I cut my hair. It was very beautiful, and quite long, and driving me absolutely crazy. Every time I leaned over to brush my teeth it swung into the water stream. If the wind was blowing while I happened to be taking a big breath I'd suck in a mouthful of the stuff. I'd turn over at night and half strangle myself with long strands wrapped around my throat. I'm vain, but I'm also big on comfort. So I cut it. Not all that short, but it involved massive amounts of layering. Masako took about four inches off the bottom, and much more than that in some places. It looks super. My head feels about 10 pounds lighter. I love getting my hair cut.
Masako was on a tear, as always. Today's topics included why she is allergic to herbal teas ("They're made from weeds! Why don't people realize they're drinking weeds!"), the color pink, Mel Brooks comedies, trigonometry, and German hospitality. I placidly drank my coffee while she snipped at my hair and rattled away. She's a scream. She's also a fabulous hairdresser. I had a bad moment when leaving the shop as she's located right next to a Kentucky Fried Chicken place and the smells were heavenly, but I resolutely walked to my car and drove away.
My evil genius prompted me to make a snap decision to go shopping at the Stanford mall as I pulled out of the parking lot. I headed down El Camino and promptly got stuck in a massive traffic jam. It was a Stanford football home game. It took me 20 minutes to crawl about a mile. When I finally got to Nordstrom's I was hellbent on finding myself a new purse and some shoes. I hit the ground running.
Two hours later I emerged with two new sweaters. Oh, well. The sweaters make me look positively slim, and they're in difficult to find shades of old gold and marine blue, so I'm happy despite not finding what I went in for. I tried on the most wonderful Ralph Lauren shoes, but they didn't have them in my size. And Nordstrom doesn't carry the Ferragamo bag I particularly want, so that was a washout. I had fun anyway, and those sweaters will come in handy in about two more weeks when the weather turns cold again. We're currently experiencing an Indian summer. Enjoyable, but too hot in the afternoon to really drag out the heavier clothes.
This weekend we attended the first two home games of the Stanford women's volleyball team for which we have season tickets. They won both games, last night against the Utah Utes and tonight against Brigham Young which has a very good team. Stanford's won every home game since I started going in November 1997. They're awfully good. It always slays me how some of the players look quite small on the court, but in fact all of them have at least three inches on me, and some are a whole foot taller. I never think of myself as short, but 5'5" is shrimpy for volleyball. Anyway, I love watching women's volleyball, either on the court or at the beach. The body language in sports is intriguing. Everyone high fives, or slaps each other's hands, or makes mysterious gestures indicating -- what? Team spirit? Encouragement? Predetermined plays? All of the above? I, having never played team sports, have no real clue.
By the way, thanks to everyone who wrote to tell me Mare Winningham has been doing a lot of tv since the 80's, plus one movie. Since I don't watch tv this explains why I thought she'd disappeared. But she did have a whole passel of kids, that much was true.
Meanwhile, plans for the New York vacation are heating up. Kymm called yesterday to invite us to a night at a comedy club with her and Tracing. Free tickets? You bet. Of course, as you all know, my idea of hell is going to a comedy club (especially if it happens to have a karaoke bar) so this seems like a potential disaster, but Kymm's friends are in it so she vouches for the excellence of at least that part of the show, and it's being televised so we figure it has a good chance of actually being funny. What the heck. I'll try anything once.
My other plans include my usual visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, visiting a series of famous old hotel bars with my friend Robert Legault, hitting the shops in the Village and over on Delancey, and meeting up with the skillions of friends I have in New York, including dinner with some of the local web diarists. I may even stand in line for half price tickets and actually see a play, something I've never done in New York. I know, the shame, but I've been on a tight budget most of the time I've been there, and I include the summer I spent working there. As always, I will be taking a break from the computer. I might check my e-mail, but that's all.
And now it's time for the nightly walk with Dixie. The moon is full, my favorite time to be out and about. Goodnight.
The Index
Next Incarnation