Leather

I got my haircut and colored last night and for the love of all that is holy, it took three frickin’ hours. From 7:30 to 10:45 p.m., I was being regaled with hairdresser stories, and while normally I can handle the weeping, heavy breathing, drama and other shenanigans my hairdresser inflicts on me with as much aplomb as I can muster, last night his clairvoyancy crap reached an all-time low. He went on and on about how he knows when people are going to die by their “energy” within minutes. And how he can read the “energy” up to a few different “scenarios” for their death and destruction, so he makes no promises, but still.

For god’s sake. After he yammered on for literal hours about demise and “dark client energy,” with some of his elderly clients, I cried out: “IS MY ENERGY GOING DARK, OR WHAT?” He laughed and insisted that it wasn’t, and although his head was down sweeping my hair at the time (he couldn’t look me in the eye! THE EYE!), I distinctly recall him telling me how bright my energy was when he met me, so for chrissake, I sincerely hope he’s right. Naturally he told me that he never tells people directly, kind of like Tarot card readers, etc. etc. and just goes on that “someone is going dark’” or “will pass over” in this kind of ominous tone and for crying out loud WHATEVER. He’s not the lying type if he saw such a thing. But honestly, I can’t handle the drama involved in a fucking foil and trim, and this whole thing is getting a little out of hand.

However, ever the condundrum – my hair this time round? The best I’ve had in my life. The odd penis cut I had the last time is gone and a miracle has taken its place. Jesus H. What do you do? Have bad hair, or be tortured every four weeks? What would YOU do?

Ahem. Anyway, we’re going away for the weekend to belatedly celebrate our anniversary. I never really talked about my anniversary, except to say I was having one. I didn’t want to be one of those overly twee people who talks of the “light of my life” at cocktail parties and goes on and on how miraculous our union is, etc. etc., so I’ll just say this: Marriage has surpassed even the highest expectations I could have had. In a world where nothing is what we think it’s going to be, and disappointment lurks around every dark corner like a blind assassin, marriage is one freakin’ hell of a bright spot. I’ve made a lot of choices, and among the myriad of amazing things about him, one interesting thing I can say about Adam is that he gave me faith in myself that I can be trusted to make good decisions. That deep down, I do know what’s best for me, and that despite my best efforts to sabotage myself (and, um, almost calling off the damn wedding a few weeks before it actually happened. I freaked. Someday I’ll talk about it, but GAH, I freaked and it was horrible and it had everything to do with me and nothing to do with him, for he is and was perfect), I know how to eventually do the right thing. I chose him. And oh, he is so very, very good.

Enough omgilovemyhusbandweareinloveFOREVAH crapola. We’re going to a little cottage on the beach for the weekend, and we’re taking Sunny with us. Snapper is going to be home alone, and while I feel bad, he hates traveling, and really, would he enjoy a frolic on the beach? No. Anyway, I’m a little frightened of this whole scenario for a few reasons, not the least of which is that we’ve become one of those people who takes a damn dog with us everywhere. Next thing you know, we’ll be buying her tennis skirts and raincoats and telling people how she just KNOWS what we’re saying to her and “Yesterday, I swear she said my name!” like certain family members of mine who may or may not live near me. Just sayin’.

Have a wonderful weekend. I will leave you with a scene playing out in my bedroom right now:

I thought you said it was time to eat, bitches.

*Tori Amos. It was our leather anniversary.

22 comments August 10th, 2006