Posts Tagged ‘summer’

When Flowers Are Needed

August 4, 2017

There is love to be had.

In the giving.

In the receiving.

How touched I am.

How tearful and over awed and resplendent with feeling.

The gift.

It is perfect.

It is.

You know me.

The gift is perfect because you know me.

It is thoughtful.

When so many others have been thoughtless.

I cannot count the number of times.

Too many to count.

I could use all my fingers, all my limbs.

If I had a nickel for each one.

Well.

Perhaps I would not buy a house.

But I could have a very nice meal.

Very nice.

All the times.

Those gifts from thoughtless people.

Who.

Perhaps were not thoughtless, they gave me a gift, they thought of me.

What they thought of me was not me though.

It was a projection of what they wanted me to be.

You.

Oh, you.

On the other hand.

My magic man.

You see me.

You gave me something full of thought.

Full of heart.

Full of love.

Tender and endearing and whisperwhip sweet.

The puddle I found myself in.

When I opened it.

Abashed and eager all at the same time.

The joy of being known.

It feels like barn swallows at dusk swooping through the air.

It sounds like crickets in the high grass.

It sings to me of warm air at night so thick and replete with moisture that there is

No telling where your skin ends and the night begins.

It smells like lilacs in the high heat of summer in the Midwest.

It is the swelter of blush on my face.

It is everything.

You are everything.

How do you know me so well?

Transparent.

Taken.

And.

Complimented.

 

This love, love.

It is my undoing.

And my completing.

Pressed flowers in a book.

Taken and touched.

Daisychains and garlands.

My heart.

The center of a flower.

Nurtured and nourished.

The translucence of love.

For you.

Simple and sincere.

I bloom.

Cherries In A Bowl

May 28, 2017

My hair disheveled in the sunlight.

Sound of Chopin in the walls a susurration of hummingbird wings.

Flight of fancy.

Figurative.

Literal.

Light on the face of the moon.

Light in the eye of the blue storm.

Revery.

Summer grass.

Uncut, thick, lush, warm from sunlight.

Kisses like thunder building behind storm clouds.

July skies.

Pressing down.

Burdened with the knowledge of connection.

I sabotage myself.

Cherry flesh on my tongue.

Swallow the pit.

I always swallow the pit.

There in the spot of my stomach.

A fluttering.

And the light slanted down across the road and I am on his motorcycle.

A child.

Girl child.

Wild haired and windblown.

Sitting in front of my father on his motorcycle.

He steers with one arm wrapped around my waist and the other on the handlebar.

We fly like blown dander.

The flotsam and jetsam of cotton tree bloom thick in the air.

The slant of sun.

The press of sky.

The road unfurled underneath the wheels.

This moment.

Always.

Golden.

Memory like a savage at my throat.

Kissed me mercilessly.

Devouring every good intention.

Sentimental journey of devotion to the shrine of the past perfect father.

Welling sorrow on my face.

Heart, as per usual, on my sleeve.

Parting such sweet sorrow.

Abyss of longing.

Flying into that darknight.

The rush of falling only to be caught and pressed back and still and held.

There.

That undoing.

Stars flung out, scattershot like dust motes.

Freckled love on the bridge of my nose.

Asunder.

Lovelorn.

Forlorn.

Trampled by my own heart.

Fledgling girl.

Wet winged with love.

Fly away.

Into that sea of fireflies.

There, in the high grass.

Burgeoning.

Slender necks of snapdragon flowers.

Sweet coral pink and pale creamsicle throats.

The thumb of Eros pressed against the padded

Softness of my tender mouth.

Kisslet.

Kissling.

Kissed foundling.

Buried in the pillow of my cheek.

And.

Just.

There.

In tousled gold.

The sun spray on your face.

And.

The barely soft whispering word.

My longing to be heard.

 

Super Sonic Blog Post

September 21, 2015

I have no idea what I am going to say except that I am going to say it as fast as I can.

And.

I hope to be done within a certain time frame because I am up past my bedtime on a school night and really, I should just be getting under the covers.

But.

It seems wrong to not write a little.

To not wear my heart a tiny bit on my sleeve.

Did you see the moon set?

It was a glorious firebrand smoldering over the inky black sea.

Did you smell the bonfires on the beach?

I did.

It was a glorious day in San Francisco.

I spent a lot of it reading.

But I tried to get out a little and I gave myself breaks and no, I did not get as much done as I had thought or hoped.

I’m alright with this.

I’m ok to keep doing a little in the morning before work and a little more at night before I go to bed or before I blog.

I am ok to let myself have a little life experience.

Go for a ride in a car.

See a room.

Hang out with my fellows.

Get my God on.

And.

Commune with the beach and the waves and the stars.

I saw two shooting stars tonight.

I wished for the same thing on each one.

“I wish to stay sober.”

I say it soft, under my breath, in the dark shadow of my heart, the dreamsicle orange of the moon descending with love below the horizon of my tender sweet soul self.

The first one I saw I almost wasn’t sure was a shooting star, but it had the trace of tail and was bright enough that I was certain.

The second one made me gasp out loud, it was long and low and the tail was bright orange.

It was an emissary.

Promise of bright things to come.

Love.

Taking care of myself.

Doing my reading.

Graduate school.

Dreams of travel and shoes and ships and sealing wax.

Cabbages and kings.

Poetry and nursery rhymes and the sound of the ocean crashing just beneath the beach line of dunes.

No.

I did not do what I set out to do this weekend and yet I had a fabulous weekend.

A weekend that went by so fast that I cannot believe it is Sunday night and time for me to wrap it all up tidy in a neat bow of words and images and thoughts and soul strivings and stirrings.

I was flexible this weekend.

I gave myself allowance to do and be and see and be seen and that has to happen in my life just as much as the work or the work won’t be worthwhile and all I am doing is living to work.

Rather.

I want to work to live and give myself a little allowance sometimes to play.

It is almost as though I am convincing myself that I have this leeway, this lassitude, this wayward time with time.

And.

I do.

I am efficient.

I am quick.

I will have to work a lot next weekend.

I have a project with another classmate that I have to prepare for and I don’t want to leave her in the lurch with the work.

But.

I also realized today when I looked over the syllabus for the one class I dread the work the most, my Human Development class, that I don’t have to have the paper done for that class until October 13th rather than the 2nd.

I have a little tiny bit more time.

I do have to be honorable and not screw my partner and get to the reading so I can properly outline the chapter that we are presenting to the class, but I can see that it will happen.

Little bits and pieces at a time.

My first appointment on the day was late, and so I read a few pages there.

I got up about 15 minutes before my alarm went off, so that added another quarter of an hour this morning.

I read for an hour after my lady bug left my house.

I made lunch at home and read.

I read after lunch.

I checked in with my person and told him what was happening in my heart.

No expectations.

Going slow.

Staying in the present moment.

I read some more.

I went up to the corner store and bought a few household things I needed to get.

I came home and read more.

I got a ping and headed out the door to do the deal in Mill Valley.

Did you see the bridge today?

Did you see the clear skies?

Did you stop at Fort Point because it was too irresistible to not stop?

I did.

How grateful am I to live in such tremendous beauty.

The sumptuous bay sparkling and spun with boats and cargo ships, yachts, sail boats, windsurfers, seals, seagulls, waves, sunshine.

Rolling into Marin.

The hills sweeping, swept with Eucalyptus and the warmth of a day that spells all that is summer and sexy and San Francisco and if it were like this all year round it would be even more expensive to live in.

And when the sun shines.

I have to make hay, I have to let my skin soak it in.

I ate my lunch outside today in the back yard, blissed out with the warmth and the happy sounds of the neighborhood.

I did not read my stuff outdoors, it’s too distracting and too easy to just lift my face skyward then down into the pages of the text and yes, I could have read more, but I let my heart be my guide and look.

Look at that.

I am happy.

Joyous.

Free.

And just made it in under the wire to get enough sleep to get up and do it all over again tomorrow.

And.

Go to my job too.

Life.

It is good.

Full as fuck.

But so good.

SERIOUSLY.

That Moment When

September 12, 2014

I stepped off the train and fall smacked me in the face.

Wait.

Hey.

Isn’t it still summer?

I mean, San Francisco does have a summer, though often times it feels a tad on the Indian Summer side of town, it does happen.

But there was something about the air and the sudden dark and the chill when I hopped off the MUNI tonight, it shouted fall.

I would prefer a few more days, like the rest of September please, and yes, even on into October.

That’s usually what happens.

The season runs late, which is nice for the folks that live in San Francisco, and perhaps not so nice to the tourists who tend to leave right after Labor Day bemoaning the cold and fog of June and July, even August.

I like that secret Indian Summer season, I relish it.

There are seasons to San Francisco and I usually notice two of them.

Dark and light.

When its winter/fall it gets darker earlier.

There is also good chance for rain and it does tend to be chillier.

When it’s spring/summer it get dark later.

Tonight it was just dark later.

It could have been the fog, which hey, man, you aren’t supposed to be kicking it around these parts right now.

I don’t care if the Outer Sunset is synonymous with fog, this ain’t your season, get thee behind me.

Please.

Especially since I am going to have some time next week to play and I would appreciate a little nice weather to accompany it.

I don’t know yet what I am going to do.

Most of my friends will be working.

I may have one friend that can kick it with me for a day and I am waiting to hear back from him.

Otherwise I was told to go look up that list of things I like to do and do some of them.

Shoot.

I had forgotten about that discussion and those subsequent suggestions.

I suppose I will have to do something fun.

Sigh.

Fun and cheap.

Sort of like when I took my own bag lunch down to the Ferry Building on Wednesday.

I can probably do the Botanical Gardens, free to San Francisco residents.

I can walk the beach.

I live just a few blocks away from it.

I can work on some writing.

Although I have been subsumed with memorizing the pieces I am going to perform on Saturday–almost there–so not certain I have any new words in the brain pan.

I could go on a date.

I don’t know who I would ask.

But I could.

I could go to Kabuki and sit in the spa.

That doesn’t cost too much, twenty, twenty-five dollars.

I have a friend who said drop into the Mission and we’ll do lunch.

I will probably do that.

I will be working in the Mission soon, may as well re-acquaint myself with the neighborhood.

Ah.

One thing I have been thinking about too, that I should definitely do, although it falls more under the category taking care of business rather than fun, but it could be fun now that I a thinking about.

I want to go to some scooter/motorcycle stores and see if I could trade in my Vespa for a newer model scooter.

Say, one that I don’t have to kickstart.

I am gun-shy.

I have to say it.

And I am still recuperating.

I am serious, as I write, the ankle is elevated and I have my favorite sack of peas on it.

I mean, I didn’t walk a whole lot today, just over to Alamo Square park and around the NOPA neighborhood, up a few flights of steps, three separate times, and swollen.

Like that.

Swollen.

Still managing with occasional ibuprofen and still icing.

It’s still healing.

So.

Yeah.

Definitely shy about trying to kick-start the scooter and re-injure myself.

Plus with the brief kiss of autumn in the air to remind me, the scooter takes longer to start when it’s cold.  I don’t want to be trying to start it and hurt myself because it’s chilly out.

It gets chilly here.

Not cold.

Not freezing.

But the damp and the cold, they are real and I really don’t know that I want to be negotiating a cold starting scooter.

I love the Vespa, it is so cute and fun, but I don’t love having a sprained ankle and I still have two and a half months to go before the doctor said it would be healed.

I don’t want to wait that long to hop on my ride.

So my thinking has run along the lines of maybe take some of the time I have next week and go talk with some scooter places and see if I can trade it in for something that works better for my needs.

Hmm.

I could even do that tomorrow.

Tucked in between the NOPA gig, helping out with a pre-school transition with my little girl Thursday, today was our last Thursday together, sad face–but not our last time together I am sure–but tomorrow I am helping the parents as she has one more day of transition.

Meaning she has a half day at pre-school.

So I’ll be over there between 1p.m. and 5 p.m.

Then over to the Mission to sign some paperwork for the new family and later I have a speaking engagement at 8:30p.m. in the Castro.

But in between the paperwork and the Castro I may have time to sneak over to Scuderia and see what the haps are in regards to a possible trade in with my Vespa.

And if it’s not possible, a trade in, that is, I may consider selling the Vespa and then putting the money down on a different vehicle.

Things to think about.

There is time and there is time.

And I am sure the time will fill itself with comings and goings.

But should you be free next week Monday through Thursday, let me know.

I have some time on my hands.

It’d be fun to share it with you.

Packed

May 23, 2014

Or the closest proximity to being packed as I can be.

I have to put together my toiletries and a few more clothes.

I can’t pack them yet, though, toiletries needed for tomorrow’s work day and the clothes are in the laundry.

Although, should I need to, should the laundry not get taken care of tonight for some strange reason, I’m ready on that front.

I am actually bringing more clothes than I probably need, although less than I had originally packed up.

I got a text from my friend regarding the weather being in the 90s.

Ok then.

I will need my sunblock and that sweatshirt can go back in the closet.

The only other thing I need is the tent, which is in the garage, but not packed yet.

It’s my housemates and she wants to pack it up to make sure nothing’s missing.

Ok.

She knows I leave tomorrow by 4:30p.m. and although I offered to do it, she insisted.

I am covered.

I was offered, very sweetly, some extra gear from one of the families that I work for, but the logistics of trying to get it and co-ordinate with my friend who is driving were too much for me.

And not worth the struggle.

Which is what I realized when I stopped to really access my need for the things that were being offered.

Do I really need a cook stove?

Yeah, I suppose, it’s nice to have it, but all the food I bought for the weekend can be eaten without cooking.

Ditto for the cooler, which maybe I could have used, but the thought of getting up earlier than I already am, to go to work on the MUNI so that I could then either Uber/taxi/MUNI over to another location to pick up a cooler that I don’t really need seemed just too much.

Then my friend would be making two stops, one to pick me up in the NOPA and another to go out to my place here by Ocean Beach.

Keep it simple.

I don’t need the cooler either.

Should I change my mind I’ll just buy one.

Everybody needs a cooler anyhow.

I did take the offered sleeping mat and a blanket that can be used for roughing it and picnics and laying about on.  I folded the blanket tightly and wrangled the sleeping pad in my messenger bag.  Pair that with the sleeping bag I bought years ago for when I did the AidsLifeCycle Ride, and I am set sleep wise.

I will probably also bring a pillow, but that won’t get packed until tomorrow.

I have everything else stacked by the door.

One plastic bin and one large recycled bag with the pad, blanket, a towel, my food supplies, and some eating utensils.

I will rough it just fine.

It’s only three nights anyway.

I am looking forward to being out of the city.

It will still be a jam for me tomorrow.

I will ride my bike to work, get in seven hours, leave an hour early, by 4 p.m. and ride like the wind, to get back to my place at 4:30p.m. to be picked up.

I feel quite competent that it will all work out and I am ready for some dancing, some art, some hanging out with my friend, some making new friends, some seeing old friends who let me know they are there, and just chilling.

I am bringing my laptop and my phone and my camera and I don’t know if any of them will be supported.

Well, that’s not true.

My camera will be fine.

It has re-chargeable batteries that are fully charged and I have packed an extra back up.

The laptop and the phone I am curious about.

I don’t know if I will have access to electricity where we will be camping.

We are not going to be RV camping with hook ups.

We will be car camping.

I may not be blogging.

I don’t know.

I am going to do my best to send my daily posts out, but fore warned, there may not be another blog coming.

That being said, I will take a lot of photographs and I will document the experience in my notebook, I will continue to write my three pages long hand, that’s a habit I can take anywhere with me.

Funny, I was thinking I actually have access to more amenities when I go to Burning Man, but I won’t be dusty here.

I had that thought earlier, oh, don’t forget to pick up some baby wipes.

Then I laughed.

I am not going to be camping in the dust bowl of the Black Rock Desert.

I don’t know what to expect and the not knowing gnaws at me a bit, but there’s only so much preparations a person can do and I am as prepped as I am going to get.

I am not investing a lot of money into going, I just don’t have it to invest, the ticket is bought and paid for and I have a sleeping bag and some Tasty Bites, a summer dress or two, something to sleep on, some flowers to pin in my hair and the attitude of let’s go have fun.

That’s all I really need.

Oh.

And my water bottle.

I expect I will be drinking a lot of water if I am going to be dancing in 90 degree heat.

Memorial Day weekend.

The opening salvo of summer.

I am ready.

All I need to do is get up in the morning, shower, and stick to my normal routine, swap out the laundry, get dressed, ride to work.

Then ride home and wait to be picked up.

I will pack up my little mobile office with my MacBook and chargers and my Iphone and camera and if I have the time, whip up a little dinner to take on the road with me.

That’s it.

Summer time fun.

Road trip.

Lighting in a Bottle.

Here I come.

Happy

May 16, 2014

I just said it out loud a lot today.

“Happy.”

And I was.

Nothing special.

Nothing new to report.

Unless you count the fact that I wore a sundress in San Francisco.

I was pushing my luck, two days of heat and the third usually means cooling off and heading into foglandia.  But I risked it and though I did have to don my sweatshirt for the evenings bike ride home, I was able to go through the entire day with a summer dress on.

Happy.

Happiness is a state of contentment for me.

I used to believe that happy meant excitement, expectation, exhalation, high highs, roller coaster emotions, drama.

Not so much anymore.

Happy.

Sitting on a fresh painted green picnic table in Alamo Park Square just below the tennis court surrounded by old trees, rose bushes growing profuse and decadent, with my little girl Thursday in my lap as we watched the butterflies flitting about the sun.

Happy.

Riding my bike to work in a sundress.

Make that really happy.

I did joke earlier that I was tempting fate, that it would probably snow since I had decided I could rock out a summer time frock.

Practice for the trip to Wisconsin.

Practice for the music festival I am going to over Memorial Day weekend.

Need to get my ducks in a row for that, camping equipment, arrangements, and details.

My friend is out-of-town in Canada on a family matter and I have not heard back from her yet as to when we will be leaving and what I need to do to prep for the festival, but having been to Burning Man a few times I am certain I will be able to piece together what I need.

Happy that I am allowing myself to go out-of-town on Memorial Day weekend for a girl road trip with one of my dear friends.

I get to listen to music outdoors for four days in a row.

That is really happy.

Very happy with my hair cut.

Calvin must have taken four inches off and I was a touch sad at the loss of length, but man, it looks so much better and prettier.

So much so that I ended up giving a Solid Gold business card to one of the mom’s after today’s music class.

We have similar hair and she loved my cut.

Happy to get a hug from the Music Together teacher.

It’s nice when your presence is acknowledged by the person running the class and it’s nice to have mom’s that treat me well and it’s so lovely to have little children crawl into my lap and share with me their joy too.

Happy.

Pushing the stroller in the sunshine through the Pan Handle park to and from the music class, walking through dappled shadows, smelling fresh-cut grass, which always reminds me of summer.

Happy to have brewed extra coffee this morning so that  I could bring some in a glass Mason jar, with my tea cozy wrapped around it, and make iced coffee at work, to sip on the way to music class.

Happy.

Today’s music destination?

France.

We sang lullabies in French and the free dance was to Edith Piaf.

Lovely.

Happy.

The smile of the barista at The Mill who took my order and made my iced coffee for the walk back to my charges house.

Happy.

To hold the door open for the disabled man coming up the stairs and to be patient.

With myself and grateful to wait, to know that there is nowhere to rush off to, nowhere that I needed to be except right there feeling fine.

Happy.

That I am not going to get up early tomorrow and try to start the scooter to take it to work and rush about if I can’t get it started to ride my bicycle to work in the Castro.

Nope.

I am going to wait until Saturday to deal with it.

I don’t have to get up and try to force a solution when I have all day Saturday.

I really mean all day.

My early afternoon commitment was cancelled, she’s off to New York for the weekend and I don’t have to be anywhere until 7p.m. on Saturday.

I will take the time to address the scooter when I am not feeling rushed.

Happy.

To hear the laughter in my life.

Happy.

To laugh at myself.

Please show me who I should be with, popped out of my mouth this morning in my meditation and prayer time.

You know what I heard, which caused me to burst out laughing.

“You’ll know when he asks you on a date.”

Oh Jesus.

Duh.

And moving on.

Happy.

To not care right now I am so relaxed and softened and pretty exactly where I am with who I am.

I don’t know when I have felt this free and easy in myself.

I suppose it’s the culmination of a lot of different things, a lot of work, a lot of surrender, a lot of following other folks suggestions and ideas and a lot of taking action and not living in fantasy.

Happy.

I don’t have to figure it out.

Happy.

I am getting myself to embrace my authentic self further and have some fun.

Yes.

I am getting my hair colored soon.

Hehe.

But I am not going to do the big reveal yet.

I did, however, share with a dear angel of mine what I was going to do.

“Oh my God, that is going to be amazing,” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

Yes.

I think so too.

Happy.

Butterflies, blue skies, begonias, bright eyes, big hearts, robin’s eggs in the grass, beauty all about me, love, beachy skies, overblown rose bushes, pig tails and sparkles in my hair, summer dress, and travel plans, Burning Man in three months, friends going to Burning Man for the first time, getting to live in San Francisco, faith, godliness, trees, the smell of cut grass in the hot sun.

Hot sun in San Francisco.

Happy.

Happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Repeat.

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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