Here's a quick Friday morning funny for you while I wait for the plumber. I need to sign the contract committing me to spend another $3000-$3500 on this house.
On Wednesday afternoon I ran over to Gadabout to get some highlights inserted into my ever-darkening hair in an attempt to look a little less than my age for the interviews next week. A delightful young Italian man, Giancarlo, took care of my head for me.
His plan was to use a light blonde and then a more golden (read: red) blonde, alternating, to give me the light and body I desired. We didn't talk much - he mainly just stood there, foil papers in hand, and did his thing. But I noticed he'd count the foil packages he had already wrapped to make sure he was applying the right color.
He'd tap each one and say "chiaro, scuro, chiaro, scuro." I smiled inside. If I hadn't taken that art history class so many years ago, I wouldn't have known what he was saying.
It was a nice light moment in a string of stressful days.
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