Posts Tagged ‘Brazilian blow out’

Pampered

May 19, 2014

Spoiled.

Taken care of.

Two cappuccino’s later.

New highlights.

New color.

Love.

Not going to show the world yet though, there are still two more sessions of hair goodness coming down the pike from Solid Gold Salon.

Today, subtle and not so subtle.

The subtle?

The lowlights in my roots that completely masked the few grey hairs I have.  Blessed with some awesome genetic markers on my genome, at the age of 41 years, I have perhaps five grey hairs on my head.  But, I don’t need to see them and they got covered up today.

The not so subtle?

More blonde.

Lots of blonde.

In fact, the colorist and I discussed pulling it up even further the next time we meet.  It’s not a traditional ombre, it’s what is called a bilayage, which is a much more subtle, “natural” if you will, way to color the hair so that I won’t have weirdo roots when it grows out.

That’s the thing for me.

I love going to the salon, but I don’t care to spend a lot of time on my own hair in the mornings.

I have more important things to do, eat, pray, make bed, write.

Then muss about with my hair, aside from throwing a flower dipped in glitter into it, I have no desire to spend time styling it.

So, going into the salon is a super huge treat and I have not had this much goodness in my hair in a long time.

It’s not a splurge per se, as the new colorist is getting her chops on my head, but I happily accept.

I know my friend is not hiring hacks at his business, I am grateful to allow them practice on my hair, and if it doesn’t turn out, they will fix it.

But man, it turned out.

No photos yet though.

We have decided to wait to do the big reveal.

I still have two more services to go.

Another round of color–pink and violet in a pastel tones–and more blonde.

Then the Brazilian Blow out.

After that photos.

I was relaxing this afternoon in the back yard with a book after having made up my food for the week–homemade pinto beans with olive oil and diced carrots, onions, garlic, sea salt, black pepper, brown rice, chicken with roasted white corn and garlic sautéed kale–just relaxing in the sun, reading my library book, drinking some tea, listening to the smash of the waves on the shore and realizing, for the umpteenth time, how lucky I am.

I was also grateful to not be in the wild crush of Bay to Breakers, which I had a small taste of taking the N-Judah down town at 2:30p.m. this afternoon.

I had thought that it would be done and over, but even heading back this evening at 7:45p.m. I see a gaggle of girls crossing the street, tipsy, in knee-high red athletic socks and red panties.

It’s like Burning Man.

Except obnoxious.

And with no art.

And running shoes.

Girls, please, put some pants on, the event is long done.

Go home.

Tomorrow, it’s Monday, that hang over’s gonna suck a bag bad.

Oh well.

I stayed out of the fray.

I heard a lot of it, garbled shouts and noise and ruckus, but didn’t see much of it, I stayed at home, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, then reading in the back.

Perfect Sunday for me.

Add to that going to the hair salon and I feel like a god damn princess.

I forget that I am allowed to do things like this.

There is still a large part of me that thinks I need to suffer to get ahead or I won’t get ahead.

Note to self.

There is nowhere to go.

Here is just fine.

In fact, it’s pretty god damn sweet.

Why wait until I am retired to sit in the sun and read a book?

Why not let myself get pampered and have my hair done and revel in a scalp massage.

Note to any future boyfriend out there, want my number, give me a cranial massage.

I swear, it’s the best, a washing of the hair and a face and scalp massage.

Sigh.

It’s near sexual.

It’s over the top sensual.

One of the loveliest things.

I need to allow myself lovely things.

I saw a pretty dress in a shop today and I thought, I should go back and get that.

And I actually believe I will.

Not this month though.

My spending plan allotment for clothes got eaten up by my hair.

I hadn’t even thought about doing all this stuff with my hair, but then when it all happened the way it did, I was all in and booked the time.

Plus, well, you know, Burning Man is like in less than 100 days and I, uh, like to have some fun hair for the event.

Shit.

I like fun hair any old-time.

My friend who owns the salon was telling one of his clients about a hair style he had done for me, hot pink, faux hawk, shaved up the back, like shaved to the skin, and the client could not picture it.

Sometimes I can’t either.

But I remember well sitting in the kitchen of his place while he mixed his dyes and compared notes and directions.

He’s come a damn long way and it’s been really fun to see that too.

From sitting in his kitchen to sitting in his salon.

Grateful for that perspective too.

He’s seen me through some rough transitions.

From taking me out to a steak dinner the night I said good-bye to Shadrach at the hospital and then driving me over the bridge to Treasure Island to see the city sparkle and shine in the black water of the bar and letting me cry on his shoulder with the loss.

To letting me crash on his couch for two months when I lost my place in Nob Hill and transitioned to working at the bike shop.

To now, 9 years later, still close friends, giving each other shit, talking smack, coloring my hair, teaching me how to ride a vintage Vespa scooter, and being my friend, through it all.

Pink hair to purple to magenta to blue and back again.

I have amazing friends.

You.

My friends.

Are AMAZING.

Just know that.

I love you.

I do.

Who Does A Girl Need to Blow

May 15, 2014

To get a date around here?

Wait.

Uh.

That didn’t quite come out like I meant it.

When can a girl get her Brazilian blow out so she can get a date up in here?

Yeah.

That’s what I meant.

Kinda.

The first might be applicable too.

Heh.

Come on.

It’s spring!

And.

It’s hot up in here.  It hit 90 degrees today.  Although my phone refused to update the temperature until half the day was through.

Listen I am not stupid and it did not feel like 77 degrees, it was hotter than that, I know it was.

Then at the last-minute, there it was, 90.

It hit 90.

Whew.

I cannot remember the last time I was in San Francisco and it hit 90 degrees in May.

It was hotter than yesterday for sure, but I was more prepared for it, mentally, physically, who knows, wardrobe was about the same, but I was ready and I was also better prepared for my charge.

I had plans to.

Plans that had the old kabosh put right on them.

The scooter did not start again.

Sigh.

Double sigh.

I am still convinced that it is something small, some little thing I am over looking, but I was supposed to take it in to see the guy that’s done the majority of the work on it to fix the fender today–which I have been adequately informed is cosmetic and should be no problem.

The problem, again, I believe is me.

But, I was prepared for the possibility that the scooter wouldn’t start and had given myself a lot of leeway in case I had to hop on my bicycle, which is what happened.

The ride, though hot, was not too bad and I made it with five minutes to spare, enough time to stop sweating, mop my brow, park my bike in the garage and be ready to take on the day.

Which was made infinitely easier when I found out I had access to a better stroller than I have been using–one with a better canopy for my boy and also one with a rotating front wheel and a high bar–a City Bob.

God I love a good jogging stroller.

I have no desire to be one of those tight pants ladies in the park running furiously along the pathways in Golden Gate Park, stopping to jump up and down on the planters and do squat lunges in front of the carousel while their children look with longing at the hot dog vendor dispensing popcorn sacks and sodas.

Nope.

However, a good jogging stroller is fantastic for the out and about of a busy nanny.

Ie, me.

I like to get out with my boys and girl, tomorrow’s Thursday, I shall see my little girl pie, and go to the parks and walk and do adventures and have field trips, and man, it’s so much easier with a good stroller.

So, chalk one up for the day getting better even though the scooter didn’t start.

What did start today?

The water got turned on at the Mission Pool and Playground!

I was there minutes after the city DPW came in and turned on the water main that feeds the sprinkler park in the front playground that faces Valencia Street.

Heaven.

I got the bunny out of the stroller, took off his shoes, took off my shoes, pranced in and out of the mists and sprinklers, dipped his toes in the puddles, danced around, stomped our feet and basically had a giggle fest.

Seriously.

And I get paid for this.

Helps on the days when I don’t have a break for the whole day or the teething is bad or the babe is sick or something wonky happens and I can’t sit, days like today really help.

I remember the days like today as well, better than the bad days for sure, when I am being goofy, seeing my toenails a bright painted red, bare feet in the spray and the sun and the mist throwing little rainbows about my face and arms.

The news flash-fired through the neighborhood and within twenty minutes of the water main being turned on, the park was mobbed.

But I got mine.

And so did my little guy, he had a blast.

I couldn’t really take photos with my phone, but the giggles are impressed upon my heart.  I won’t forget those giggles ever.

Balm on my soul.

The walk back up the hill with the stroller was interrupted by a return phone call I had made while my charge had been napping earlier, it was Solid Gold, my hair people.

“When was the last time you were in,” my friend Calvin asked, “it’s been awhile hasn’t it?”

Um.

Yeah.

Five months, maybe six.

He looked up my file in the computer system, “nine months!”

Oops.

I knew I needed to come in, but I hadn’t expected to be in the chair tonight.

The plan had been I would be riding the scooter up there, the mechanic is next door to the salon, and then I would be making an appointment in person.

Cut and color.

I would give you a preview, but we decided to not show our hand too soon.

Gonna get a little crazy up in here.

Just saying.

So, when the scooter was not running today I had to make the call into the salon to set up the appointment.  The receptionist got me in this evening for stage one.

Yup.

First the cut.

The the color.

Then the next set of color.

Then the Brazilian Blow Out.

I am going full on.

It helps when I have been going to them for a while, they treat me special and I refer every single person to them I can, I love my friends and their small business, go friends!

Calvin’s partner, Diane, is my colorist.

We had us a little talk and the total time it’s going to take to do the color is six hours.

Six!

Mwahahahahaha.

I cannot wait.

It’s going to be crazy good.

She’s going to break it up into two segments.

Then to seal the color we are going to do a Brazilian Blow out.

“You know, you get laid when we do you hair,” Calvin joked with me.

“Shit, you’re right,” I smiled, it has been about nine months.

Fuck.

“It’s on!  You’ll be beating them back with sticks,” he added.

Good.

Been too damn long.

I am ready.

Let’s get this party started.


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