actually,
i really hate that phrase.
but i love going to see my hair stylist.
not only does he make my hair
everything i hope and dream,
but he also forgives me for being snarky, mildly opinionated
and a big pain in the behind.
i like to talk about music and
i let him dye my hair
crazy red hues.
"ab, when are you going to get a man?"
"when a cool one moves to new hampshire."
"or when a cool girl moves out of nh?"
"brian, are you trying to get rid of me?"

it takes almost three hours in the chair to
get the color and cut we both love.
and the longer my hair gets,
the more time it takes.
tonight he asked me how long i want to let it go
and when i told him waist-length,
he looked a little terrified and ridiculously happy
at the same time.
what can i say?
i guess we have a vision. ha.
{pictures via one very crappy camera phone.}






























