Once upon a time, a girl got a haircut...

So this was going to be a blog post a few months ago, but first it was too painful and then I forgot...but now, I have a fairy-tale happy ending to go with it, so I'm read to share.

I had a love/hate relationship with getting my hair cut. I love, love, loved my stylist and the way she cut my hair (she's extremely sweet, kind and stylish without being pretentious, and she must have a pair of elvish scissors). I did not enjoy the salon experience. I blogged about this a couple years ago, and there was not much change. Until about 2 months ago. I had an appointment set with my precious Kelli, and 2 days before said appointment, I got a call from the snooty salon receptionist informing me that Kelli was no longer there, and she would schedule me with another stylist. "Oh, no, no, no," I replied and asked if they could tell me where she was. No. I told them that I would continue to use their other spa services (Ha! A total of 2 bikini waxes) if they would tell me where she was. To no avail. Kelli was lost to me. Forever, I thought.

Okay, backing up just a little bit, a couple weeks before the failed appointment, I had seen Kelli from across the room at a new church that Bill and I were visiting (and proceeded to really like and decided to start attending regularly). So I was all happy that my hair budget was going to a Christian to boot. And then, after the failed hair appointment, Bill and I had a busy few weeks (trip to China, move, surgery), and hadn't been to church every week. The weeks we were there, I kept my eye open for her but did not see her (and felt a bit guilty for spending more time looking around before the service started than preparing my heart for worship, but that's neither here nor there).

Well, I was starting to look a bit like a ragamuffin about 6 weeks ago, so I finally relented and called another salon. I first checked if they had any Kellis there. No. I got a so-so haircut, and I accepted my hair fate. Even if those around me couldn't tell a difference (I've got some mad Chi skills), I could. It was just harder to style when Kelli hadn't cut it.

Sooooooo...this morning, I walked into church and sat down. I pulled out my bulletin and started reading it. Then, Bill pokes me and says, "Isn't that your old hairstylist?" It was like a spotlight shot down from the ceiling and a chorus of pre-pubescent boys started singing as I saw Kelli sitting directly in front of me.

Well, long story short, Ellen and Jason met us there, and I poked Ellen (who I had introduced to Kelli's fabulous skill and who had been left in a similar despondent lurch as myself) and said, "Look! It's Kelli!" Well, needless to say, we practically pounced on her after the service--actually, I tapped her shoulder and said, "Kelli?" rather sheepishly, and she gave me a big hug and said that she had tried to call me before she left, but she couldn't get to her client records (which I understand why the salon owner did, but it still grieved my heart).

So the fabulous news is this: she's opened her own salon with a couple friends in a little house right around the corner, and she said it's completely laidback and pretty much the opposite of the frenetic, industrial atmosphere of the old salon. I have her cell number safely tucked into my wallet, and I hope to have an appointment in my planner by tomorrow.

And my hair lived happily ever after.

little life update

I apologize for it taking me so long to post anything new. Quite frankly, I've spent the past week laying on my couch like a big slug because I had surgery last week. It was laporascopic surgery to check out what was going on inside me, and while I haven't felt horrible afterwards (well, a little horrible for the first few days), I also haven't been up for much past the occasional short jaunt outside.

And here's what my surgeon found: nothing. Well, almost nothing. A little patch of endo on my appendix. But no evil gnomes living on my left ovary, which is sort of what I'd hoped they'd find. "Well, Mr. Karen, the surgery was a success. You're wife's doing fine. Just the one evil gnome, so looks like you should be able to get pregnant in the next month or two." Nope. Just a tiny patch of endo. So what's the next step? I don't know.

But our house sale went through just fine. And I'm enjoying my lazy summer in the apartment. And my awesome mom came and stayed with me the week of the surgery and took care of me and babied me (and Sunny), which was wonderful.

So I'm not complaining. Just still stumped.

shameless product promotion

And, no, I'm not getting paid for this. I just wanted to take a few moments to squeal like a girl about the makeup that I've been using for a few months. It's bareminerals from bare escentuals, and it's fabulous! I love how my skin feels with it on. I didn't even realize that I had sensitive skin until I started using it, and I stopped getting pimples. I. just. love. it.

I actually started using it after I realized that the first thing I wanted to do after putting on my previous (liquid but not really that heavy and from a good brand) makeup, was wash my hands. I thought about it, and I realized, if it feels so gross on my hands, why am I putting it on my face? So I switched to bareminerals, and love, love, love it.



And I'm creating converts. So come join us on the fabulous side of makeup. You won't regret it.