Friday, July 18, 2008

Concerts, Haircuts & so forth

Dear Hearts and Gentle People,
Below find the latest smart aleck essay, which is in fact a rerun from about five years ago. I was too busy rehearsing last week to come up with something new before deadline, so did the desperate thing and looked up an old one to send in. I apologize for the repeat, but hope you enjoy it.
The Women, Women & Song set at the Vashon Island Strawberry Festival last weekend (July 12) was a whopping success. We got into the groove and sang a clutch of clever songs as fast as we could, because we only had 40 minutes, and had to leave out one or two anyway. The crowd went wild, bless their hearts. It was a great experience, and worth the effort it took for the three of us to put it together after all these years.
We sold all of our CDs on hand on the spot. I've made some more, though, of both "I Won't Wait to Be Happy," our first album, and "The Key of 'R,'" our second album. I will have those for sale when I sing tomorrw at the Vashon Farmer's Market (11 a.m. to 1 p.m.). If you think you might be interested in getting some CDs, by all means email me at: mary.litchfieldtuel@gmail.com, and put "CDs" in the subject line so I'll know it's not spam.
I'm planning to make a few CDs of songs we never released -- more of that anon.
Any money garnered from these sales will be charitably distributed to the three of us.
Yesterday there was a meeting at Congressman Jim McDermott's office in Seattle to discuss starting impeachment proceedings against various members of the current administration. I wanted to go, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Linda Boyd, who was in the meeting, told me to call McDermott's office and she'd put me on the speaker phone, so I did, and she did, and I sang, "Impeach the SOBs" for the assembled group (about 18 people, Linda Boyd emailed me later. She said the song "brought a smile to the face" of McDermott's aide). I report this as the first time I have literally phoned a song in.
I have more to say, but hey, you've got a life and probably want to get on with it. More later.
blessings, love, peace, grace & hope to you all
Mary

Island Survival Guide, Part 1: the Haircut
As the world teeters on the brink of nuclear war, climate meltdown, and the extinction of the human race, my thoughts turn to issues of survival. Specifically, how will we get our hair cut?
There are a number of professional cosmetologists here on the island, many of whom have cut my hair at one time or another the last 30 years, and I think they are all great. If you can afford it, have a professional cut your hair. They are trained, they know what they are doing, and they can see the back of your head. Those things are worth every cent of the money you pay them, plus the tip. If you don’t like the results, you can complain, or switch stylists, and you know that what you don’t like is not your fault.
When I was employed full time, I got my hair cut regularly, but about a year ago I decided to pursue that college degree I never completed. I left my job, and started taking classes. Suddenly the professional haircut seemed like a big expense.
My father-in-law has a description for my hair: “Explosion in a Brillo™ factory.” For a while after I left my job, I allowed my follicle universe to expand, and the formerly disciplined curls began to spread out and wave joyously in the breeze. At the end of the college spring quarter, I went to the Cosmetology Department at the college and got a $5 haircut from one of the students. It was a good haircut, and I tipped the young Vietnamese woman who did the job generously. Including the tip it was still the cheapest hair cut I’d had in years.
Time passed, hair grew. I used to cut my hair myself at one time, but when you trim your own hair and then go to a professional, the professional tends to scold you for cutting it yourself, and sometimes they say a few harsh words about how hard it will be to fix the mess you’ve made.
I have a dear friend, whom I will call “Becky,” who cuts her own hair, and has curly hair also. This fall I had a bright idea: we could cut each other’s hair for free. So I suggested this to her and she was game.
Rick and I went over to “Becky and Roy’s” for dinner, and after dinner Becky cut my hair and then I cut hers.
Here’s what I learned from swapping haircuts with a friend.
First of all, be certain that the friendship is solid. Giving a person what they consider a bad haircut can be more divisive than having differing opinions about, say, Hillary Clinton, or George W. Bush. Becky and I both worried about whether our relationship would stand this test (it did).
Second, the wine we had with dinner – I still don’t know if that was a good idea. When Becky was cutting my hair, it seemed like a good idea, because I was relaxed and didn’t give a whoop what she was doing. When I was cutting her hair, it seemed like a bad idea, because it didn’t seem like drinking was the proper preparation for cutting someone’s hair. So if you’re considering this haircut option, ask yourself: How sober do I want to be when I pick up the scissors? It’s a question worth pondering.
Third, if either of you have teenage children, you probably should not allow them to watch the haircut process. They tend to provide running commentary as you work. I’m not mentioning any “names” here.
Finally, keep in mind two old clich├ęs: (1) you get what you pay for, and (2) the difference between a bad haircut and a good one is about two weeks.
My swap haircut was fine, but it grew out, and strangely enough I couldn’t get Becky to commit to another round. You can’t figure some people. So this morning I went into the bathroom with a pair of scissors and trimmed my own hair. What the heck. We’re all going to die anyway, and I don’t need a great haircut to be dead. Although I did spend about ten minutes working on my dead mother’s hair at the mortuary, trying to get it to look the way she liked it. But that’s another story.

1 comment:

Maggie Anne said...

That was a fun evening watching you two go at it with the scissors in one hand and bottle in the other... ah, memories.