Then I headed off to spy on the competition and make copies of the handout. After that, I stopped in at the hairdresser. She took pity on my shaggy state and cut my hair real quick while her other customer was under the dryer.
“My dear,” said that customer as she passed me ont he way to the mystic room where they keep the dryers, “you have gorgeous hair.”
I have graying hair — 35% so far, my hairdresser tells me. And it was several weeks overdue for a haircut, looking shapeless and “oggy doggy” as the hairdresser says. I have never asked her what that means, but I know it can’t be good.
Still, I do have thick, healthy hair. It may no longer be chestnut colored,but there are days when it has a bit of the Rita Hayworth shape left to it. I had about convinced myself that this was what the lady meant when my hairdresser returned.
“That’s my little Alzheimer’s patient,” she said apologetically. She then spoke to me with firmness about my Rita Hayworth effect. “You shouldn’t let your hair get this long. It drags down your face.”
Saved from conceitedness, I submitted to my haircut and went on to the many appointments of the afternoon.
Above you can see the progress on Ivy as of yesterday evening. Today I am in an enormous rush and may not get in any knitting at all.