A long time ago in a land far away from here. A land a mere two hours away but at an elevation where snow was possible, there lived a girl who did hair and did not like it.
Nor did she like the salon in which she worked. It was a small salon. A small salon in a small town at a high elevation where snow was possible.
The manager/owner of that salon in a small town at a high elevation was one of those gals who liked to "manage" people. You know the type: She liked to "manage" people (I think cheer leading or jazz dancing was her prior occupation). Then one day, she announced that there would be a Suggestion Box hung in the salon.
A suggestion box? A suggestion box? With only four employees in the small salon? The one at the high elevation? (That high elevation must have been getting to her head we surmised. Shoot...who'd dare to make a suggestion? She'd know our handwriting!)
Ok. Enough of the cute stuff (this is me talking, now).
So I took Girlfriend to the gym today and we walked the mall afterward. She waved "Hi" to Santa and it got me thinking about the time when I was working in that salon--the one with only four employees--and how the manager/owner decided we needed a Suggestion Box. My best girlfriend in the salon at the time and I thought it was crazy. I mean, the manager/owner would know our suggestions! How couldn't she? I mean, Lana, she had acrylic nails so long and bejangled there'd be no way she'd pick up a pen. So that means there'd be three employees to choose from. She'd read one word and then send the walk-ins to someone else!
So it snowed on a Thursday night, and it happened to be the same day that the Suggestion Box was hung on the wall for all to see. And I couldn't get home. I had to stay with my best friend from the salon. We were feeling all festive but there wasn't much in the pantry but a bit of homemade Bailey's Irish Cream and a jug of some pink stuff. We drank it all. Then, we got down to the business of the Suggestion Box. What should we suggest?...That maybe we shouldn't do those 10/90 haircuts anymore? That perms on teeny tiny rollers were officially outlawed? That we will not, not ever, trim another man's mustache or ear hair? Or how about changing the music from country to something other than country?
Needless to say, the suggestion box was taken down within a day or two. And I never had another sip of the pink stuff again. (But Bailey's? I'll have some of that, thank you.)
Also, I'm looking for something small this time. Something other than socks. I think I'll finally use the lovely German wool that was hand-dyed by Stefanie at Glampyre.com. She sent it to me a few months back. I think I'll make a tiny purse in honor and celebration of her move back to the states.
Welcome Home, Stefanie!