be misunderstood that the women 'rule' the men. It's a place where the women are equal to the men, and mostly hold the position as the  primary  breadwinner.  When i asked Na Marcelina about this she said, 'It shouldn't be misunderstood that the women 'rule' the men. It's a place where the women are equal to the men, and mostly hold the position as the primary  breadwinner.'"

The land, the color, the people, the conversation, hearing another language, eating the food, all of it stimulating the mind, the psyche, and remembering what has happened before, and seeing, for brief moments, what the future holds.  Delfina is an artist, and is open to what life brings her, and is not afraid to go after what she wants.  By being open, she was led to an 78 year old Shamana, a wrinkled-faced woman with eyes full of life. She gave a healing, and repeated several times, ""you are the architect of your life".  She then fed her soup, and shared her own story, and gave her a healing.  The "session" lasted four hours and left Delfina changed.

Delfina added, "I needed to hear this for my own healing.  In shamanic tradition they teach that we co-create the universe.  For women it is important to feel empowered to realize our dreams against all odds. This is my wish this for all people. In my work as an expressive arts therapist, I use many mediums to assist in healing and finding greater ease and clarity on the journey called life."

Changes can be hard, and painful, and not to be taken lightly.  Delfina is brilliant at being right where she is, and feeling.  By telling me her story, I feel changed and open, and was reminded, our soul takes us on a trip we can't always understand.  Somehow though, I believe we are led to what we need and ultimately desire.  Upon returning home, and feeling a bit blue, and getting a haircut, she said, "Maybe I will go get a flower and put it in my hair."

Thank you Delfina.

To see some of Delfina's art, check out :  www.delfinapiretti.com/painting.html

Inmates in Beauty School

I read in the Boston Herald an article about inmates doing time in beauty school.  http://news.bostonherald.com/news/regional/general/view.bg?articleid=1080673&srvc=home&position=5.  I have to say that I was shocked, and dismayed at the level of vehemence and intolerance that this article activated for people.  Inmate issues are all of our issues.  We do have a responsibility to create functioning human beings that come out of prisons.  To continue to have disregard for humanity and dignity of all people, troubled or not, is the crime.  We cannot continue to put people behind bars, build more prisons(which puts money in the hands of wealthy developers), and give them no way to support themselves when they come out. I say kudos to the inmates for wanting to better themselves, to the woman who trained them, and to the facility for being forward thinking, in what seems a very narrow sighted community.  

The fact that these inmates took to hairdressing, is a sign that something was sparked inside of them.  What better situation could we provide,  but an environment to help connect them to their own creative expression.  Helping people to develop skills in communication, caring for others, job training, and creativity seems our duty. 

Creative expression, in whatever form, is essential to all living beings, and to not have it, foster it, has dire consequences.  I was simply delighted to read this article.

Posted on March 17, 2008 and filed under Creativity, inspiration, Life, Politics, self-expression.

A Salon

Today is the day.  I have gathered some writers for an evening of wine, cheese and crackers, and words, in the salon where I work.  It's happening.  I can't believe it.  I am moved by the amount of support I have in my life, and a lot of that support is from my clients.  How can I thank them?   How can I let them know that without them, I don't know where I would be?  Their love and loyalty has helped to heal a broken soul.  I have come out the other side, resilient, passionate, and a great deal more self-confident. Self-confident enough, that I will share my pages with them, and let them see what goes on this heart of mine.  I will share my short comings, my thoughts about standing behind the chair, my feelings as I am doing so.  I hope for their hearts to be touched by my story, to tap into the universal story.

What compels me to do these things.   I'm not sure.  But I do know it is what I am here to do.  To create a salon has been one of my deepest desires for a very long time.  And to realize my writing life does not have to be seperate from hair, seems the ultimate synthesesis.  I don't have to run from hair to find myself.

Thank you to my loyal partner, friends, clients, coworkers, and SGI community.

Posted on February 28, 2008 and filed under hairstylist, inspiration, Life, Love, Loyalty, Salon Life, self-expression.

Barbie

Okay, I've been avoiding telling you this. But admission has to do with beauty, in some twisted way. On Sunday, my daughter had her fifth birthday party. All was well, her three friends, her Nana and Bapa, her nanny and her two kids, all came to celebrate her day. Her auntie came as well. Well, this auntie had different values, and struggles to keep in alignment with her values. Who am I kidding, we all do. But there is a way, she resists my boundaries with my own child. She has been wanting, and lamenting, that I do not want her to take my daughter to a Princess Ice Show. She says in front of the group, something like, "I've been thinking about this, and I think you need to not make this a big deal." Okay. I should mention, she has a masters in social work.

So, we have the cake, and then the gifts. I have to admit this makes me uncomfortable, and feel out of control. We all watched as my daughter, painstakingly so, unwrap her gifts, legs crossed and all. She is not a ripper, she, with care and ease, removes the tape, and so on. You get the picture.

She gets to the bag my sister gave her. It is full of individually wrapped gifts, excess is what she knows. First, there is a four strand bracelet, chunky in style. Then, a necklace, a jewelry box, a large floral print shirt that cinches in at the waist, with a three-inch-in-diameter sparkling, rhinestone ring, right underneath a bra line, is she had one. For a grand finale, a Barbie.

She unwrapped it, and, of course, she hadn't seen one before, as far as I know. She exclaimed, "Barbie!", like she was a long, lost friend. She wanted to open the box then, and there. I whisked it out of her hand so quickly, and said "Later, we have guests now."

I wanted to cry, die, and pummel my sister. I felt betrayed, and like her actions were passive aggressive. I couldn't even look at this Barbie. I flung it high up into the closet. The gifts felt like they were for a woman, not a FIVE years old. Not my five year old.

I did cry. I talked to clients at work. My grounded older clients said, don't sweat it. Let her have them. There is no harm done. The more you resist, the more your daughter will want them.

My partner said he overheard our daughter playing in her room. She was sitting on the bed, looking at her valentines from school. Of course, there were a few Princess theme valentines. She told them, "You know, my mama doesn't like you."

I laughed, and then I felt sad. I can't get nothing by her. She is tuned into me, more than anybody I know.

I came home from work on Monday, and pulled the exiled Barbie down out of the closet, and gave it to her. It is disgusting for me to look at, nothing real about her. My daughter is playing with it a bit, she complains that the plastic shoes come off too easily.

This is worth a therapy session I am sure. But for now Barbie has made her way into my home and I am bereft. and still digesting it all.

Posted on February 20, 2008 and filed under boundaries, Family, Life, Love.

Yesterday

Pressure mounts as I try to meet writing deadlines.  My current article seems more difficult to write than others.  Being with clients is a great counter point to writing.  Working with my hands, feeling the hair, studying hairlines, discerning differences between tones in the hair.  My fingers move, as if it's all been mapped out before.  They know just what to do.

Each client is so different.  My last one yesterday is a bit quirky, funny and down to earth.  We laughed about the round brush that felt tortuous to her the first time she sat in my chair.   She kept pulling away, really, as if I was pulling hair right out of her head.   As I was drying her hair yesterday, she said, "Are you sure that is not that brush?" 

I giggled, "No, it's not."  I pulled every brush out of my box, and sure enough, we spotted the bad brush.  Her eyes grew to the size of golf balls, "That's it!"  She shrieked. 

"I knew you would recognize it."  She is a photographer.  In fact, we are going to trade a headshot of myself for the website and my blog (I dislike the current one), for her haircut and color yesterday. 

She said, "Why don't we take a picture of the brush, in different settings."  So, don't be surprised if you see a series of photos posted soon, entitled, "The Hair Brush." 

I was at a party the other night.  It was the birthday of a fellow writer's husband.  Our other fellow writer was there and is currently going through chemo.  She has breast cancer.  She is a lovely woman to talk to, and a talented writer.  With our backs leaned against the wall, she said, "Now that I've lost my hair, I find myself staring at people and imagining what they would look like bald."  Hair is one of the most definitive features on our body, and if we didn't have it, how vulnerable is that?

Posted on February 12, 2008 and filed under Cancer, Hairstyling, Life, Salon Life.

Balancing Life

I've got a lot of questions today. The balance of writing, working behind the chair, daughter time and partner  time, let alone time for myself is one that is fit for the finest circus.  I mean and I love everything I'm doing.  Is the doing about the doing though?   What would it be like to not do for a change, or are doers always fantasizing about the possibility of not doing?  Is the doing a cover up, for fear nothing will happen?    Some would say, "Get yourself to a therapist, quick."  But I feel done with that for now.

I heard, while traveling in India for six months, years ago, "whatever you are here to do, will be done through you, whether you are consciously working on it or not." 

So does it happen unconsciously?  Is it magic?  Does it happen while I sleep?  A simple guided tour map of our life handed to us as we slipped into the world, would be helpful.  We wouldn't have to know all the details, that would be dull and boring.  But if we knew that we would be doing exactly what we are to do this life, we could relax.  Take a vacation, read a book with our feet up on the sofa, take more walks and breathe in more fresh air, snuggle with our lover, play with our kids.

So, do you think hearing that from the teacher has helped any?  I mean, I'm supposed to know it, right?  But I do what I do, what I think I'm supposed to do, creating my own reality, full of it's limitations, every minute.  Am I running from something, or to something?  If I stop long enough, I can see I am still with me.

How can I stop, when there is so much to do.  So many things in life I have yet to experience.  I want to do hair the rest of my life and do it well, masterfully.  Maybe I don't need to stand behind the chair 4/7.  I want to travel to Baja, with my family and see the whales birth, and visit the Rodin museum in Paris, visit Africa and look into the eyes of a gorilla, and smell the earth, visit my mentor in Japan and see the cherry trees in bloom.  I want to experience having a real conversation with my mother, without her talking over me, I want to meet with teams of highly creative people, talk to them, create together.  I want to finish my book, I want to...the list is long.  How can one stop?

I will continue to do because I have to.  A life not verging on insanity will have to come some other time. 

Posted on February 8, 2008 and filed under Dreams, Family, Friendship, inspiration, Life, Love, writing.

Gloria Heads

When I lay in bed the other day, sick with the flu, my five year old daughter brought a stack of books in to read to me.  When she was done with that, she brought in her "Gloria" head.  These are the heads we learned cutting on in beauty school.  She brought brushes, combs, clips and ribbons.  She climbed up and proceeded to give a class.  "You hold the hair like this, take this piece and move it over here.  Put a clip here." etc.  She said, "I amSavanna."   She has watched many Bumble and  Bumble classes at the salon, with Savanna teaching.  She has the mannerisms, language and dexterity of a true teacher.  She is sure of herself and gives clear instruction. 

In my flu stupor, I told her so.  I have to say, I felt better afterwards.

Posted on February 4, 2008 and filed under Family, Hairstyling, Life, Love.

Called In Sick

Late Monday afternoon, while at the salon, in the back of my throat I felt that, you know, that little tickle, and my energy began to drain right out my feet.  I was suspicious, so I took five Immune capsules, which have helped me in the past, avoid all preschool bugs.  I barely ate, and went to bad, only to wake up feeling zonked.  All I could do was sleep, and managed to get one post out, but forget the trillion other things I had to do. Then Wednesday came.  I knew I had a full day at the salon, and just the night before talked it over with the receptionist.  "Yes, I will be there."  You have to know something about me.  My ability to see my situation clearly when it involves my best interest, is not my strong point.  I knew I was flat on my back and would not be able to do my work well, not to mention, be contagious.  It took my daughter yelling out a startling cry as she threw up on herself, for me to say to myself, "You are not going to work today."  And I am glad I came to my senses.

Sure enough, clients were gracious and rescheduled, and the staff at work was helpful.  I'm still dragging today, but will go in tomorrow.  See how I am?  But I've got a full day, and a class to teach in the evening.  I've got to show up, even though, the occasional shiver that runs up my body makes me want to run for the covers.

Would this be considered strong work ethics and loyalty to my clients, or just plain crazy?

Posted on January 17, 2008 and filed under boundaries, Life, Loyalty.

Feeling Poor and Ugly

Because of the way she carries herself, unafraid of who she is, unafraid of looking different, my client Francois is somebody I loved the minute I met her.   Always giving a yes to my ideas for her hair, after-all there is always a chance we shall land upon something better.

"A big girl" she calls herself, as if to saythe sensuality that oozes from every cell of her body, or the way her nose turns up, and her green eyes flirt, she will not get what she wants.

Artistry is the fiber from which she is made, generosity abounds beyond her ability at times and most people's capability, and yet where both are concerned she is an expert.

As she said to our friend, "It's one thing to be poor, but another to be ugly and poor."  Feeling the pinch financially, having the appointment set, but not knowing if she would be able to do it.  I bow to you Francois, and for me and your good friend to give to you your hair services because money is short...is nothing short of an honor.

I can only say, our ties go way beyond the confines of time and space.  We must help each other, and together is easier, even though individually we may hurt in our own particular ways.

Because it is the right thing to do.  And you would do the same for any of your friends.

Posted on January 2, 2008 and filed under Life, Love, Loyalty.

New Year Musings

Last night was simple but sweet.  After riding Bart to the city with my daughter and meeting my partner in Union Square, in San Francisco, we visited the tree, the village scene at the Hilton, and walked up to Chinatown and had dinner at Kan's. By the end of our evening in the city, my daughter crumbled as we walked back to the car, and was snoring within minutes of driving home. I have to say, I had never seen so many women dressed in 3" to 4" spiked heels, and above the knee, lightweight, halter dresses at this time of year. I, who cannot stand to be the slightest of cold, dressed in five layers, two sets of tights,a hat, and my Z coils. I was glad for it.

I thought I would just go to bed when we got home, but then thought better of it. I thought, no, even though I won't make it until midnight, ritual is important to me. And for the last several years, we have burned papers filled with what we want to let go of,and posted what we want to bring in on the bulletin board, although this year it will go on my altar. Then we had a few little snacks, with some port and tea.  Then said good night.

This will be a wonderous year, with much to look forward to.  I hope to have my book completed this year, the completion of at least a ten year project. I hope to do many readings in book groups, salons, poetry open mikes etc.  I want to strengthen my relationship with my partner, my daughter and friends, and my Buddhist practice. I want to bring forth what I am to be.

And in regards to beauty.  Beauty in all it's manifestations are vital to me, the expression of it is essential, this has not changed. My ideas about Beauty are changing, and how mainstream they are, I don't know, they may be different than even my friends and colleagues.  But the idea that I could be wearing what I was comfortable in and feeling completely unique in the expression, I don't know, some how, I felt confident, and like I had arrived in my own life.

Now, I want to give back.

And how I will do that is through my writing.

Posted on January 1, 2008 and filed under Beauty, Life, Love, Loyalty.

Good Fortune

The passing of another year.  Another year doing hair. Funny how my life not only speeds by, but that it didn't go exactly how I thought it would. My life is better for it to tell you the truth, I couldn't have imagined the great gifts in my life.  I do feel I am one of the luckiest people in the world.  I love what I do for a living, and am even more passionate about it today than when I first started 26 years ago.  And it's not just about the beautiful, fun hair I get to create, but the clients I interact with as well. More times this year than any other, I've had clients call or email to say they love their hair.  The gesture of taking time out of their day to let me know that is simply kind.

My client who says,"I'm known to have the cool hair now." Her last visit, she went on about how, "I have never been so consistently listened to in any profession or anybody for that matter, let alone by my previous hairdressers." I love that.

Not only do they appreciate me and let me know that, but they extend their loving gestures towards my family. One client in particular, throughout the year will make my daughter clothing, clothing she loves.  She hand stitches these garments, finds just the right buttons, the detailing blows me away. She knows what a little girl would love, or at least my little girl,  a box of ribbons for her hair, etc.

Another client gave her the most beautiful Christmas ornament for the tree. Exquisite, with a holiday beaded necklace for her that jingles every time she moves, all very tasteful.  This same client makes sure all the assistants, and the receptionist get a little something, this year it was a Pete's coffee card.  Not only does she book her appointments out a year, every three weeks, but she is generous each appointment. Last but not least, worth more than any and all of the above, she is pleasant to be around.

I am grateful for the work I do, the people I work with, and the clients I see.  I thank all of you for your kind words, the love you extend to me and my family, and the trust you place in me to create for you. I am a blessed woman.

Posted on December 28, 2007 and filed under Life, Love, Loyalty.

Kitty Dies

As we cut her hair into a graduated, slight A-line bob, the tears flowed down her already tear-streaked face.  "I had to put my kitty down last night."  He was fourteen years old and had a cancerous tumor.  Through the last couple of years of battling cancer, he would still manouver his way down the steps to greet her when she came home, and Tina never asked how much the bill would be. The oncologist said, We're sorry, but he has a couple of days only.  She made a comfortable place for him on his favorite chair in the TV room.  She fed him baby food from her fingertip and they sat together and watched TV.  The oncologist and his assistant went to her house and put him to sleep. 

She kept apoloziging for her tears.  I said, "Your heart is open, this is a beautiful thing."  I was struck by her vulnerability.  She had never shown even a smidge of this side of her before.  In fact she said, 'I'm a schooled extrovert, I am an introvert really.'

Her ususal unruly hair that liked to kick out and not participate with the rest of the haircut, layed down, smooth and shiny.  Her hair had finally grown out enough to create this shape.  The  spunky ends didn't have to fight anymore.

Posted on October 26, 2007 and filed under Cancer, Death, Life, Love.