pamperings...

Don't read this if you had an awful day. Just don't. Don't even read this if you hate my guts because I quit my job and don't earn my keep. [I just overheard Kevin say from the kitchen, "this floor is absolutely filthy"...so Kevin, don't you read this either :)]

I had my nails done this morning. No big deal. But then I headed to Hannibal for my Shawna to highlight my hair and give me a trim. This is my 4th trip to her school not counting the times I have gone with Veronica or someone else, and I just thoroughly enjoy spending the day, or most of it, with her in this way. I remember her early weeks of school, looking at the different sections of students in graduated succession, trying to imagine Shawna up in the "front" room where the "upper classmen" are located. It was fun when she came home and announced she got her own station and would be able to display photos of her favorite people [namely John] around her vanity mirror...in the "front" room :)

I smiled at her recently as she rattled off some "industry" jargon like a second language and have thought over and again how she has found her niche. I'm really quite proud of her. Every time I go, I observe another student with poor work ethic or non-professional behavior [or attire] and then I look at her. She's just so perfect for something like this. I've had students and faculty tell me how she never complains, always helps, has repeat clients and most recently was asked to apply for a position at a very nice salon here in town, a salon that the teacher who asked her is also leaving to join. I think that speaks really well of her. Then there's the young single mother of a 3 year old that has started going to fuel and another that wants to, both students and both attracted to this "life" she leads. Yup. Pretty proud of her.

She's serviced stinky feet, nasty hair and rude or non-tipping customers and she has handled it with grace. And she has managed to retain my patronage and I'm one tough cookie. So I'm just really, really proud of her. And today, I sat and processed [chemically and mentally] the fact that this once little girl, whose beautiful long strands of hair I would play with and style like my lifelike Barbie doll, was foiling my fading blonde head of hair and conversing with me as a young woman ready to find her place in this world of ours. And my soul was pampered by the thoughts and memories. And as I lay half asleep receiving my very first facial [this is the part where the weary will snarl at me...] it was actually kinda weird having her massaging my aging face [hey, once gorgeous, always gorgeous...] and explaining to me to just relax and enjoy the process. Which I tried very hard to do, but couldn't resist jumping a bit and scaring her, just to hear her laugh.
One eyebrow waxing and we called it a day.

So, I'm good till the next tune up and looking forward to the day when I'll walk in to her very own salon, filled with nurtured patrons and find my way... to the washer and dryer to fetch more towels. Lol. Why not, it's not like my "absolutely filthy floor" is going anywhere :)