January Grumbles

Today it's official. Winter may leave ANYTIME.

The frost has permeated my bones, creeping ever deeper into my very being. My body is tense with cold. I am loath to take off my coat when I am indoors. I swaddle my head with scarves that I bought in Italy like a mamamoushka, and suddenly Islamic women do not look strange to me...they look warm. I cradle my hands in my sleeves like a monk and shiver.

The cold runs deep into the insulation of the house and furnace works furiously to warm the air chilled by the walls. Fruitlessly, it seems to me. I'll keep my coat on, thank you. It will be mid summer before the walls (and I) warm up again and then the air conditioner will take its turn.

Even the fire from my beloved fireplace has nothing to spare for me- as if all its energy is needed to keep itself burning. Instead of flickering, I think the fire is shivering.

I look at the calendar and groan. As always, January has stalled.

Today I went to a sleep specialist. I've never been a good sleeper, but right now I diognosed the problem. I was made to hibernate until spring.

And good bear skin coat would be just the thing
for me to hibernate in 'til spring.

Just need to find me a cave.

My Barber Experience

Today my hair was cut by a barber.
"Trim er up"?
In my quest for a modest and basic life style, never had I expected this. I gulped.
"Sure."
I knew she was a barber because the last time at this walk-in hair establishment they had explained the difference to me. And I was charmed. What an interesting bit of trivia I knew!
Now my usual walk-in stylist was not there and I was stuck with "the barber" and I was not so charmed.
There was no small talk. She began spraying and combing through my hair with a frown.
"Are you checking the curl?" I asked hopefully.
"Nope. I always cut wet. Uncross your legs."
She carefully divided my hair into four textbook sections and began to snip. No questions. No comments about my hair color or the weather. Nothing. Snip. snip.
"Have you been slow this morning because of the snow?" It was snowing beautifully. A perfect January day if you liked snow.
"I hate snow."
"Do you have to travel?"
"Grinnell."
More methodical snipping. She never glanced at the mirror, or pushed a curl playfully to see what it would do. Conversation was obviously not her forte. It wasn't mine either, but I always tried to keep my stylist entertained. I got better haircuts that way. I suddenly missed my expensive stylist who just wanted me to be happy. And if you look good, they teach you in cosmetology school, you FEEL good. Obviously that is not part of the curriculum in barber school. This woman could care less if I felt good or not. I tried once more.
"If you could live somewhere warmer- where would it be?"
She didn't even entertain the thought. "I have no clue."
"Oh, come on...Atlanta?"
"Too hot."
I gave up and let her cut. Snip. Snip.
"There. All done. Look OK?"
I ran my fingers through my hair. Now this is where I usually reassure my stylist that it's really fine. EXACTLY what I wanted. I will really enjoy this haircut. It's changed my life! And she's happy that I'm happy and we all feel good.
"Sure." I said.
I gave her a big tip. Anyone as unhappy as she seemed to be needed a boost. And it was snowing.
Actually, it was a pretty good haircut too.