I'll Be Home for Christmas

I don't have to sing about it, because I am HOME for Christmas. Yippee, work is over for a week! I couldn't get a better gift this year.

Yesterday, I started the vacation with an early morning hair appointment. I was grumbling as I got out of bed, but I enjoyed it once I got there (kind of like sex these days). Most of the people at the salon are Europeans. My hairdresser is from Italy. He is a tall, spare fellow with dark circles under his eyes and thinning hair. He is very kind, but he does not smile a lot. He does not crack jokes. He likes to talk about "ambition", a very un-Italian topic, and gossip about local crime. He does not usually like my hair suggestions.

Do you think you can flip it all up in the back like Oprah?
I have never seen Oprah.
Well, she wears it layered on top, then longer in the back and sort of flipped out.
You need a razor cut for that.
Can I get a razor cut?
Long pause.
You could.
Long pause.
But it it might not be good for you.
Oh.

Then how about going a little red this time?
Long pause.
You could.
Long pause.
But it might not be good for you.

I stuck to my guns on the red and it's worked out fine except this time it's a little marooney-pink. Icee would get a kick out of it. The DH hasn't mentioned it - which means he's a little freaked out.

But this is the least of the attractions. First, Sophia shampoos me, giving me a great neck and scalp massage which sends tingles everywhere. I can easily go back asleep but for the incredibly uncomfortable plastic neck thingie of the sink which is cutting into my neck. She brings me a coffee in a real cup. I start talking about Italy with T., who is from Sicily. He tells me what I have to see if I go. The older lady next to me starts telling me about the trip her daughters forced her to take and I share my story about the 2 trips my parents took. When I tell her that my Dad died a year after their last trip, my voice quavers. She writes down the name of "1000 Days in Venice", my favorite romantic book of the season. I'm bonding with this little group, two of us with stinky chemicals and aluminimum foil in our hair like extraterrestrials in a 1950's sitcom. I am having a Steel Magnolias moment.

While the chemicals work their magic, T. insists I have two chocolate raspberry truffles, which he brings to me on a little crystal dish. I let the rich chocolate melt in my mouth and begin reading the book I've brought with me.

I am home. I am eating chocolates. I am reading books.

Life is sweet.